Straw in the Wind Read Online Free PDF Page B

packing.
    He remembered the house she yearned for with its two bedrooms. What a pathetic ambition for a girl with a splendid name like Serafina. But it was everything to the girl, and she was prepared to work and save for it. What right had he to prevent that by dismissing her, and just because she was young?
    There was a breathy, snoring sound near his feet. He patted his knee and the cat sprang up to settle in his lap. ‘Hello, Fingal. It didn’t take you long to find me.’ His fingers went under the cat’s chin with a gentle caress and Fingal’s purr increased in volume.
    There came a clatter of feet from the depths of the house, and Maggie’s shrill voice. ‘Here puss . . . where the devil has that dratted cat got to? He should be wearing his collar.’
    Sara whispering. ‘I’ll find him, Maggie.’
    â€˜Hear that, Fingal? You should be wearing your bells,’ Finch whispered.
    The cat offered him a dubious meow.
    He heard Sara’s footsteps lightly pattering over the tiled floor of the hallway. She was making kissing sounds in a quiet way to entice the cat to her.
    â€˜Fingal’s in here,’ he said.
    â€˜Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you . . . he escaped from the kitchen before Maggie got his collar on.’
    He held out a hand. ‘Give it to me, I’ll do it.’
    He misjudged, and took her hand with it. He noticed that her fingers were callused, and as she tried to withdraw her fingers he tightened his around them and said, ‘Stop wriggling.’ He turned her hand palm up then ran a fingertip over them. ‘Did you get these at the workhouse?’
    â€˜Mostly. It was picking the tar from the oakum that did the damage.’
    He gave a faint smile. ‘You bite your nails.’
    The tension in her hand increased. He remembered that she’d slapped the reverend’s son for taking liberties. He released the pressure in his fingers in case she read more into the gesture than he’d intended. Her hand recoiled instantly in a sudden jingle of cat bells.
    Fingal sprang from his lap in the direction of the open window, remembering no doubt that the cat bells warned the birds and mice of his presence.
    â€˜Damned sneaky cat!’ she said with some exasperation. ‘I’ll have to go after him. In the meantime you’ll have to keep a look out for him, sir.’
    â€˜I will,’ he said, and he chuckled. ‘Off you go then, Sara.’
    Instead of going towards the door her feet pattered towards the window. Her skirt brushed his knee and she momentarily blocked off the sun’s warmth on his face before she followed the cat over the sill. She must have realized what she’d said because when she was outside the window she whispered to herself, ‘You fool, Sara, what will he think?’
    Finch thought that the word fool didn’t come into the equation. He thought Sara was a hard-working girl who deserved something better than life had given her, and he could do something about her withheld wages to start with. At least that would contribute towards housing her in her old age. He chuckled at the thought of a young girl planning for her future as an ageing spinster, then laughed out loud that she’d leaped out of the window after the cat. It appealed to his sense of humour.
    Mindful that Fingal was on the loose and would sneak back in and attack his ankles on the slightest whim, Finch climbed the stairs cautiously. ‘Oscar. I need you to write a letter for me. Take it down in pencil first, so I can attend to your spelling.’
    There was a rustle of paper and the sound of a pencil being sharpened.
    â€˜To whom shall I address it, sir?’
    â€˜The right reverend, the Lord Bishop of—’
    â€˜You’re writing to the Bishop?’
    â€˜Don’t sound so surprised. He is a relative, after all.’
    â€˜No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. It’s just that we don’t often