Break of Dawn

‘Oh, she’s taken with him, that’s for sure. And he’s absolutely marvellous with Josephine.’ Sadie smiled. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he says something soon, but he’s a bit bashful, is Ralph. Bless him.’


Sophy stared at Sadie. She’d had no idea anything was going on, but it would be wonderful for little Josephine to have a father and for Harriet to have someone to love and protect her. Knowing how close Sadie and Harriet had become, she said hesitantly, ‘You wouldn’t mind? If they made a match of it?’ It would inevitably mean Sadie would be alone in the evenings when the work was done, as Harriet and Ralph would want to live together in the other cottage – if they bought the farmhouse near Patience, that was. Or perhaps Sadie could live in the main house, but then she’d still be by herself once Harriet had gone home. It wasn’t what Sophy wanted for Sadie, who was a garrulous soul who thrived on company and could talk the hind leg off a donkey.

‘Mind? Of course not,’ Sadie said stoutly. ‘A pretty young thing like Harriet doesn’t want to live the rest of her life with an old crone like me, and besides, the child needs a father. No, I don’t mind.’

Oh dear. Sophy gave Sadie a hug. Kane was calling her: the cab had arrived to take them to the station so she said no more. When she broached the matter of Ralph and Harriet to Kane on the way to the station he was as surprised as she had been, but told her, in typical man fashion, that what would be, would be, and if it was to be, he thought it was an excellent state of affairs.

Sophy didn’t mention her concern over Sadie. The latter would be the first to say she was an old woman who had lived her life, and Harriet must have her chance at happiness, Sophy knew that, and of course it wasn’t as if there wouldn’t be folk around Sadie most of the time. It was just . . . not what she’d imagined for her friend.



The house was perfect, right down to an indoor privy in the bathroom upstairs which the doctor had had converted from one of the five bedrooms, leaving four. But four was enough, Sophy assured Kane excitedly, and if they ever needed more in the future there was always the possibility of building a new wing on to the original building. Downstairs comprised of a typically large farmhouse kitchen, a separate dining room, a large sitting room with a huge walk-in fireplace, and a study. The doctor’s wife showed them round the property and made them very welcome, and over a cup of tea in the sitting room told them she was sorry to leave because it was a quiet, peaceful house and they had been very happy there. The theatre was a different kettle of fish. It turned out to be situated in Holmeside, not far from the Olympia Exhibition Hall which had closed the year before. Sophy remembered the Olympia from her childhood when, unbeknownst to her aunt and uncle, Bridget had taken her there one day for a forbidden treat which would have cost her her job if the deception had been discovered. The giant Pleasuredrome had been a wonderful place to Sophy the child, the roundabouts and gondolas brightly painted, and the circus and skating rink it held providing endless hours of entertainment for Wearsiders. She had never forgotten the magic of that day and she felt sad the Olympia was no more. However, Holmeside was still a bustling, busy place with the museum, the newly-extended Victoria Hall and plenty of shops in the area, like Piper’s the grocer’s shop where Bridget had bought her an orange before they had gone home. She still remembered the smell of coffee beans, the barrels of butter and the little blue bags of sugar lined up on the counter, and the taste of the orange on her tongue as they had walked home. She felt that a theatre, advertised properly and run well, would thrive in the hurly-burly of life in Holmeside.

Nevertheless, Sophy had to admit her heart dropped a little when the estate agent the owner had hired opened the door of the building to reveal a blackened interior which smelled strongly of smoke, overlaid with a fusty odour from the water used to put out the fire. Kane said nothing as he walked round the premises, the estate agent quick to point out that the rear of the property – where the office and dressing rooms and so on were situated – was relatively unscathed, and Sophy’s spirits fell further still, each time she glanced at his expressionless face. He hated it, she could tell. And it was awful, but she still felt deep in the heart of her that this was the right place.

Once outside again, the bitingly cold north-east wind cleared the smell of smoke from their nostrils in moments. Kane thanked the estate agent politely and said they would be in touch before sending the man on his way. Sophy looked at him miserably. ‘What do you think?’

‘It looks terrible which is in our favour, but the damage is mainly superficial. I like it.’

‘You do?’

‘Don’t you?’

Rita Bradshaw's books