Sometimes, when they were all quietly occupied, Mrs Kelly would read aloud to them from a large book of fairy tales. It was beautifully illustrated with pictures of ladies in flowing gowns and princes in cloaks and feathered hats, standing in front of castles with towers and battlements or houses with roses growing round the doors. May loved looking at these pictures, but what fascinated her most was the fact that each one was framed by an elaborate design of leaves and flowers. It was that which had inspired her to create the pattern that had gotten her into so much trouble with Miss Bale. While her attention was fully occupied with Angel, she had almost forgotten her desire to draw, but now it returned, stronger than ever.

An order had come in for a batch of gentlemen’s white evening shirts and May had been given one of them to make up. She had finished the work and taken it out to the teacher’s table for her approval, but Mrs Kelly was engaged in unpicking a botched seam from another girl’s work and demonstrating how it should be done. Waiting for her attention, May’s eyes wandered over the table. The fabric for the shirts had been delivered wrapped in sheets of fine white paper, which had been neatly folded and laid aside. When she lived at home her mother used to let her draw on the paper bags that groceries came in, but here the only materials on offer were slates and chalk. The sight of those clean, white sheets presented an irresistible temptation. May glanced at Mrs Kelly’s back. It looked as though she would be busy for some time. Cautiously she drew the paper towards her. There were pencils in a pot on the desk. She lifted one out and began to draw on one corner. Very soon she was so absorbed that she was unaware that Mrs Kelly had returned to the table, until a voice said, ‘Well, well. What’s all this?’

May shot upright, her hands going instinctively behind her back. ‘Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean … I thought … I didn’t think the paper was needed any more.’

‘Quite, quite.’ Mrs Kelly’s response was absent-minded. She was scrutinising May’s drawing. ‘Is this your own design?’

‘Yes, ma’am. I mean, I saw something like it in the book you showed us.’

‘Ah, so you copied it?’

‘No, ma’am, not exactly. It gave me the idea, but it’s not the same.’

Mrs Kelly looked across the table to where the book lay. It was closed. ‘So you did this from memory.’

‘Sort of.’

‘You have a talent, May. We must find a use for it. Now, what did you want?’

May gasped with relief. ‘Oh, I’ve finished the shirt, ma’am. I hope it’s all right.’