Verity Sparks, Lost and Found Read Online Free PDF Page B

to me.” Jessie pointed to a chair underneath
The Charge of the Light Brigade
. She took her place beside me, under
The Battle of Waterloo
. Miss Deane looked up and gave a quick smile, but her face had none of the mischief and sparkle that I’d seen before. In fact, she looked downright glum.
    “Thank you, Jessie, for fetching Verity. Since Verity is starting later in the year, she won’t know our routines, but I’m sure you’ll all be very helpful. And now, I will introduce your classmates. Jessie you already know. This is Emily Potter.”
    She was a brown-haired, bespectacled little dumpling. But I noted she had a firm chin and a very determined set to her mouth. She smiled.
    “Welcome, Verity,” she said.
    “Alice Hankin.”
    Dark, with rosy cheeks and flashing brown eyes. Rather good-looking, except for her peevish expression. She’d been exchanging glances with Jessie; my guess was they were best friends.
    “Jemima Penrose.”
    Thin, mousy, nervous. One tiny nod and then she applied herself to the study of her napkin ring.
    “Louisa Marriott.”
    Another mouse. She gave me a frightened glance and looked away.
    “Laura, Grace and Annabelle Fanshawe.”
    Three “Good evenings”. Three smiles. Three blond heads turned on three swan-like necks. It took me a few seconds to realise that they were triplets. And they weren’t girls, really. They must have been at least seventeen.
    “And this is Consolata McTavish, but we all call her Connie.”
    What an odd mixture of names, I thought. Consolata – which sounded Spanish – and McTavish, which had to be Scottish. Connie had thick chestnut hair, beautiful creamy skin and large grey eyes. She was wearing an old-fashioned dress of mustard-yellow wool. A tarnished silver locket hung on a ribbon round her neck. She didn’t meet my eyes, but I didn’t sense she was unfriendly. Just shy and rather sad.
    Who among the Seniors are possible friends? I wondered. Emily, I was sure. Connie, and perhaps the Fanshawes. Jemima and Louisa? It was hard to tell. But as for Alice – like her friend Jessie, I predicted she would be trouble.
    Miss Deane said a brief grace and then began to pour from the big brown teapot. I was hungry, so I took a couple of slices of bread from the plate, buttered them and spread them thickly with strawberry jam. I was just about to take my first bite when a loud voice from the other side of the table said, “Look, Miss Deane. The new girl has taken butter
and
jam.”
    I felt everyone’s eyes on me.
    “Thank you, Alice,” said Miss Deane. “But since Verity is new to Hightop House, we’ll let it pass for this evening, shall we?”
    Butter and jam, I thought. What’s wrong with that?
    “Yes, Miss Deane,” said Alice, sneaking a spiteful look my way. I saw her grin at Jessie. What a pair of cats, I thought. I could think of a few other words to call them, but manners prevented it.
    “You may have butter or jam, Verity, but not both,” said Miss Deane, handing round cups of weak, milky tea. I liked my tea sweet, but I didn’t like to ask for the sugarbowl. What if sugar was rationed as well?

    When we’d finished and the two maids were clearing away, Emily spoke quietly to Miss Deane.
    “Where is Miss Smith?” she asked.
    “Miss Smith was taken ill while she was on holiday,” said Miss Deane.
    I must have looked curious, for Miss Deane turned to me and explained, “Miss Smith is the Senior class mistress. I am filling in for her.”
    “When will she be coming back to the school?” asked Emily, looking concerned.
    “Though she is recovering nicely, Emily, I’m afraid she won’t be back this term.”
    Miss Deane was lying, I could tell. She sounded as if she had rehearsed the answer a dozen times.
    “So girls,” she said, “Mrs Enderby-Smarke has decided that I am to be your class mistress until Miss Smith returns. I know I can depend on you all to help me.” She ended this little speech by looking around the table.
    “Of