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‘That’s why she’s so plain and skinny and has such a bad colour.’
    They stared at him. But Tom had seen hunger and its consequences in his London days and he recognised them in Hester. The sticklike arms, the hollow cheeks and throat, with the bones sharp against the skin, the face all eyes, and the eyes dull and sunk into the head, the sallow complexion and the lustreless hair. By her appearance she had not enjoyed a good meal for years. His dislike for his fellows, always great, grew. Well fed, hard drinkers all, they would not know a starving creature if it dropped dead before them.
    He judged it time to intervene on her side by saying, ‘Fred Waring’s money, such as it was, went on drink for himself and, now that he’s dead, God knows what she’s living on. What’s more important, though, is that I think she could control the children—there’s spirit there—and she has the knowledge to teach them effectively. She spoketo me sharply enough and once or twice when speaking to you, Burrell, what she said was very much to the point.’
    Godfrey Burrell announced pompously, ‘I sense that the feeling of the meeting is against you, Dilhorne.’
    Tom grinned—he was suddenly a blunt Yorkshireman again. ‘Aye, well, it wouldn’t be for the first time, would it? But if you turn her down, think on. What do you propose to do? Who will fill the post? She was the only applicant. Do we have to wait for another ship from England to dock—and find that there’s no one suitable on it? What then?’
    â€˜There’s that,’ Burrell conceded.
    They contemplated their lack of options gloomily. It was clear that none of them wanted Hester, and that for all the wrong reasons. Most would sooner delay opening the school rather than employ her, despite the Governor’s wish for an early start.
    Fred Waring’s ghost had risen from its grave to haunt his unfortunate daughter. Lack of imagination also meant that they could not understand the consequences for the girl if they failed to appoint her.
    Tom did not push Hester’s claims further. To do so might antagonise them. With his usual grasp of possibilities he saw a way out. ‘Let’s compromise,’ he offered. ‘Put her on probation. See how she does. If she don’t suit, then out she goes. We might find someone else by then.’
    They wrangled a little more but, as was becoming increasingly common in their meetings, they ended by accepting his suggestion. Miss Waring should be given three months’ trial and count herself lucky she got it.
    Tom leaned back in his chair, content that he had had his way, content that the Board were hiring a worthy teacher, and also content that plain Miss Waring would not need to walk the streets to find employment. Though a manwould have to be desperate to buy her for his bed in her present state.
    Hester, waiting in the ante-room, felt each minute that ticked by was another blow to her hopes. She was sure that she would fail, and that Tom Dilhorne would be the author of her failure. Perhaps if he had not been on the Board she might have succeeded. He was bound to dislike promoting the claims of a Waring after his clashes with her father.
    She did not care for the way in which he had looked at her. Her father had often said that he was a womaniser—but it could not be that. Common sense—and her glass—had told her clearly of her own lack of attractions. A man as rich and as unscrupulous as he was could have his pick of women, both respectable and from Madame Phoebe’s.
    Mrs Cooke had told her once, after her father’s death, that Tom Dilhorne didn’t chase women. ‘It’s just that he’s not the marrying kind,’ she had finished. ‘He keeps the Widow Mahoney, who’s been my friend for years, and leaves it at that.’
    Well, marrying man or not, she had never thought that her fate would