Tag Archives: Dragons Rule OK

book reviews, fantasy, novel, stories

Review of The Reviled. Book 1 of The Dark Fey by Cynthia Morgan

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OVERVIEW 

An original and intriguing story.

BLURB

From a young age, Ayla has learned about the mortal enemy of all Fey of the Light: The cruel Reviled Fey.

Gairynzvl is a Fey of the Light who was abducted by the Reviled when he was young. Now, he is one of them.

Lurking in the shadows, he lingers near Ayla and secretly whispers to her. The mystery he presents is irresistible, although she knows the Reviled Fey are menacing and devious.

Learning what he wants is only the beginning.

Should she trust him? Or will he tear her world apart?

STORY

Ayla is a fey of the Light. She has unusual gifts. She can distinguish truth from lies, and her empathy is so great that she can take on the pain of others and relieve their suffering.

She is a retiring person, but when her best friend, Nayina, suggests she go to a festival with a young fey of Nayina’s acquaintance, she is at first reluctant. However, the pair are attracted to each other and soon form a bond.

But Ayla has a secret she’s kept from everyone, including Nayina. She has sensed a male presence that seems to be watching her. He hides in the shadows and doesn’t reveal himself.

Could he be one of the Dark Fey, known as the Reviled? These creatures steal young fey and, by means of torture and harsh treatment, turn them to evil?

Eventually, Ayla tells Nayina who urges her to tell the Elders, but, strangely, Ayla doesn’t want to. At least not until she has more idea who the stranger is.

Is this person one of the Reviled? He seems reluctant to leave the shadows, as a Reviled would be. The Light actually hurts and injures them, eventually leading to their death. And what does he want with her? 

CHARACTERS.

Ayla is a gentle soul who likes her own company. She is employed to look after the children, along with Nayina. 

Her encounter with the mysterious stranger makes her plumb depths she never knew she had.

Nayina is not so developed but she isn’t a major character.

Ayla’s ‘boyfriend’, Mardan, is another character who develops through the story. He is a likeable person, and cares deeply for Ayla. He does change throughout the story.

As does the mysterious figure, when we finally meet him.

I don’t want to say much more as the development of the characters is such that to discuss it more would be a spoiler.

WRITING

Cynthia Morgan gives a good description of the Fey and we can picture these wonderful people quite clearly. Maybe a little more description of the setting might make it easier to visualise it, but I did not find it detracted from my enjoyment of the story.

There are few typos and grammar errors.

One thing that did stand out to me, though, was that occasionally the author swapped the point of view character in the middle of a scene. On one occasion this was in the middle of a paragraph. I didn’t find it much of a problem–more an irritation. I think this is because the pronoun changed, from Ayla to Mardan (I think).

I enjoyed the story very much and am looking forward to reading the next part.

I give it 4*

My ranking of books. In order to get a particular number of stars, it is not necessary to meet all the criteria. This is a guide only.

5* Exceptional. Wonderful story. Setting well drawn, and characters believable–not perfect, but with flaws. Will keep you up all night. No typos or grammatical errors.

4* A thoroughly enjoyable read. Great and original story. Believable setting and characters. Very few grammatical errors or typos.

3* I enjoyed it. Good story. Characters need some development. Some typos or grammatical errors.

2* Not for me. Story not very strong. Unbelievable and flat characters. Setting not clearly defined. Many typos or grammatical errors.

1* I hated it. Story almost non-existent. Setting poor. Possibly couldn’t finish it.

Have you read any of the other Dark Fey books? Let us know what you thought of them in the comments.

Guest Post, interview

Read My Exclusive Interview on Mary Deal’s Blog

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I was recently interviewed by Mary Deal and the interview is now released on her website.

Mary is one of my favourite authors. She writes mystery, suspense and romance. Her writing is excellent and I am honoured that she wanted me to appear on her blog.

Thank you, Mary, for allowing me to visit.

If you would like to pop over and read the interview, click on the button below.

I want to read the interview.

Uncategorized

Healing the World: The Power of Individual Actions

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I’ve had a lot going on recently, so I’m a little late with this week’s post.

Image by Mohamed Hassan from Pixabay

This post is inspired by Morgan’s post. You can read her post, Healing the World, here.

There are two things I would like to mention in regard to healing the world.

The first, is about a couple whom I knew slightly.

They had a daughter with cerebral palsy. She was grown up, but very severely brain damaged. She had no speech and couldn’t walk, thus was confined to a wheelchair.

They were staunch Christians and, although not Roman Catholic, decided to take her to Lourdes in France to pray at the shrine for healing.

They said, ‘She wasn’t healed, but we were.’

On returning, they fostered many handicapped children, all the while still looking after their own severely handicapped daughter.

They also set up a school in an African country (I forget which) and raised money for it as well as visiting.

While no one but a few people know of them, and they will never be known by the Vatican, nor Canterbury, in my mind they are true saints.

The second occurred during Lent, in 1989. There were Lent groups that year on the theme of persecuted Christians around the world. Prayers were said, especially for those in the Soviet Union.

These groups were held throughout the Anglican Church, once a week for the duration of Lent. I believe they still are.

In November of that year, the Berlin Wall came down.

Thus the power of many people acting together can have a result, and the actions of individuals can be a wonderful way to help others and have wide-ranging effects.

WILL EVERYONE WHO HATES THE WAY THE WORLD IS GOING, PLEASE 🙏 THINK POSITIVE THOUGHTS, OR PRAY, IF YOU ARE A BELIEVER OF ANY RELIGION. 

MAYBE IF ENOUGH OF US DO THIS, LIKE WHAT HAPPENED IN MY STORIES ABOVE, THINGS WILL CHANGE FOR THE BETTER.

Uncategorized

A Story About Wealth

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How Wealthy Are You? A Lesson from the Midas Touch
historical recipes, Recipe book, recipes

Savoury Pancake Recipe for Shrove Tuesday

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Image by Kavinda F from Pixabay

Today is Shrove Tuesday, AKA Pancake Day.

Shrove Tuesday is the day before Lent begins, with Ash Wednesday the following day.

Many thanks to Wikipedia for the following information.

The name “Shrove Tuesday” comes from to shrive, meaning absolution following confession. Christians traditionally visit their church on Shrove Tuesday to confess their sins and cleanse their soul before the start of Lent.

Indulging in food that might be given up as a sacrifice for the upcoming forty days of Lent, is associated with Shrove Tuesday.

The Mardi Gras celebrations held, most famously in New Orleans, are a part of this. Mardi Gras is French for Fat Tuesday, so called because of the eating of rich food that will be given up for the duration of Lent.

Many people still observe the day through eating pancakes.

On Shrove Tuesday, churches burn the palms distributed during the previous year’s Palm Sunday liturgies to make the ashes used during the services held on the next day, Ash Wednesday, when a penitential service is held.

The priest puts a cross of ashes (usually from the palm crosses burned the previous day) on the foreheads of the penitents, saying  “From dust you came and to dust you will return.” This is a reminder of mortality and the need to repent of sins.

Lent is a time of remembering Jesus withdrawing to the Wilderness before His arrest and crucifixion. Here He fasted, was tempted by Satan, but held firm.

Christians fast in memory of this event.

But on Shrove Tuesday people eat foods they are going to give up during the 40 days of Lent.

This has come down to us as eating pancakes made from, nowadays, flour, eggs and milk.

Maybe you would like to try something different for your pancakes this year. Often they are served sweet, with sugar and lemon, chocolate spread or other sweet things. My Grandma served a delicious savoury pancake that is also excellent for vegetarians.

Here is the recipe,

Savoury Pancake filling

(Grandma’s recipe)

Pancakes made however you like them, or you can buy unsweetened ones.

Ingredients

125g large open capped mushrooms

2 onions

2 tomatoes

½ x1 teaspoon of sweet herbs (I would guess that this is similar to Herbes de Provence, since you seem to be no longer able to get sweet herbs. I have used Herbes de Provence quite successfully.)

Method

Fry the onion a little and add the mushrooms and tomatoes.

Continue cooking until all vegetables are done, and add salt and pepper to taste.

Serve hot on pancakes, rolled up. 

Are you interested in historical recipes? If so, you might be interested in Viv’s Family Recipes.

This recipe book is the culmination of many years of cooking and baking by the author. She is passionate about food quality and believes that home cooked is best.

She has inherited a recipe book from her mother’s eldest sister and a small one from her grandmother that contains recipes from the turn of the 19th century. She has also included many recipes from other family and friends from many places and times.

It is an interesting look at how our diets have changed over the years as well as our cooking methods. Many of the older recipes are done by long steaming. There are also some interesting ‘Hints and Tips’ from long ago.

The book also has some interesting comments about the people whose recipes appear in the book.

Like to explore more about these recipes? Then click the button below.

Take me to the book store of my choice.

Do you have any favourite pancake recipes? Let us know in the comments.

memories

Creating Sound: Childhood Instruments and Memories

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I was changing the toilet roll in the bathroom the other morning when I inexplicably thought about how toilet rolls were in the 1950s.

Yes, I’m that old.

Anyway, I thought about the old Izal toilet rolls. 

They were a bit like tracing paper. In fact, we sometimes used them as such. They were hard and very scratchy. Horrid.

‘What has this to do with music?’ I hear you ask.

Well, while it was not good for its original purpose, it was brilliant to use with a comb to make a paper and comb musical instrument.

For those who don’t know about this, you wrapped the paper loosely around the teeth of the comb and made a buzzing sound with your lips. This made the paper vibrate and make a sound. By altering the pitch, you could play a tune.

We used to take a piece of broad-leaved grass, hold it vertically between our thumbs. Blowing our thumbs made a sound. 

Admittedly, not a nice one!

Paper straws could also be made into a kind of noise-producing item. Cut the end of the straw so it made an inverted V shape and blow. This didn’t last long, though, as the end got wet and stopped working. Pitch could be varied by the length of the straw. A group could play a simple tune. (Theoretically!)

Blowing across the end of bottles was a good noise-maker, too. If you got different sized bottles, you could make different notes.

We also made noises by cupping our hands together and blowing between our thumbs. But raising the fingers of the top hand, we made different notes. Favourite was a cuckoo’s call.

Tapping a pencil on your teeth and moving your mouth would also change the pitch of the tap, and you could ‘play’ a tune.

The last one I remember took some organising.

You took a wine glass (your mother’s best worked well) and added a little water. You dipped your finger in to make it damp, then ran it gently around the rim. It made a ringing sound. 

If you added different amounts of water to several glasses, you could, with a lot of trial and error, get a scale, thus play a simple tune.

Admittedly, some of these can hardly be described as music, but still…

Did you do any of these things? Do you know of any other things we did in childhood to make sounds? Let us know in the comments.

If you would like to buy any of my books, simply click on the image in the sidebar and you will be taken to a page where you can buy in any format from your favourite online store.

The ebook of each of the series is free.

Poetry, Winter

Discover Haikus & Poetry Inspired by Winter

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I am currently reading D Wallace Peach’s latest book, The Season’s Weaver. It deals with a world plunged into perpetual winter. I will be reviewing it shortly.

It made me think of a Haiku I wrote. It’s still winter, and although we have no snow here, at least not in the south of England where I live, I know there is a lot of it in the US where many of you live.

Here is the Haiku.

Gently, silently
Throughout the night the snow fell.
A monochrome world.

And some more I wrote that you can find in my Miscellaneous Thoughts poetry book.

SNOW

Flakes drop gently down,
Turning all the land to white.
A magical sight.

Nothing can be seen.
Earth and sky blend into one
In the blizzard’s rage.

Waking in the dawn,
Mysterious light shines in.
It snowed in the night.

If you are interested in reading more of my poetry, you can go to a page where you can Miscellaneous Thoughts from your favourite online retailer by clicking on the link or the book cover in the sidebar..

It is available in different formats from ebooks to physical books.

Please leave a comment. Comments are GOOD.

book reviews, novel, stories

Miira Tahn: A Sci-Fi Journey Through Life and Death. My Review of the book.

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OVERVIEW.

This is an omnibus of three books, but it reads as one. I would not be able to say where one book ends and the next one begins. As a result, I would recommend reading the omnibus rather than an individual book.

BLURB

Because I couldn’t find the omnibus on Amazon to copy the blurb, here are the blurbs for the three books in the series.

In 2101, the average life expectancy is one hundred and ten. Miira Tahn, last Lady of Dhurai, is dying at just fifty-two. Faced with a slow, agonizing death, her only hope is Innerscape, a virtual paradise in which the Residents inhabit beautiful, digital bodies indistinguishable from the real thing.

Or so the brochures say. But even Eden had a snake, and once inducted, the Residents of Innerscape can never again return to the real world. If anything goes wrong, they’ll be lost in the dark forever.

Yet for Miira Tahn, even a tenuous hope is better than the fate that awaits her.

‘…sometimes you just have to close your eyes and jump…’

‘Miira’ is the first book of the Innerscape cyle and corresponds to Episode 1 of the original series.

Desperate to find a version of reality she can live with, Miira Tahn sets out to explore the digital world of Innerscape, but along the way she discovers there are other worlds open to her as well. The HUBs connect Innerscape to every location in the virtual universe, and some, like the gaming world of the Shogunate, prove to be a lot of fun. Back in Innerscape, however, a darker game is unfolding. Someone wants the Burned Man silenced, but only the AI knows which body is where, and it’s immune to threats. People, however, are so much easier to manipulate. Caught in a web of intrigue and deceit, Miira and her friends become pawns in a game where losing means death.

More alone than ever, Miira Tahn clings to the bonds of friendship, yet even there, nothing is quite what it seems, not even her own memories. Driven to search for answers out in the real world, she uncovers the one truth that can tear apart the tissue of lies surrounding the Burned Man. But is she strong enough to face the consequences? And what of the powerful people who would prefer the truth to remain safely buried? In Nabatea, the past finally collides with the present as Miira risks all to save a good man.

STORY

Miira Tahn is a  Refugee (with a capital R). She is old and severely disabled and so she has come to Innerscape. Here, her useless body is immersed in a tank and she is given an avatar of her young self. Now she, along with many others, inhabits a virtual world.

People from the real world can enter a tank and also enter Innerscape and interact with the avatars of the patients.

Miira forms a relationship with a young doctor, an expert in Innerscape. When it appears he has committed several murders, she finds it hard to believe the man she knew could do such things.

There is a mystery behind the killings, though. It appears that Miira is a possible intended victim, along with a mysterious man known as Alex Tang. 

This summary is quite difficult to write without giving away too much, so I’ll stop there.

CHARACTERS.

Miira Tahn is a likeable character. At first, she is rather staid, but her meeting with a young man, Jaimie, helps her. He introduces her to the world of virtual reality gaming, which she, surprisingly takes to.

Jamie Watson is an 18 year old who almost died 10 years previously in an accident. He is full of energy, somewhat brash, and is a perfect foil for Miira.

Kenneth Wu is the young doctor whom Miira finds herself drawn to. He is understanding and kind, and seems to reciprocate Miira’s feelings.

Peter MacAlistair is the CEO of Innerscape. He is devious and has something to hide.

These are the main characters, but there is a plethora of others. In fact, I found it difficult to remember who was who a lot of the time. Something of a downside.

WRITING

I didn’t come across many, if any, grammatical or spelling errors. 

However, I did find it slow going at the beginning. When the mystery kicked in, though, I got interested, and quite immersed. I was anxious to know if Miira could clear Kenneth’s name, and how their relationship would develop.

Having said that, though, I was left a little disappointed. Some things that had seemed important were left ‘in the air’.

We found out who Alex Tang was, and why ‘someone’ wanted him dead. He was a whistleblower, but we never found out what whistle he had blown.

Miira is a Refugee, but we weren’t told what she was a Refugee from (and why it needed a capital letter). It did seem important, and seemed to be linked to what the whistleblower had said, but no clear statement about it.

Someone in the government was involved, but it wasn’t made clear who, how or why.

Because of the slow start and the loose ends, I feel I can only give it;

3*

My ranking of books. In order to get a particular number of stars, it is not necessary to meet all the criteria. This is a guide only.

5* Exceptional. Wonderful story. Setting well drawn, and characters believable–not perfect, but with flaws. Will keep you up all night. No typos or grammatical errors.

4* A thoroughly enjoyable read. Great and original story. Believable setting and characters. Very few grammatical errors or typos.

3* I enjoyed it. Good story. Characters need some development. Some typos or grammatical errors.

2* Not for me. Story not very strong. Unbelievable and flat characters. Setting not clearly defined. Many typos or grammatical errors.

1* I hated it. Story almost non-existent. Setting poor. Possibly couldn’t finish it.

This is the first Scifi book I’ve read in a while. On the whole I enjoyed it, but for the comments I made in the review.

Do you enjoy Scifi? What is your opinion of books that leave loose ends?

christmas, serial, short story, stories, Winter

Goldie’s Journey: From Hardship to a Warm Home. (Goldie and the Beare Family Part 7)

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Image by V.M.Sang using Bing Image Generator.

Picture shows a well-dressed Victorian woman with small blonde girl and a slightly older boy walking along a snowy street. A ragged man and boy watch them pass.

Goldie could not believe what was happening. This must be a dream, and soon she would wake to hunger and cold, not to mention fear of Mr Smith. 

She sat on a small stool before the fire. Warmth. Lovely warmth. Even with no clothes on, she felt warm. Warmer than she ever remembered.

This was a beautiful house. She had never been inside a house like this. It was clean, with furniture that was not broken or torn. Thick curtains that would keep out the cold. Clutching Jacob Rabbit to her naked chest, she stood and wandered to feel them. Soft. Almost as soft as Jacob.

“Is this real?” she whispered to the rabbit.

The door opened and Mrs Beare came in. 

Mamma, she said I was to call her.

“I’ve borrowed these clothes from the vicar’s wife, Emily. She has a little girl about your age. Come and let me help you to dress.”

I’m Emily again. I have my proper name back.

Mamma dressed her in what looked like expensive clothes. She had always worn clothes passed on to the poor by richer folk. They had been worn out in places, and the fabric thin.

Mamma held up a white dress. “Arms up,” she said. 

When Emily complied, she dropped the dress over the child’s head. “Now turn around so I can do up the buttons.”

When the buttons were fastened, Mamma tied a blue ribbon around her waist.

The dress was not as long as Mamma’s. It came halfway down her calves. A hint of the frill around the legs of her bloomers peeped from below.

Mamma picked up a brush and teased out the tangles from her golden hair. “I can see why they called you Goldie. And you have a soft natural curl to your hair. It will be easy to fashion.” She held Emily at arm’s length. “You are exquisite. Now let us go and eat dinner before Mrs White has a fit.”

They left the sitting room and entered the dining room. 

 Mr Beare’s eyes opened wide. “I can’t believe this is the same little girl that was asleep in Harold’s room. She’s beautiful.”

Emily smiled and cast her eyes down.

Jane had set a fourth place, and when all four were seated, Mrs White entered carrying a platter on which sat a large goose. She was followed by Jane with a tray of dishes. The pair placed their burdens on the table.

“I’m sorry about the soup, Ma’am,” Mrs White said. “There was not enough to feed you all.” She glared at Emily.

Emily felt her face heating.

“That is all right, Mrs White. It wasn’t your fault,” Mrs Beare replied.

Emily squirmed in her seat and kept her eyes down. It was her fault there was not enough soup.

Mr Beare, Papa, carved the goose and served everyone.

There were potatoes, and a sauce made from some kind of green fruit. Mamma said they were gooseberries, so called because they were served with goose. Another dish had sprouts, and yet another had carrots.

After eating all these delicious foods, Emily had never felt so full in her life. She thought of the thin gruel she had eaten at Mr Smith’s, and grimaced.

After Jane cleared the remnants and dirty crockery, Mrs White returned with a plum pudding. She placed it carefully on the table and Mrs Beare served each of them. 

When they finished eating, Harold looked at her, and took a deep breath. “It’s Christmas, Mamma. We had our presents, but Emily hasn’t had anything.”

Emily grinned. “Yes, I have. I have a new home and family. That’s the best Christmas present ever.”

“But I want to give you something.” He pulled Jacob Rabbit from under the table. “You are now my little sister. You love Jacob, and so I’ll give him to you.”

His parents smiled.

After eating, the family repaired to the sitting room, Emily clutching Jacob Rabbit to her chest. Mamma sat at the piano and played Christmas carols, to which they all joined in singing. After a while, Papa got out the dominoes and they played until Emily ‘s eyes began to close.

Jane had made up a bed for her in her very own room. As she lay, her eyes closing, she believed this was the best day ever.

*****

Mr Smith stomped around the sparse loft room. “What d’you mean, no one’s seen ’er? She can’t just disappear.”

Jack spoke quietly. “P’rhaps she ran away after you beat ’er.”

“Then she’ll be ‘idin’ somewhere.” He turned to the other children. “All of you. Go out and search. Look in every corner, every empty ‘ouse, ware’ouses; everywhere you can think of.”

A few weeks later, Jack went up to Mr Smith, cowering. “I seen Goldie.”

Mr Smith grabbed the boy. “Where? Why didn’t you bring her back?”

“Couldn’t. She were with a well-to-do lady. Dressed nice, she were. Lady were ‘oldin’ her ‘and, like she were her mother or summat.”

Mr Smith sank into his chair. “Couldn’t be ‘er. A girl what looks like her. That’s who you saw.”

Jack shook his head. “Was ‘er a’right. Saw me, she did. Shook her ‘ead at me. Rekernised me for sure.”

“Well, we’ve searched for ‘er for weeks now. We need to get back to business. There’s no money coming in while you are all out searchin’. If that were Goldie you saw, she’s lost to us.”

The End

I hope you enjoyed the story of Goldie. Please let me know what you thought in the comments.

serial, short story, stories

Finding Family: The Journey of Emily the Orphan. (Goldie and the Beare Family: Part 6)

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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 went to heaven. 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.”

His wife sat on the bed with an arm around the little girl. She turned to her. “What’s your name?”

“Mr Smith calls me Goldie.”

“But what did your mother call you? Can you remember?”

 Mrs Beare had to lean forward to hear the whisper.

“Emily.”

“Well, Emily, tell me what you did for Mr Smith.”

“Begged. He said I’m pretty so people’ll feel sorry for me and give me more.”

“Emily, I will not let you go to either Mr Smith, or the orphanage. I have an idea, but I need to talk to my husband about it.” She stood. “Stay here. Harold, come along with us. Bring a toy to play with, but leave Jacob with Emily.”

“But, mother…”

Mrs Beare frowned. “Don’t argue, Harold. Do as you are told.”

He handed his rabbit to Emily with a sullen look, and followed his parents. “What if she runs away with him?”

“We will be outside the room. She will not be able to leave without us seeing her. Go and take your train into the sitting room until we call you.”

Mr Beare stood, head cocked to one side. “What is it, Grace? What’s going on in that head of yours?” He laughed. “I can’t see what alternative there is to the orphanage.”

“Oh, but there is, Albert. You know how I…we…wanted more children, but none came after Harold? Remember our prayers, asking God to help us? We thought that He had decided we should have no more children.”

Mr Beare nodded.

“Well, I think He has answered our prayers after all.”

“You mean… .” He looked at the bedroom door.

His wife nodded, a smile covering her face. “Yes. Emily. I think that God has sent her to us, both in answer to our prayers and to help her, too. I think we should adopt her.”

Mr Beare frowned and shook his head. “I’m not sure, Grace. Adopting a street child? She’s a thief. She entered our house and took things.” He gazed at his wife. 

“She took an opportunity that presented itself. She only did it from fear of this Mr Smith. She’s a beggar, not a thief.”

“It’s a big risk, Grace. Suppose Mr Smith still has some influence over her?”

Mrs Beare sighed. “If she’s living here with us I do not see how Mr Smith, whoever he is, can get to her.” She held onto her husband’s arm and gazed into his eyes. “Please, Albert. You know how I long for another child, especially a little girl. And here God has provided us with one. Are you going to reject God’s gift?” She opened her eyes wide and smiled at him through her eyelashes.

“You know I can’t deny you, especially when you look at me like that.” He bent and kissed her. “I won’t reject God’s gift, either.”

If it had not been unladylike, Mrs Beare would have jumped up and down.

“You realise we’ll have a difficult job getting her civilised?”

She grinned. “Yes, but I like a challenge.”

On entering the room, Emily was huddled in a corner of the bed, holding Jacob the rabbit tightly. She stared at Mrs Beare with wide open eyes.

Mrs Beare sat next to the little girl. “How would you like to live here with us, Emily?”

Emily frowned. “You want me to be a maid here?”

“No, no. I…we want you to be our little girl. Our daughter. We want to adopt you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will live here with us. We will give you clothes and food. You will go to school. You will have toys. You will have everything our son, Harold, has. He will be your brother.”

“Not go back to Mr Smith?”

“No.”

“And have a rabbit to cuddle, like Jacob?”

“Yes. And other toys, too.”

Mr Beare entered, looking severe. “You’ll have to be good, though. No more stealing.”

Emily put her hand in her pocket and drew out the brooch she had taken from Mrs Beare’s jewellery box. 

She held them towards Mrs Beare. “Sorry. Mr Smith would beat me if I had nothing to give him.” She hung her head as tears filled her eyes.

“You will call me ‘mother’, or mamma, if you prefer, and Mr Beare you will call ‘father’ or ‘papa’. But first we must get you clean and see to those wounds.”

Mrs Beare called Jane and told her to prepare a bath. When the hot water had been poured into the metal bath set before the fire, Mrs Beare washed Emily’s hair and gently sponged her back. Her clothes she gave to Jane with instructions to wash them, and to dry them as quickly as possible before the range. She then plastered a salve on the raw switch marks.

“What are we going to dress you in? You can’t walk around naked. It is indecent.” Mrs Beare thought for a minute. “Wait here, Emily, I won’t be long.” She left the room and sought her husband.

As she crossed the hallway, Jane rushed up the stairs.

“Ma’am, Mrs White says the dinner is ready, and will be spoiling.”

“Oh, Jane, tell Mrs White I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be too much longer. Try to keep it hot, please.”

Jane dropped a curtsey and went back down the stairs. 

Mrs Beare entered the dining room. “Albert, we can’t have Christmas dinner with Emily with no clothes. The vicar has a little girl about the same size as Emily. I’m sure his wife will not mind lending us an old dress of hers.”

Mr Beare rose and tapped his pipe on the side of the fireplace, where a fire blazed. “And you want me to go and ask.”

“Yes, please. She can’t put her old clothes back. Not only are they ragged, but they were filthy, so I had Jane burn them.”

“And I suppose I’ll have to ask for some underwear, too. All right. I’ll go straight away.”

Mrs Beare reached up and kissed him on the cheek, then returned to the sitting room and Emily.

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