The Mersey Girls by Katie Flynn Read Free Book Online Page A

safe, you won’t want to go trudging over to the dairy when you’re worn out from hollerin’ at young Caitlin and sweating over your school books. And close the safe door properly,’ she added as Lucy danced across to the larder, emerging presently with a large hunk of bread and cheese and a mug of creamy milk.
    Maeve was kneeling in front of the oven, pushing her clean potatoes down its hot black throat. ‘And now, young woman, where’s your report?’
    The air immediately became electric. Lucy had no idea what Miss Carruthers had said about her this year, but it was bound to be something horrible, or at least critical. Miss Carruthers had sharp eyes, a sharp voice and an extremely sharp tongue – her pen would no doubt resemble the rest of her. But it would not do to say so; Lucy affected extreme nonchalance.
    ‘Oh, that. It’s in the bottom of me satchel, under the red arithmetic book. And I haven’t opened the envelope, either. Want it now?’
    ‘Yes, I think so. Get it out of the way before Grandad comes in, shall we? He’ll remember it later and probably read it, but we don’t want to spoil his tea!’
    Maeve was smiling as she spoke and Lucy stooped and picked up her satchel, rummaged her way through the books and produced the long white envelope. If Miss Carruthers has given me a hard time I’ll put a live mouse in her desk and a dead one in her outdoor shoes next year, Lucy vowed grimly. Or she can have the plague of frogs next spring; take your choice, Miss C.
    Maeve slit the envelope open and pulled out the report form. She sat in a chair and began to read, one finger following the line across. ‘Hmm . . . hmm . . . hmm . . .’ She looked up at Lucy, anxiously hovering, still trying to pretend indifference but not making such a good job of it now the moment had come. ‘Well, she’s given you top marks for English, both language and literature, anyway. Which isn’t surprising, considering you came top of the class in the English exam.’
    ‘Good,’ Lucy said. Even to herself her voice sounded somewhat strained. English was no problem . . . but what about history, geography and the hated arithmetic? And then there was conduct, and the strangely named attitude. She’ll say something horrid, Lucy thought, and Maeve will be upset and she’ll keep me in tomorrow to think about things and . . . and . . .
    Maeve was laying the sheet down on the table, pushing it across to Lucy. ‘You have done well, alanna! I t’ought you said Miss Carruthers didn’t like you – if she doesn’t, she certainly likes your work. She says you try hard at everything, even your sums, and she says a bit of after-class tutoring would bring you up to date with arithmetic, even. Now that’s what I call a good report, a real little beauty! When your grandaddy sees it he’ll be pleased, he couldn’t fail to be.’
    ‘What about conduct? And attitude?’ Lucy whispered, staring at the sheet of paper.
    ‘She says you’ve behaved pretty well on the whole and have the right attitude to work and to your fellow pupils,’ Maeve said. ‘Go on, take a look for yourself.’
    Lucy looked and decided that Miss Carruthers was a saint so she was and she, Lucy, would make sure that no one ever tried the dead mouse trick on her, or the tadpole soup torture.
    ‘I’ll take on the after-class tutoring,’ Lucy said, dazed by the A grades which marched neatly alongside each subject on the report sheet, scarcely marred at all by the B for arithmetic. No one can be perfect, she told herself, beginning to smile. Well and haven’t I misjudged the woman after all? I almost wish I hadn’t tied her stockings into a knot the day she came and played hockey with us – though she couldn’t have known it was me or that conduct mark would have been a bit different!
    ‘Well, alanna, so you’re not wasting your time at school after all.’ Maeve pushed back her chair and smiled across at Lucy. ‘Now how about laying the table for me, if