Barefoot and Lost by Brian Francis Cox Read Free Book Online Page A

then to the castle, and then beside the river for a picnic.’ Marjorie starts her laborious journey up the aisle; I think our walk is going to be a very slow one.
          
         I have just noticed that seven of the children are wearing red cardigans, while the others are wearing navy blue. All the boys have grey trousers, white shirts, grey socks, and black shoes. The girls are wearing light blue and white check dresses, grey socks, and black shoes. 
         ‘ Marjorie , why are some of the kids wearing red cardigans?’
         ‘Because they are from Saint Gabriel’s they are not all from St Stephen’s now go along with you and take up your position on the kerbside. Don’t forget, always keep to the outside. Don’t let them stray into the road .’ Our crocodile moves off at the speed of a caterpillar.
     
         Walking down Tonbridge High Street we take up most of the pavement, other pedestrians have to move aside to allow us to crawl along. Marjorie gives each one a smile and a polite thank you, some reply, but most just stare with a look of pity, they know we are from the orphanage. The children do not seem to be like other eight year old kids I have seen at school. They are always noisy, the boys pushing and shoving, the girls always giggling, but these are quiet, speaking in a whisper. All the girls are holding hands, the boys just looking about them, they all seem so unhappy, it is as though they had all become orphans this morning. I have tried talking to some of them, all I get is one word answers, yes, no or alright, not one has asked me who I am or why I am here, it is very strange. 
     
         I am walking alongside a girl wearing a red cardigan; she is a lot taller than the rest, holding the hand of another girl that looks two years y ounger, this must be the Canning girl and her sister. She is looking straight ahead; I touch her arm, she turns her head to look at me. ‘Are you from Saint Gabriel ’s or Saint Stephens ?’ replying in almost a whisper she says,
         ‘ Saint Gabriel ’s; are we allowed talking?’
         ‘I think so, who said you couldn’t?’ 
         ‘Miss did’ Marjorie half turns around and continues waddling backwards.
         ‘ Phillip , do not engage the children in conversation I wish them to be silent, I do not wish to present a babbling rabble to the citizens of this town, so do your job and be quiet.’ 
    And so, we continue in silence, our slow progress to wherever Marjorie decides to take us.
     
         Marjorie raises her hand for us to stop; her action is as though she is in charge of a wagon train. She waddles into a baker’s shop and emerges five minutes later clutching a small newspaper parcel. With a wave of her hand (Wagons Ho) we roll along the High Street.              
         
         In front of the cast le is a large grassed area, with flower beds are around the edge. The castle is more complete than the ruins at Hastings . The entrance is massive like a real castle with two large towers and a drawbridge but, behind, there is very little standing, just the outline of some rooms and a couple of walls. Marjorie does her wagon master bit again bringing our slow column to a halt. ‘Pay attention; you are to form groups of three, two boys and a girl to each group, if you make a fuss about it I will select who goes with who.
    Once you have sorted yourselves out you can go and explore, you are not to leave the confines of the castle and, under no circumstance do you go near the river is that understood?’ The tall girl from Saint Gabriel ’s puts up her hand.
         ‘Yes, what is it Rachel ?’
         ‘Miss, if my sister is not with me she will cry.’       
         ‘Then she will just have to learn not to; Phillip , you go with her sister and that boy over there with the glasses, the one on his own. All of you stay in your groups if I see anyone on their own that group will be