Only Time Will Tell (The Clifton Chronicles, #1)(7)

‘I’ll be supplied with a uniform, and a fresh white apron every morning. The hotel even has its own laundry.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ said Grandma, ‘but I can think of one problem we’re all going to have to learn to live with.’

‘And what’s that, Mum?’ asked Maisie.

‘You could end up earnin’ more than Stan, and he’s not going to like that, not one little bit.’

‘Then he’ll just have to learn to live with it, won’t he?’ said Grandpa, offering an opinion for the first time in weeks.





The extra money was going to come in useful, especially after what had happened at the Holy Nativity. Maisie had been about to leave the church after the service when Miss Monday walked purposefully down the aisle towards her.

‘Can I have a private word with you, Mrs Clifton?’ she asked, before turning and walking back down the aisle towards the vestry. Maisie chased after her like a child in the Pied Piper’s wake. She feared the worst. What had Harry been up to this time?

Maisie followed the choir mistress into the vestry and felt her legs give way when she saw the Reverend Watts, Mr Holcombe and another gentleman standing there. As Miss Monday closed the door quietly behind her, Maisie began to shake uncontrollably.

The Reverend Watts placed an arm around her shoulder. ‘There’s nothing for you to worry about, my dear,’ he assured her. ‘On the contrary, I hope you will feel we are the bearers of glad tidings,’ he added, offering her a seat. Maisie sat down, but still couldn’t stop shaking.

Once everyone was seated, Miss Monday took over. ‘We wanted to talk to you about Harry, Mrs Clifton,’ she began. Maisie pursed her lips; what could the boy possibly have done to bring three such important people together?

‘I’ll not beat about the bush,’ the choir mistress continued. ‘The music master at St Bede’s has approached me and asked if Harry would consider entering his name for one of their choral scholarships.’

‘But he’s very happy at Holy Nativity,’ said Maisie. ‘In any case, where is St Bede’s Church? I’ve never even heard of it.’

‘St Bede’s is not a church,’ said Miss Monday. ‘It’s a choir school that supplies choristers for St Mary Redcliffe, which was famously described by Queen Elizabeth as the fairest and godliest church in all the land.’

‘So would he have to leave his school, as well as the church?’ asked Maisie in disbelief.

‘Try to look upon it as an opportunity that might change his whole life, Mrs Clifton,’ said Mr Holcombe, speaking for the first time.

‘But wouldn’t he have to mix with posh, clever boys?’

‘I doubt if there will be many children at St Bede’s cleverer than Harry,’ said Mr Holcombe. ‘He’s the brightest lad I’ve ever taught. Although we get the occasional boy into the grammar school, none of our pupils has ever been offered the chance of a place at St Bede’s before.’

‘There’s something else you need to know before you make up your mind,’ said the Reverend Watts. Maisie looked even more anxious. ‘Harry would have to leave home during term time, because St Bede’s is a boarding school.’

‘Then it’s out of the question,’ said Maisie. ‘I couldn’t afford it.’

‘That shouldn’t prove a problem,’ said Miss Monday. ‘If Harry is offered a scholarship, the school would not only waive any fees, but also award him a bursary of ten pounds a term.’

‘But is this one of those schools where the fathers wear suits and ties, and the mothers don’t work?’ asked Maisie.

‘It’s worse than that,’ said Miss Monday, trying to make light of it. ‘The masters wear long black gowns and mortarboards on their heads.’

‘Still,’ said the Reverend Watts joining in, ‘at least there would be no more leatherings for Harry. They’re far more refined at St Bede’s. They just cane the boys.’

Only Maisie didn’t laugh. ‘But why would he want to leave home?’ she asked. ‘He’s settled at Merrywood Elementary, and he won’t want to give up being senior chorister at Holy Nativity.’

‘I must confess that my loss would be even greater than his,’ said Miss Monday. ‘But then, I’m sure our Lord would not want me to stand in the way of such a gifted child, simply because of my own selfish desires,’ she added quietly.

‘Even if I agree,’ said Maisie, playing her last card, ‘that doesn’t mean Harry will.’

‘I had a word with the boy last week,’ admitted Mr Holcombe. ‘Of course he was apprehensive about such a challenge, but if I recall, his exact words were “I’d like to have a go, sir, but only if you think I’m good enough.” But,’ he added before Maisie could respond, ‘he also made it clear that he wouldn’t even consider the idea unless his mother agreed.’





Harry was both terrified and excited by the thought of taking the entrance exam, but just as anxious about failing and letting so many people down as he was about succeeding and having to leave home.

During the following term, he never once missed a lesson at Merrywood, and when he returned home each evening, he went straight up to the bedroom he shared with Uncle Stan, where, with the aid of a candle, he studied for hours that until then he hadn’t realized existed. There were even occasions when his mother found Harry sound asleep on the floor, open books scattered around him.