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2 Grace wandered around the home as if in a daze at first, the girls crowded her, touching her hair, stroking her skin, couldn't stop staring at her, asked her why her skin was so brown my Pa's from Abyssinia, she said proudly, pretending she'd known him

don't you ever feel ashamed of where he's from, her Ma had told her, one day we're going to find him, if he's alive, that is, he didn't come back for me so perhaps he died Grace told the girls Abyssinia was a magical faraway place where the people wore silken gowns and diamond crowns and lived in fairytale palaces and had feasts of roast meat and potatoes and cheese soufflé every day the girls were impressed but not when she woke up screaming, and matron rushed in to see what terrible thing was happening to her and when nothing was, told her off for making an exhibition of herself the other girls told her to be quiet, you'll get used to it here, Gracie, we all did, it'll take a while, shut up now we want to sleep Grace rolled herself up in her blanket, buried herself deep inside it so they couldn't hear how she felt when she thought of Ma who'd wrapped her tightly in her arms when they slept I'm never letting you go, Gracie, you're mine yet one minute she'd been at her side at the factory working together, the next minute men with white coats and masks came to take her away I'll come back for you, Gracie, I'll come back, she promised as they hauled her off kicking and struggling to free herself whenever someone banged the shiny black lion's head on the front door, Grace hoped it might be Ma standing there, arms wide, smile wider, as if they'd been playing a game all along hello Gracie, did you miss me? run and fetch your coat, love, we're going home it took a long time for Grace to stop hoping her Ma might turn up even longer before she stopped feeling her as a warmth spreading in her stomach whenever she thought of her longer still for her features to begin to fade at night she began to dream of her Pa who'd come back to rescue her and take her to paradise

Grace was taught to clean herself and the house, she liked the former because Ma had said it was next to godliness, but not the latter she was taught to sew her own dresses with buttons, ribbons and pleats, to add lace to the collar of the white dress she made for church she was taught to knit woollen stockings, a hat and a scarf to wear in winter, to polish her black booties with buttons up the side until they shone, which she wore with pride once she got used to them because at first they gave her sores, never having worn shoes before she was taught to cook meat, fish and poultry without poisoning anyone, and vegetables from the garden, how to bake bread and cake, under orders to never eat any of it while making it, or she'd get her knuckles rapped which happened a lot she was taught to wash the laundry in a wooden tub filled with hot, soapy water, to stir the sheets with a big wooden spoon, to use a washboard for clothes with ingrained stains, to make sure she hung everything up to dry neatly with wooden pegs on the washing line, not all higgledy-piggledy and half falling off she loved going to bed when the sheets had just been changed and inhaling the outside wind and sun and rain on them she liked drinking water from the taps that came from a well that didn't need to be heated up to be made safe and the toilets were disinfected every single day without fail she was taught to tend the kitchen gardens, to grow cucumbers and lettuce, tomatoes, celery, carrots, parsnips and cabbage, to also not eat anything while doing it, which she disobeyed when no one was looking, especially when it came to the strawberry patches, blackberry brambles, plum trees eating as much as she could then regretting it because purple lips and red stains down her smock also got her knuckles rapped Grace was taught mental arithmetic, to read and write in the wooden classroom with the wooden benches and desks, to practise the beautiful patterns of letters that gave meaning to words she was made to stay behind until she caught up with the others

she learnt to balance books on her head in deportment classes without any of them dropping, she was tall, imagined she was from Abyssinia and walking on air you're possessed of a natural elegance, one of the teachers, Miss Delaunay, complimented her, then promptly told the other girls they walked like pregnant heifers which made Grace feel very special they went to church every Sunday unless the snow was too deep or the ice too dangerous or the rain too torrential they walked in a crocodile in their Sunday dresses, down the country lanes, holding hands, singing hymns she collected flowers when they were allowed to play in the meadow, she pressed them in between the pages of her Bible and wrote poems about each one, 'Ode to a Rose', 'Ode to a Daffodil', 'Ode to a Hydrangea' she took up embroidery as a hobby, and got quite good at it the girls in the junior dorm became her friends, sometimes they stayed up talking past their bedtime, enjoying themselves too loudly, forgetting the rules of the home Sally had the most musical voice, Bertha made up the scariest stories, Adaline was going to be an actress and liked to recite The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyám which she'd found in the library and was memorizing 'Earth could not answer: nor the seas that mourn/In flowing purple, of their Lord forlorn; Nor rolling Heaven, with all his Signs reveal'd/And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn' she'd orate dramatically for so long the others got bored and told her to shut up now, Adaline Grace did the best impression of Mrs Langley, impersonating her stiff, hoity-toity posture, sticking her bottom out and going bandy-legged as she cavorted up and down the pathways between the bunk beds in her cream calico nightdress, adopting an exaggerated 'high-falutin' accent, delivering a silly speech made up of overly long, nonsensical words that nobody could understand, delighted at how popular she'd become, making the girls grip their aching stomachs in hysterics, begging her to stop it because they couldn't take it any more at the very moment Mrs Langley flung open the door, shone her lamp in, caught Grace 'acting the clown as if in a harlequinade'

it was lights-out ages ago, she scolded, accused Grace of corrupting the others, demanded to see her first thing in her office you have too much personality, Mrs Langley said from behind the desk in her office, staring at Grace from behind halfpenny-round spectacles, hair pinned back, sat erect in mourning black for the husband everybody knew had died a long time ago at something called the Siege of Mafeking too much personality is unseemly in a girl Grace sat upright on the other side of the desk, legs dangling from it, hands placed correctly on her lap, feeling very scared, having felt safe in the home until now, she wasn't the only one being naughty, but she was the only one who was caught everyone knew very naughty girls were sometimes 'let go' well may you cry, Grace, and let this be a lesson to you, you are not like the other girls here, you have to be on your best behaviour at all times because life will be hard enough for you as it is, you will suffer much rejection by people less enlightened than we ladies who generously run this establishment we believe in women's suffrage and want to give you disadvantaged girls the chance of at least an elementary education I myself have never been one of those militant protesters, Mrs Langley continued, speaking as if to herself now, waving her hands dismissively in the air, because it only results in public opprobrium and governmental condemnation for the individuals concerned, and even imprisonment I believe in achieving our goals for the vote through reasoned argument, do you understand? Grace nodded, what was Mrs Langley talking about? I am also a pragmatist, Grace, therefore please listen to me carefully, it is incumbent upon me to tell you, for your own good, that you must henceforth tone down your natural exuberance and desist from your larking- about laissez-faire attitude because it is unbecoming, we pride ourselves on maintaining decorum and emotional equilibrium in this establishment and expect our girls to carry themselves with poise and self-restraint, we do not tolerate the outlandish showing-off I witnessed first-hand last night do you want me to send you packing on to the streets without protection? you'll likely end up in the disease-raddled environs of South Shields where

girls such as yourself end up as 'ladies of the night' working for the Mohammedans, is that what you wish for yourself, Grace? Grace decided that she was going to put a stop to her personality once and for all, she was going to have decorous emotions and be restrained nor can we vouch for your domestic skills, modesty, diligence, trustworthiness and cleanliness in written references to future employers, and believe you me, Grace, without our endorsement you will never secure suitable employment in respectable service as a maid at that, Grace tried hard to stop her tears turning into unladylike sobs she'd wanted to be a shop assistant in Gillingham & Sons department store in Berwick-upon-Tweed where they were taken by Mrs Langley to see the Christmas decorations every year the best girls from the home were employed there she'd dreamed of wearing smart clothes, talking politely to customers as they made their purchases, people who'd leave the store complimenting the manager on what a charming girl Grace was, requesting to be served by her in future it was not to be at thirteen Mrs Langley found employment for Grace as a maid for the new Baron Hindmarsh, who'd returned to his ancestral castle a number of miles out of Berwick upon the demise of his father after many years running the family's tea plantation in Upper Assam returned with a retinue of Indian servants, including his Indian mistress and their two sons, who were housed in a cottage in the grounds had no problem taking on a half-caste maid.