Read the book: «Lost & Found»
KITTY NEALE
Lost & Found
Copyright
Published by Avon an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers
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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.
The free sample has ended.
