Sunday Tea at Fernlea, by Marion Murgatroyd
An original novel extract set in the twentieth century.
The frock had come from the Methodist bundle, and Florrie’s mother had spent two evenings taking it in at the seams by the light of the range. It was cream lawn with blue smocking across the bodice, far too good for Gas Street, and when Florrie put it on that Sunday afternoon she felt like somebody else entirely. She walked up Brunswick Hill to the Mortimers’ house with her shoulders back, the way a girl in such a frock would walk, and she did not once look down at her boots.
Fernlea smelled of polish and chrysanthemums. Dr Mortimer, Margaret’s father, asked her about fractions and about the poem she had learned for the Easter concert, and Florrie answered clearly, the words coming out round and careful, the way she had practised them in the yard with the mangle for an audience. Twice Dr Mortimer nodded. Once he very nearly smiled. Margaret squeezed her hand under the table, and Florrie began to think, with a small hot thrill, that she might actually belong here.
Then the door opened and Mrs Mortimer came in with the tea tray. She was a tall woman with a fox fur still round her shoulders from chapel and a pleasant face, and she stopped quite still when she saw Florrie.
‘Well,’ she said, setting the tray down. ‘That smocking has worn better than I expected.’
It was said kindly. That was the worst of it. Florrie felt the heat climb from her neck into her ears and spread across her face like spilt ink. The smocking, which a moment ago had been soft against her skin, seemed to scratch. She was suddenly aware of the darned sleeve, the line at the hem where it had been let down, the boots she had not looked at. Every stitch her mother had sewn now seemed to shout across the room.
‘Do go on, Florrie,’ said Dr Mortimer. ‘You were telling us about the skylark.’
Florrie went on. Her voice came out thin and borrowed, like the frock. She finished the poem without a single mistake, and she hated every word of it.
Walking home, she untied the sash and let the wind take it. One day, she thought, she would sit at a table like that by right. One day, and she would never wear a stranger’s frock again.
How does the writer show Florrie’s thoughts and feelings during her visit to the Mortimers’ house?
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You must refer to the text to support your answer, using relevant subject terminology where appropriate.