𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𑁍 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒏 (Hetty Feather)

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𑁍 8

Sunday services were by far the worst part of being a foundling. At least in sewing classes you could talk to your friends, but on Sundays you were bunched up next to them, and if you dared whisper even a word to them, you would be reprimanded.

It was terrible.

The only good part of it was the fact that the boys were sat across the aisle from the girls, which meant Rose got to exchange looks with Ned and occasionally Will as Cranbourne droned on and on and on and on-

Crash.

Rose jumped, her body spinning round.

At the door was a couple, the woman in a turquoise dress and slightly tattered shawl, the man in a suit that was a bit dirty, and both of them looking angry.

"Excuse me!" Cranbourne shouted to them. "This chapel is not welcome to members of the public!"

The couple didn't move, however.

"I'm Hannah Prestwick, and this is my husband, Arthur," the woman explained. "We've come for our child."

Rose audibly gasped.

Matron walked forward, saying threateningly. "All these children belong to the hospital. If you wish to appeal to the board of Governors, make a written request."

"We did. You never replied," the man, Arthur, snapped at her.

Hannah stamped forward. "We won't be put off. We've come all the way from Burnley for this."

Before Matron could speak, a woman in a beautiful blue dress up the front row stood and said. "These people have travelled so far, surely we ought to hear their cause?"

"Who's she?" Rose whispered to Harriet.

"One of the Governors' wives," she replied in the same hushed tone.

"Well said, Lady Asquith," Colonel Brigwell, another Governor, said to the woman, solving the mystery of her name. He walked forward and told the couple. "Join us in the Governors' room after lunch, we'll get to the bottom of it there."

Rose looked around in amazement at her friends and then over at the boys, only knowing two things for sure.

One, that one of the foundlings were going to be claimed and get to leave the hospital forever.

And two.

That that foundling might be her.

𑁍𑁍𑁍

That day at lunch, all the girls could talk about were the couple and their bizarre entrance at Sunday service.

"Did you see his eyes?" Harriet asked Polly as Rose sat inbetween them. "They were as red as... as red as yours," she said, looking at Rose.

Before she could answer, Sheila interrupted rudely. "Well it won't be Green. Who on earth would want that back?"

"It won't be you, either," Rose snapped. "They were both human."

Monica shrugged. "It's probably a boy, anyway. They get all the luck."

"Maybe they'll take that little weed you call your brother," Sheila said absent mindedly.

"He is my brother!" Rose shouted at her. "And he's not a weed."

"Or your little sweetheart," Sheila smirked at Rose.