Mary woke the next morning to the sound of the fire in her bedroom being stoked and coaxed into flames to warm the room. Martha was at work, kneeling in front of the fire, her back to Mary’s bed. Mary peeped out from under the thick quilt that kept her snug.
‘Good morning, Martha!’ she said, cheerily, for she was always happy to see her friend.
‘And good morning to you, Miss Mary!’ Martha replied as she gave the fire a final poke and stood up, brushing the smuts from her apron.
‘Have you heard?’ Mary sat up in bed and pulled the covers around herself. ‘We’re getting another governess!’
‘Another one! Dear me, that’ll be a brave woman to take on the two of you!’ Martha said, her eyes laughing, though her face was straight. Mary knew she was only teasing.
‘I don’t know what you mean!’ she said with a grin.
‘This’ll be your third governess in a year. Be nice to this one, Miss Mary, or your uncle’ll lose patience with you.’
‘We were nice to Miss Lightfoot!’ Mary protested.
‘Ay. Too nice. Can we go for a walk on the moors today, Miss Lightfoot? Can we go up past Hart Foss Farm? Knowing all the time that she had a fancy for John Carter the farmer at Hart Foss – and he had a fancy for her!’
‘We couldn’t help it if she fell in love and got married!’ said Mary watching Martha as she crossed to the window and pulled back the heavy velvet curtains to let the daylight in.
‘Well, the pair of you certainly didn’t stand in her way,’ said Martha.
‘Can you see my robe, Martha? I’d like to get out of bed.’
‘It’s on the chair, here, Miss.’ Martha handed her the warm woollen dressing gown.
‘I wish we didn’t have to have a governess at all,’ said Mary as she scrambled out of bed and put the dressing gown on over her long white cotton nightdress.
‘Well, I wish I could have one,’ said Martha, pulling out a chair for Mary to sit at the little breakfast table in the window alcove. ‘I’d love to have a governess and to sit reading books all day and learning all kinds of things. About places far away and times long ago. That’d be something!’
‘This one is going to teach us everything we need to know. Uncle said so.’ Mary sat down and picked up her spoon. Steam rose from the hot bowl of porridge that Martha had brought her, and it smelt delicious. ‘So maybe she’ll teach us all about gardens and plants.’ Mary looked out of the window to where the Secret Garden was hidden away behind a great stone wall, and beyond it to the moors on the horizon.
‘Th’art a strange child, Miss Mary. A strange one indeed! Gardens and plants for a young lady, whatever next!’
‘And if she won’t teach us about plants – I don’t suppose you know any more farmers who might be looking for a wife?’ Mary looked up at Martha with a grin.
‘Well, there’s Bob Strong over at Sunnybrow Farm. Strong by name and strong by nature.’ She gave a big sigh. ‘And handsome enough. Or, so I’ve heard …’
‘Why Martha, I do believe you’re blushing!’ said Mary.
‘Me, Miss Mary? Goodness me, no. Now eat your porridge, for I must be about my work and I’ve no time to stand here gossiping wi’ you!’
Liz Taylorson 