KITTY NEALE

Lost & Found

Copyright

Published by Avon an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

This ebook edition published by HarperCollins Publishers 2016

First published in paperback by HarperCollinsPublishers, 2009

Copyright © Kitty Neale 2009

Cover design © Debbie Clement 2016

Cover photographs: Getty

Kitty Neale asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9781847563521

Ebook Edition © May 2016 ISBN 9780007336869

Version: 2016-04-14

Dedication

This one is for you, Abbie; my beautiful great-granddaughter who I feel could be destined for the stage. You are already a star that brightens our life and may all your dreams come true.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Keep Reading …

Acknowledgements

About the Author

By the same author

About the Publisher

Chapter One

PART ONE

Battersea, South London, February 1954

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘School.’

‘Not today you ain’t,’ Lily Jackson told her daughter. ‘Take the pram out and go over to Chelsea again. I need some decent stuff for a change and the pickings are richer there.’

‘But I had two days off last week, and Dad said …’

‘Sod what your dad said. He hardly stumped up a penny on Friday. If we want to eat, finding me some decent stuff to flog is more important than flaming school. Anyway, as you leave in just over a month, you might as well get used to doing a bit of graft for a change.’

Mavis felt the injustice of her mother’s words. For as long as she could remember, after school and every weekend, her task had been to take the pram out, begging for cast-offs. She hated it, almost as much as she hated her name. It had been her great grandmother’s, but even that was better than her nickname. She knew her ears stuck out, that she wasn’t clever, and every time the locals called her Dumbo, Mavis burned with shame. Oh, she’d be glad to leave school, dreamed of getting a job, of earning her own money. ‘I … I won’t mind going out to work.’

‘Huh! Nobody in their right mind would employ a useless lump like you.’

‘But … but …’

‘But nothing. Now don’t just stand there. Get a move on.’

‘Can … can I take some grub with me?’

‘Yeah, I suppose so, but there’s only bread and dripping.’

Mavis hurried to cut two thick chunks of bread, spread them with dripping and, after filling an old lemonade bottle with water from the tap, she opened the back door to put them into the large Silver Cross pram. It was a cold, damp, February morning with a chill wind that penetrated her scant clothes. She hurried inside again to throw on her coat before wrapping a long, hand-knitted woollen scarf around her neck. ‘I’m off, Mum.’

‘It’s about time too. Be careful with any glass or china, and don’t show your face again until that pram’s full.’

With a small nod, Mavis walked outside to the yard again and, gripping the pram handle, she wheeled it out into the back alley. It was a long walk to Chelsea, but Mavis kept her head down as she hurried along to Battersea Church Road. She was fearful of bumping into anyone she knew, especially Tommy Wilson and Larry Barnet, two boys of her own age who lived at the opposite end of the street. Tears stung her eyes. If her mother had suggested taking tomorrow off it wouldn’t have been so bad, but now she’d miss one of the only lessons she looked forward to. Her art teacher, Miss Harwood, praised her work, saying she had talent and encouraged her to think seriously about going on to art college when she left school. Of course, it was a silly dream, Mavis knew that. Her mother would have her doing something to earn money and would never allow it. To her, art was a waste of time and she’d never shown interest in any work that Mavis had taken home.

Until now, Mavis thought, shivering with anticipation. The end-of-term painting was nearly complete and when her mother saw it, instead of shame, Mavis hoped she would at last see pride on her face. It was good—in fact, according to Miss Harwood, very good—and Mavis couldn’t wait for her mother to see it.

Lily was glad to see the back of her daughter. Mavis had been a lovely baby and a pretty toddler, with dark curly hair and big blue eyes like her father. Her only flaw had been her large ears, but another one emerged soon after she started school. When other kids began to learn how to read and write, Mavis was left behind, and her clumsiness became more apparent. Simple things like catching a ball were beyond her and the only thing she was good at was drawing. What good was that when it came to earning a living?

Lily had long since accepted the truth. Her daughter might be pretty, but she was a bit simple, daft; almost as bad as her father. Ron had been an orphan, a Barnardo boy, but at least he could read. At that thought Lily scowled. Yes, Ron could read the racing form and write out a betting slip. Over the years they’d had row after row about his gambling, but nothing stopped him. In fact, it just got worse, until almost every week his wage packet ended up down the greyhound track. When he wasn’t at the dogs, Ron was in the pub, blowing the last of his wages.

Lily shook her head in disgust. As always, the burden of looking after Mavis fell to her. She had to feed their daughter, clothe her, and as Ron was hardly in he took little interest in Mavis. When he had rolled home on Friday night, she had waited until he was asleep to search his pockets, hoping against hope that he hadn’t blown the lot. All she’d found was a crumpled ten-bob note along with a few coppers and, knowing her stock was low, she’d felt like braining him. She was sick of flogging other people’s junk to make a few bob, the old clothes being the worst. She had to wash and iron the stuff, tarting it up as best she could to sell down at the local market. Most weeks it made her enough to scrape by, but when it didn’t, Lily thanked her lucky stars for her old mum. It wasn’t right that she had to go to her for the occasional hand-out, but with Ron losing more than he ever won, sometimes she had no choice.

Lily took a last gulp of tea then stoically rose to her feet. What was the matter with her? She didn’t have time to sit here. She had the last pile of junk to sort out, though it wasn’t up to much and hardly worth the bother. She just hoped that Mavis could cadge some decent stuff this time—and that she didn’t break it before fetching it home.

Ron stared at the foreman, his fists clenched in anger.

‘Did you hear what I said, Jackson?’

‘Yeah, I heard you.’

‘Right then. Get a move on.’

‘It ain’t my job to dig out footings. I’m a hod carrier, not a labourer,’ Ron snapped.

‘Your brickie hasn’t turned up, and I’m not having you standing around doing nothing. Now do as I say and get to work.’

Ron hated the way the foreman threw his weight around and he’d had enough. His voice a snarl he said, ‘Fuck off!’

‘You’re finished, Jackson. I want you off the site. Now!’

Ron raised his fist, ready to smash it into the foreman’s face, but then felt a staying hand on his arm. Pete Culling had turned up, the almost bald bricklayer urging, ‘Leave it, Ron. He ain’t worth it. Come on, let’s go.’

His head snapped around. ‘Where the hell have you been?’

‘I’ll tell you later. Now, are you coming?’

‘Not until I’ve flattened this little weasel,’ Ron spat, but found as he turned his attention to the foreman that the man had already moved several feet away.

Pete laughed, flashing his perfectly white teeth, but even these didn’t save his acne-scarred face. He looked like a boxer, one whose nose had been flattened from too many punches as he said, ‘Look at him. He’s shit scared and ready to do a runner. Don’t waste your energy, mate, and anyway, sod this job. I’ve got something better lined up: a nice little earner.’

Ron felt his anger draining away, but scowled at the foreman, unwilling to leave without a parting shot. ‘I ain’t finished with you yet, so watch your back. As for this job, you can stick it where the sun don’t shine.’

The two men walked off the site, laughing, until Ron said to Pete, ‘So, what’s this nice little earner?’

‘I heard about a bloke looking for teams and willing to pay top money. I went to meet up with him before I came on site this morning. He wants us now so we’ll be stepping straight into another job.’

‘So that’s why you were late.’

‘Yeah, but I didn’t expect to hear you getting your marching orders when I showed up.’

‘You didn’t have to leave. It was me who got the sack, not you,’ Ron protested.

‘Leave it out, mate—we’re a team. Anyway, with the money we’ll be earning, I was going to tell him to stick the job anyway. Let’s go to the café and I’ll fill you in. Not only that, I’m starving and could do with a decent breakfast.’

‘All right, but no breakfast for me. Mind you, I won’t say no to a cup of char.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re skint again.’

‘Of course I ain’t,’ Ron lied, ‘it’s just that Lily made me a few sarnies for lunch and I ate them while waiting for you to turn up.’

‘Don’t give me that. I wasn’t that late.’

Ron knew he hadn’t fooled Pete. They knew each other too well and had worked together since getting demobbed. It hadn’t been easy at first, coming back from the war to find half of London flattened and jobs scarce. Things had gradually improved and when at last rebuilding got underway there was a demand for bricklaying teams. Nowadays they were never out of work and it looked like Pete had come up trumps again. He grinned ruefully, ‘All right, I’m skint.’

‘What was it? The dogs again?’

‘Yeah, but I was doing all right. I picked a couple of winners, and then got the whisper of a sure thing. I stuck the lot on Ascot Boy and he was leading the pack, but then swung wide, fell, and took another couple of dogs with him. Paul’s Fun got through the gap to win by three-quarters of a length.’

‘So you blew your wages again?’

‘I had a few bob left, but after drowning me sorrows in the Queen’s Head, I reckon Lily must have cleaned out me pockets when I rolled home.’

‘Serves you right, Ron. I’ve said it before, gambling’s a mug’s game. I don’t know what’s the matter with you. You’re good looking with a gorgeous wife and kid, yet despite Lily’s threats to leave you you’d rather spend your time down the dogs or in the pub.’

‘Look, I’ve had nothing but ear bashings from Lily all weekend and don’t need another one from you. I know I’ve got to knock the gambling on the head, and I will.’

‘If you really mean it this time, I’ve got the answer,’ Pete said as they walked into the café and up to the counter.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Watcha, Alfie. Two cups of tea please, followed by an egg and sausage with fried bread. Twice please,’ Pete said, leaving Ron’s question unanswered.

‘Just a tea for me.’

‘Ignore him, Alfie,’ Pete said, and then, taking the mugs of tea, he walked over to a vacant table.

‘What did you do that for? I told you I didn’t want anything to eat,’ Ron said as he sat down opposite.

‘It’s my treat, and, anyway, after hearing what I’ve got to say you’ll need a full stomach when you tell Lily.’

‘Tell her what?’

Pete took a gulp of tea, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and then said, ‘The new job’s out of London.’

‘Oh, yeah. How far?’

‘About thirty miles.’

‘What! Leave it out, Pete. That’s too far to travel.’

‘Before you start doing your nut, hear me out. You’ve heard of these new town developments? Well, Bracknell in Berkshire is one of them. They’re building houses for thousands of people, but they’ve got a shortage of tradesmen and it’s behind schedule. That’s where we come in. The bloke I met is looking for crews, and the money is top whack. If we put the hours in, it works out at almost twice what we’ve been earning.’

Ron pursed his lips. ‘It sounds good, but there’s still the problem of getting there. We’d have to be up at the crack of dawn and Gawd knows what time we’d get home.’

‘There’s accommodation on offer. It’s only basic, but to earn that sort of money I’m willing to rough it.’

‘I dunno, mate,’ Ron said doubtfully.

‘It’s the chance we’ve been waiting for. We’ve always talked about starting up our own firm and if you’re willing to give up gambling, we could pool our money, save enough to start up.’

‘You’d take that risk on me?’

‘We’re mates, and, after what you did for me, I’d be willing to take the risk.’

Ron’s head went down. During a beach landing in France he’d seen Pete pinned down by gunfire, too frightened to move. He’d run back, grabbed Pete, hauled him forward, but had taken a bullet in his leg. It had only been a skimmer, a bit of a flesh wound and, anyway, it was no more than Pete would have done for him. Now his mate was willing to risk a partnership—but could he do it? Ron agonised. Could he give up gambling? ‘I dunno, Pete. What if I let you down?’

‘You won’t. There isn’t a dog track in Bracknell, and I reckon we’ll be away long enough to get gambling out of your system. It’s time to take stock, Ron. If you don’t pull your socks up you’ll end up with nothing. Think about the future. We ain’t getting any younger, and if we don’t do this now, we never will.’

Two plates were put in front of them, and Ron’s mouth salivated as the smell of sausages and egg wafted up. Meat was still rationed, with only 4oz of bacon allowed a week, but there was more food available now. It was nice to have a real egg instead of that powdered muck they’d been forced to eat during the war, but as Ron picked up his knife and fork to cut into the sausage, he felt a surge of shame. Rationing or not, with most of his money going down the dogs, there wasn’t much food on offer at home. He should be providing for his wife and child, but the pull of the race track always won; the thrill of watching the dogs, of picking a big winner. Some weeks he won a few bob, but then like an idiot he’d put it on another dog, only to lose it again. Pete was right. Lily was right. It was a mug’s game, and he knew it.

Pete spoke and Ron was broken out of his reveries. ‘Well, Ron, what do you think?’

Determined to make changes, Ron said, ‘All right, let’s give it a go. But Gawd knows what Lily’s going to say.’

Chapter Two

When Mavis had passed her gran’s house in Battersea Church Road, she hadn’t been able to resist popping in. Her reward was a jam sandwich that she munched as she sat by the fire.

‘So, you’re out with the pram again?’

‘Yes. Mum needs more stock and wants me to try Chelsea.’

‘And judging by the look on your face, you ain’t happy about it.’

‘I’d rather go to school.’

‘Blame your dad. If he didn’t blow all his money on gambling, she wouldn’t have to flog her guts out. The least you can do is give her a hand.’

‘I know,’ Mavis placated, aware that Gran despised her dad, and though Mavis sort of understood why, she couldn’t feel the same. She loved her dad, but just wished she saw more of him. Maybe he wouldn’t go to the dogs tonight, or the pub. Maybe for once he’d come home.

‘Instead of that good-for-nothing, I wish my Lily had met and married a decent man.’

Now that Gran had started, Mavis knew there’d be no stopping her. She swiftly finished her sandwich and stood up saying, ‘That was lovely, Gran, but I’d better go.’

Her gran struggled to her feet, swaying a little, prompting Mavis to ask, ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, I’m fine. You’re getting as bad as your mother, fussing over me all the time, but as I told her yesterday, I’m as fit as a flea.’

Mavis doubted this was true. Her gran had once been chubby and red-cheeked, but for the past six months the weight had been dropping off her. She was sixty-one, her hair speckled with grey and her skin pasty. ‘Gran, you’re looking really thin. Have you been to the doctor’s yet?’

‘No, and I don’t intend to either. There’s nothing wrong with losing a bit of weight. Now go on, bugger off and leave me in peace.’

The sting was taken out of this comment by a swift hug and a kiss on the cheek, which Mavis returned before asking, ‘Do you need anything from the shops?’

‘If you pass the pie and mash shop on your way home, I wouldn’t say no to a portion of jellied eels. Hang on, I’ll just get me purse.’

With the money in her pocket, Mavis waved goodbye, still worried about her gran as she pushed the pram along. Unlike her mother, Granny Doris wasn’t slow in showing affection. Mavis knew she was stupid, useless, fit for nothing as her mother always said, but her gran made her feel loved. Gran would listen when she talked, whereas her mother had no patience, telling her to shut up nearly every time she opened her mouth. Mavis knew she’d be lost without her gran, and was frightened that she really was ill; tears now flooded her eyes as she turned the corner.

‘Be careful, girl.’

‘I … I’m sorry, Mrs Pugh,’ Mavis stammered as she hastily veered to one side.

‘You nearly barged into me. Where are you off to? It’s Monday morning and surely you should be on your way to school?’

‘My … my mum needs more stock.’

Edith Pugh’s neck stretched with indignation. ‘Don’t your parents realise how important your education is? My son is twenty-two now, but when he was at school I made sure he never missed a day. Now look at him. Alec works in an office and is doing really well. You’ll learn nothing trawling the streets. As I’m going past your house, I think I’ll have a word with your mother.’

‘Oh, no, please, don’t do that! I leave school at Easter and … and it’s not as if a day off will make much difference.’

The woman’s face softened imperceptibly, her tone a little kinder. ‘No, I suppose not, but despite your difficulties I’m sure you’re bright. I think you just need a bit of extra help and it’s a shame you aren’t getting it.’

Once again Mavis felt her cheeks burning. Until last year, Mrs Pugh had been the school secretary and she hated it that the woman knew of her failings. Anxious to get away, she stuttered, ‘I … I think my English teacher has given up on me.’

‘What about your parents? Have they tried to help you?’

‘Er … yes,’ Mavis lied, and to avoid any more questions, she added, ‘I really must go now.’

‘Very well, but watch where you’re going with that pram. You nearly had me off my feet.’

With this curt comment Mrs Pugh walked away, her back bent and walking stick tapping the pavement, and Mavis too resumed her journey. She had always been in awe of Edith Pugh, and on their previous encounters when the woman had worked at her school, Mavis found her changing personality bewildering. She could be very strict, blunt, and opinionated, yet there’d been times when she’d shown kindness when questioning her absenteeism. Edith Pugh and her son lived in Ellington Avenue, only a ten-minute walk from her own home in Cullen Street, but the difference between the two was stark. Ellington Avenue was tree lined, with bay-fronted houses that had gardens back and front. In complete contrast, the houses in Cullen Street were flat-fronted, two-up-two-down terraces, with just small, concrete backyards. There were no trees, and the only view was of the dismal houses opposite.

Mavis had been out so many times with the pram that she knew every road, lane, street and avenue in the whole area, but Ellington Avenue was one of her favourites, especially in May when the trees bloomed with froths of pink and white blossom.

At last Mavis reached Battersea Bridge, the river grey and sluggish, and the wind stinging her cheeks as she walked to the other side. On Cheyne Walk now, she hesitated while deciding which direction to take. She could try the houses facing the embankment, or those along Beaufort Street. Mavis crossed the road and turned left, a different route from her last forage. She was immune now to the looks of pity or disdain from people she passed; her one hope was that it wouldn’t take all day to fill the pram.

Edith Pugh was deep in thought. Despite the girl’s inability to read and write, she was sure that Mavis Jackson was bright, and not only that, the girl was pretty. Yes, but was Mavis malleable? There was only one way she could think of to find out and now, raising the handle of her cane, Edith rapped loudly on the door. Despite the pain, she managed to keep her back straight and her head high when it was opened.

‘Blimey, Edith Pugh. And to what do I owe this honour?’

Edith hid her feelings of disdain as she looked at Mavis’s mother. Despite being pretty, with a good figure, the woman looked a mess, her peroxide blonde hair resembling straw and her clothes totally unsuitable for a woman in her mid thirties. Edith knew her own hair was mousy brown, but she kept it immaculately permed, and made sure she always looked smart, her clothes nicely tailored. Forcing a smile, she said, ‘I’d like a word with you about your daughter.’

‘Why? What’s she been up to?’

‘Nothing, other than the fact that Mavis isn’t in school—but as she’s leaving soon I think it’s time you thought about her future.’

Lily’s head reared with indignation. ‘Now listen, lady, you may have been the school secretary but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do about my daughter.’

‘No, I’m not trying to do that,’ Edith said hastily. She hated that she had to affect an air of humility but nevertheless forced her tone to sound contrite. ‘Oh, dear, I’m so sorry, we seem to have got off on the wrong foot. You see, I came to see you about offering Mavis a job.’

‘A job? What sort of job?’

‘I’d rather not discuss it on the doorstep. May I come in?’

‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ Lily said, ‘but you’ll have to excuse the mess.’

Edith was unable to help her eyebrows rising as she went inside. The room was indeed a mess, with piles of junk spread over the linoleum. She could see rusted old saucepans, a frying pan black with grease, and a few odd pieces of cutlery amongst the jumble. In another heap she saw china, mostly chipped, and in her opinion only fit for the dustbin. There was a sheet of newspaper on the table on top of which Edith saw an old, dented kettle that Lily had obviously been trying to polish up.

‘You’d best sit down,’ Lily said.

Edith pulled out a chair and looked at it fastidiously before sitting.

‘Right, what’s this about a job?’ Lily asked as she too sat down.

‘I’m afraid it’s only part time, but I’d like Mavis to work for me. You see, in my early thirties I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and, due to relapses, I had to give up work last year.’

‘Yeah, I’d heard, but didn’t know why.’

Edith ignored the interruption. She wanted to get this over with, to leave this dirty house and its many germs behind. ‘I’m only forty-three now, but my disabilities are worsening, so much so that I need help around the house and with cooking. With your agreement, I’d like Mavis for two hours a day, and an hour at weekends.’

‘Two hours a day ain’t much of a job and, anyway, Mavis is a clumsy cow. I don’t think you could trust her not to break anything.’

‘I’m sure she’d be fine with simple tasks, and I can teach her to be less clumsy. It’s just a matter of training.’

‘Leave it out. I know my daughter and gave up on her years ago.’

‘I’m willing to take the risk. I’ll also pay her one shilling an hour, which is a good rate for a young, unskilled domestic worker.’

‘It ain’t bad, but I want her to work for me when she leaves school.’

‘Surely you could spare her for a couple of hours a day?’

Lily’s eyes narrowed in thought, and then she began to count on her fingers. ‘I make it twelve hours in total, and she’d earn twelve bob. Yeah, all right, for that money I can spare her, but I warn you, don’t come complaining to me if she breaks anything.’

‘I won’t. I’d like to show Mavis her duties before she starts. Would you send her round to see me?’

‘Yeah, but there’s no hurry. She doesn’t leave school until the end of term.’

‘I really could do with her before then. Until she leaves, could she perhaps do an hour after school, and two on Saturdays and Sundays?’

‘Yeah, but she can’t start today. It’ll have to be tomorrow.’

‘That’s fine.’

‘I’ll send her round to see you later.’

‘Thank you,’ Edith said, but as she stood up a muscle spasm caused her to gasp in pain. For a moment her vision blurred and she felt off balance, but then thankfully the moment passed. She reached out to grasp her cane and walked slowly to the door, saying as she was shown out, ‘Goodbye, Mrs Jackson.’

‘Bye,’ Lily chirped back.

When the door closed behind her, Edith heaved in a breath of fresh air. She’d done it. The first stage of her plan was in place. She just hoped Mavis was the perfect choice.

Lily picked up the half-polished kettle, her mind full of the visit as she started to polish the other side. If Edith Pugh really could teach Mavis to be less clumsy, it would make all the difference. The woman had said she was forty-three, but dressed as though she was middle aged. Matronly, that was the only way to describe Edith Pugh; but she had sounded so sure of herself when talking about Mavis. Maybe she was right—maybe it was down to training.

Lily knew she should have tried harder with Mavis but, busy trying to make ends meet, she just hadn’t had the time, or patience. When Mavis left school, she’d planned to put her to work, sending her out most days with the pram, and using her on other days to tart up any metal stuff. More stock would increase her profits, but now Lily decided there could be an alternative. She turned the idea over in her mind. Yes, it should work, but Lily didn’t want to count her chickens before they were hatched. Of course, if Ron would stop gambling they’d be in clover, but that was a pipe dream. However, if her future plans for Mavis worked out, she’d be able to take it easy—have a bit of time to put her feet up for a change.

By the end of another hour, Lily’s arms were aching, but at last she had a pile of now shiny, if dented, saucepans to flog, not that she’d get much for them. Her sigh was heavy as she washed the muck off her hands, but then the door swung open and Lily spun around, her eyes widening. ‘Bloody hell, Ron! What are you doing home?’

‘We got laid off.’

‘Why? What did you do this time?’ Lily asked in exasperation as she hastily dried her hands.

‘I fell out with the foreman, but before you do your nut, don’t worry. Pete’s already found us another job and the pay’s a lot better.’

‘Is it now? Knowing you, I doubt I’ll see any of it.’

Ron moved closer, pulling her into his arms. ‘Yes you will, love. Things are going to change, you’ll see.’

Lily stiffened at first as Ron’s lips caressed her neck, but sixteen years of marriage hadn’t dimmed her passion for this man. He might be a gambler, his wages gone most weeks before she saw a penny, but his body never failed to thrill her. She moved her hands over him, felt his muscles ripple, and melted. It was always the same. She would threaten to leave him, but then be left helpless with desire at his touch. Not this time, she thought, fighting her emotions and pulling away. ‘No, Ron.’

‘Come on, Lily, you know you don’t mean it,’ he urged, pulling her close again, the hardness of his desire obvious as he pressed against her.

It was almost her undoing, but once again she fought her feelings. ‘I said no!’

‘Lily … Lily, we should make the most of this. When I’m working away we won’t see each other for months.’

Ron’s words were like a dash of cold water. ‘Working away! What do you mean?’

‘Oh, shit, I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. I’d planned to tell you when you were feeling all warm and cosy after a bit of slap and tickle.’

‘Oh, I see, soften me up first and then break the news. Well, forget it. You can tell me now.’

Ron released her. ‘All right, but you ain’t gonna like it,’ he said, taking a seat before going on to tell her about the job in Bracknell.

Lily sat down to hear him out, only speaking when he came to an end. ‘So let me get this straight. You’re saying that if you take this job you’ll be able to give up gambling, and, not only that, you and Pete are going to pool your money, saving up enough to go into partnership?’

‘You’ve got it in one. I know being apart is gonna be rotten, but I’ll send you money every week.’

‘That’ll be a change. I get sod all off you now.’

‘I know, love, I know, but I really am going to give up gambling this time. And don’t forget, without me to keep, you’ll be quids in.’

‘Why can’t you come home at weekends?’

‘’Cos we’re going to put in as much overtime as we can. The more hours we work, the more we’ll earn, and by the end of the contract Pete thinks we’ll have enough to buy a van and all the stuff we’ll need, mixers and such, to start up our own firm.’

Lily’s mind was racing. If Ron really did mean it this time, their lives would be transformed. He’d be able to go into partnership with Pete, and the money would come rolling in … Oh, what was the matter with her? It was a silly dream. Ron would never give up gambling—years of broken promises were enough to prove that. ‘It’s all pie in the sky,’ she snapped. ‘As soon as you get your first pay packet you’ll be down the dog track.’

‘Ah, that’s just it. I won’t be able to. There’s no greyhound racing in Bracknell.’

For a moment, Lily dared to believe that Ron could change, but then common sense prevailed. ‘You’d find a track somewhere, or something else to gamble on. It’s a sickness with you, Ron, and you know it.’

‘Yes, but this time I really do want the cure. Pete and me will be in the same accommodation and if I’m tempted he’ll keep me on the straight and narrow, you’ll see.’

‘So you say, but I won’t be there to see it. You could be up to anything and I wouldn’t know.’

‘All right, you don’t trust me and I can understand that, but surely you trust Pete?’

‘Yes, he’s a good bloke, but he ain’t your keeper. If you really want to give up gambling, it’s down to you.’

‘Lily, I promise you, cross my heart and hope to die, I really am going to make it this time,’ Ron said as he stood up to pull her into his arms again. ‘I don’t deserve you, I know that, but I’ll make you proud this time.’

Once again his lips caressed her neck, and this time Lily didn’t pull away. Ron lifted her up with ease, cupping her legs in his arms as he carried her upstairs.

Chapter Three

Mavis was so tired, her feet throbbing and the pram three-quarters full as she knocked on the last door in the street. The houses were large, with several steps leading up to the front doors, but she’d had many shut in her face. She’d also narrowly avoided a copper on his beat by diving out of sight. If she got a few things from this last house, with any luck she could make her way home. Mavis waited, fingers crossed, and when the door opened, she found herself confronted by a wizened old woman bundled up in what looked like several jumpers and a cardigan.

Blimey, Mavis thought, she looks scruffier than me but, taking a deep breath, she said politely, ‘I’m sorry to bother you, but have you got any household items or clothes that you want to get rid of?’

‘Get rid of! Do you mean sell them to you?’

Mavis told the usual lie, the one her mother had advised. ‘Oh, no, I don’t want to buy anything. I’m collecting for charity, stuff to pass on to the Salvation Army.’

‘I see,’ the tiny woman said. ‘In that case, you’d better come in and I’ll see what I can find.’

It was unusual to be invited in, but Mavis followed her into the house, along a hall and into a living room. There was no fire burning in the huge grate; the room was freezing, and she saw an old quilt draped over a chair that had been pushed to one side. Was that all she had for warmth? The room was huge, but with wallpaper peeling and an absence of any pictures or ornaments, it felt bleak.

‘I haven’t got much, my dear, but perhaps these candlesticks,’ the woman said as she reached up to remove them from the mantelpiece, handing them to Mavis.

They weren’t very large, blackened, and it was no wonder she hadn’t noticed them, Mavis thought, as she took them from the woman’s hands. She saw the marks through the grime but, after another swift look around the dismal room, Mavis quickly handed them back. This might be a large house, the outside appearance one of wealth, but even her small home in Cullen Street had a little more comfort. ‘No, no, I can’t take these. I’m sure they’re made of silver.’

‘Really? Are you sure?’

Mavis couldn’t decipher the symbols, but knew what they were called. ‘Yes, look, you can just about see the hallmarks.’

‘Oh, dear, in that case I’m afraid I can’t give them to you. They’re saleable, but surely I can find something for the Salvation Army. Let’s have a look in the kitchen.’

Once again Mavis followed the old woman, but found the kitchen as austere as the living room. Oh, this was dreadful, she thought. The poor woman must be penniless to live like this. Cupboards were opened, most almost empty, including the pantry. Once again Mavis was swamped with guilt. She had lied to the woman and now all she wanted was to get away. ‘It’s all right. It doesn’t matter. I’ve collected loads of stuff already and I really must go now.’

‘But it’s such a worthy cause and I’d like to help,’ the woman insisted, pulling something from a bottom cupboard. ‘What about this?’

Mavis carefully took the china biscuit barrel, its metal lid black with dirt. ‘Thank you. This is fine and more than enough,’ she said. Before the old lady could protest, Mavis fled the kitchen, ran down the hall, pulling the front door closed behind her before almost skidding down the few stairs and onto the pavement.

Full pram or not, Mavis just wanted to go home. She had looked with envy at the large houses, imagined the luxurious interiors, but seeing inside one was a revelation. That poor old woman had nothing, yet was still prepared to donate something to charity.

Mavis put the biscuit barrel in the pram. And then, deciding to risk her mother’s wrath that the pram wasn’t full, she started the long walk home. Oh, if only she didn’t have to do this. If only she could find a job when she left school, but, as her mother always pointed out, nobody in their right mind would employ her. Downcast, she trudged along, worn out and hungry by the time she reached Cullen Street.

Lily was feeling warm and mellow. After making love they had come downstairs again and now Ron was sitting by the fire, his feet on the surround, talking so enthusiastically about his plans that Lily was beginning to feel that he really could make it this time.

The back door opened and Mavis walked in, smiling with delight when she saw her father. ‘Hello, Dad.’

‘How’s my girl?’

‘So, you’re back,’ Lily interrupted. ‘Let’s see how you got on.’

‘The pram isn’t full.’

‘I told you not to come home until it was.’

‘Lily, leave it out,’ Ron protested. ‘You shouldn’t send her out tramping the streets; she looks frozen.’

Lily’s good mood vanished. How dare Ron criticise her? Hands on hips, she spat, ‘The fact that Mavis has to go out scrounging is down to you, Ron, not me. You blow your money every week, leaving me to somehow find the rent, let alone food. I have to send Mavis out. If I didn’t, we’d bloody well starve.’

‘I know, and I’m sorry, love,’ Ron said ruefully. ‘I know you do your best, but things really are going to change.’

‘Huh. I’ll believe it when I see it.’ And with that Lily marched out to the yard. She rummaged through the pram, relieved to see that Mavis hadn’t broken anything, and saw a few things that would show a bit of profit. She could have done with more. It was just as well she had other plans now, but then, seeing what looked like a half-decent biscuit barrel, Lily felt a surge of pleasure, her bad mood lifting as she gave it a closer inspection. The rest of the stuff could wait until later, and Lily threw a cover over the pram in case of rain.

Mavis was sitting by the fire when Lily went back inside, smiling happily to be with her father. ‘You did all right, and this is a really good find,’ Lily said, holding up the biscuit barrel. ‘If I’m not mistaken, it could be antique and the lid’s silver.’

‘Oh, no! I’ll have to take it back.’

‘Take it back! Are you mad?’

‘But, Mum, the old lady who gave it to me lives in this big house, but she’s really poor. I only took it because I didn’t think it was worth anything.’

‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this. If it hasn’t escaped your notice, you daft cow, we’re poor too.’

‘But she didn’t even have a fire going and there was hardly any food in her pantry.’

‘Oh, and I’ve got a lot in mine, have I?’ Lily said sarcastically. ‘We’re so well off that all we’ve got for dinner is a bit of bubble and squeak.’

‘Things are gonna get better, love, you know that,’ Ron cajoled.

‘Yeah, so you say.’

‘Lily, I promise, you’ll get five pounds a week without fail.’

‘Five quid! From what you said, you’ll be earning nearly three times that.’

‘Does that mean I can return the biscuit barrel?’ Mavis asked eagerly.

‘No, you bloody well can’t! What your dad’s talking about may never happen. In the meantime, if we want to eat tomorrow, I’ll need to sell this, and fast. In fact, you can have a go at cleaning it up while I’m cooking dinner.’ Lily kept her expression stern and thankfully there were no further protests from Mavis. ‘I know what a clumsy cow you are, so just polish the lid. Use a soft cloth. I don’t want to see any scratches.’

While Mavis did her bidding, Lily started on their dinner, unable to help doing a mental calculation as she worked. If she really did get five quid a week from Ron, for the first time in years he’d be giving her decent money. She flicked a glance at her husband, saw that he had dozed off, and her expression hardened. What was the matter with her? Of course it wouldn’t happen. She couldn’t rely on Ron. As always, he’d let her down again. Still, she had the biscuit barrel and it would fetch a fair few bob, and with Mavis earning more from cleaning when she left school, things were starting to look up.

Mavis couldn’t stop her mouth from salivating. She’d eaten her bread and dripping at midday and now the smell of her mother’s cooking made her stomach growl with hunger. Oh, no, she’d forgotten to get jellied eels for Granny Doris! Tomorrow, she’d get them tomorrow. Her gran was sure to understand.

Gingerly Mavis picked up the ceramic biscuit barrel, and under the grime she could just about see a circle of black ponies, along with a pretty blue border top and bottom. She took off the lid, polishing it carefully, pleased to see how it began to gleam. While she worked, Mavis was unable to stop stealing glances at her father. As she’d hoped, he was home, and if he didn’t go out again that evening it would be wonderful.

Ten minutes later, when Mavis thought the lid was shiny enough to please her mother, she said, ‘Look, Mum, what do you think?’

‘Yeah, very nice,’ Lily said, her eyes squinting to see the hallmark. ‘I don’t know much about date letters, but I think it’s early.’ She then put the lid down to pick up the barrel and, upending it, she pointed out the maker’s mark on the bottom. ‘Look at that, it’s Royal Doulton. Well done, girl, it’s as I thought. This is worth a good few bob.’

It was rare that Mavis received praise from her mother, and though unable to return the barrel, she couldn’t help feeling a glow of pleasure. At least she hadn’t accepted the silver candlesticks, Mavis thought, assuaging her guilt.

‘Right, dinner’s ready so lay the table,’ her mum then ordered as she placed the barrel carefully on the dresser. ‘Ron! Ron, come on, wake up.’

Mavis quickly placed cutlery on the table, smiling when her mother spoke kindly again. ‘Look at him, out for the count. I’ve a good mind to leave him like that and it’ll be all the more bubble and squeak for us.’

‘I heard that,’ he said, stretching his arms before standing up. He then kissed Lily on the cheek and smiled cheekily. ‘Come on, woman. Feed me.’

‘I’ll do more than feed you if you ain’t careful.’

‘Is that a threat or a promise?’ he asked, winking at Mavis as he took a seat at the table.

Oh, this was so nice, Mavis thought. Her mother was in a good mood again, her father cracking jokes, and she wished it could always be like this. Mavis then saw her mother holding out two plates.

‘Be careful giving this to hungry guts,’ she said. ‘Don’t drop it, and that one’s yours.’

‘How’s my girl then?’ Ron asked again as Mavis carefully placed his dinner in front of him.

‘I’m all right, Dad,’ she said, loving the way her father called her his girl. She sat down to eat, the food rapidly disappearing off her plate. They were all quiet while they ate, but as Mavis finished her last mouthful her mother spoke once again.

‘Right, Mavis. You’ve finished your dinner so get yourself round to Edith Pugh’s house. You’ll be working for her after school tomorrow and she wants to show you your so-called duties.’

‘Mrs Pugh? I … I’ll be working for her?’ Mavis stammered. ‘But … but what does she want me to do?’

‘From what she said, a bit of cleaning, and you can get that look off your face. You ain’t fit for much, even domestic work, but the woman thinks she can train you.’

‘Lily, there’s no need to talk to her like that.’

‘Go on, jump to her defence as usual. I’m the one who has to feed her, clothe her, and do you think I like it that my daughter can’t do even the simplest tasks? Mavis will bring in a few bob for a bit of cleaning, which is more than I can say for you.’

Mavis hung her head. Things were back to normal between her parents, but nevertheless her thoughts raced. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to work for Mrs Pugh, yet surely it was better than taking the pram out? But would her mother expect her to do that too? ‘What about stock—the pram?’

‘That depends on your father. If he’s true to his word, which I doubt, and sends me five quid a week, we can knock it on the head. If he doesn’t, well, you’ll have to keep finding me stock.’

Mavis suddenly latched on to her mother’s words. ‘Send it. What does that mean? Won’t you be here, Dad?’

‘No, from tomorrow I’ll be working away. I’ll have to pay a bit for lodgings, but your mother will get her money.’

‘Yeah, and pigs might fly.’

‘I’ll make you eat your words, Lily. You’ll see.’

Before her mother could respond again, Mavis hastily broke in, ‘Will you be away for a long time, Dad?’

‘I’m afraid so, love, at least six months, maybe more, but it’s for a good cause.’

‘Oh, Dad …’

‘Mavis, that’s enough. I said get yourself round to Edith Pugh’s. Now!’

Desolately, Mavis pushed her chair back. She knew better than to argue with her mother, and now the only person who ever came to her defence was leaving—and from what he said, for a long time. Mavis took her coat from the hook, unable to help blurting out as she shrugged it on, ‘Dad, please don’t go.’

‘I’ve got to, love. It’ll be the making of us, you’ll see, and when I come back things are going to be different. I’ll have me own business, making a packet, and your mother will never have to work again.’

Mavis saw the look of derision on her mother’s face and, like her, doubted it was true. She knew her father was a gambler, had heard so many rows, followed by his promises—ones that he never kept. Yet she loved her dad, dreaded him leaving, and tears stung her eyes as she stepped outside. What would happen to her now?

Chapter Four

Edith Pugh was struggling to wash up the dinner things when her son walked into the room.

‘Leave it, Mum. I’ll do it,’ Alec insisted.

‘I can manage.’

‘No, you can’t, and it’s about time you listened to me. You need a bit of help, someone to take on the housework and cooking.’

‘I have listened. In fact, I’ve taken someone on to do just that.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Have you now? Well, that’s good.’

‘She’ll only be working for an hour a day until she leaves school, but even that will be a help.’

‘Mum, you need a mature woman with a bit of experience, not a schoolgirl. If you’re taken bad again, a kid would be useless.’

‘I haven’t employed her as a nurse, Alec. It hasn’t come to that yet.’

‘All right, but when does this girl start?’

‘Tomorrow, but I’m expecting her to call round soon so you’ll meet her before then.’

‘Good, now go and sit down. I’ll finish this lot.’

Edith didn’t argue this time. Her feet felt so painful, as though she was standing on broken glass, and she moved slowly across the room to sit on a fireside chair. She had done too much today, walked too far to see Mrs Jackson, but surely it had been worth it?

With a sigh, Edith closed her eyes, unaware that she had dozed off until the doorbell rang. She saw that Alec had finished washing up, that the dishes were put away, and said tiredly, ‘That’s probably Mavis. Let her in, Alec.’

He nodded and as he left the room, Edith managed to sit up straighter in her chair. She heard voices and soon Alec returned with Mavis behind him. ‘Hello, Mavis.’

‘Hello, Mrs Pugh. My mum told me to come to see you. She said I’m to work for you after school tomorrow.’

‘Yes, that’s right, but do sit down. You look frozen.’

‘Thanks,’ Mavis said, taking the chair at the other side of the hearth.

‘Now then, I expect you want to know what your duties will be. I’m afraid I have rather high standards, and with only an hour each afternoon, I think we’ll concentrate on giving one room a day a thorough clean. How does that sound?’

‘Er … it sounds fine.’

‘Good, and if you have any time left, I’d like you to prepare our dinner. Peel vegetables and such, ready for me to cook. Do you think you could manage that?’

‘I think so.’

Edith was so tired that she was finding it difficult to concentrate. There was something else to discuss, but what was it? Oh, yes. ‘I was going to show you the house, but I’m afraid it will have to wait until tomorrow.’

‘Mother, are you all right?’

When Edith turned to Alec, she saw that his expression showed conflicting emotions. He looked annoyed, probably because she had overtired herself, but also worried. Edith adored her son. As a child she had spoiled him, but he was everything to her and they shared the same tastes in most things. They preferred classical music to modern, loved art and reading. In fact, Alec was the perfect son, so loving and caring, so, with a smile of reassurance, she said, ‘Yes, I’m fine, but would you show Mavis out?’

He nodded, and as Mavis stood up, she said, ‘Thanks, Mrs Pugh. I … l’ll see you tomorrow.’

Edith nodded. ‘Goodbye for now, Mavis.’

As the girl followed Alec out of the room, Edith sagged. She heard the front door close and was about to close her eyes again, when Alec stormed back into the room.

‘Mother, are you out of your mind? It’s bad enough that you’re employing a schoolgirl, but Mavis Jackson! You know how people gossip around here and from what I’ve heard she’s backward.’

‘Don’t be cruel, Alec. Just because Mavis can’t read and write, it doesn’t mean she’s stupid. In fact, I’m sure she’s bright, and perfectly capable of doing domestic work.’

‘If she can’t read at the age of fifteen, there must be something wrong—and from the look of her she isn’t even capable of keeping herself clean.’

Edith’s mind was foggy as she struggled for a persuasive argument. ‘Oh, for goodness sake, not everyone has our standards, and it would be hard to find someone willing to do things my way. Mavis is a nice, amiable girl who I’ll show how to do things correctly from the start.’

‘But …’

‘Please, Alec,’ Edith interrupted, ‘I’m too tired to argue. If Mavis doesn’t work out, I’ll replace her, so please, be satisfied with that.’

‘Oh, very well.’

Edith closed her eyes, hiding her relief. She couldn’t tell Alec the truth—that she was doing this not only for herself, but for him too. At this moment in time, if Alec knew her plans, he’d bolt. Yet one day, when everything she intended to do was in place, her son would thank her. And on this thought, Edith finally drifted off to sleep.

Alec saw that his mother had fallen asleep and, though still annoyed, he looked at her worriedly. Without his father in his life, she was everything to him, but she was getting worse, he was sure of it. Alec looked around the room to see that as usual, everything was immaculate. The rest of the house would be the same. Obsessive, that was the word to describe his mother. She wouldn’t put up with a fleck of dust, an ornament out of place and woe betide him if he left a mess in the bathroom—not that he would of course. Maybe his mother was right, Alec thought as he shifted in his chair. Maybe it would be impossible to find a woman who could work to her standards. But for goodness sake, surely she could do better than Mavis Jackson!

Yet now, as Alec recalled her face, he realised that there was indeed a spark of intelligence in the girl’s eyes. Not only that, underneath the grime, he’d seen that Mavis was quite pretty too, but her dirt-encrusted fingernails had made him shudder with distaste. Like his mother, Alec knew he was fastidious, but as far as he was concerned there was nothing wrong with that. He’d been brought up to appreciate that cleanliness was close to godliness, and though he wasn’t particularly religious, he liked the pleasure of a clean home, clean body, and immaculately laundered clothes. Oh well, Alec thought as he stood up, deciding to take a look at his stamp collection. As his mother said, if Mavis didn’t work out, she’d soon be given her marching orders.

Mavis hurried home, her thoughts on Alec Pugh. She’d seen him around, but knew little about him, and now, after meeting him face to face, she was frowning. Alec Pugh wasn’t very tall and not much to look at, with mousy brown hair and a moustache to match. His manner had made her feel uncomfortable—the way he’d taken her in to see his mother with obvious reluctance. It had been the same when she was shown out. He’d opened the street door, and had almost slammed it behind her without saying a word. He was rude, stuck up, but at least she wouldn’t see much of him, Mavis decided, consoled by the thought. If she was only working for an hour after school, she’d be long gone before Alec Pugh came home from work.

Mavis turned into her street, almost bumping into Tommy and Larry. Her stomach lurched and she immediately lowered her head. If she crossed to the other side, maybe they’d leave her alone, but before Mavis got the chance, Larry stood in front of her.

‘Well, look here, it’s Dumbo.’

‘Leave me alone.’

‘Now there’s no need to be unfriendly. In fact, how about a walk on the common?’

‘No, no,’ Mavis gasped as she tried to step around them.

‘There’s no need to run away. Come on, come with us and we’ll have a bit of fun.’

Mavis frantically shook her head. In her last encounter with the two boys, they had tried to do dirty things to her. She’d been too ashamed and scared to tell her parents, and though she remembered how they threatened her to keep it a secret, Mavis still grasped at the only thing she could think of to scare them off. ‘If you don’t go away, I’ll tell my dad what you did to me.’

Larry’s eyes narrowed into threatening slits. ‘I wouldn’t if I was you, Dumbo, ’cos if you do we’ll only make it worse for you. Ain’t that right, Tommy?’ he added, throwing a quick glance at the boy by his side.

‘Yeah,’ Tommy agreed, but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes. ‘Come on, Larry, let’s go. I don’t fancy the smelly cow anyway.’

‘You’re right, she ain’t much,’ he agreed, leaning forward until he was almost eye to eye with Mavis. ‘Now listen. If you open your mouth, not only will we make it worse for you, we’ll tell your dad that you asked for it, that you led us on. I bet he’d love to hear that his precious daughter’s a tart.’

With that they walked off, but Larry’s voice was loud enough for Mavis to hear his next comment.

‘Don’t worry, Tommy. It’s like I said before, even if she opens her mouth, nobody would believe that thicko over us.’

Mavis hurried off, and on reaching her front door she took a gulp of air before walking into the kitchen, unaware of how pale she looked.

Her father’s gaze was sharp. ‘Mavis, you look like death. What’s the matter?’

She was saved from answering when her mother spoke. ‘What happened? Don’t tell me you blew it and didn’t get the job.’

‘No, no, I got it. I start tomorrow.’

She saw her father frown, then he said, ‘Well, my girl, something’s upset you. Come on, spit it out.’

Mavis hung her head, searching for an answer and, unable to tell the truth, she said, ‘It’s Mrs Pugh’s son. I … I didn’t like him.’

‘Why? What’s wrong with him?’ Lily asked.

‘He … he was funny with me. Stuck up.’

‘Well, that doesn’t surprise me. Like his mother, from what I’ve heard—just ’cos he works in an office, Alec Pugh thinks he’s a cut above the rest of us.’

Once again her father spoke. ‘Are you sure that’s all it is, Mavis? He was just off with you. Is that right?’

With her mind churning, Mavis knew she couldn’t tell her father the truth. He’d go mad, and Larry was right, what if he didn’t believe her side of the story? Had she led them on? Mavis didn’t know. She’d bumped into them on the common, had been pleased that, instead of making fun of her as usual, they’d been friendly. They’d sat on a bench, both boys telling her silly jokes that made her laugh. But then the atmosphere changed, became tense and as though on cue, they fumbled with their trousers. She’d never seen willies before and was horrified when they pulled them out. Larry flaunted his, giggling, and unsure of how to react she had giggled too. Larry had told her to hold his, but suddenly frightened by the intense look in his eyes, she had said no. Larry had pounced then, pulling her from the bench and onto the grass. Tommy at first hesitated, but then joined in, both pushing her back and trying to lift up her skirt. She had screamed, kicked, and it was then the boys saw someone coming. They released her from their grip and she had scrambled away, picking herself up to run home, too sick with shame to tell her mother what had happened. Since that day, four weeks earlier, she had avoided them, went in the other direction if she saw them coming, but she had seen them too late this time.

‘Mavis, I just asked you a question.’

‘Sorry, Dad. Yes, Alec Pugh was just off with me. Like I said, sort of stuck up.’

‘I ain’t having some jumped-up office clerk looking down on my daughter. You can get back round there and tell the woman she can stick her bloody job.’

‘Leave it out, Ron,’ said Lily. ‘She’ll do no such thing. Anyway, I don’t know what all the fuss is about. It’s Edith Pugh she’ll be working for, not her son.’

‘She’s just as bad, ain’t she?’

‘Maybe, but she can teach Mavis a lot and it’s daft to blow the girl’s chances.’

‘Chances! Doing flaming cleaning!’

‘What else is she fit for? If Edith Pugh can teach her to clean without breaking every thing she touches, it could lead to something.’

‘Huh! Like what?’

‘I dunno, but it’s better than learning nothing.’

‘Well, I think it’s up to Mavis. Now, my girl, do you want to take the job or not?’

Once again Mavis hung her head. If her father kept his word and sent five pounds every week, maybe her dream of going to art college was within reach. She daren’t raise the subject yet—not until her mother had seen the painting. In the meantime she was happy to earn a few bob working for Mrs Pugh. ‘I don’t mind, Dad. It’s only for an hour after school.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘You heard the girl, Ron, and, as I said, it could lead to something. Now then, Mavis, get the rest of the stuff out of the pram so I can give it a good look over.’

Mavis went into the yard, still dreaming, still hoping her dad would keep his word. With the money he sent, and if she carried on cleaning for Mrs Pugh when she left school, perhaps every evening and weekend, surely then her mother would be able to afford to let her go to college.

Chapter Five

Lily woke up on Tuesday morning to find that Ron had taken most of the blankets. She shivered, snuggled up to his warm body, aware that this was the last time she’d be able to do this for a long, long time. He stirred, groaned with pleasure as her hand moved down to touch him, and soon Lily was wrapped in his arms, their lovemaking passionate. Lily relished Ron’s touch, his mouth as it devoured hers, and was taken to new heights, her nails raking his back.

When it was over, Ron collapsed by her side, and Lily wondered as she always did why their lovemaking had only resulted in one child—one who was nothing but a disappointment. It didn’t help that her neighbour and so-called friend next door, Kate Truman, had three kids, all normal, one so good at school that she was going on to college.

Kate was always bragging about how clever her Sandra was, and how her younger daughter, Ellie, was also showing signs of passing her eleven plus. Even Kate’s son was doing well as an apprentice plumber, though the boy was so ugly he reminded Lily of a bulldog. Oh, what was the matter with her? It was just sour grapes, Lily knew that, but she was sick of the pitying glances Kate threw at her whenever Mavis was around. And it wasn’t just Kate—others in the street were the same, proud of their kids; whereas Lily knew nothing but shame.

Lily knew that she should love Mavis, had waited for that wonderful moment that other women spoke about when their babies were first put into their arms, but for her there had been nothing. She had looked at her baby and felt nothing! And all these years later, she still didn’t. It added to her shame, made her sharp with Mavis but, unlike Kate, she had nothing to be proud about in her daughter. Was the fault hers? Was there something wrong with her? Did she lack maternal instincts? No, no, if Mavis had been normal, surely she would have grown to love her? Her thoughts making her restless, Lily threw the blankets to one side, but Ron turned to grab her, holding her fast.

‘Don’t get up yet, love.’

‘I’ve got work to do, and if you want to be away by eight, you’d better sort your stuff out.’

‘What’s to sort? I packed my case last night. Come on, let’s make the most of this last morning.’

Unable to resist, Lily turned into his arms again, their lovemaking slower this time. Like her, Ron knew that this would be the last time, his touch tender, caressing, until unable to hold back any longer they became frenzied: so in tune with each other’s bodies that they both climaxed at the same time.

Lily lay for a moment, panting, but knew that like it or not she had to get up. With a swift kiss she pushed Ron off and then clambered out of bed, quickly wrapping her old, fleecy dressing gown around her.

‘Lily, I don’t think I want to go. How about I get another job locally?’

‘Why the sudden change of heart?’

‘It’s you, love. I don’t think I can stand to be away from you for months on end.’

Lily was tempted to agree, but common sense took over. If Ron worked locally he’d be down the dog track as soon as he got his first wage packet and, as usual, she’d be left with hardly a penny. At least if he was working away, and if he stuck to his promise, the future would be rosy. Yes, she’d miss him too—well, she thought, smiling wryly, she’d miss the sex—but it wasn’t forever.

‘Yeah, it’s gonna be rotten,’ she placated, ‘but if you don’t go in with Pete, there’ll be no chance of your own business. Not only that, it’s a bit late now to let him down.’

Ron scratched his head, and then ran a hand around the stubble on his chin. ‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right.’

‘Of course I am. Now come on, get yourself up, and I’ll see what I can rustle up for your breakfast.’

‘A nice bit of bacon would be nice.’

‘Bacon! Leave it out, Ron. I’ve got ration points for four ounces, but no money to buy any. There’s an egg and I’ll fry that with a couple of bits of toast.’ And with that remark Lily left the bedroom to hurry downstairs.

Ron lay back on his pillow, flooded with shame. What was the matter with him? He’d asked for bacon, spoken without thought, and now Lily was going to fry him their last egg. What would that leave for her and Mavis? Sod all!

He’d been a shit of a husband, a shit of a father, but he really was going to change now. Lily deserved better. Mavis deserved better. Thinking about his daughter now, Ron frowned. He didn’t know why Lily was so hard on the girl, and when he got the chance he tried to intervene, yet somehow that only made things worse. Mavis might not be bright, but she was beautiful, with a personality to match, and surely she could do better than domestic work?

Ron dressed before he picked up the bucket to take downstairs to the outside lavatory. He emptied it first then sat down on the wooden seat, shivering with cold. Christ, to have an inside bog would be heaven, and once again he burned with shame. If he didn’t blow his wages every week they could rent a better house, one with a bit of comfort for Lily and Mavis.

Still, he thought, assuaging his guilt. Things were going to change. He’d send Lily five quid a week without fail and she could start looking for somewhere decent to live.

Still shivering, Ron headed for the tiny outhouse where he dashed cold water over his face, then shaved. When he at last entered the warmth of the kitchen, he found Lily had a pot of tea made, and said as he sat at the table, ‘Pete will be here in half an hour.’

Lily poured the tea, only saying, ‘It’s a bit weak. I had to use the same tea leaves again, and there’s no milk.’

‘It’s fine and I hope you haven’t cooked my breakfast.’

‘I was just about to.’

‘No, love, I’m not hungry,’ he lied. ‘We’ll have a bit of breakfast on the way to Bracknell. I’m just sorry I can’t give you any money before I go, but by the end of the week I’ll be able to put something in the post.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Lily drawled.

Ron couldn’t blame her for doubting him; after all, he’d let her down so many times before. Lily had been a diamond for putting up with him, but for some reason, and Ron didn’t know what had brought about the change, he felt as though the scales had been lifted from his eyes. He’d been a bastard, a mug who had made the bookies rich while his wife and child had gone without. No more! From now on he wanted a decent future, for all of them, and by God he’d work like a dog to see that they got it. ‘Lily, I don’t deserve you, but I swear I’m going to make it up to you.’

‘That’d be nice, but was that another pig I just saw flying past the window?’ was her sarcastic reply.

‘You’ll see, but for now, can we talk about Mavis? I won’t be here when she leaves school, but I think she could do something better than cleaning.’

‘Like what? She can’t read or write, so working in a shop is out. Forget a job in a factory too. She wouldn’t be safe around machinery. What does that leave?’

‘I dunno, but there must be something.’

‘Ron, like me, you’ve got to face it. Mavis is slow and when she leaves school she won’t be able to find a job. I know cleaning ain’t much, but it’s better than nothing.’

Ron drank his tea and then stood up, pulling Lily from her chair and into his arms. ‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Christ, love, I’m gonna miss you something rotten.’

Lily was stiff for a moment, but then as always she melted. ‘I’m gonna miss you too. But, Ron, please, don’t let me down. Not this time. I don’t think I can take any more broken promises.’

‘I won’t. In fact, now that I’m going to send you money every week, you could look for another house. Somewhere with an inside lav and even a bathroom.’

‘We’ll see,’ was Lily’s cryptic reply. ‘I’d best get Mavis up.’

Ron tightened his arms momentarily before releasing her, his expression grave as he watched Lily walk to the bottom of the stairs, her shout loud as she called to Mavis. He wouldn’t let her down, but only time would convince Lily of that. In the meantime he was leaving her with nothing. He cursed the race track, the money he’d lost on Friday and vowed never to set foot near the dogs again.

‘Mavis, come on, your dad’s leaving soon,’ Lily yelled.

Ron heard a thump, a door opening and then Mavis was running downstairs. She hesitated for a moment when she saw him, but then ran into his arms.

‘Oh, Dad, please don’t go.’

‘I’ve got to, but don’t worry, the time will fly and I’ll soon be back,’ Ron said. Mavis felt thin and fragile as he hugged her and Ron realised that it had been a long time since he’d held his daughter. As a little girl she had clambered onto his lap, but those occasions became rare as she grew up. He’d shown her so little attention—too little affection—and though the words felt thick in his throat he forced them out, ‘I love you, darling.’

Mavis pulled back, her lovely blue eyes wide as she looked up at him. ‘I … I love you too, Daddy.’

Oh, God, Ron thought, he didn’t deserve her love, or Lily’s. All he had cared about for so many years was his next wage packet, the chance to get down to the dog track, followed by the pub, and by the time he showed his face at home, nine times out of ten Mavis had been in bed. He’d shown no interest in her school work, had accepted it when Lily said that their daughter was backward. In fact, in all honesty, he had dreamed of a son.

Ron looked at Lily over Mavis’s head. They had tried so hard, but surely it wasn’t too late? There was still time, and once he got himself sorted out, maybe they could find out why she hadn’t fallen pregnant again. It would be different this time, he’d be a decent father, a good provider, and when he and Pete made a success of their business, he’d have something to pass on to his son. With money coming in, there’d be no need to worry about Mavis’s future. He’d look after her, see she was provided for, Lily too, his wife able to take it easy at last.

Lily went to answer a knock on the front door, leading Pete into the room. ‘Are you ready, mate?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, I’m ready,’ Ron said, gently moving away from Mavis. He stepped across the room, facing Lily. ‘Right, I’m off, and don’t worry, I’ll get some money to you soon.’

‘Here, Ron,’ Pete said, holding out a crisp white note. ‘Sorry it’s late, but I forgot about that fiver you lent me last week.’

For a moment Ron hesitated. He knew that Pete didn’t owe him any money, but this wasn’t the time to show stubborn pride. If he accepted it, he could leave Lily with something, and once they were earning he’d be able to pay it back. He grinned now. ‘Yeah, well, I didn’t like to remind you, but give it to Lily.’

She frowned, but her fingers closed around it as Pete stuffed the note into her hand. ‘He lent you a fiver?’

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Pete said offhandedly before turning to Ron. ‘Now then, come on, let’s go or we’ll miss our train.’

Ron swiftly crushed Lily in his arms. ‘Bye, darling.’

‘Bye,’ she whispered, then kissed him fiercely.

He gave Mavis a hug, and then picked up his case, unable to look at his wife and daughter again as he walked out, leaving Mavis with tears streaming down her cheeks.

When Lily heard the door close behind her husband, she stared down at the five-pound note in her hand. She didn’t believe for one minute that Ron had loaned it to Pete. How many times had he bailed Ron out? She’d lost count, but nevertheless she was thankful for his consideration. Oh, why couldn’t Ron be more like Pete? A man who was so steady and reliable that it was a wonder he hadn’t been snapped up years ago. It was his looks, of course, women unable to get past his pugnacious face and baldness; yet if they got to know him, they’d realise that he had a heart of gold. Pete was thirty-eight now, but still a bachelor, and what a shame because he’d make someone a perfect husband. Unlike Ron, she thought, ruefully. Yet from the first time she’d seen him, he’d been the only man for her. Of course, she hadn’t known that he’d turn out to be an addicted gambler, and was mad to stay with him, but when all was said and done, she still loved him.

Lily’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud sob. Mavis was still crying, and though in truth she felt like crying too, Lily had long since learned to hide her feelings; had refused to let people see how their pity affected her. Not only that, when it came to selling, if people thought she was soft, they’d take advantage of her.

‘Oh, for goodness sake, Mavis, stop blubbing. All right, your dad’s working away, but it ain’t the end of the world. He’ll be back before you know it. Now shut your noise and get ready for school.’

Mavis fled upstairs and, thankful for the peace, Lily sank onto a kitchen chair. It was great to have a fiver but, with no guarantee that Ron would keep his word, she’d have to make it last. Still, with some decent stuff to sell, especially the biscuit barrel, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little treat. She’d start by cooking the egg and a couple of pieces of toast. Mavis could have that, but once the girl was at school, she’d buy a couple more eggs along with a bit of bacon. Bacon, Lily thought, smiling blissfully.

It was ten minutes before Mavis showed her face again, wan looking, but dressed. At least she wasn’t crying now, so Lily placed the breakfast in front of her, saying, ‘Go on, eat it up.’

‘Me! But what about you?’

‘I’ll have something later.’

Despite being upset about her father leaving, Mavis tucked in, bolting the food down as though frightened her mother would change her mind.

‘Come on, Mavis, wash your face and then get a move on. Don’t forget to go to Mrs Pugh’s after school.’

‘Can I go to Gran’s first? I was supposed to get her some jellied eels yesterday, but I forgot.’

‘Leave it out, you idiot. What sort of impression will it make if you’re late on your first day? I’m popping round to your gran’s later so I’ll get them. Keep the money your gran gave you and you can have a school dinner. Now as I said, get a move on.’

Mavis at last moved, but when she reappeared with her coat on, Lily saw the tell-tale bulge underneath it and her eyes narrowed. ‘Hold it, my girl. What are you hiding?’

‘N … nothing.’

‘Don’t give me that. Hand it over.’

‘Mum … please, let me take it back. Dad left you some money, and he’s going to send more.’

‘Take what back?’ Lily asked, but then the penny dropped and she looked at the sideboard to see that the biscuit barrel was missing. ‘You … you …’ she ground out through clenched teeth and, marching up to Mavis, she pulled back her coat to snatch the barrel. ‘I’ve a good mind to give you a bloody good hiding.’

Mavis cringed as Lily raised her hand, but begged, ‘Please, Mum, that old lady was really poor.’

‘Poor! Don’t make me laugh. She probably owns the big house you said she lived in. She could sell it—buy something smaller and be stinking rich—whereas all I’ve got to flog is this biscuit barrel.’

‘You … you’ve got five pounds.’

‘Yes, but it’s got to last us until God knows when, or are you daft enough to believe that your precious father is going to send me more?’

‘He … he might.’

‘Yes, you said it, he might. Now get out of my sight, you silly soft sod, and think yourself lucky you ain’t felt my hand across your face.’

Mavis fled and, after placing the barrel back onto the sideboard, Lily slumped onto a chair again. Mavis trying to sneak the bloody thing out was the last thing she needed. It was bad enough that Ron had left and she dreaded the time they’d be apart, her head thumping as she ran both hands across her face. Mavis had been upset when Ron left too, but despite this the old woman had obviously played on her daughter’s mind. Mavis didn’t have an ounce of sense—that was the trouble.

Lily gulped down her cup of insipid tea. She would go round to see her mother, but wondered what she’d say when she heard that Ron would be working away. There’d be no point in telling her that he was going to turn over a new leaf, especially as her mother had heard it so many times before. She had no time for Ron, and Lily couldn’t blame her. Yet maybe, just maybe, he did really mean it this time.

Chapter Six

Mavis was fighting tears. She’d upset her mother again, said the wrong things as usual, but she’d decided to take the biscuit barrel back as soon as she saw her father leaving the five-pound note. She hadn’t thought about the old lady owning that great big house, and had only seen the poverty she lived in. Her mum was right; the woman could sell her house, whereas they had no guarantee that her dad would send more money. Mavis blinked rapidly, wishing she hadn’t upset her mum, especially as she’d given her an egg on toast for breakfast. At any other time she’d have relished it but, worried about getting the biscuit barrel out of the house, she had hardly tasted it.

Nervous of bumping into Tommy and Larry again, her eyes darted along the road, but at least they went to Battersea County School, which was in the opposite direction from hers. If she could just get out of Cullen Street without them spotting her, she’d be safe. Thankfully there was no sign of them, but Sandra Truman from next door was just leaving, and, though she too went to a different school, Battersea Grammar, after exchanging greetings, they fell into step.

‘You’re quiet. What’s up, Mavis?’

‘My dad’s working away and it’ll be ages before he comes back.’

‘Working away? Why?’

‘He’ll be earning more money. When he comes back, he’s gonna start up his own business.’

Sandra looked sceptical, which didn’t surprise Mavis. Everyone knew her dad was a gambler and, living next door, the Trumans must have heard the rows. She and Sandra had been friends when they were younger, but after taking their eleven plus exams things had changed. Sandra was clever, had passed, and had gone on to grammar school. She’d made new friends, all as clever as her, and though they’d tried to include her, Mavis felt inadequate alongside them and had drifted away. It was the same at her secondary school. Unable to keep up, she hadn’t formed any real friendships, knowing that few girls would want to hang around with an idiot like her.

‘I know you’ll miss your dad,’ Sandra said kindly, ‘but it sounds like it’ll be worth it.’

Tommy Wilson came bounding around the corner, clutching a loaf of bread. Mavis froze. She’d avoided him for ages and now in the space of two days had come face to face with him twice. He shot them both a glance, but said nothing as he ran past, leaving Mavis unaware that she had stopped walking until Sandra touched her arm.

‘Mavis, you’re shaking. What’s wrong?’

‘Noth … nothing,’ she managed to answer, her feet moving again.

‘Come on, Mavis. It was Tommy Wilson, wasn’t it? Has he been giving you a hard time?’

Unable to tell Sandra the truth, Mavis just shook her head.

‘Listen, I know he calls you Dumbo, but just ignore him. There’s worse than name calling. Him and Larry are a right nasty pair and they tried it on with me.’

Once again Mavis halted. ‘Tried it on. Do you mean they tried to touch you?’

‘Yes, they cornered me on my way home from school.’

‘Did you tell your mum or your dad?’

‘Not my dad, he’d have killed the buggers, and, anyway, a swift kick in the right place was enough to chase them off. My mum said all boys try to get fresh, that they’re ruled by what’s in their trousers. She’s always going on at my brother to behave himself Sandra paused and, as though realising something, she said, ‘Here, hold on. Have they done the same to you? Is that why you’re so frightened?’

Mavis felt as though a dam had burst as she blurted it all out, but then saw that Sandra’s mouth was curled in disgust. Sandra must blame her—must think that she’d led them on. With a small cry of anguish she ran off.

‘No! Wait,’ Sandra called.

Mavis ignored the shout, running and running until she was through the school gates. Bending over, she fought to get her breath, and then seeing a group of girls staring at her she slunk off behind the toilet block until the bell rang.

Head down, Mavis walked to her class, worried sick that Sandra would pass on what she’d told her. Her mother would kill her if it reached her ears. And what about her dad? At least he was working away, but what about when he came back?

The lesson began, but as usual Mavis couldn’t make head nor tail of the writing chalked on the board. It was all right when the English teacher read to them, sometimes from a novel, which she enjoyed, but unlike the other girls she couldn’t write an essay on the subject. Sometimes there was so much in her mind, stories she would make up, yet no matter how many times she tried, it was impossible to put the words onto paper. Oh, it must be wonderful to read a book, something the other girls in her class could do so easily. She envied them so much. They were lucky. Unlike her, they weren’t idiots.

Lily had been to the shops and now sat back, replete, having had fresh tea and an egg along with a couple of slices of bacon. She also had a little treat in store for dinner, and simmering on the stove was a vegetable stew, thick with pearl barley. Most women could afford to buy meat and were constantly moaning that it was still on ration. Lily, though, was nervous of spending too much money so had settled on only vegetables. At least the stew would be nourishing, and as her mother had lost so much weight she’d take a bowl round to her later.

In no mood to talk, Lily sighed when someone rapped on her letterbox. It was Kate Truman, the woman saying, ‘Lily, my Sandra left for school, but then came back to tell me something. I think you need to hear it.’

‘You’d better come in. Do you fancy a cup of tea?’

‘Yes, if you can spare one.’

Unwilling to throw away tea leaves that had only been used once, Lily just lit the gas and, when the water boiled, topped up the pot. Kate was obviously itching to tell her something, so once they had a cup each in front of them, she said, ‘Right, Kate. Spit it out.’

‘You won’t like it, Lily, but it’s like this. My Sandra bumped into Mavis on her way to school. Mavis was upset and told Sandra something, but then she ran off.’

‘She’s upset because Ron’s left this morning to work out of London. It was all a bit quick so I haven’t had the chance to tell you about it.’

‘No, it wasn’t that. She’s upset about Tommy Wilson and Larry Barnet.’

‘Why? What’s happened to them?’

‘Nothing, but they tried it on with your Mavis.’

‘Tried it on! You … you don’t mean …’

‘Yes,’ Kate interrupted. ‘They got her on the common.’

‘Oh, my God,’ Lily cried, jumping to her feet. ‘She didn’t tell me. Did they … did they …’

‘No, no, calm down,’ Kate urged as she interrupted again. ‘They didn’t get far, but if someone hadn’t come along, they might have.’

‘My Ron will wring their bloody necks—’ Lily shouted, but then slumped onto her chair again, rubbing both hands over her face. ‘Fat chance. He ain’t here and won’t be for months. Mind you, those two buggers ain’t getting away with this. I’ll sort them out, and have a word with their mothers.’

‘Yes, do that, but Mavis is a very pretty girl and now that she’s growing up there’s bound to be others sniffing around. I’ve already spoken to my Sandra, but what about Mavis? Does she know about the birds and the bees?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘Lily, she may not be so lucky next time. You need to talk to her; warn her about blokes and how to handle them if they try it on.’

‘Gawd, Kate. I doubt she’d understand.’

‘I know she can’t read and write, but when my Sandra was at school with her, she insisted that Mavis isn’t daft. In fact, in art class she was brilliant.’

‘Art? What good is art? The only rich painters are dead ones.’

‘I dunno, Lily, but if she can paint and draw, surely that shows intelligence?’

‘It’s just copying, that’s all. Anyone can do that.’

‘Well, I can’t. I’m useless at drawing, always was and always will be.’

‘Yes, but it hasn’t held you back, has it? You can do other things, whereas Mavis can’t.’

Kate pursed her lips. ‘You have a point. But I still don’t think Mavis is as bad as you think—I’ve been telling you that for years.’

‘You were just being kind.’

‘No, Lily. Unlike backward kids, Mavis doesn’t sound daft when she talks. In fact, she sounds very sensible.’

‘Sensible! Leave it out. She can’t even wash up without breaking something.’

‘All right, Lily, have it your own way, but you still need to try talking to her. If you don’t, she could end up in trouble.’

‘Oh, Kate, don’t say that.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I know it’s none of my business, but I just felt you needed to know.’

‘Kate, there’s no need to apologise. We’ve been friends for years and there ain’t much about me and mine that you don’t know.’

‘How do you feel about Ron working away?’

‘To be honest, I’ll miss him. Though God knows why. Oh, sod it, me stew’s boiling over.’

They rose to their feet at the same time, Kate saying, ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Yeah, all right,’ Lily agreed as she hurried over to the stove. Kate called a quick goodbye as she showed herself out, and after turning the gas down under the pot, Lily once again slumped at the table. Recalling the conversation, her face darkened with anger. Why hadn’t Mavis told her about those two little sods? Instead she’d told Sandra, who had passed it on to her mother. She liked Kate, but knew she was a bit of a gossip. Now the whole bloody street would know. Wait till Mavis came home. She’d have a few words to say to the girl. Not only that, she had to talk to her daughter about blokes, and the dangers. Yet what if she couldn’t get it through her thick head?

The thought of her daughter getting pregnant, of the shame it would bring, made Lily feel sick. It was bad enough that everyone in Cullen Street knew Mavis was backward, but if she became an unmarried mother Lily knew the gossip would be unbearable.

Why me? Why couldn’t I have a normal child? It wasn’t fair—it really wasn’t.

At last the English lesson was over, and though Mavis had missed her favourite art class yesterday where they used oils, the next class focused on charcoal drawings and sketching. Though she preferred painting, Mavis enjoyed this class too. Her mother refused to buy not only paints, but pencils and paper too, telling her that it was a waste of time and that she had more important things to buy, food being top of the list. There had been a time when she used to grab any scrap of paper she could find to draw on, but that had annoyed her mother too. It seemed to incense her that she could draw but not write, and she would snatch the paper to tear it up. Learn to write, not draw, Lily used to scream, but always finding it impossible, and afraid of her mother’s anger, Mavis had stopped drawing at home.

Today, Mavis was unable to concentrate and her mind churned as she sketched. Why had she done it? Why had she blabbed to Sandra? Terror of her mother finding out made her hand shake and she was unaware of Miss Harwood coming up behind her. It was only when the teacher spoke that Mavis realised all she had drawn was little more than a frenzied doodle.

‘Mavis, what’s the matter with you today?’ she asked. ‘It’s unlike you to do such sloppy work.’

‘Sorry, miss.’

‘You have talent, Mavis, and you’re usually wonderful with perspective, but this isn’t good enough. Start again.’

‘Yes, miss.’

Miss Harwood had moved away out of earshot when the girl beside her hissed, ‘She’s right, Mavis. You’re usually good at art.’

Mavis smiled at Maureen, who, unlike some of the other girls, was kind to her. ‘I was miles away and wasn’t concentrating.’

‘Mavis was in cloud cuckoo land as usual,’ Patricia Fenwick hissed.

‘Leave her alone, Pat. You’re just jealous because your artwork is rubbish.’

‘Jealous of her! You must be joking.’

‘Quiet,’ Miss Harwood shouted.

Pat shot Mavis a look of disdain, but obeyed the teacher, her eyes going back to her work. Silence descended again, only broken by the sound of Miss Harwood walking along the rows between desks, commenting now and then on one of the girls’ work.

Mavis started a new sketch, but it was little better than the first one, and for the first time she was relieved when the class came to an end. She knew that Miss Harwood was disappointed in her work from her curt dismissal and, head down, Mavis left the room.

After the lunch break it would be arithmetic, another subject that was almost incomprehensible to Mavis. She had tried and tried to write the numbers down, but was told that most were backwards and in the wrong order. Mental arithmetic wasn’t too bad, but since junior school the lessons had become different, harder, with algebra, among other things, becoming impossible to learn.

‘You weren’t teacher’s pet today, Mavis,’ Pat called as she walked arm in arm with her best friend to the canteen.

Other girls were doing the same, but Maureen who lived close to school and went home for lunch, paused to say, ‘Take no notice of her, Mavis.’

‘It’s all right. I’m used to it,’ Mavis said bravely.

‘Well, I think they’re mean. See you later,’ she waved as she hurried to the gate.

Alone as usual, Mavis joined the queue in the canteen, thinking the other girls were mad to moan about the food. She didn’t always have the money for school dinners and was sometimes left hungry, so as she held out her plate Mavis looked at the ladleful of stew with relish. Next to it was placed a dollop of lumpy mash and, finding a seat as far away from Pat as possible, she sat down.

The first few mouthfuls of food tasted fine, but as her thoughts returned to Sandra, Mavis lost her appetite. She had to get to Sandra, beg her to keep her mouth shut—but what if she was too late?

Chapter Seven

‘Mum, come on, you’ve got to eat,’ Lily ordered.

‘I ain’t hungry now. I’ll heat it up later.’

‘What about the jellied eels? Do you fancy them?’

‘Nah, not really. Anyway, girl, how’s things?’

‘Mum, don’t try to change the subject. I’m worried about you.’

‘Gawd, give it a rest. I’m fine. Is Mavis at school today or have you sent her out with the pram again?’

‘She’s in school.’

‘Not for much longer. I can’t believe she’s nearly fifteen—I’ll have to think about something for her birthday. What are you getting her?’

‘I dunno. It depends on whether Ron sends me any money.’

‘Sends it. What do you mean?’

‘He’s gone to work out of London and reckons he’ll be away for at least six months.’

‘Good riddance to bad rubbish. I should think you’re glad to see the back of him.’

‘I suppose it’ll be easier with one less mouth to feed. Ron reckons that while he’s away, he and Pete are going to save up enough to start up on their own.’

‘If you believe that, you’ll believe anything.’

‘I don’t, but you never know, he might mean it this time. In the meantime things are looking up. Mavis found me a biscuit barrel that should be worth a bit, and not only that, she’s got a little cleaning job. An hour after school and two at weekends.’

‘Blimey, fancy that. See, if she’s got herself a job she ain’t as daft as you think.’

Lily ignored the comment. Mavis hadn’t found the job herself but Lily couldn’t be bothered with explanations. She still had to sort the two boys out, and talk to their mothers. Oh, if only Ron was here to deal with it, and once again Lily knew that despite everything she was going to miss him. She also had to talk to Mavis about the birds and bees, but had no idea how to broach the subject. Sex was something her own mother had never spoken about and she’d grown up in ignorance. All right, it was a bit of a shock the first time, but it hadn’t done her any harm. Maybe a stern warning to keep away from blokes would be enough to put the frighteners up Mavis, without a long-winded explanation.

‘Mum, I’d best go. Promise me you’ll eat that stew later.’

‘Yeah, I promise.’

‘I still think you should see the doctor.’

‘Look, I’ve told you, I’m fine.’

‘Why do you have to be so stubborn?’

‘Me! It ain’t me who’s stubborn, it’s you. You’re just like your father.’

Lily had no memories of her father, a man who had been killed close to the end of the First World War in the year she’d been born. Lily knew it had been hard for her mother, could remember being looked after by her grandparents when she’d been forced to take on full-time work. ‘How come you always compare me to him?’

‘’Cos you really are like him, and not only in looks.’

‘Yeah, well, I’ll have to take your word for that.’

‘It must have been rotten for you, growing up without a dad.’

‘No, not really. I had Nan and Granddad, and I still miss them.’

‘Yeah, me too. I hate war, Lily. First I lost your dad, and then during the last conflict a bomb flattened me parents’ house, with them inside.’

‘I know, Mum,’ Lily said sadly.

‘I’ve upset us both now, and wish I hadn’t brought it up.’

‘Never mind, Mum, but I really have got to go. I’ll pop round again in the morning, and,’ she warned, ‘I want to see that you ate that stew.’

‘Don’t worry, I will. See you tomorrow, pet.’

Leaving her mother sitting by the fire, Lily left the house. She really was too thin, and Lily knew she had to get her mother to the doctor’s somehow. For now though, she had to sort those boys out, and knowing they’d be likely to be home from school now, she hurried back to Cullen Street.

Lily went to see Tommy Wilson’s mother first, pounding on the door, her head high with righteous indignation. When it was opened, she spat, ‘I want a word with you about your son.’

‘Oh, Gawd, what’s he been up to now?’ Olive Wilson asked.

‘Him and his friend Larry got hold of my daughter on the common. The dirty little buggers showed her their willies, and pulled up her skirt.’

‘They what!’ she screeched. ‘Bloody hell, you’d better come in.’

Lily stepped inside, but when they walked into the kitchen she was puzzled by Tommy’s reaction. Instead of fear, Tommy just smiled when he saw her. He was a nice-looking lad with dark hair and green eyes, but at only fourteen, coming up fifteen, his build was tall and lanky. Lily fixed her eyes on his face, waiting to see his guilt when his mother spoke to him angrily.

‘Mrs Jackson says you got hold of her daughter. Is that right?’

‘Got hold of her. What do you mean?’

‘Did you and Larry show Mavis your thingies?’

A light seemed to dawn in Tommy’s eyes. ‘Oh, yeah, but that was about a month ago and we only did it’ cos she asked us to.’

‘She asked you to?’

‘Yeah, Mum. She’s a bit funny, a weirdo, and every chance she gets the daft cow latches on to us. She’s always trying to get us to show her our willies and, just to shut her up, we did.’

‘You’re lying,’ Lily snapped. ‘It wasn’t like that and you know it.’

‘Ask Larry if you don’t believe me,’ Tommy said.

‘Oh, I will, you can be sure of that.’

‘Tommy, swear to me that you’re telling the truth,’ Olive ordered.

‘Mum, I swear,’ Tommy said earnestly. ‘On my life, we didn’t touch her.’

Olive turned to fix her eyes on Lily. ‘I know my son and he’s telling the truth. If you ask me, it’s your daughter who needs sorting out. It sounds like she’s acting like a little tart.’

Shocked and floundering, Lily said, ‘I’ll see what Larry has to say.’ She spun around and without another word marched out of the house.

When Mavis left school she ran almost all the way to the route Sandra would take on her way home. She had to find her, to talk to her, her face pinched with anxiety as she scanned the street.

At last Mavis saw Sandra walking along, thankfully alone, and, quickening her pace, she caught up with her. ‘Sandra, please, you know what I told you this morning? Please, please, don’t tell anyone.’

‘Mavis, it’s all right. I only told my mum.’

‘Oh, no! No! She’ll pass it on to my mum. Oh, God, she’ll kill me!’ Hand over her mouth, Mavis fled.

‘Wait, you didn’t do anything wro …’

Blood pounding in her ears, Mavis didn’t hear Sandra. She ran blindly at first, but then unable to carry on she at last stopped, her chest heaving as she drew in great gulps of air. How could she go home now? How could she face her mother?

Feet dragging, Mavis made her way to Mrs Pugh’s house, and when the woman opened the door, she felt she had found sanctuary.

‘Hello, Mavis, come on in,’ the woman said. ‘You look upset. Are you all right?’

It was a quarter to five, but Mrs Pugh hadn’t said anything about her tardiness and, fighting for composure, Mavis said, ‘Ye … yes, I’m fine.’

‘I expect you’re a little nervous, but there’s no need. I’m not an ogre, though I am rather fussy when it comes to cleaning. We’ll concentrate on the sitting room today,’ Mrs Pugh said, indicating with a crook of her finger that Mavis should follow her.

Despite feeling sick with fear at the thought of going home, Mavis found her eyes widening. The room was immaculate. There was a cream and brown brocade three piece suite, the sofa facing the fireplace and a chair each side. The curtains were also cream, sumptuous, and under the window there was a mahogany sideboard with a crystal rose bowl on top. In one corner she saw a glass-fronted cabinet, full of porcelain figurines, and now another fear made her heart pound. Oh, please, she inwardly begged, don’t let me break anything.

‘Now, Mavis, as your mother told me you can be a bit clumsy, I’ve already dusted the ornaments. I’d like you to vacuum the carpet, and then under the cushions on my three piece suite. Is that all right, my dear?’

Mrs Pugh was smiling, her voice kind. Mavis found herself relaxing a little. ‘Ye … yes.’

‘Right then, take off your coat and hang it in the hall. I don’t want any marks on my furniture, so before you start please wash your hands. You’ll then find my vacuum cleaner in the cupboard under the stairs.’

‘Wh … where do I go to wash my hands?’

‘Come with me,’ Edith Pugh said, leading Mavis back into the hall. She then opened a door that revealed a small cloakroom with a lavatory and sink.

Mavis walked inside, and though still flustered, she couldn’t help marvelling at the luxury of an inside lav. She ran water into the sink and washed her hands, but seeing a beautiful white, fluffy towel hanging on a small rail, she looked at it worriedly. What if she marked it? Deciding not to risk it, she wiped her hands on her skirt and then stepped outside to see Edith Pugh waiting.

‘May I see your hands, Mavis?’

Surprised, Mavis held them out.

‘Yes, that’s better, but you haven’t scrubbed under your nails. I’m sorry, my dear, I know I’m fussy but, as I said, I don’t want my furniture marked. Do them again and use the nail brush this time.’

Mavis did as she was told, but even with the small nail brush it took her a long time to remove all the grime. Oh, if only she could stay here. If only she didn’t have to go home and face her mother. At last, her fingers feeling sore, she faced Mrs Pugh again, thankful that this time her hands passed inspection.

‘Right, Mavis, I’ll leave you to it,’ the woman said and after showing her the understairs cupboard, she at last went down the hall and into the kitchen.

Mavis started work, and though her mind was raging, she made sure to cover every inch of carpet around the furniture. Gran! She could go there. No, no, Gran would be just as disgusted when she found out and wouldn’t want to take her in. Yet surely going to Gran’s was better than going home.

‘Mavis, have you vacuumed under the suite?’

Startled, Mavis spun round. ‘Er … no.’

‘Well, I’m sorry, but that isn’t good enough. I told you yesterday that we’d give one room a day a thorough clean, so please don’t cut corners. Now do under the suite.’

‘Yes, Mrs Pugh,’ Mavis said meekly.

This time the woman didn’t leave, but stood watching as Mavis heaved one of the chairs to one side. It was worse when it came to the sofa, but somehow she managed to move it, thankful to see a look of approval on Mrs Pugh’s face when she’d finished.

‘Well done, Mavis, and now that just leaves under the cushions. When you’ve done that, come through to the kitchen.’

Mavis had felt uncomfortable with Mrs Pugh watching her and was glad when she left. She still wasn’t sure what to make of the woman. One minute she seemed kind, the next strict and stern—but even being here with Mrs Pugh was preferable to facing her mother.

Edith’s body was aching and she hobbled with pain to sit by the kitchen fire. Mavis had seemed nervous and upset when she arrived, but other than that, so far so good, she decided.

Mavis had meekly followed her orders and it boded well, but there was a long way to go yet. To forward her plans Edith knew she had to strike the right note. There had to be a measure of firmness, together with kindness, and somehow she had to ensure that Mavis was more presentable.

Edith laid her head back, finding that the distant hum of the vacuum cleaner was soothing. She closed her eyes, drifting, unaware that she had fallen asleep until the sound of Mavis’s voice started her awake.

‘Are you all right, Mrs Pugh?’

Edith looked up to find Mavis bending over her, the girl’s startlingly blue eyes wide with concern.

‘Yes, yes, I was just having a little nap. Have you finished in the sitting room?’

‘Yes, and I’ve put the cleaner away.’

‘Good girl,’ Edith said as she glanced at the clock. ‘You still have fifteen minutes to go, so do you think you could manage to make a cup of tea and then peel some potatoes?’

‘Er … yes.’

‘I won’t get up, but you’ll find everything you need easily enough.’

As Mavis moved away, Edith watched her every move and at first she looked competent enough. However, when it came to handling the teapot, Edith could see that the girl’s hands were trembling. She’d prepared for this, making sure that her old Brown Betty was in use, along with a couple of odd cups and saucers. Yes, Mavis was nervous, but Edith was sure that she wasn’t as bad as Lily Jackson had indicated. In fact, she was sure that a lot of the girl’s problems were due to lack of confidence, probably a result of the constant criticism she received, and not just from her mother.

Edith had seen a lot when she’d been school secretary—had taken an interest and observed many children she was sure just needed extra help. Of course, class sizes, along with lack of time, made it impossible for the teachers to concentrate on just a few children and though some were more prepared than others to put in the extra mile, Edith was sure that what these children needed was specialised schools.

Eyes closing with sadness, Edith wished she had been able to fulfil her dream of becoming a teacher. The war and then having Alec had put paid to that. Now, of course, with multiple sclerosis, it would remain just a dream, yet perhaps, just perhaps, she could put her theories to the test with Mavis.

When the tea was made, Mavis carefully covered the pot with the cosy, and then looked at the tray that Edith had already set with two cups and saucers, a sugar bowl and small jug of milk. ‘Pour one for both of us,’ Edith said, ‘but no sugar for me.’

Mavis looked worried, but Edith made sure she looked unconcerned. Hesitantly the girl poured two cups of tea, her hands shaking so much that tea slopped into the saucers.

‘Thank you, my dear.’

‘I … I’m sorry I spilt some.’

‘Oh, it’s only a little,’ Edith said, hiding her fastidiousness as she poured the tea from the saucer, back into her cup. ‘Do drink yours and then get on with the potatoes. Four medium-sized ones cut in half should be enough. It’s too early to put them on yet, so just leave them in a saucepan of cold water.’

‘Yes, Mrs Pugh.’

When Mavis was finished, Edith again looked at the clock. She had worked for just over an hour, but the first ten minutes had been wasted just getting the girl to wash her hands properly. However, she now needed her out of the house and struggled to her feet. ‘Thank you, Mavis. You’ve done really well and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘I … I’m not in any hurry, Mrs Pugh. In fact, I’d be happy to stay longer.’

‘No, my dear, you get off home. I told your mother an hour and she must be expecting you.’

The colour seemed to drain from Mavis’s face. ‘She … she won’t mind.’

Edith was puzzled. Mavis seemed reluctant to go home, in fact, almost afraid. ‘Is there something wrong, Mavis? Are you in some sort of trouble with your mother?’

‘No, but … but what about the cups? I could wash them up.’

Edith didn’t want the girl here when Alec came home and he was due in about fifteen minutes. Until she had sorted Mavis out, she wanted to keep them apart as much as possible, and it would be difficult enough at weekends. ‘Thank you, Mavis, but I’ll see to the cups. Off you go now.’

With reluctance, Mavis walked with Edith to the door. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Pugh.’

‘Goodbye, Mavis,’ Edith said, pleased when she closed the door behind the girl that her instincts had been right. Mavis wasn’t happy at home. And judging from the way she had worked, with more coaching, she was indeed the perfect choice.

Chapter Eight

Larry Barnet and his mother had been out and Lily had been forced to go back an hour later. This time they were home and without preamble she confronted Larry, told him what Kate Truman had said; but, like Tommy, he looked horrified, his large, brown eyes wide with innocence.

‘It wasn’t us! It was her,’ he protested, going on to tell a story that matched Tommy’s.

‘Now look,’ Jill Barnet said. ‘I know they shouldn’t have done it, but your daughter asked them to get their willies out. Boys will be boys and at this age they’re curious. With Mavis asking for it, you should thank your lucky stars that it didn’t go any further.’

‘But it did. They threw her on the ground, lifted her skirt, and if someone hadn’t come along I dread to think what would have happened. Mavis was able to run off, but she was frightened out of her wits and, if you ask me, she had a lucky escape.’

‘We didn’t do that, Mum, we didn’t,’ Larry cried. ‘It was her. She pulled up her skirt, wanted us to see that she was different to us.’

‘That isn’t true! You’re telling lies.’

Jill Barnet bristled. ‘Hold your horses, lady. You said earlier you heard about this from Kate Truman. If your daughter is so innocent, and was scared out of her wits when she ran off, how come she didn’t tell you about it herself?’

Lily floundered. Yes, why hadn’t Mavis told her? It had happened a month ago, but she had no memories of her running home frightened.

Jill spoke again, and Lily saw the pity in her eyes. ‘I think you need to talk to Mavis. If she keeps up this sort of behaviour, she could end up in trouble.’

With a gasp, Lily turned on her heel. She marched out, hurried home and slammed the door behind her. In the kitchen she began to pace, going over and over what she had heard.

Dark clouds gathered in Lily’s mind, a storm building, and when she came to a conclusion, it broke with ferocity. When she got her hands on Mavis, she’d kill her! It was bad enough that her daughter was backward, but to find out that she was a little slut was like a slap in the face.

Lily craved respectability. She wanted to be like the other women in the street, ones whose husbands provided for them, and had prayed that Ron meant all his promises this time. Yes, he was a known gambler, but if he really did change and start up his own business, she would at last be able to hold her head high. Lily fumed with anger. It was never going to happen, and now this! Mavis was acting like a tramp and the gossips would have a field day. She’d never live it down. Never! Lily’s eyes flew to the clock. Where was Mavis? It was after six, and though she was doing an hour’s cleaning for Edith Pugh, the girl should have been home by now.

By seven, Lily was almost at the end of her tether, her mind still dark with fury. She flung her coat on and stormed out of the house, determined to find Mavis.

It was a good walk to Edith Pugh’s house, yet it didn’t calm Lily. She banged loudly on the woman’s door, tapping her foot with impatience until it was opened, and saying bluntly, ‘Is my daughter still here?’

The young man frowned as he peered out at her. ‘Your daughter?’

‘Yes, Mavis—Mavis Jackson.’

‘Oh, Mavis. No, she isn’t here.’

‘Do you know where she is?’

‘No, I’m afraid she left before I arrived home.’

‘What about your mother? Does she know?’

‘Look, I don’t know what all this is about, but you’d better come in.’

Lily followed Alec Pugh to the large, spacious kitchen at the back of the house to see his mother sitting in a fireside chair. ‘Mavis hasn’t come home yet. What time did she leave here?’ she asked abruptly.

‘Oh, she left a long time ago, at around ten to six.’

‘Did she say where she was going?’

‘No, but I presumed home. What is it, Mrs Jackson? Is Mavis in some sort of trouble?’

Lily wasn’t about to wash her dirty laundry in front of this stuck-up, uppity woman, or her son who was looking at her as if she was something that the cat had dragged in. She floundered for a lie. ‘No, of course she isn’t in trouble. It’s just that it’s not like Mavis to stay out this late. I know she’s worried about my mother so I’ll try there.’

‘I must say she seemed upset about something when she arrived. Is your mother unwell?’

‘She ain’t been herself lately. Anyway, sorry to trouble you,’ Lily said.

‘It’s no problem, Mrs Jackson. Oh, and I must tell you that I’m pleased with Mavis. She worked really well today.’

Lily had to fight to hold back a scowl. Edith Pugh might be pleased with Mavis, but she certainly wasn’t. As she was shown out, another thought struck Lily, her anger returning in force. If Edith Pugh found out what Mavis had been up to, she’d get rid of the girl like a shot. Mavis would lose the job, any earnings, and worse, she doubted anyone locally would ever employ her. Wait till I get my hands on her, Lily thought, so incensed that she hardly noticed Alec Pugh’s curt goodbye before he closed the door firmly behind her.

‘Mavis, you’ll have to go home. Your mum will be worried sick.’

‘I can’t, Gran. I just can’t.’

‘Don’t be silly. It can’t be that bad. Come on, tell me why you’re too frightened to face your mother.’

‘No, no, I can’t.’

Doris sighed. Since Mavis had turned up she’d tried and tried to get to the bottom of things, but had failed. The poor girl looked so desolate, so unhappy that she’d even refused to eat the stew that Lily had brought round earlier. There must be something seriously wrong for Mavis to turn down food, but Doris was at a loss to know what to do. If she forced Mavis to leave, there was no guarantee that she’d go home, and, now that it was dark outside, the last thing she wanted was for Mavis to be walking the streets. ‘Mavis, please, talk to me. If you’re in some kind of trouble maybe I can help.’

‘You’ll be disgusted. You’ll hate me too.’

Doris felt a jolt of horror, her heart beginning to race. Oh, no! No! Surely the girl wasn’t in that kind of trouble? She fought to hide her feelings, to ask as gently as she could, ‘Mavis, love, have you, well, been with a boy? Is that it?’

Mavis jumped to her feet, eyes wild, but just as she was about to dash from the room there was the sound of the front door opening. The only other person who had a key was Lily, and Mavis knew that. The girl froze, rooted to the spot as her mother walked in.

‘So, there you are, you little slut!’ Lily spat. She stormed up to Mavis, swung her arm and slapped the girl hard around the face.

It didn’t stop there. Her face livid with anger, Lily slapped Mavis again and again while Doris struggled to her feet. Oh, the pain was awful, but she had to stop this. ‘Lily, Lily, calm down,’ she begged, trying to grab her daughter’s arm.

‘Calm down!’ Lily screamed. ‘Do you know what she’s been up to?’

‘I can guess, but this isn’t going to change anything. We need to sort something out.’

Lily’s head shot round. ‘Sort something out! Oh, I’ll sort something out all right. I’ll have her put away, that’s what I’ll do!’

‘Put away? What are you talking about? If she’s pregnant I’m sure it isn’t her fault. Someone must have taken advantage of her, and it’s him who needs putting away.’

Lily seemed to deflate before Doris’s eyes as she staggered to a chair, her voice a wail now. ‘Pregnant? Oh, no … no … I can’t stand it.’

Lost, unable to understand what was going on, Doris knew she had to sit down before she fell down. At least Lily had stopped laying into Mavis, but the poor girl looked dreadful: her cheeks scarlet from the continual slaps and tears streaming down her cheeks. Doris wanted to hug her, to comfort her, but that might make Lily flare up again. Instead she could only smile encouragingly at Mavis before sitting down and saying, ‘Lily, I thought that was why you’re doing your nut. Please, love, perhaps I’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I only said that Mavis might be pregnant, and I only mentioned that’ cos I can’t make sense of what’s going on.’

‘Gawd, Mum, you scared the life out of me. No, Mavis isn’t pregnant, but after what I’ve been hearing, it’s just a matter of time. The girl’s nothing but a tart!’

‘Oh, Lily, don’t say that.’

‘Why not? It’s true,’ Lily spat, going on to recount what had happened.

Doris struggled to hide her pain, but she was due for a dose of painkillers and it wasn’t easy. Thankfully the story didn’t take long and, as her daughter stopped speaking, Doris quickly said, ‘I don’t believe it. Not for a minute. Mavis is a good girl, an innocent girl—it’s those boys who are telling lies. Have you asked Mavis what happened?’

‘No, I haven’t had the chance, but they both gave the same story.’

‘What does that prove? Nothing. Only that they knew they might be in trouble and worked out their stories between them. My God, Lily, you know what lads are like.’ Doris turned to Mavis. ‘Come here, love. Let’s hear what you’ve got to say about this.’

Mavis looked terrified, but at least she did as Doris urged, moving to stand beside her. Doris took her hand and, after giving it a gentle squeeze, she said, ‘Don’t be frightened. Just tell us the truth.’

‘It … it wasn’t like that,’ Mavis said, hesitant at first, but her voice slowly growing in strength.

As she listened, Doris knew that she was hearing the truth and, from the look on Lily’s face, she could tell that she was seeing the light too. She just couldn’t believe that Lily had been so quick to believe the boys over her own daughter—but then again, she was always hard on the girl. ‘See, Lily, you should have spoken to Mavis first.’

‘Yeah, maybe, but she was still on the common with boys.’

‘All right, I’ll give you that, but have you spoken to her about the dangers?’ Doris asked while gently squeezing Mavis’s hand again.

‘Don’t you start. I had enough from her next door this morning. Mavis ain’t a kid now and she must know,’ Lily snapped.

‘Unless you’ve warned her, I don’t see how.’

‘Don’t go all high and mighty, Mum. You didn’t tell me anything.’

‘You’ve got a short memory, my girl. I may not have told you what to expect when you got married, but I told you enough to warn you about men,’ Doris protested, but then, unable to hold it back, she groaned in pain.

‘Gran, what’s wrong?’ Mavis asked worriedly.

‘It … it’s nothing, just a bit of indigestion. It must be those jellied eels I ate earlier.’

‘Mum, you look awful,’ Lily said. ‘Oh, Gawd, you don’t think they were off?’

‘They tasted all right. No, it’s just that I stuffed them down too quickly and it serves me right that I’m suffering for it now.’ Doris rose slowly to her feet. ‘I’ll take a couple of Beecham’s pills, that’ll do the trick.’

‘I’ll get them, Gran.’

‘No, it’s all right. You stay here. Your mum’s gonna talk to you, tell you a few facts.’

‘What’s the point?’ Lily snapped. ‘She won’t understand.’

‘Please, give Mavis a bit of credit for once,’ Doris appealed.

‘Oh, all right. I’ll give it a go.’

Doris left the room, relieved that under the cover of needing indigestion pills, she could actually take her painkillers. Blimey, talk about having to lie quickly, but with Lily so distracted by Mavis it had worked well. After glancing over her shoulder, she quickly swallowed them down, praying it wouldn’t be too long before she felt the effects. For a few minutes Doris remained where she was, but fighting to gather her strength she returned to the living room.

Lily was talking to Mavis and the girl looked pink-cheeked. ‘I hope I haven’t wasted my time, Mavis. Do you understand what I’ve told you?’

‘I … I think so.’

‘You think so,’ Lily echoed with disgust. ‘That isn’t good enough. You’re too bloody thick, that’s the problem.’

‘Lily, don’t talk to her like that.’

‘Why not? It’s the truth.’

‘You’re too hard on her,’ Doris insisted as she took a seat by the fire. She then smiled gently at Mavis before saying, ‘What did your mother tell you?’

Flushing pink again, Mavis mumbled, ‘That boys are dirty buggers and that I mustn’t let them touch me. And … and that I mustn’t let them show me their … their thingies.’

‘Good girl. See, Lily, she does understand.’

‘Yeah, if you say so, Mum, but in future, if Mavis doesn’t stay away from them, I’ll skin her alive.’

‘I will, Mum. I will stay away,’ Mavis cried.

‘You’d better, my girl,’ Lily warned.

The pain had eased a little and Doris slumped back in her chair. She was tired, so tired, and knew that once the medication really kicked in, sleep would follow.

‘Mum, do you feel any better?’

‘Yes, I’m fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘For goodness sake, Lily! I said I’m all right and I meant it.’

‘Yeah, well, I wanted to make sure before I go. Come on, Mavis. Get your coat on and we’ll be off.’

Mavis did as she was told, and Doris managed to smile at her granddaughter when she leaned over to kiss her goodbye. ‘See you soon, darlin’.’

‘Bye, Gran,’ Mavis whispered.

‘I’ll be round in the morning, Mum,’ Lily said.

‘Yeah, all right,’ Doris managed, barely able to keep her eyes open as they left. She heard the front door closing, and then shifted a little in her chair, her weary eyes on the one opposite.

Walter was wagging his finger at her, but in her defence she said, ‘All right, don’t start. I know I lied to her, told her that I’m fine, but she’ll find out soon enough. Just not yet.’

Doris knew her time was limited; her one wish now to see her daughter and Mavis living in a bit more comfort before she left. Huh, there was little chance of that. ‘Walter, if only Lily hadn’t married that good-for-nothing. If only she’d married a decent bloke …’

Walter’s voice seemed to fill her head. ‘Will she, Walter? Will she really be all right?’

He faded and Doris felt tears gathering in her eyes. If anyone knew that she talked to her dead husband they’d have her committed, but since the day he’d died thirty-six years ago, she had never been able to let him go.

‘Well, love, it won’t be long now,’ she said. ‘We’ll be together again soon,’ and though it hurt her to leave Lily and Mavis the pain was getting so bad that Doris would welcome the end.

Chapter Nine

Mavis walked silently home beside her mother, expecting her to rant and rave again, but instead she didn’t say a word. She had sort of understood what her mother had told her, but didn’t know why boys shouldn’t touch her. There had been mention of dire consequences, of them making her pregnant, but her mother hadn’t told her exactly how it happened.

They were home and in the kitchen before her mother opened her mouth, but only to say gruffly, ‘I expect you’re hungry. I’ll bank up the fire first and then heat up some stew.’

Mavis wanted to ask questions, to understand how babies were made, but was too scared to bring up the subject again. She took off her coat, hung it up on the hook behind the back door, and then she sat at the table, still looking warily at her mother.

‘Mrs Pugh said you did well today.’

‘You … you’ve seen her?’

‘Yeah. I went round there looking for you. Don’t you ever do that again, my girl. When you’ve done your hour for Mrs Pugh, I want you to come straight home.’

Mavis nodded, unable to ignore the growl of hunger coming from her stomach. She’d been too scared and upset to eat the stew her grandmother had offered, but now watched avidly as her mother brought the fire to life before going to light the gas under a saucepan. On the few occasions she’d eaten school dinner, she got just a bit of bread and jam or dripping for her tea, but now she’d have two hot meals in a day.

Of course, it was down to the five pounds her dad had left, and Mavis prayed he’d keep his promise. If he did, she wouldn’t have to take the pram out any more, and with less time on the streets it would be easier to keep out of Larry’s and Tommy’s way. But what about Larry’s threats? One hadn’t worked. Thanks to Gran, her mother didn’t believe him, but there was the other one looming over her head, making her stomach clench with fear. He said he’d make it worse for her if she opened her mouth and she’d done just that. Mavis felt a wave of nausea. What would Larry do now?

‘Here, get that down you,’ Lily said as she put bowls of stew on the table.

Mavis picked up her spoon, but her hand was shaking and as she took her first mouthful she found it difficult to swallow. Should she tell her mother? ‘Mum, I’m scared.’

‘Scared of what?’

‘Larry said that if I told anyone, he’d make it worse for me.’

‘He said that, did he? Well, don’t you worry about him, my girl. I’ll sort him out in the morning, and his friend Tommy. I’ll also have another few choice words to say to their mothers.’

On hearing this Mavis slumped with relief. But, just to be on the safe side, she’d be extra vigilant when she went out. She tucked into her stew again, looking up when her mother spoke.

‘After I’ve had a word in their ears, I doubt those boys will have the nerve to come near you again, but if they do, make sure you tell me. You should have come to me in the first place, and from now on, no more secrets, Mavis. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Mum,’ Mavis agreed.

There was silence for a while as they both continued to eat, but then Lily said, ‘I must say, from what I saw of it, Edith Pugh has got a nice place.’

Mavis found her eyes widening. Her mother was talking again, but this time making conversation. She never did that! ‘Yes, but she’s really fussy,’ Mavis said eagerly. ‘She’s got cream furniture in her living room and I had to wash my hands before I started work.’

‘Did you now? And what cleaning did you do?’

‘Mostly hoovering, but then I made a cup of tea and peeled some potatoes before I left.’

‘Gawd, Mavis. Did you break anything?’

‘No. I was really careful.’

‘Thank Gawd for that, but you know what a clumsy cow you are. If you start smashing her china the job won’t last five minutes.’

Mavis again found her throat constricting again. Yes, she was clumsy, useless, and how would Mrs Pugh react if she broke one of her precious ornaments? Would she go mad like her mother? Would she sack her on the spot? Yes, probably, and then her mother would be furious.

Lily was so full of guilt that she was glad when Mavis went to bed at nine o’clock. Without bothering to hear her side of the story, she’d thought the worst of her daughter. She’d believed those two little sods! What sort of mother was she? Lily didn’t like the way she was feeling and fought to find excuses. With a daughter like Mavis, was it any wonder? No, of course it wasn’t. The girl should’ve had enough sense to know it was dangerous to be alone on the common with boys, but unlike other girls of her age she was as daft as a brush.

There was a knock on the door and, sighing heavily, Lily went to answer it. ‘Kate, come on in.’

‘I know it’s a bit late, but Sandra’s still upset about Mavis. I said I’d come round to see how things are going.’

Lily didn’t want to paint herself in a bad light, so instead of telling Kate the whole story she said shortly, ‘It’s all right. She’s fine.’

‘Did you sort those boys out?’

‘Yeah, but the little sods have convinced their mothers that Mavis led them on.’

‘Huh, well, I’ll put them straight. According to Sandra they tried it on with her too. If my Bill finds out he’ll kill the pair of them.’

Lily stared at Kate, her mind in turmoil. Sandra was a sensible girl, a clever girl, but it hadn’t stopped those two little buggers. Any lingering doubts that Mavis had led them on were now swept aside in another wave of guilt.

‘What is it, love?’ Kate asked. ‘You’ve gone as white as a sheet.’

Unable to hold it back, Lily said, ‘I … I believed them. I went for her, Kate. I gave Mavis a good hiding.’

‘Oh, the poor kid.’

Once again Lily didn’t like the way she was feeling, and said in defence, ‘Yeah, well, she shouldn’t have been on the common with them. Maybe a good hiding is the only way to make her see sense.’

For a moment Kate looked annoyed, but she only bit on her bottom lip momentarily before saying, ‘Have you spoken to her about the dangers now?’

‘Yeah, and I just hope she took it in.’

‘I’m sure she did.’

Lily lowered her eyes. Kate was always saying that she didn’t give Mavis enough credit, but at least she could say something in her favour now. ‘I must admit that Edith Pugh was pleased with her work today.’

‘Work! Mavis is working for Edith Pugh? Since when?’

‘She’s just started and is doing an hour’s cleaning for her after school.’

‘Blimey, how did that come about?’

Lily told her, and then said, ‘You never know. It might lead to something when she leaves school.’

‘I think Mavis can do better than cleaning, especially for an uppity cow like Edith Pugh.’

‘Now you sound like Ron and, as I told him, there isn’t much Mavis can do. At least the woman thinks she can train her, and if she can do that, it could lead to other work.’

‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ Kate said doubtfully, but then she stood up. ‘Sandra will be waiting to hear so I’d best get back.’

Lily stayed where she was, just calling goodbye as Kate left. God, what a day. She felt worn out and decided on an early night. Her mind shied away from Mavis and the unjust punishment she’d meted out, instead turning to her mother. Indigestion my arse, Lily thought. There was more to it than that and, like it or not, she was going to make sure that her mother saw the doctor.

It wasn’t until Lily walked into the bedroom that it hit her. Alone! She’d be sleeping alone. With all the nights down the race track or the pub, she was used to going to bed before Ron, but this was different. There wouldn’t be the feel of his body climbing into bed when he came home, his arms wrapping around her as he snuggled up for warmth. ‘Oh, Ron,’ she whispered. ‘I miss you already, but, please, let it be worth it. Don’t let me down.’

Ron sat propped up, a pillow behind him as he rolled a cigarette, his eyes scanning the hut with disgust. God, it was like being back in the army training camp with a row of beds on each side of the room. Even the orphanage he’d grown up in had more comfort. ‘Blimey, Pete, when you said the contractor would arrange lodgings, I wasn’t expecting this.’

‘I know it ain’t much, but it’s been done up, and if that dinner was anything to go by, we’re bound to get a decent breakfast.’

‘Yeah, it was all right, but what about this dump? What was it? The cow shed?’

‘I dunno, mate, but it’s dry, cheap and warm. Anyway, what does it matter? With the hours we’ll be working, it’s just a place to crash at night.’

Four other men were sitting at a table close to the stove, one letting out a loud fart as he shuffled a deck of playing cards. He laughed, but then turned his head to call, ‘Sorry, boys. It’s that bloody cabbage the old girl gave us for dinner.’

‘Yeah, Gerry, I know what you mean,’ Pete called back.

‘Fancy a few hands of poker?’

‘No, thanks,’ Pete replied. ‘Maybe some other time.’

Ron stood up and ignoring the warning shake of Pete’s head he strolled down to that end of the room. He’d met the four blokes when they’d returned to the farm after work, all of them sitting round a large, wooden, well-scrubbed table in the farmhouse kitchen. They didn’t seem a bad bunch and he and Pete would be joining them on site in the morning. Gerry was another bricklayer, Eric his hod carrier, Martin was a plasterer and his younger brother, Andy, was there to learn the trade and knock up.

‘What about you, mate?’ Gerry asked. ‘Do you fancy a game?’

Ron eyed the money on the table. He could only see small coins and was tempted. It would give him a chance to see how they played, and, if they weren’t up to much, on payday he could up the stakes. He was about to answer, but then Pete called from the other end of the room.

‘Ron, can I have a word?’

‘Maybe later, Gerry,’ he said, annoyed at the interruption as he walked away.

‘What the fuck are you playing at?’ Pete hissed as soon as Ron reached his side.

‘Playing at? What are you on about?’

‘Poker! Gambling!’

‘Leave it out! They’re only playing for pennies.’

‘Yeah, now maybe, but I know you and it’ll soon turn to pounds. You’re supposed to be giving it up, or have you forgotten that already?’

‘It’s only cards, Pete. It ain’t the dogs.’

‘It’s still gambling and if you lose your money as usual, don’t expect me to pick up the pieces.’

‘That won’t happen. I’m good at poker and I can take them.’

‘Yeah, like you’re good at picking out winners down the dog track.’

‘Bloody hell, Pete, it sounds like you’re gonna turn out to be a bigger nag than Lily.’

Pete’s eyes narrowed with anger. ‘That’s it, Ron. I’ve had enough. You’ll never change and our first night here has proved that.’

‘Look, if it upsets you that much, I won’t play poker.’

With a shake of his head, Pete said, ‘Please yourself, Ron. I ain’t here to be your keeper and if you want to gamble your wages away every week, that’s up to you. I’m here to work, to earn enough to set up a decent future. I need a partner who’ll be reliable, one with a bit of ambition, and that obviously ain’t you. I’ll find someone else.’

Bewildered, Ron slumped onto the side of his bed. All this bloody fuss about a penny card game! Yet even as this thought crossed his mind, Ron knew that Pete was right. As soon as he had a few bob, he’d planned to up the stakes, so sure that he could win. With a wry smile he looked up. ‘I don’t blame you, mate. I know I’m a lost cause, but I really do want to change.’

‘Yeah, so you’ve said, and so many times that I’ve lost count.’

‘Don’t give up on me, Pete. Give me one more chance.’

Pete gazed back at him, about to answer when Gerry called out again. ‘Ron, do you want in on this game or not?’

‘Nah, sorry, mate, leave me out. Gambling’s a mug’s game.’

There was a choking sound and then Pete began to laugh, doubling over with mirth as he gasped between guffaws. ‘A mug’s game. You said it’s a mug’s game. Blimey, Ron, you’re priceless.’

Ron joined in his laughter, but as they sobered he appealed, ‘Don’t start up a business with someone else, Pete. We’re partners, you and me. Come on. Give me one more chance.’

Their eyes met, Pete’s hardening as he said, ‘Yeah, all right, but it’s your last one.’

He meant it, Ron could see that. This really was his last chance—he’d have to make sure he didn’t blow it.

Chapter Ten

Mavis wasn’t sure what was wrong with her mother. Last week, when she’d told her that Miss Harwood wanted to talk to her at the parents’ meeting, she’d been snappy, saying that she didn’t have time to go. Mavis had been crushed. Miss Harwood still insisted that she could go on to art college and if her mother had spoken to her it could have made all the difference.

Dad had been true to his word, sending a fiver every week, and with money coming in the rent was paid, with food on the table too. On her fifteenth birthday he’d sent her a present, and Mavis had been thrilled with the watercolour paints and thick paper. Gran had given her a lovely new pink hat and scarf and, for just that one week, her mother had let her keep two shillings of the money she earned at Mrs Pugh’s.

Mavis knew that her mum didn’t have any money worries now, but she still wasn’t happy. She was quiet most of the time, distant, and when Mavis looked back it seemed that her mother had been acting strangely almost since Dad had left. Mavis had thought she must be missing him, just as she herself was, but her gran had laughed at that idea.

Her mother’s unhappiness couldn’t have anything to do with Gran. Yes, she was in hospital now, but it wasn’t anything serious. It had been an ulcer that prevented her from eating—no wonder she’d become so thin. She had been admitted to hospital four days ago, and now that she’d had the small operation, surely her mother would take her to see Gran that evening.

Mavis clutched the small, precious canvas as she made her way home, holding it against her chest to shield it from the rain. Today had been the end of term, mid April, and her last day at school. This was it! She was so proud of her painting and when her mother saw it surely it would change everything. She couldn’t wait to see her face and decided that she would show it to her now; she’d quickly pop in before she went to Mrs Pugh’s.

She passed an alley, yelping when hands came out to yank the canvas from her grasp. Mavis spun around, finding herself face to face with Tommy Wilson.

‘What have we got here then?’ he sneered.

‘Give it back! Oh, please, give it back!’

Mavis had carefully wrapped brown paper around the canvas, but Tommy ripped it away, laughing as he held up the picture. ‘Bloody hell. Look at that face. In fact, no thanks,’ and with that he lifted his leg to boot the canvas down the alley.

‘Oh, no … No!’ Mavis cried, pushing past Tommy to rush after it.

It had landed face down in a puddle, but, as Mavis bent down to retrieve it, Tommy was at her side, shoving her out of the way as his foot came out to stamp on the canvas.

‘Oh, don’t … don’t,’ she begged.

Still not satisfied, Tommy picked up the canvas again, this time slamming it down face up and, with one boot holding it in place, he used the heel of the other to gouge into the painting.

Mavis saw all her work destroyed, her dream disintegrating before her eyes. She sank down onto the wet ground, sobbing, hardly aware of Tommy’s hand when it touched her shoulder.

‘What’s all the fuss about? It’s only a daft painting.’

The contrition in his voice surprised Mavis, but she could only look up at him mutely, tears streaming down her cheeks.

‘Look, it’s your own fault,’ he said defensively. ‘Larry told you not to blab, but you didn’t listen and then that bitch, Sandra, opened her mouth too. Me and Larry were in right trouble and all for a bit of fun, that’s all.’

Still Mavis couldn’t talk. She could only shake her head, her eyes resting on the painting again. It was ruined, beyond repair, and once again she sobbed.

‘I only mucked up your picture, that’s all. You should think yourself lucky I didn’t take it out on you.’ And with that Tommy abruptly walked away.

Mavis didn’t know how long she sat on the ground, rain falling heavily and soaking her coat. At last she got up, and with one last look at the ruined canvas she desolately made her way home.

‘My God, Mavis. What happened to you?’

‘Oh, Mum …’

‘Get that coat off. You look wet through. Now tell me what happened.’

Mavis found her hands shaking so badly that she could barely undo the buttons. ‘I … I was on my way home, but then Tom … Tommy …’

‘Tommy Wilson! What did he do?’ she cried. ‘Did he touch you?’

‘He … he grabbed my painting. He … he ruined it.’

‘You wouldn’t be in this state over a flaming picture. Tell the truth, Mavis. What did he do to you?’

‘I am telling the truth. He didn’t touch me, but he … he destroyed my canvas. Oh, Mum, it was a good painting. Really good.’

‘For Christ’s sake, I don’t believe this. You’re supposed to be at Edith Pugh’s, but instead you turn up here like a drowned rat, crying about nothing.’

‘It … it isn’t nothing. When you saw my painting I thought you might let me go to art college.’

‘Art college! Are you out of your mind, girl?’

‘Mum, please,’ Mavis begged. ‘It’s the only thing I’m any good at. If you’d seen the portrait of Gran …’

‘Shut up! Your gran’s dying and you come grizzling to me about a silly painting.’ Lily threw a hand over her mouth. ‘Now look what you’ve done! She didn’t want me to tell you.’

Mavis stiffened in shock, hardly aware that her mother had collapsed onto a chair. Her gran was dying? No! No! It couldn’t be true. ‘Oh … Mum … she can’t be. You said she had an ulcer. That she was in hospital for a small operation.’

There was no answer, and then Mavis saw her mother lay her arms on the table, bending over to rest her head on them as sobs began to rack her body. She hurried forward, a hand hovering uncertainly until it came to rest on her mum’s head.

Lily reared up, eyes wild. ‘Don’t touch me! Get out! Go on, get out of my sight!’

Mavis grabbed her still sodden coat, crying too as she dashed out of the house. She began to run, faster and faster as though trying to escape the terrible news. Gran couldn’t be dying! She just couldn’t!

Lily heard the front door slam, but didn’t care. All she cared about was her mother. The past couple of months had been hell and almost more than she could bear. If it hadn’t been for the money that Ron sent and Mavis’s scant earnings, it would have been impossible. At least she hadn’t had to worry about finding stock and selling it. Instead she’d been able to spend every possible hour with her mother, looking after her, making sure her pain relief was increased, until four days ago when it had become impossible for her to remain at home.

Before she’d gone into hospital, how her mother had been able to put on such a front when Mavis called round was beyond Lily, but rally she did. And how her daughter could be so naïve was beyond Lily too. She must have seen her grandmother fading away before her eyes, but the stupid girl had believed their story of an ulcer. An ulcer! God, if only it was that! Oh, Mum, why did you leave it so long before you saw a doctor? Why did you wait until it was too late? And when you found out—why didn’t you tell me?

Lily knew the answer. As usual her mother had been trying to protect her. Misguided love, that’s what it was. If only her mother had told her when she’d been diagnosed. Lily groaned. She could have spent more time with her mother, but all she’d done was to pop round every day, too busy to make it a long visit. Yes, and if she hadn’t been so busy, so trapped in trying to make enough to pay the rent every week, maybe she would’ve seen what was right in front of her eyes. Why! Why hadn’t she taken more notice of her mother’s weight loss?

When she’d found out the truth, Lily had begged her mother to move in with her, but she’d stubbornly refused. It would have made things so much easier and she could have nursed her mother at night too, but she wouldn’t even allow that, nor her suggestion that she and Mavis move in with her. Instead her close friend and fellow widow next door had taken on that role, until, finally, she became so racked with pain that the doctor had insisted she be admitted to hospital.

Lily dashed a hand across her eyes. There was little time left, she knew that, and as soon as Mavis came home she’d go to the hospital again. Mavis, yes, she’d sent her daughter off with a flea in her ear, and now Lily felt a surge of guilt. She shouldn’t have taken it out on Mavis. It wasn’t her fault, but all that fuss about a silly painting had been the last straw.

Had Mavis gone to Mrs Pugh’s? Lily didn’t know, but seeing how devastated her daughter had been, she doubted it. Mavis knew the truth now, so maybe she should think about taking her to the hospital, but how would her mother react?

‘Mavis, what is it?’ Edith asked as the girl staggered over the doorstep. Her coat was wet, filthy with mud, and her hair hung around her face like rats’ tails.

‘Oh, Mrs Pugh. My … my gran’s dying.’

Edith placed an arm around Mavis’s shoulder, gently leading her through to the kitchen as she murmured, ‘How awful for you. I’m so sorry, my dear. Sit there and tell me all about it.’

Mavis slumped onto a fireside chair, and, though the spring days were warmer than the preceding harsh winter, Edith had a small fire burning. The cold was no friend to her pain and it would be a long time yet before her hearth was left empty of the comforting flames.

At first Mavis could barely speak, but gradually the story emerged. ‘I … I thought she was just in hospital for a small operation. Oh, Mrs Pugh, I can’t believe she’s dying.’

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