
Image created buy V.M.Sang using Bing AI Generator
“The door’s not closed.” Mr Beare frowned as he mounted the steps. He turned to his wife. “How come you didn’t close it behind you? I know you were in a hurry, but it is not like you to be so careless.”
His wife followed him into the house, pulling the hatpin from her hat and removing it. She hung it on a hatstand by the door. “Jane was behind me, Albert. She must not have pulled it closed properly.” She went to the top of the stairs leading to the basement and called the maid.
Jane curtsied from the top of the stairs. “What did you want, Mistress?”
“When you came out of the door to go to church, did you close it properly behind you?”
“Oh, Mistress, I really don’t know. I was rushing, see. I’m sorry if I left it.”
Mr Beare hung his cloak and hat on the stand. “You should be careful, Jane. There are all kinds of undesirables around these days. If someone had noticed, they would have been able to walk right in and help themselves.”
Tears trickled down Jane’s face. “I’m sorry, sir.” She curtsied again. “It won’t happen again. I’ll be extra careful in future.”
Mrs Beare placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “It’s partly my fault, Albert. I told Jane to come through the front door instead of the basement. We were late, and it would have taken her a few more minutes to go down to the kitchen and use the servant’s door.”
Mr Beare nodded and smiled at Jane. “Well, let’s forget it, shall we? Go and get changed into your uniform.”
Harold, Mr and Mrs Beare’s eight year old son came out of the sitting room.
“Mamma, someone has opened one of the sweetmeat bags.”
His parents rushed in and Harold pointed to the open bag on the roof of the Nativity scene.
Mr Beare picked it up. “Only one eaten, it seems.”
A scream came from the kitchen, followed by the sound of running feet.
“Oh, sir, I’m sorry. So sorry. Someone’s been in the house. They took a bite from a mince pie.” Jane held out the evidence. “I’m sorry for leaving the door open. Please don’t dismiss me.”
“No one is dismissing anyone,” Mrs Beare said. “So far nothing has been taken or damaged except one sweetmeat and one bite of a mince pie. Go back to the kitchen and see if anything else has happened.”
“We’d better be certain nothing else has been taken, Mary,” Mr Beare said. “First let us see if anything has been taken from down here, then we can go upstairs and check.”
It was Harold who noticed the missing spoon in the dining room.
“That’s odd. They only took one small spoon. Look at all the other silver they could have taken.” Mrs Beare drew her brows together.
As they pondered this, Jane came rushing back. She panted before she managed to speak. “They’ve drunk the soup, Ma’am. I went to heat it up, and there was only a little bit left.”
“Let’s inspect upstairs,” Mr Beare said, striding to the staircase. “Jane, go back to the kitchen and help Mrs White finish the preparations for the meal.”
Jane curtsied and left.
The family ascended the stairs. Mr and Mrs Beare went into their bedroom and Harold went into his.
Mrs Beare inspected her jewellery box and frowned. She turned to her husband. “The moon brooch you gave me is missing, but nothing else. The burglar only took one spoon and one piece of jewellery.”
Harold ran into their room. “Mamma, there is a girl asleep on my bed.”
Mrs Beare straightened. “A girl?”
Harold nodded. “Yes. And she’s got Jacob.”
All three went to Harold’s room. Peering through the open door, they saw Goldie fast asleep and hugging Harold’s rabbit.
Mrs Beare’s eyes softened. “But she’s so little. Is she the burglar?”
“It would seem so, my dear. She’s obviously a beggar or a vagrant. We need to notify the police.”
The little girl woke, looked at the three people in the room and leaped to her feet, throwing the rabbit to the floor.
Harold dived for his toy, shouting “Jacob!”
The girl ran for the door and tried to duck under Mr Beare’s arm, but he was too quick and managed to grab her. He wrapped both arms around her, and as he did so, she screamed again.
“It hurts. Please, it hurts.”
“Don’t hold her so tightly, Albert.”
“I’m not. It shouldn’t hurt her.”
The girl was crying now. “Please don’t get the police. I’ll give back what I took. Just give me some money. Only a little money, or Mr Smith will beat me again.”
Mrs Beare took the child’s hand and prized her away from her husband. “But it does hurt her.” She knelt beside the weeping child. “Where does it hurt? Did Mr Smith hurt you?”
The child nodded and sniffed, rubbing her hand over her nose, spreading snot across her face.
Mrs Beare took out a handkerchief and wiped it away. “Show me where he hurt you.”
The child turned around. “My back. He hurt my back.”
Gently, Mrs Beare pulled the ragged dress away from the child’s shoulders. She drew a quick breath. There, across the child’s back were three long welts. The remains of blood traced their path.
She turned to her husband. “This child has been brutally beaten until she bled.” She stood her fists opening and closing. “We cannot allow her to return to such a man.”
“You’re correct, dear. I’ll contact the man in charge of the orphanage. They’ll take her if I ask him. I have influence.”
Mrs Beare looked at the child, who had cowered away at the mention of the orphanage. She frowned. “What is it, child? Surely the orphanage is better than your Mr Smith?”
“Ma said it was a bad place. When I were bad, she said she’d send me there.”
Mrs Beare put her head on one side. “So you have a mother?”
“No. She died. Annie found me and took me to Mr Smith. She said I’d be one of her girls when I’m old enough.”
Mr Beare strode into the room. “That settles it. She must go to the orphanage. We cannot allow her to become a fallen woman.”
Will Goldie be sent to the orphanage she so dreads?





