Cinderella Sister by Dilly Court Read Free Book Online

Nell was still ministering to the injured man upstairs and the family parlour was directly below. She wanted to be alone, but she knew from past experience that if Molly heard her footsteps pattering about overhead she would come to investigate. Whereas the rest of the family might be content to sit by the fire and relax after a hard day’s work, Molly was easily bored and always on the fidget, looking for things to excite her interest. Lily placed the chipped enamel candle holder on the washstand and tiptoed over to her bed beneath the window. She sat down to take off her boots and a shiver ran down her spine. Was it her imagination, or did the shadows seem darker this evening? She told herself not to be so silly. There was nothing to harm her in the room she had shared with her sisters for the past ten years. The oppressive feeling must be due to the blanket of fog pressing against the windowpanes and blotting out the glow from the street light.
    By daylight, the room was large and high-ceilinged with ornate plaster cornices, but like the rest of the house it had seen better days. The floral wallpaper was so faded that the pattern of roses and forget-me-nots was barely discernible, and the rugs scattered abouton the bare boards were threadbare. It had been their parents’ room in happier times, and Lily had vague memories of gleaming rosewood furniture and a brass bedstead with a rose-coloured satin coverlet and matching curtains, now faded to dusky pink. The furniture had been sent to auction several years ago and replaced by a pine armoire with a matching washstand and three narrow iron beds. In one corner, reflecting the flickering light of the single candle, stood a cheval mirror; the one piece that had belonged to her mother that had not been sold, thanks to Nell’s eloquent plea for it to be saved. Even at the time, Lily had realised that Nell had been motivated by practicality rather than sentiment. Three girls maturing to womanhood needed a mirror if they were to present themselves to the world properly gowned. Nell was far-seeing and sensible, never one to be led by her emotions.
    Lily slid off the bed and knelt on the floor, reaching beneath the iron bed frame to pull out a battered cardboard box in which she kept her most precious possession. Inside it was the only thing she owned that linked her to her mother and she prized it above everything. She took off the lid and lifted out a much smaller wooden box filled with tiny pans of colour. Ma had given it to her for her eighth birthday and she had treasured it ever since, using the paint sparingly to colour-wash the delicate pencil sketches of riverside scenes that she drew surreptitiously when the family were not about. These were executed on the back of pages torn out of old ledgers that she begged from Mr Cobbold, the ship’s chandler who lived above his shopin Wapping High Street. His daughter, Flossie, was a voluptuous brunette who had a reputation for being a flirt, but Mark could see no wrong in her and had been stepping out with her for some months now. Lily was often required to carry messages to Flossie, and it was on one of these visits that she had seen Mr Cobbold about to throw an old ledger on the fire. Paper was expensive and Lily had leapt at the chance of receiving a free supply.
    She laid out her treasures on the floor: a squirrel-hair brush that had lost some of its bristles, the stub of a pencil that would soon be too small to hold and a penknife with a rather rusty blade that had once belonged to Luke, but he had given it to her when the tip of the blade had snapped off. At the bottom of the box were the torn-out pages from Mr Cobbold’s ledger noting transactions conducted ten years ago. Scrambling to her feet, Lily went to the washstand and filled her tooth mug with water from the willow-pattern jug. She went back to sit cross-legged on the floor by the bed, taking the candle with her. Placing it close enough to throw its paltry light on