Little Sparrow

Chapter Two

My punishment took place during our only allotted recreation time.

Matron Webster had sent me to the upstairs hallway with a bucket of soapy water and a scrubbing brush, instructing me that she wanted to be able to see her face in the wood flooring before the sunset. The other girls headed out into the freezing winter air to stand around complaining about the cold and wishing they were inside instead. It made my extra chores seem like a dream, at least I could feel my fingers.

I crawled on my hands and knees, scrubbing the floor with the brush and listening to the girls outside, their voices travelling through the gaps in the window. A light, cold breeze slipped in through the cracks but the small amount of heat coming from the fire in Matron Webster's office managed to counteract its effects. The only thing that suffered from my punishment were my knees which were not too keen about being dragged across the floor.

Still, scrubbing the floor helped to remove the soot and ash from my fingers and gave me a little time to think about our new benefactors. Most of those who financially supported the orphanage visited once a year and left it at that, they never spoke to us and certainly never made multiple trips in a month. For Mr and Mrs Atkinson to continue visiting seemed a little out of place, but I could not comment on it. The only thing that did not seem all that unusual was her need to stare at me for a prolonged period.

The scar on my face made me noticeable and with that came people's desire to stare and discuss me. Many did so right behind me and often acted like I could not hear them, although I could, and I did not care for what they had to say. I had learnt to ignore the comments, but it would always be harder to avoid the stares and had become one of the reasons why I refused to attend any form of potential adoption meetings. Most people see the scar and make their mind up on the spot, I saved them the hassle by not turning up.

Footsteps echoed up the stairs and I turned my attention back to my cleaning, move down the hall with the brush and trying to appear busy and not that I had just been staring into the bucket of water for several minutes. Matron Webster appeared at the top of the stairs, her shawl pulled tightly around her shoulders and small wisps of greying hair having escaped her tight knot.

"Remember, I want to see my face in that floor," she said when she reached her office door.

"Yes, Matron Webster," I said.

"Mr and Mrs Atkinson seemed rather interested in you, they asked a lot of questions." I looked up at her. "After thirteen years, we might finally be rid of you."

"I don't understand, Matron."

"If they seemed interested in getting to know you, as they certainly appeared to be although I cannot imagine why. It could mean a potential adoption. Do not hold your breath, I am sure they will change their minds once they get to know you as I do."

"I don't think I want to be adopted."

"Well, you will have to tell them that before they make a fool of themselves trying to impress you, though why they would do that is beyond me." She paused. "On with your chores or you'll have to scrub the stairs as well."

With that Matron Webster opened her office door, a blast of heat coming from the fireplace, and slammed it shut. I sat on my knees in the middle of the hallway, a thousand different thoughts running through my mind. In almost seven years, no one had considered adopting me and none of my foster placement when I had been a child worked out. Matron had tried to put me into service since I had been old enough to, but her plans had never worked out. I had been six the last time I had seen the outside world in person.

The idea of anyone wanting to adopt me continued to play on my mind throughout the afternoon and into the early evening. I mindlessly scrubbed the floor, not paying the slightest bit of attention to what I was doing, thoughts of a potential adoption continued to plague my mind. Even when I had finished my chores and joined the other girls in the dining hall for supper the thoughts lingered at the back of my head.