Tall Poppies by Janet Woods

man.’
    Livia had worked out her routine with Beamish. She would have very little to do on her shift, apart from relax, keep Richard company, and walk him around the garden in his wheelchair if he felt like some air.
    Richard Sangster responded to her attempts at conversation with grunts and the occasional word. He stuttered badly if he tried to converse, swore and banged his hand on the arm of the chair before stuttering out, ‘S  . . . sorry.’ She learned to handle his moods with calmness, for they stemmed from frustration.
    In the week before Christmas Livia took possession of Nutting Cottage. She made the beds, using painstakingly repaired linen that had been discarded for rags. It would do until she could afford some of her own.
    She went there after dinner each evening and usually fell asleep in the armchair, waking cold and disorientated when the fire went out.
    The new Mrs Sangster called her to the drawing room the next day. ‘This is not good enough, Livia. I rang the bell twice last night. A housekeeper needs to be on call twenty-four hours a day.’
    â€˜I was at Nutting Cottage preparing for the arrival of my sister and brother. I’ve worked through my schedule with the Sinclair trust. As long as the kitchen staff are familiar with the menu and the housekeeping is kept up to date, my evenings are free to spend with my sister and brother, when they arrive.’
    Her mouth pursed. ‘You certainly managed to manipulate the former Mrs Sangster. Well, don’t think you’ll do the same with me. We’re very different.’
    Livia could say the same about her with the major. ‘Yes, Madam, you most certainly are. Is there anything else?’
    â€˜You can take my underwear and give it to Florence to wash.’
    â€˜I understood it was washed yesterday.’
    â€˜It was not washed well enough.’
    Raising an eyebrow, Livia gazed at her. ‘You know how short-staffed we are. Florence has a lot to do, and I would suggest you wash it yourself if you’re not satisfied. Florence has other tasks.’
    â€˜You’re refusing a direct order. Be very careful, Livia. You might find yourself losing that cosy little home you’re making for your family.’
    Fear leaped in her chest, digging its claws in as she whispered, ‘You wouldn’t do that  . . . be so mean towards two innocent children.’
    â€˜Wouldn’t I?’
    Yes, she certainly would  . . . but could she? Livia thought. The cottage didn’t belong to Major Sangster  . . . yet. Out of habit she washed the underwear herself, otherwise the woman would make everyone’s life a misery
    Esmé and Chad arrived the next day, just after lunch. From Richard Sangster’s window she saw Mr Stone’s car come up the driveway, and a pair of pale faces looking out.
    Excitement fermented inside her. At last  . . . at long last! Thank you, God. ‘It’s my sister and brother,’ she said, beaming a smile at the two men. ‘They’ve arrived.’
    â€˜You’ll want to get them settled into the cottage, so we can manage without you this afternoon,’ Beamish said.
    Richard stammered, ‘G  . . . give them  . . . something  . . . eat.’
    â€˜Thank you.’ She flew down the stairs and out of the front door. ‘Esmé! Chad.’
    The pair huddled together, looking bewildered. They were pale and thin, and carried no luggage. How lethargic they both were. Again, Livia was kept at a distance by the blank gaze one usually gives a stranger. Esmé clung to Chad, and he said, ‘It’s all right, Es. It’s our sister. She won’t hurt you. Hello, Olivia.’
    Both children took a step back when she approached, and Esmé began to cry. ‘I want to go back to the home.’
    Tears pushed against Livia’s eyes. ‘You won’t have to go there again