Chapter Twenty-Two‘Hello Emmeline,’ she said. Her voice was lower than most women, and she blurred the edges of her words, showing that she had not learnt English at her mother’s knee. ‘Won’t you sit with me?’
I didn’t dare disobey, and I knelt on the dry grass before her feet. Her corset was steel, her posture perfect, and her dress made from fine green silk, but her feet were bare.
She looked at me for a long time, making me blush and look at my own mismatched feet. I wanted desperately to apologise for losing a shoe that technically belonged to her, but my heart told me that anything I said would be wrong. This was a time for listening, and for waiting. So I waited.
Mrs Newry put her book aside and folded her hands in her lap. She did not move or speak. My knees ached, and my lip cra
