Little Sparrow

Chapter Twenty-Five

I spent half the night working on the dress.

By the time I finally let exhaustion claim me, the fabric had started to resemble more of a dress, and I could crawl between the blankets and go to be without it weighing on my mind. Perhaps one of the best things about being with the Atkinsons was that I did not have to get up at five in the morning for chores and could spend even longer in bed then I want to. Although I woke up with the sun, as per usual, I simply rolled over and went back to sleep and waited for a few hours before actually getting up.

When I finally decided to emerge from bed, I could hear William walking around in the hallway outside, whistling one of the Christmas songs to himself. I pushed the blanket off and got dressed, pulling on the non-dry woollen stockings from Mrs Atkinson that I really wanted to keep when I returned to the orphanage. After running a brush through my hair, I grabbed the now empty plate of biscuits to return it to the kitchen.

Sounds of conversation drifted from the dining room as I walked past the door and headed down the steps towards the kitchen. I could hear the sound of water splashing as I descended the stairs with the plate in hand. Mrs Langdon spotted me the moment I appeared in the doorway and almost dropped the spoon she was holding when she saw me standing there.

"Just returning the plate William gave me last night," I said, holding it up so she could see it.

"Ah, perfect timing. I was just doing the dishes," she said.

"I have a knack for timing." I paused. "Most of the time."

"Perhaps you can teach Master William a thing or two about timing. He has the worst timing known to man."

"For a baker, that's strange."

"Yes, yes, it is."

Mrs Langdon laughed, and I placed the plate onto the table for her to wash before going back up the stairs and walking into the dining room. Everyone else was already seated but no one said anything about my slightly late arrival. Mrs Atkinson just smiled at me and turned her attention back to her breakfast and the eggs pile that looked like a challenge for William's bacon pile. I slid into my seat opposite William and placed some of the breakfast selection onto my plate.

We ate in silence with only the turn of the newspaper to break the silence or the occasional sound of cutlery scraping on the plates. The Atkinsons, it seemed, were not ones for breakfast time conversation or conversation of any kind when they were eating. It certainly was a contrast to mealtimes at the orphanage when we were all as loud as we could be without getting into trouble. Silence just unnerved me.

After breakfast, Mr Atkinson went upstairs to the office for what William called 'the boring life of an accountant' whilst Mrs Atkinson went upstairs to root through the decoration boxes that were still in William's room. He had been instructed to study and did not appear all that pleased with the idea but could not argue since his mother would be lurking in his room and he could hardly get out of it. I went up to my room and grabbed the dress alongside the other bits and returned to the dining room.

The plates and leftover food had already been cleared when I returned – Shelia and Mrs Langdon seemed to work rather quickly when it came to clearing up. I spread the dress out on the table and chewed on the inside of my cheek as I tried to figure out the steps I needed to take before I could even consider adding the embellishments. It definitely resembled more of a dress then it had the night before, but it was still a long way off looking like a real dress.

I continued with the stitching from the night before until the pad of my thumb had been stabbed so many times that I no longer had any feeling in it. When I paused for a few minutes, I took another look at the dress which definitely resembled more of a dress but I did not know if it would even fit me, regardless of the added space I left just in case I happened to grow a little more. The only way I would know for sure would be to put it on, but I did not want to accidentally tear the stitching and have to start all over again.