Tall Poppies by Janet Woods Page B

the children sitting on the settee. She smiled at them, feeling slightly awkward, because the reunion had not gone as she expected. ‘Haven’t you been upstairs to see your bedrooms yet?’
    When the children looked at each other doubtfully, she said, ‘You have a bedroom each, and you don’t have to ask permission to go anywhere inside the house.’
    â€˜For ourselves  . . . a whole bedroom each?’ Chad said.
    â€˜They’re only small, but if you go up those stairs you will find your rooms through the two doors on the right. I sleep in the one on the other side of the landing.’
    â€˜How will we know which one belongs to us?’
    â€˜Go and look. You’ll know. Take a bag up with you so we can put your stuff in the chest of drawers.’
    There was also a large trunk in the hall, which was too heavy to take up by herself. She’d unpack the contents later, when she had time.
    She followed the children up to the rooms, which she’d freshened up with a couple of coats of whitewash. Esmé’s room had a gaudy pink patchwork quilt Connie had bought from the market, and a kidney-shaped dressing table with a glass top and a front curtain of printed pink rosebuds that matched the curtains. There was a rag doll sitting in a wickerwork chair, which had also been given a coat of white paint.
    â€˜Florence made the doll for you.’
    â€˜For me?’
    â€˜You must thank her when you see her.’
    Nodding, Esmé smiled and picked the doll up. ‘She’s pretty.’
    â€˜Isn’t she?’ Between them, the three women had crocheted squares and made a blanket quilt for Chad’s room, in dark blue, red and white. Livia had found a telescope in the attic, polished it and set it up at the window. ‘You’ll be able to look at the stars through it,’ she said.
    â€˜You might see the man on the moon,’ Esmé said, giving a bit of a cough. Emptying the bags, Livia sorted out the clothing and folded it into drawers, thankful that Mr Stone had been practical in his choices. There were at least two changes for everyday, flannel smocks, a pretty velvet dress with a lace collar for Esmé, and for Chad, a suit for best and sturdy boots.
    Chad’s mind wasn’t on clothing, though. He swung the telescope round, then shouted, ‘I can see a big red bird in the garden. He looks jolly fierce.’
    â€˜Where?’ Esmé said, joining him and jiggling up and down with impatience.
    â€˜Down there,’ and he handed the telescope to Esmé.
    Livia smiled when she looked out of the window. ‘It’s a chicken. I’d better go down and shoo her back into her pen, else the fox will have her for dinner tonight. Then we won’t have any eggs for breakfast.’
    â€˜Can I do it?’ the twins asked in unison.
    â€˜We’ll do it together in case the others have escaped. We don’t want to scare them.’
    Only two of the five were roaming the garden. The children took a handful of bran each and enticed the chickens back into their pen. They’d got out through a hole in their coop. ‘See if there’s a hammer and nails in the shed, Chad.’
    He came back with both, and an old tin tray, saying in manly fashion, ‘The wood’s rotten. We need another piece.’
    â€˜Chickens need  . . . new home.’
    They turned to gaze at Richard Sangster, who was rugged up and leaning on Beamish.
    â€˜I thought you had a meeting with Mr Stone. Have you followed us?’
    â€˜We did. Simon only wanted my signature  . . . he’s w  . . . with Pa now.’
    Beamish smiled at them all and shrugged. ‘He was too curious to wait, and insisted I bring him.’
    â€˜You walked all that way in this cold wind? I could have taken the children upstairs to meet you if you’d wanted, Mr Sangster.’
    â€˜Room  . . . like prison.’
    â€˜He