Even in black ink, Gertie had managed to capture the curve of the petal, the grand skeleton of the gold framework. The divots for the missing parts had been marked with shadows to indicate their depth.
Essie remembered Danny holding the clump of soil over his head yesterday. The river of gemstones and jewellery falling from the soil.
The man with green eyes.
Freddie had taken this button from that soil. Stolen it.
Had he taken anything else?
Essie felt her chest tighten with a dangerous mix of fear and hope as she looked across the classroom to where the twins were squabbling. They knew their days in this classroom were nearing an end.
She looked at the button and resolved to speak with Freddie tonight. Were the pretty jewels coloured glass paste, or precious stones? Freddie wasn’t reckless and wouldn’t intentionally forget something so valuable; it was just that, like their ma used to say when Essie and her brother were small, he was away with the fairies half the time.
Essie was just reaching for Gertie’s shoulder to say something about the button when Miss Barnes entered the room wearing a big smile and holding two enormous red apples up in the air.
‘Who would like a slice of apple?’ she asked as she pulled a pen-knife from the drawer of her desk and proceeded to slice the fruit.
Chaos ensued, as chairs were scraped back and a sea of grubby hands shot into the air.
‘Me, please!’
‘Miss, me!’
When Essie looked back at her sister, Gertie was gazing out the window, lost in a daydream. But the book was closed, and the button was nowhere to be seen.
The bell rang loudly and a tangle of children rushed to the door, eager to be outside before the afternoon started to fade.
Miss Barnes, who was packing up her desk, beckoned to Essie to join her.
‘We have our annual summer excursion coming up. Mr Morton has insisted that we take the children to Greenwich on Saturday fortnight. I was wondering whether you might be able to join us?’
‘Certainly,’ Essie replied as she looked over her shoulder and saw that Gertie had paid no heed at all to the bell. She was still at her book finishing the extra algebra questions Miss Barnes had written on the board just for her. The twins were outside watching the boys roll a hoop across the gravel.
A shaft of light came in the window, and Essie thought how peaceful Gertie seemed. Her frustrated jostling with the twins as they tied their boots and dressed, and her constant ribbing as they walked to school, calmed as soon as they entered the school gates.
‘I’ve been meaning to ask whether your mother has read the letter I gave you,’ Miss Barnes remarked.
Essie squirmed a little and glanced again at Gertie. The girl’s gaze was fixed on her book, but she had gone very still. She was listening to every word the teacher was saying, Essie knew. Not much escaped Gertie, despite her dreamy demeanour.
‘Sorry, Miss Barnes. I did pass it on, but Ma’s been rather … busy.’
Essie hoped the young teacher did not pick up on her hesitation. She looked at this neat young woman, with smart heels and an open face full of possibility.
‘I see,’ said Miss Barnes, even though she clearly didn’t. ‘I thought something like that might be the case.’ She spoke softly, with a slight quiver—as if she were nervous. ‘I’m leaving at the end of term. Just before Christmas. I’ve been offered a position at another school.’
‘Congratulations,’ stammered Essie, sad for the girls to lose such a valued teacher.
‘It’s a school just for girls. Clever girls, in fact.’
The shock must have been written on Essie’s face as Miss Barnes continued: ‘It’s been running for quite some time. Miss Beale—the previous principal—even set up a college at Oxford: St Hilda’s.’
‘I’ve never heard of a school where girls go right to the end,’ said Essie shyly. ‘Though I suppose they exist, otherwise how would we have wonderful teachers like you?’
Miss Barnes blushed.
‘The children will miss you,’ said Essie with a sad smile. ‘We all will.’
Gertie had stopped pretending not to listen, and was staring at them both, open-mouthed and red-faced.
‘You can’t leave!’ spluttered Gertie.
‘Gertie!’ warned Essie.
‘What, Essie?’ said Gertie as she lifted her book and slapped it back onto the desk. ‘There’s no point to this if Miss Barnes is leaving. And Mr Morton is about to throw us out.’ She burst into tears.
‘I’m sorry, Gertrude. I understand you’re upset. I’m sorry to be leaving too. I’ll miss everyone, especially you.’ Miss Barnes wrung her hands together before she walked across to Gertie and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. The teacher’s fervour reminded Essie of the determined women in the parade near the Monument, arms linked and chanting. Women who had new shoes, read books, continued their study. Or, at the very least, finished school.
Miss Barnes took a deep breath and looked at Essie. ‘I’ve known for some weeks now, though I couldn’t say. That was why I passed you the note with my new school’s information and entrance exam slips for Mrs Murphy—it’s a shame she hasn’t had a chance to read it. I’d like Gertrude to sit the entrance exams.’
Gertie’s head shot up and she looked from Essie to Miss Barnes, astonished and elated in equal measure. ‘Oh, can I, Essie? Please?’ Gertie clapped her hands together and her stormy expression switched to delight as she bobbed up and down in her seat.
‘It’s not up to me, Gertie. We’ll have to speak with Ma …’
As soon as Essie said it, the smile slipped from Gertie’s face and the child closed her book, eager to be gone.
Miss Barnes walked back to her desk, and reached down into her bag. As she rummaged around Essie saw green and purple ribbons and felt of flash of envy. Miss Barnes tucked them back into her bag, and retrieved a crisp new envelope with neatly stencilled letters on the front: For the parents/guardians of Gertrude Murphy. She handed the envelope to Essie.
‘I had Gertrude sit some short tests in class last week when the others were taking their arithmetic test and the results were very promising. I can’t say for certain, of course, but I know there are scholarships for a few students every year. You’d have to come to the school in Cheltenham for a weekend …’
Essie quietly shook her head, and Miss Barnes turned pink, realising her mistake as soon as she said it. She shuffled some papers on her desk and avoided eye contact as she said under her breath, ‘I understand. Of course. How thoughtless of me.’ She finished shuffling her papers and placed them in a pile on her desk. Then she ran her hands over her hair, fixing an imaginary stray strand into her bun.
Miss Barnes lowered her voice so far that Essie had to lean in to hear.
‘What if I were to arrange for the entrance exams to be done here, during school hours? I could do it on a Thursday when Mr Morton has his weekly meeting with Father McGuire.’
Gertie had finished packing her bag and stood outside the classroom window, wisps of dishevelled hair moving with the breeze. Essie studied the line of Gertie: her shoulders were starting to stoop, her hair was growing dull. As the clever child was becoming a young woman, all hope was being leached away.