Secrets to Keep

CHAPTER TEN





‘Just let me get this clear, Mrs Kilner. Starting at six-thirty every morning, you’re expecting your domestic to clean out and fire up the boiler for the hot water. Then, after she’s seen to the breakfast and cleared away, to clean and polish every room in the house thoroughly, even the three guest bedrooms, whether they’re being used or not. Plus a weekly wash of all the windows on the inside, weekly change of all the bedding, and fresh towels in the bathrooms daily. She must tackle the washing and ironing and any mending on a daily basis, prepare lunch for yourself, then prepare and cook an evening meal for when your husband comes home. She must also provide a high tea of sandwiches and cakes for your afternoon visitors and several ladies’ groups when it’s your turn to entertain them, see to all the grocery and domestic supplies ordering, weekly black-lead all the grates, daily clean and polish all the boots and shoes. And in what spare time she’s got, she’s to help you with any other jobs you may have for her to do …

‘She finishes in the evening when she’s cleared away the meal. Oh, and she’s to make herself further available on the evenings when you’re having a dinner party, which you do regularly, to help prepare, cook and serve the food, and clean up afterwards. Six and a half days a week, half-day off on Wednesday.’

Marjorie Kilner was a matronly, humourless fifty-five year old, married to a bank manager. Dressed in a tweed suit, a string of pearls around her meaty neck, she sat stiffly in a high-backed chair and shot Aidy a cold look. ‘Your hearing isn’t impaired. I am expecting exactly that of my domestic. But you did forget the weekly polishing of the silver.’

‘And the wage you’re paying is fourteen shillings a week?’

‘A generous amount in these hard times.’

Aidy quashed a burning desire to inform the woman that she may think herself clever for using that fact to her own advantage, but what she was actually doing was abusing those far worse off than herself. Aidy was desperate for work and didn’t care how hard or how long she had to graft to earn her pay. After five days of fruitless searching, deeply worried by now that she wouldn’t be able to pay the rent at the end of next week, she was getting to the stage of accepting anything. But the rent on the house was eight shillings a week, and what would be left over from the pay this woman was offering, not even a miracle worker could feed, clothe and keep a family warm on. That was, provided she even had any energy or time left over to tackle her own chores after she’d laboured for ten hours a day, and sometimes even longer, for this strict task master.

‘Your last employee unexpectedly died and that’s why you’re looking for a replacement, is it?’ Aidy asked her matter-of-factly.

The woman looked shocked, it being apparent she felt the question was impertinent. Sharply she answered, ‘Not that it’s any of your business why I’m interviewing for a new domestic, but Mrs Adkins retired. Why would you think she’d died?’

‘I’m surprised she didn’t, with all the work you expect your domestic to get through, and all for the measly wage you’re offering to cover it.’ Aidy got up from her chair. Quashing a strong desire to laugh at the expression of outrage on Marjorie Kilner’s face, she added, ‘I can see myself out.’

She’d had high hopes of that job, but, determined not to let disappointment get her down, continued with her search, revisiting places she had been to previously just in case a vacancy had cropped up meantime. She had no joy. Many places she didn’t even bother enquiring when she saw the queue of people lining up to apply for the few positions being offered. There were several shops in need of staff that would have taken an experienced woman on, but the owners weren’t prepared to take on someone like Aidy when there were so many trained shop assistants looking for work.

By twelve-thirty she was finding it very difficult to keep her spirits up and remain optimistic. She had been banking on landing some sort of job this week, allowing for the fact she’d have to work a week in hand. She could just about eke out her last pay for another week, provided no costly emergencies happened, but certainly no longer. The kids were getting sick of vegetable soup for their dinner, and for that matter so was she, but it was better than nothing – and nothing was what they’d be getting soon if her luck on the job front didn’t take a turn for the better.

If she didn’t get a job by the end of the week, though, she did have a back-up plan she would put into operation. When her father had left her mother, having no other way open to her at the time by which to provide for her family, Jessie had resorted to taking in washing and ironing and had rented out her own bedroom to a lodger. Aidy proposed to follow in her footsteps. The sleeping arrangements for the family would have to be reorganised. She and Bertha would have to move out of their room and into the girls’, the girls would go into George’s, and then somewhere must be found for him, though where yet she hadn’t a clue. And where she was going to get the money from to buy a Put-you-up for George to sleep on, and the extra bedding, she hadn’t a clue either. As matters stood, the only person she could turn to for help was her estranged husband, which would only serve to prove him right that she couldn’t manage without his help. Aidy wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Then suddenly an idea of how she could raise some further money came to her. When she had gone to collect the rest of her belongings back at the house she had shared with Arch, in her haste to get in and out, she had completely forgotten to pick up the little pot on the tallboy in her bedroom.

It contained a few pieces of silver-plated jewellery. These included a very pretty butterfly-shaped brooch with two tiny pieces of emerald depicting its eyes that Arch had bought her on their first wedding anniversary; a hat pin with a ruby inserted in the end that she’d bought herself before she’d married Arch; a charm bracelet that her mother had bought on her twenty-first birthday, one charm on it in the shape of a tiny wishbone. The intention had been to add more in time, but to date money hadn’t allowed for that. Not forgetting the watch she wore on her wrist, a present from Arch last Christmas. There were besides two china ornaments, not expensive and from she second-hand shop, but nevertheless bought with love by her mother for Christmas presents, and a copper jug her grandmother had given her. If she pawned all of these, surely she’d raise enough for them from the pawnbroker to tide her over before her back-up plan started paying out.

She looked at her watch. It was gone twelve-thirty. Pat would be off to work by now and Jim down the local. Arch should be at work too. She was safe to collect what was hers. Aidy was thankful she hadn’t allowed her mother-in-law to bully her into handing her keys over.

She felt like a burglar, sneaking her way into her own backyard, then creeping up to the back-room window and peeping through it to make certain the house was indeed empty. It certainly appeared to be. There was no sounds coming from inside that she could hear. Unlocking the back door, she let herself inside. The foul smell hit her first, then the sight that met her left her gasping in shock. The pot sink was heavily stained, it being obvious it hadn’t been scrubbed since she’d left, and was filled with dirty crockery, spilling out on to the wooden draining board. A sack propped by the wall was filled with stinking rubbish. The saucepans that she had kept shiny were now blackened and smeared with burned food. The flag floor was filthy and sticky under her shoes. The drying towel she was positive was the same one she had been using the day her mother had died. Disgusted, she made her way into the back room. Her revulsion rose further when she saw the state of it.

The table was cluttered with the remains of breakfast and, if she wasn’t mistaken, last night’s meal too. Beside the armchair Jim had claimed for himself stood at least a dozen empty beer bottles and as many discarded newspapers. The arms of both easy chairs were stained with spilled tea and food. Cobwebs filled the corners of the ceiling, and the visible surfaces of the sideboard against the far wall and the mantle above the range were thick with dust. The clippy rug by the fire had very obviously not been shaken since she’d departed. The rest of the floor hadn’t been swept either. Upstairs a sour smell permeated the bedroom she had shared with Arch. It was now being occupied by his parents, and the sheets on the unmade bed were, she knew, the same pair that had been on it when she had left.

In five weeks the slovenly Nelsons had turned the lovely home that she and Arch had worked so hard to make nice into a mirror imagine of the squalid hovel they had left behind. How could Arch have stood by and let this happen? Was he so frightened of his mother, he’d allowed her to wreck his own home?

Was this perhaps why he had called to see her last night? Unable to put up with living under the same roof as them again and endure their slovenly ways, had he come to beg sanctuary off her until he could either get his parents out and reclaim the house or find another place for himself? Well, hopefully her refusal to see him had done him a favour, made him face his fears and stand up to his mother. He must free himself from her selfish domination sooner rather than later.

Aidy searched high and low but there was no sign of all the items she had come to retrieve. She knew, with a sinking heart, what had happened to them. Pat would have had no qualms in claiming they were hers and selling them on to the highest bidder.

Aidy didn’t know how that woman lived with herself, but then … women like Pat had no conscience. The one good thing to have come from the ending of her marriage was that she no longer had to deal with the likes of odious, selfish, bullying Pat Nelson.

Aidy was so upset about her discovery she decided to go home for a cup of tea and to check on Bertha before continuing with her job search. Also she knew that her grandmother would be anxious for news of how she was faring, realising how increasingly despondent Aidy was becoming as the days went by. She wouldn’t, however, upset Bertha by telling her of this visit to her former home and the dreadful state she had found it in.

Bertha’s hopeful eyes greeted Aidy when she arrived in the back room, but as soon as she witnessed the look on her granddaughter’s face she knew there was no point in asking if she’d had any success. ‘Better luck this afternoon, love,’ was all she said.

She didn’t want to add to Aidy’s worries but there was something she really ought to be aware of. ‘Er … I had a visit this morning from the Board man. Seems our George ain’t been at school all this week.’

Aidy looked bemused as she checked the kettle on the range and put it on to make them both a cup of tea. ‘’Course he’s been at school. Where else would he be? In fact, he’s been that keen this last week, he’s been leaving well before he’s really needed to, hasn’t he? The Board man can’t have his facts right.’

‘That’s what I said to him. He insisted he had, though, and that the school wants a good excuse for George’s absence. He’s coming back tomorrow at ten, to see you.’

Aidy snapped in annoyance, ‘So I’ve got to wait in and maybe miss out on getting a job, all ’cos either the school or the Board man has made a mistake?’ She gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Well, I’ll certainly let them have what for, wasting my time.’ A thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘Come to think of it, George has been very tired this week. Hasn’t gone out at all after dinner to play with his mates, and he’s gone to bed without being told.’

‘Oh, that’s ’cos he’s been helping a mate straight from school to fix his bike up. Apparently his dad found an abandoned bike frame and George and his mate have been scavenging for parts for it from dump sites.’

‘But he’s supposed to come straight home from school, Gran, and see to any jobs that need doing here – him and Betty. Has he blackmailed her into doing his share?’

Bertha looked sheepish. ‘Well … er … no, not exactly. This past week, Betty ain’t been coming home straight from school either. Her best friend’s mother has just had a baby, and while she’s recovering in bed, her friend has fetched her younger brother and sister from the neighbour and Betty’s been helping her look after them until their dad gets home from work.’

‘Very commendable of her,’ snapped Aidy. ‘But she’s got an invalid grandmother who is also in need of her help, and chores to do for me. Who has been doing both their chores while they’ve been skiving off then?’

‘Marion.’

‘Marion! Oh, bribed her into it, did they? Promise her a sweet each from their penny poke on Saturday morning? Well, they won’t be able to honour that bribe as I can’t afford to give them their Saturday pennies until I get set on again. But how on earth did Marion struggle to get the water and the coal in on George’s behalf and do the bits around the house for Betty?’

‘She got the lad next-door to pump it for her and fetched it in a jug at a time. She did the coal the same, a few lumps at a time. She seemed happy enough, doing what she was. Look, I did point out that it wasn’t right they were defying your instructions and they should ask you if it was all right to do what they were, but they pleaded with me. George was worried that his mate would find someone else to help him look for parts and fix the bike up, and Betty the same with her friend.’

Aidy shook her head. ‘Those kids wind you around their little fingers. But they still disobeyed me and, worse, roped their little sister into covering their jobs for them and you into keeping what they were up to from me. I can’t turn a blind eye to that.’

She noticed Bertha was frantically searching for something under her blanket. Curious, Aidy asked her what she was looking for.

‘Me knitting needle, lovey. I’ve an itch under me pot I need to scratch. It’s been driving me mad all morning. No matter how many times I slip the needle down and give it a good rub with the end, it keeps coming back. Blasted thing.’

With a twinkle in her eye, Aidy said, ‘You brag you’ve a potion for just about any ailment. Not got one for curing itches, I take it then?’

‘Cheeky bugger! Just help me find the pin.’

As she helped, Aidy warned Bertha, ‘Be careful not to damage the cast with that needle ’cos I don’t fancy facing Doc’s reaction if we have to call him in to re-plaster your leg again.’

At the mention of him Aidy remembered she hadn’t paid his outstanding bill yet. If she didn’t settle it, he could well refuse to call again on Bertha when her time was up, to check her leg had healed and pronounce her fit enough to start using it again. He’d be quite within his rights to do so. She’d pay a visit to the surgery and do the deed before carrying on with her job search that afternoon.

Meanwhile over in the surgery, eating his lunch of a hastily made cheese sandwich, the bread stale and cheese hard, Ty was searching through the patients’ record boxes for the cards of those to whom he was to pay a visit that afternoon.

One of these was Freda Johnson of 19 Lemington Street. The name rang a bell with him. Hadn’t he been called in to see her only last week? He felt sure he had. Yes, that’s right. Her symptoms of a very inflamed throat, swollen tonsils, white-furred tongue and high fever, had led him to diagnose she was suffering from quinsy. He had written her a prescription for a mixture of prophylactic salicin and chlorate of potash in gualacum, which should help ease her discomfort until the disease had run its course. Had the woman’s illness not improved or was she now suffering from something else?

He swivelled around in his chair to look with both frustration and despondency at the two huge piles of loose records he’d been stacking up beside the record boxes. Freda Johnson’s card would be amongst these somewhere.

The sorting out of the record cards into a workable system had been his top priority ever since he had discovered the haphazard, unfathomable method James McHinney had used. Until he could find the time at least to make a start on that laborious and lengthy task, he had kept aside those record cards he had managed to unearth, his intention being every night after surgery finished to put those records into alphabetical order, making a start at least on a reorganised system. Unfortunately, the unrelenting demands on his time left him hardly any in which to put a proper meal together for himself or to attend to the most urgent of his personal needs, so sorting out the filing system had long since fallen by the wayside.

Ty’s thoughts drifted back to his previous surgery. A far cry from this one! Leaving aside the affluent area and clientele, consultations there had been by appointment only, either at the surgery or at home. Ty had been allowed plenty of time to spend with each patient, listening in depth to their symptoms and thoroughly examining them before prescribing their treatment. All the cleaning of wounds and changing of dressings had been dealt with by a qualified nurse; an efficient clerk and receptionist had dealt with the administrative tasks. A locum doctor had dealt with all the after-hours call outs and Sunday emergencies, unless the patient in question happened to be the sort to insist on being seen only by the senior doctor.

Ty had had time then to spend as he wished, without interruption. His sleep had been unbroken and he awoke each morning feeling refreshed.

He’d not had one night of unbroken sleep since he arrived here, but prised his eyes open each morning before dragging himself from his bed, dreading what the day held for him.

Ty was very aware that if he didn’t do something about easing his burden, very soon his own health would suffer. He was concerned that several times recently he had nearly misdiagnosed a serious illness because his permanent state of fatigue was affecting his concentration.

He had sworn an oath to do his best to cure people, not kill them.

There was one ray of hope that kept him going, which was that eventually he would escape this life of purgatory he had unwittingly cast himself into. No matter how unpopular he knew it had made him, at his insistence the majority of his patients now settled his fee in cash, apart from those stalwarts who insisted on carrying on in the same way as they had in James McHinney’s day. But the surgery’s finances were at least much healthier than they had been when Ty had first taken over. He was now able to settle his own bills without fretting and, most important of all, he had a little left over each week to put away in a savings account towards his future.

Trouble was, the help he so desperately needed would cost him a wage, which meant his savings were going to suffer and he was stuck here even longer. But if he continued as he was, he risked not living to see his day of escape.

Affording to pay a locum or nurse was out of the question, but he could afford to pay a receptionist to take all the clerical work off his hands, and still have a little left each week to add to his savings. Better they should grow slowly than not at all. Ty felt there must be plenty of women needing a job during these desperate times and expected he would be able to have his pick. A thought struck him then. Would he be lucky enough to find a woman who wanted a receptionist’s job but could also tackle some of the lighter cleaning and dressing of wounds? He sincerely hoped so.

He hurriedly glanced at his pocket watch. He hadn’t time to address this now, really should be setting off on his afternoon round, but then the way time was for him, when would he have a better opportunity? He immediately started drafting a notice of his requirements to put on the surgery door.

Aidy spotted the notice as she approached the surgery a short while after Ty had put it up.

She stared at it, her mind whirling. She liked the idea of being a doctor’s receptionist. It sounded so posh! Trouble was, though, she’d no experience of office work whatsoever. Oh, but wait a minute, wasn’t filling in her time sheets and logging off her completed work classed as office work? Well, by a short stretch of the imagination it could be. She’d never had cause to use a telephone, but how difficult was it to pick up a receiver and speak into it? And anyway, she doubted she’d have much cause to use one since it was unlikely any of the doctor’s patients had a telephone and it cost precious money to make a call from the public box. She was reliable and trustworthy, and apart from the incident that had cost her her job, she was punctual. She might not have the best of clothes but she was at least clean and tidy. The starting time of eight-fifteen would certainly suit her better than the factory hour of seven-thirty, and that break in the afternoon from two until four-forty-five meant she could do the shopping at a more leisurely pace than the race she’d had during her one-hour dinner break from her sewing machine. On a Saturday morning the factory hours had been seven-thirty until one, whereas the doctor only needed his receptionist to work from eight-fifteen until twelve-thirty.

This job was appealing more and more to Aidy.

Then her excitement plummeted as a problem presented itself. She didn’t actually like the man she’d hopefully be working for. Could she work for someone so cold and aloof? She didn’t ponder too long on that problem, though. If it meant her securing a job, and especially a job that offered her all that this did, then, yes, she could put up with the man who was offering it.

Her excitement rose to fever pitch. This job certainly seemed to have her name on it. Then her high spirits sank as she read the last line of the notice. Someone with nursing experience would be preferred. She hadn’t got any nursing experience. It didn’t look like this job had her name on it after all. Then her spirits rose yet again. She certainly did have nursing experience. Over the years she had bathed and dressed numerous wounds suffered by her brother and sisters and Arch when they’d accidentally cut, bumped or burned themselves. None of the wounds had turned septic. And wasn’t what she was doing now in respect of her grandmother nursing? It certainly felt like it to Aidy’s mind.

This job did have her name on it. She was determined to land it.

Interviews for the position were to take place on the following Monday evening after surgery finished at seven o’clock. She’d be there prompt. She just had to hope not too many applied for it who were better qualified than herself. She was about to walk away when an idea came to her of how she could lower the odds against that happening. Flashing a hurried glance around to ascertain no one would witness what she was about to do, she snatched the notice off the door and thrust it into her pocket.

She was so excited at the prospect of getting a job she completely forgot why she had called at the doctor’s surgery in the first place.

Aidy wasn’t complacent enough to believe that just because she was hell-bent on getting the job as the doctor’s receptionist she actually would. She knew she’d be well advised to keep on with her search meantime.

Which again turned out to be a futile. No factories, shops, yards or even scrap merchants seemed to have any vacancies for suitable jobs. It seemed at the moment the job the doctor was advertising was her only hope.

Having reluctantly called it a day, she was back at home in the scullery, peeling potatoes to make a cheese and potato pie for their dinner – although considering the small noggin of hard cheese that was left, it was more of a potato pie – when Marion burst through the door. She immediately threw herself at her sister, clasping her arms around Aidy’s waist and burying her head in her midriff, wailing, ‘I ’ate that Elsie Broadbent, our Sis! She’s ’orrible. I ain’t ever gonna be her friend again.’

Hurriedly wiping her wet hands on a towel, Aidy unhooked Marion from her person, knelt down and wiped her eyes using the bottom of her apron, saying, ‘You two were as thick as thieves yesterday. You begged me to let Elsie stay for dinner as you didn’t want to be parted from her during that time, only I had to say no ’cos I hadn’t enough chips and bread and marge to stretch. What’s happened between you two for you to hate her so much now?’

Marion blubbered, ‘She … she told Miss Hubbard I’d wet meself! And in front of the whole class and all, so now everyone knows and they’re calling me Pissy Pants.’

Aidy’s heart went out to her. Running a hand tenderly down the side of the child’s face, she said, ‘Well, you can’t help it if you have an accident. But what you could do to try and stop having them in future is keep going to the lav regularly, even if you don’t feel the need to go. Will you do that, eh?’

Sniffling, Marion nodded.

‘Good girl. Now, about Elsie … you don’t think she was trying to help you, do you?’

Marion’s little face screwed up in bewilderment. ‘Help me? I don’t see how.’

‘Maybe she didn’t like the fact you were sitting there in wet clothes, and hoped that by her telling Miss Hubbard, you’d be given clean ones to borrow until your own dried. Maybe she didn’t think about the rest of the class finding out when she told Miss Hubbard.’

Marion had to think about that for a moment. Finally she said, ‘I suppose she could have.’

‘Well, why don’t you ask her before you decide you’re never going to be friends with her again? If she did do it on purpose then you’ve every right not to talk to her, if that’s what you decide, but I think she was after helping you myself.’ Aidy stood up. ‘You’d best get changed, and bring me those clothes you’ve on down so I can wash them and get them dried ready for tomorrow. But before you go and square things with Elsie, I want you to find George for me and tell him to get himself home. I want a word with him. Then find Betty and tell her the same.’

Marion was looking at her worriedly. She blustered, ‘Oh, I dunno where either of them are, Aidy.’

‘Don’t lie, you do. You’ve been covering their chores while George is helping his best mate fix up his bike and Betty babysits her best friend’s brother and sister.’

Marion was looking mortally uncomfortable. She blurted, ‘Er … oh, yeah, so I have. I forgot. But I … er … don’t know where their best friends live, honest I don’t.’

‘Well, one of their other friends is bound to, so go and ask around until you find out.’

‘Can’t yer wait to have a word with ’em until they come home?’

Aidy began to feel irritated with Marion now. Sharply she said to her, ‘I want a word with them both now. The quicker you find them for me, the quicker you can sort out things with Elsie. Go and get changed then be off to do what I’ve asked you, or you’ll end up in bed with a red bum and hungry ’cos yer’ve had no dinner.’

Marion spun on her heel and shot off.

Aidy sighed as she returned to her task. What did it take to get her siblings to obey her?

George finally appeared at a quarter to six. By this time Aidy had decided he had ignored Marion’s summons for him to come home and her temper was at boiling point. She was in the process of setting the table. Slamming down the cutlery, hands on hips, she flew at him. ‘I’ll teach you to blatantly ignore my instructions to come straight home, George Greenwood. You’ll stay home for a week. And then you’ll stay for another week on top, for not doing as I asked which was coming home straight from school to see if Gran needed anything or if I’d left any instructions for jobs I needed you to do. And then you’ll stay home for another week for bribing your little sister to do your chores for you while you were off enjoying yourself with your mate. That’s three weeks altogether.’ She noticed Betty hovering behind her brother and snapped at her, ‘And the same goes for you, young lady.’

From her makeshift bed on the sofa, Bertha opened her mouth, preparing to speak up for the children, to request Aidy be a little more lenient with them as, after all, they had not long since lost their mother. But then, Aidy was their mother now, to all intents and purposes, and it wouldn’t be right for Bertha to interfere with the way she decided to discipline them.

Both children’s faces had paled and they were looking extremely worried.

George blurted out, ‘Oh, please, don’t keep me in, our Aidy, ’cos if you do I’ll lose …’ He suddenly stopped speaking, it being very obvious he’d been about to divulge something he’d sooner Aidy not know.

She eyed him suspiciously. ‘You’ll lose what?’ she demanded.

He shuffled uncomfortably on his feet, averting his eyes from hers. ‘Er … me friends.’

‘Yeah, and me too, so please don’t punish me either,’ pleaded Betty.

Aidy eyed them both suspiciously. Her instincts told her they were both up to something … especially George. He had a guilty look about him. Had the Board man not made a mistake after all? If he hadn’t been to school for the last week then where had he been? She looked at him closely. At the end of the day George always looked like he’d been playing in a muck heap, but his appearance did look even more dishevelled than normal. And he did seem fit to drop. Whatever he was up to it was wearing him out.

Matter-of-factly she announced, ‘Gran had a visit from the Board man today, wanting to know why you haven’t been at school. ’Cause you’ve been at school, haven’t you, George? Where else would you be, eh?’

His face was ashen now. ‘The Board man’s bin round?’ he uttered, horrified. Then he said defiantly, ‘Well, he’s got me mixed up with another kid ’cos I have been at school, ain’t I, Betty?’

She gulped, eyes darting everywhere but in her sister’s direction, and uttered, ‘Yes, he has, our Aidy. Honest he has.’

‘And I know when lies are being told! You’re both lying.’ She wagged a finger at George. ‘Shame on you, getting your sister to lie for you. Did you think I wouldn’t find out you’d been truanting from school? Did you think your teacher wouldn’t ask me where you were when I never sent a note in, saying why you were absent? So what have you been up to when you should have been in school? Larking around with your delinquent mates? Plaguing shopkeepers? Robbing old ladies? What, George?’ she bellowed furiously. ‘Now I’ll give you one chance to tell me what you’ve been up to or else you’re in bigger trouble than you already are, if that’s even possible.’

Betty started to cry. ‘Oh, please don’t be cross with him, our Aidy,’ she blubbered. ‘He only did it to help you. I was only trying to help too. That’s why I never came home straight after school, like you told me to.’

Aidy glared at her incredulously. ‘How can you think that playing truant is helping me, you stupid girl?’ she barked. ‘I’m in trouble now with the Board man, for not making sure George was at school.’ Then something Betty had said registered with her. ‘What do you mean, you were only trying to help too and that’s why you never came straight home from school?’ She looked at them both suspiciously. ‘Just what is it that you two have been up to?’ They were both looking everywhere but at her so she bellowed, ‘For God’s sake, will you just tell me?’

Betty gave her brother a hefty nudge in his ribs. ‘You do it ’cos you’re the eldest, George.’

He looked up at his elder sister for several long moments before he dared to murmur: ‘Working.’

‘Working! What do you mean, you’ve been working?’

He hung his head. ‘I overheard you telling Gran you’d lost yer job, so I thought if I could earn some money while you got set on in another, you wouldn’t be so worried. I forgot about the Board man. When I told Betty what I was up to so she could cover for me, she wanted to help too so she’s been doing it after school.’

‘I’ve bin running errands for the neighbours,’ Betty told Aidy. ‘I’ve made one shilling and tuppence up to now. I was hoping to have two bob to give you by Friday. Not as much as George has made, but it all helps, dunnit?’

Aidy was gawping at them both, astounded. She shot a look at Bertha and saw she too was utterly astonished by this news. Returning her attention to her siblings, guilt filled her. Her emotions overspilled. With tears of gratitude rolling down her face, Aidy pulled them to her, hugging them both fiercely. Over the tops of their heads she saw their grandmother was crying too. Sensing another presence, she looked over and saw Marion had arrived back. Legs crossed, she was looking worriedly at them all, not quite knowing what was going on.

Aidy ordered her, ‘You come here and get a hug too.’ When Marion was encircled in her arms she said to them all, ‘I really should be very angry with you. But how can I be when all you were trying to do was help?’

Aidy eventually straightened up and in a tender voice addressed them all. ‘You all already do what you can to help out.’ And they did, by plaguing the greengrocer on a Saturday evening as he was shutting up for any perishable vegetables he was throwing out; by following the coal cart for dropped lumps, and collecting the horse’s droppings to sell on to men who had allotments; by keeping their ears open to learn where any wood was going begging; by running errands for the neighbours, and any other things they could do when opportunities presented themselves to earn extra coppers. ‘What you all do helped Mam enormously, and now it does me.’

She smiled at the girls. ‘You two go and finish setting the table for me. I want to speak to George.’ When they had gone off to do her bidding, she asked him, ‘Who employed you? You’re only ten years old.’

‘Nearly eleven,’ he corrected her.

‘Still not old enough by law to stop going to school. You have to be fourteen. You look nowhere near that. Whoever you lied to to get the job, must have known he was breaking the law.’

‘I didn’t need to lie about me age – I wasn’t asked how old I was. I just asked if there was any work going and got set straight on, sorting out the scrap. I can’t say as I enjoyed it. I’m a bit glad I got found out. It was such hard work! Some of them big bits were so heavy … Me legs are covered in bruises. I never got to stop all day, ’cept ten minutes at lunchtime to gobble down me sandwich. When I leave school, I ain’t going to work for no scrappy, that’s for sure.’

Aidy was determined he wasn’t going to either. She was going to make sure her brother was equipped to achieve far greater things than sorting scrap metal for a living. Fury rose within her against the unknown person who had abused her brother’s need to earn a pittance by giving him back-breaking tasks to do.

‘Who was it you were working for?’ she insisted on knowing.

‘Gibbons’ scrap yard,’ he told her.

She knew the place. It was not far from where her mother-in-law used to live. It was a known fact that all the firms that operated in that district were owned by swindlers and crooks. You only dealt with their like out of desperation. ‘How much did Gibbons pay you?’

‘He ain’t paid me n’ote yet. Said he’d give me ten shilling on Friday night … that’s tomorrow … as long as I’d proved me worth. Well, I have proved me worth to him. I’ve worked me guts out.’

And Aidy strongly suspected sly Mr Gibbons had no intention of ever paying a penny for that week of hard labour. Well, over her dead body he wouldn’t! She stepped over to the armchair and grabbed up her handbag from beside it.

‘Betty, there’s cheese pie ready in the oven. Dish it up and put George’s and mine back in the oven to keep hot. George, you’re coming with me. We won’t be long,’ she told them all.

Bertha didn’t need to ask where she was going.

They arrived at Gibbons’ scrap yard just as the owner himself was about to shut and padlock the heavy iron entrance gates for the night.

Alf Gibbons was a sixty-year-old, thick-set man with a matted greying beard and grizzled hair that resembled a bird’s nest. His shabby clothes were stained with oil and dirt, a foul stench coming from them, and they obviously hadn’t seen soap and water since the day he had bought them. Aidy felt there was enough dirt under his fingernails to sow potatoes in. He lived in a shambles of a shack at the back of the yard, using rainwater for drinking and washing, if indeed he ever did any of that, judging by the grime ingrained in every crease of his face.

Spotting his visitors and completely ignoring the fact one was a young boy he’d had grafting hard for him all week, he growled, ‘Come back termorra. I’m shuttin’ up for the night.’

Dragging George along with her, Aidy had slipped through the gate and into the yard before Gibbons could stop her. Her face set stonily, she snapped at him, ‘I’ll not come back tomorrow, you’ll deal with me tonight! I’ve come to inform you that George won’t be working for you any longer, and to collect the money you owe him.’

Gibbons didn’t even bother to look at George. With a sly grin on his face, he responded, ‘He’s just a kid. I don’t employ kids.’

She shot back at him, ‘You employed this kid. You’ve had him slaving like a navvy for you for four days with hardly a break. Now, you’ll pay him what he’s due.’

Gibbons leaned towards her, a menacing glint in his eyes, a smirk on his face. ‘I ain’t paying him n’ote. It’s my word against his. Now scarper, lady, afore I make yer sorry you came.’

A furious George bunched one fist. Shaking it at Alf, he yelled, ‘Oi, don’t you speak to my sister like that or you’ll regret it!’

Alf Gibbons issued a nasty laugh ‘Oh, I’m real scared, sonny.’ He gave Aidy a shove on her shoulder. ‘Now get off my land before I bodily remove yer both.’

Aidy had anticipated this reaction and was prepared for it. ‘All right, I’ll go, Mr Gibbons. But just to warn you, you’d better be prepared for another visit very shortly.’

‘From the police?’ he scoffed. ‘You’ve no proof whatsoever that lad was working for me, so yer wasting yer time fetching them.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t dream of wasting police time, Mr Gibbons. Living around these parts, I trust you know Pat Nelson?’

It amused Aidy to catch the flash of fear in his eyes at the mention of that name, just as she’d anticipated. He eyed her suspiciously. ‘Yeah, I know of Pat Nelson. I’ve had a few dealings with her. Mostly with her old man, though, buying scrap metal off him. What’s she got to do with this?’

‘If you’ve had dealings with her then I trust you know what kind of woman she is, Mr Gibbons. It’s just you might be interested to learn that George is her grandson,’ she lied with no compunction. ‘He’s her favourite, and she isn’t going to like the fact that you’re trying to swindle him out of his pay.’

Gibbons stared frozen faced at Aidy for a moment before a beam split his face, revealing cigarette-stained, crooked teeth. Slapping George on the back, he said jocularly, ‘Why didn’t you let on you was Pat’s grandkid? Just a misunderstanding, all this.’ He thrust one dirty hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out a handful of change, hurriedly counting out silver and copper amounting to seven shillings and sixpence which he then held out to George. ‘No point in calling by hoping for any more work, son. Things are real bad at the moment, what with this recession.’

It was Aidy who took the money from him and quickly assessed the amount. ‘Oh, I think you’ve made a mistake, Mr Gibbons. Obviously mistook the tanners for shillings and the shillings for half-crowns.’

‘What d’yer mean?’ he snapped at her.

‘Seven and six in exchange for four days’ hard graft? Pat ain’t going to think that’s fair when I tell her.’

He nearly choked. ‘Well, just how much was you expecting? He is a kid, after all.’

‘At least twice that amount. After all, you got this kid doing the work of a man, didn’t you, Mr Gibbons?’

Grunting and muttering profanities under his breath, he thrust his hand once again into his trouser pocket, pulling out another handful of change along with a couple of bank notes.

As he made to count out another seven shillings and sixpence, Aidy whipped the ten-shilling note out of his hand, saying to him, ‘Save you the bother of counting out change, I’ll settle for this. And I’ll make sure to let Pat know how good you were to her favourite grandson.’ She then quickly grabbed George by the shoulder. Before Alf could detain them they had both slipped back through the gate and were hurrying off down the street.

Safely secreted around a corner, Aidy stopped and began to laugh. ‘Well, dear brother, that’ll teach that crook to think twice before he tries to fleece a youngster in future!’ Then her face took on a serious expression. Opening her clenched hand, she held the money in it out towards George. ‘Make the most of it. You won’t be earning any more like that until you reach the proper age to leave school: fourteen. Now I really appreciate what you did, George, but truant again, for any reasons, and I’ll make it my business to make you wish you hadn’t. That clear?’

He nodded vigorously. Then said to her, ‘The money’s all for you, Aidy, to help keep us ’till you get another job.’

She smiled tenderly at him. ‘Thank you. It’ll come in very handy. But it’s only fair you should have some.’ She held out half a crown to him. She saw he was about to refuse it and ordered him, ‘Take it, George. You deserve every penny of it. Do what you like with it. Spend it on comics, sweets, whatever you want.’

His face lit up. Accepting the money, he gazed at it in delight. Half a crown was a fortune to him, the most money he’d ever had to call his own. Just to make sure it was definitely his to spend as he wished, he reaffirmed with her, ‘I can do what I like with it, really, our Aidy? Anything I want?’

Smiling, she nodded.

‘Then I’m gonna buy us all fish and chips for our tea tomorrow night. And a big pickled onion for you and a gherkin for Gran.’

Aidy was far too choked to respond.

Aidy was able to placate the Board man when he called to see her the next morning by insisting that George had been off school because he had been ill with a fever. In her worry for him, she had completely forgotten she needed to inform the school as to the reason for his absence. It was very remiss of her and she felt very guilty and sorry for her failure, but hoped the Board man would see fit not to take this matter further.

She didn’t think much to her chances of that, however. He looked the sort to her who took great delight in asserting his authority.

Her appraisal of Neville Hill was indeed correct. Normally he took his job very seriously and would have had her hauled before the Board for them to deal with her laxness as they saw fitting. But, luckily for Aidy, that morning, on his way to see her, he had found a ten-shilling note in the gutter as he was crossing the road. He’d beaten a woman who had also spotted it, snatching it up, to his glee and her fury. His mind was so busy deciding just how he was going to spend his windfall … he certainly wasn’t going to tell his penny-pinching wife … that he couldn’t wait to get this matter with the Greenwoods over with and get back to his day dreaming.