Secrets to Keep

CHAPTER NINE





Aidy pulled a length of thread from the back of the sewing machine and clipped it neatly off with scissors. She gave the collar she had sewn a smooth out and then ran a keen eye over it. It wasn’t the usual perfect result, but hopefully the beady-eyed examiner would feel the very slight mistake she had made, in not tucking the pleated trim far enough into the seam, was not bad enough to fail it. To unpick and redo it would set Aidy further back with her daily quota than she was already.

She’d leaned over to pick up the completed body of a dress and begin attaching the collar to it when she realised her forewoman was standing by her, looking down at her with concern. Aidy looked back up at her worriedly, wondering what she had come to speak to her about, hoping it wasn’t what she suspected it was.

Imelda Hardwick was becoming increasingly worried about Aidy. Since her mother’s death, her output and the quality of her workmanship had gradually declined, despite several warnings about it. Her personal tragedy had happened over five weeks ago, long enough for Aidy outwardly to come to terms with her loss, although Imelda herself knew from experience you never actually got over the death of a loved one, just learned to live with it. Because of her own bereavement and her soft spot for Aidy, Imelda had been making allowances for her mistakes, but she couldn’t afford to any longer.

She had just come out of a very tough meeting with the factory owner, the works manager, and all the rest of the departmental foremen and women. The recession was biting deeper. Thousands of jobs were being lost on a spiralling basis across local industries, with no prospect of those workers obtaining other gainful employment until the situation improved. Up to now the hosiery industry had got off lightly; people always needed clothes, and despite a huge rise in poverty amongst the working class, there were still others who did have money to spend, especially among the middle classes who bought the good-quality wares produced here. But now the recession was affecting even the moneyed classes who were also cutting back on their spending. As a result of this the factory’s orders were being cut, some even cancelled. The owner had ordered that each department was to halve its workforce and warned there would be no pay rises in the foreseeable future for those who remained. Once it had been decided which workers were to lose their jobs, a general announcement would be made. Until then, management had been warned to keep tight lipped.

As she looked at Aidy, it distressed Imelda to observe how the once lively and happy young woman had changed. She seemed drained, as if her life blood were being slowly sucked from her. Imelda couldn’t afford to be sentimental at a time like this when even her own job was in jeopardy, but there were many others she’d sooner get rid of than Aidy. She decided she would offer her one final warning to pull herself together or else her name would have to go on the dismissal list.

‘You should have had that batch finished by now, Aidy. Your mother’s been dead five weeks … I can’t afford to carry your slacking any longer. Pull your socks up! I’m warning you, this is the last time I’m going to speak to you on this matter.’

Aidy gulped. She knew exactly what was meant. This was Imelda’s way of warning her that if she didn’t up her production, then it was time for her cards.

But how did you manage to summon up energy you just did not have? While still grieving terribly for the loss of her mother and her marriage … she wasn’t sure which of them was the worst … Aidy was working in the factory nine hours a day, five and a half days a week, plus tackling all the work involved in single-handedly looking after her family. It was all beginning to tell on her. She looked and felt exhausted. As soon as her head touched the pillow, she was swept into oblivion. But it wasn’t a restful sleep, not with the constant nightmares Aidy was prey to. She suffered from vivid dreams of her family and herself knocking on the door of the workhouse, that prospect being her ever-present dread. She feared it would become a reality if she didn’t somehow muster the energy to up her pace and fulfil her daily work quotas.

She hadn’t even the strength to make an excuse now for her underachieving. Imelda took the look on Aidy’s face to mean she’d got the message, and went on her way.

‘You ain’t told Hardwick about yer home circumstances, have yer, Aidy? You ought to, then she’d know just why you’re having a job keeping up and hopefully make allowances for you, until yer gran’s back on her feet and taking some of the workload off yer.’

Aidy turned to look at her friend on the machine next to hers. Colleen Brown and she had started at the firm within a week of each other and had immediately hit it off. It wasn’t long before they were spending all their free time together and had met their respective husbands within months of each other at the local youth club. The couples had often made up a foursome while they were courting. These days they didn’t see each other much at all out of work as Colleen’s spare time was taken up by her husband and three children, the same as Aidy’s family took up her time now. Only Aidy knew that Colleen had recently missed a period and was beside herself with worry that she could be expecting her fourth child, an unaffordable addition to the family.

Colleen’s widowed mother’s arthritic hands were already full looking after her three boisterous under-school age kids while she was at work, let alone a baby on top of that. Colleen had no choice but to work as her husband didn’t earn much from his semi-skilled job for an engineering company, and there were rumours going around already that due to the dreadful recession the order books were about empty, no new ones in the offing, and very soon it looked as if workers would be laid off there. Colleen lay awake at night praying her husband wouldn’t be one of them and that she herself wasn’t pregnant.

Now Aidy shook her head. ‘I don’t want the news about me and Arch becoming common knowledge yet, Col. I just couldn’t cope with the gossip. You haven’t told anyone, have you?’

‘No, ’course not. You know your secrets are safe with me. Always have been, ever since we’ve known each other. You’re lucky to have kept it quiet this long, though, Aidy. I’m surprised no one who knows you both has asked why you’re living in separate houses.’

‘I can’t speak for Arch, of course, but in my case it’s because I’ve fobbed off busybodies who’ve asked me by saying that it’s just a temporary situation, while we sort out matters after my mam’s death.’

Colleen looked genuinely aggrieved when she said, ‘It’s such a shame about you and Arch. If ever I thought a couple would last forever, it was you two. Never argued like me and my old man do, constantly, about anything. Got no kids driving yer both crazy, and the worry of … well, you know … what I’m worrying about might be on the way, and that yer old man might be in line for losing his job.’

Aidy sighed. ‘Could you forget and forgive Bernie for wanting to hand your defenceless family over to the care of their bastard of a father, subject them to lives of purgatory, just to save himself the bother?’

‘Listen here, gel. I could forgive anything from my old man sooner than him put me in the position you’re in. Having the worries you’re having to cope with …’

‘Well, I’d sooner have those worries, Col, and know my family are happy. And I’ll have more to worry about if I don’t get back to work! Hardwick has just given me my last warning and I know she meant business.’

Try as she might, though, after the mention of him, Aidy couldn’t get Arch from her mind. Their marriage was over and she had been the one to end it because she had discovered traits in his character she could not live with, but that didn’t mean she was over the man she had known before that side of him had shown itself to her. It would all take time. In a way, it was a good thing she had so much else to keep her mind occupied or the loss of him would have overwhelmed her.

The time until dinner hour seemed to drag on, and by the time it came Aidy still hadn’t caught up with her quota. It was a hot August day, a relentless sun blazing down from a cloudless sky, and the stuffy, airless atmosphere inside the factory had done nothing to boost her energy levels. In fact, it did the opposite, made her more tired and listless. She prayed the fresh air she’d get while she raced around completing her dinner-hour tasks would help to blow away at least some of her fatigue and she’d manage to put in a better performance this afternoon. She would try and get to bed earlier tonight, hope for once she had a good sleep, wake refreshed, and for the first time since she had returned to work after her mother died, achieve what was expected of her. She had to. Her forewoman had left her in no doubt what would happen to her if she didn’t.

Aidy had no grocery shopping to do today as Betty was under instructions to collect fresh milk from the local shop on returning home from school. For dinner that evening they were having vegetable soup and bread. The soup just needed heating. Making her own bread each evening for next day was hard work and time-consuming, but cheaper than buying shop-bought. But having no shopping to do and nothing to prepare towards the evening meal did not mean Aidy was free. She still had to go home and check on Bertha. Although neighbours and friends dropped in to see her, time permitting, her gran so looked forward to Aidy’s visit home, for a quick cuppa and a chat to help break the monotony.

For Bertha the time couldn’t come quick enough when the doctor pronounced her broken bones healed and removed the itchy, cumbersome plaster casts. She had always been so active, and this incarceration, day after day, was very testing for her although she did her best to keep her spirits up. Aidy was well aware of it too. Despite her continually assuring her grandmother that she was managing just fine, Bertha was deeply grieved by the fact that she was unable to ease her granddaughter’s burden, either in the house or financially by selling her remedies. Day by day, she could see Aidy’s strength and optimism dwindling.

To Aidy’s surprise, Bertha was fast asleep when she arrived. As there was evidence of several visitors during the morning judging by the dirty cups they’d left, obviously she’d been tired out by them. At least Aidy knew that her grandmother hadn’t been on her own all morning. She would mash herself a cuppa and drink it while she ate a quick sandwich, hoping Bertha would rouse herself before she had to return to work so that Aidy could tend to her personal needs.

Bertha was still snoring softly when, armed with her cup of tea and a plate holding a cheese sandwich, Aidy gave a blissful sigh as she sank down in the shabby armchair by the range. It felt like paradise to her to have a few minutes’ peaceful relaxation before she returned to the hurly-burly of the factory. After she’d eaten her sandwich and drunk her tea Bertha still had not woken and she had ten minutes to go before she had to return to work. How vehemently she wished she hadn’t to go back; that she could sit here all afternoon and rest her weary body …

Aidy hadn’t realised she’d fallen into a deep slumber until a shrill scream jolted her awake. Sitting bolt upright, she stared around, dazed and confused, fighting to comprehend where she was. Then her eyes fell on her grandmother, in a heap on the floor nearby.

As she jumped up and ran to Bertha she cried out, ‘Oh, my God, Gran! What …’ She crouched down beside her, checking her over. She didn’t need to ask if her gran was in pain. The look on her face and the fact that she couldn’t speak revealed that this was serious. Aidy didn’t like the fact that the plaster cast encasing Bertha’s broken leg had split open and the part of it visible inside was swelling like a balloon. What on earth had caused this? She wondered. But the answer would have to wait. Bertha needed medical help, and swiftly.

Gently placing a cushion under the old woman’s head and covering her with a blanket, Aidy ordered her not to move and informed her she’d be back as quickly as she could with the doctor.

She was so consumed by the need to get help for her grandmother, it never registered with Aidy that she should have been back at work, labouring away at her machine, over an hour ago.

Ty was in his kitchen, about to take a much-needed sandwich and cup of tea into the dining room, to eat sitting in one of the unyielding chairs at the table. Secretly he would have liked to have taken his meal into the lounge, sitting in the scuffed but comfortable leather wing-backed armchair. He could have done with the relaxation. But his upbringing dictated he should eat at the table, despite there being no strict parents or formidable nanny around now to make him adhere to their standards.

Ty wasn’t in the best of moods, having been dragged out of bed at four-thirty that morning. He’d been summoned by the extremely anxious works manager of a local factory whose wife was expecting her first baby at the age of forty-three. The husband did not trust a midwife to see to her in case of complications due to his wife’s age, and was insisting Ty himself oversee the birth.

From the symptoms the man blurted out to him, Ty knew that the patient, who had still three weeks to go before her due date, was just experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions, but the man made it plain he wasn’t going to be placated by Ty’s verbal diagnosis, he wanted a visit. The good thing was that Ty would be guaranteed payment for this home visit through the works remuneration scheme which covered this family. It was as he suspected, the woman had just been suffering testing pains, but by the time Ty had got back home, it hadn’t been worth returning to bed so he’d used the time to catch up with some paperwork.

Morning surgery had been busy and had overrun by three quarters of an hour. He’d been late starting his morning round in the area, which then resulted in his overrunning by forty minutes. He was left with just twenty minutes to make and eat his lunch before going out again on his afternoon round. So a sudden hammering on the surgery door had him exclaiming in exasperation: ‘Oh, for God’s sake! Do people around here not think their doctor deserves any time to eat his lunch?’

It was on his mind to ignore the summons, pretend he wasn’t at home, but the continual urgent thumping on the door had him slamming down his plate and cup of tea, slopping the contents over the table, and shouting out angrily, ‘Hold on, I’m just coming.’

He glared in annoyance when he saw the intruder. What was it with this woman that each time she called upon him she was in a state of hysteria, demanding his immediate attention on a matter of life or death? He supposed in fairness the first time she had called him it had in fact been a matter of death, and the second had been a matter of some urgency. Surely, though, the odds were against her having a third emergency so soon? Before he could enquire the reason for her visit, she cried out, ‘You’ve got to come quick, Doc, it’s me gran.’

Once again he informed Aidy, ‘It’s Doctor Strathmore. Now, can whatever it is your grandmother needs to see me about wait until I’ve at least eaten my lunch?’

‘No, it can’t! She’s had a fall. It’s her leg … The one she broke a few weeks ago … well, I think she’s damaged it again. She’s in that much pain, she can’t speak.’ Aidy grabbed his arm, gripping it tightly. ‘You’ve got to come now,’ she insisted.

He wasn’t amused by her manhandling of him or the tone of voice she’d used to get across her point. Wrenching himself free from her grip, he snapped, ‘I’ll get my bag then.’

It transpired that Bertha had re-broken her leg. Through her pain, she managed to tell Ty that she’d decided after five weeks of being driven to despair, lying on the sofa, that surely it would have healed by now … Well, Maisie Turnbull’s young son’s broken leg had only taken five weeks to heal. Her leg should have been fine by now … Only for her to discover it wasn’t.

Ty had been very brusque in his response. He hadn’t ordered complete bed rest for seven weeks for the fun of it, he pointed out. Old broken bones took longer to heal than younger ones. Now she would pay for not adhering to his explicit instructions by another seven weeks of complete rest and, as he’d instructed before, he would examine her to check the bone had healed before she risked putting even gentle pressure on it.

Although she hadn’t been alone as yet with her grandmother, Aidy knew that the explanation she had given the doctor for how she had come to rebreak her leg was a complete lie. The truth of the matter was that she had been trying to wake Aidy up. Obviously shouting at her hadn’t done the trick, so deeply had she been sleeping, and Bertha’s only other option was to shake her awake.

Having shown Ty out, with a promise to settle up his mounting bill as soon as she could, Aidy returned to the back room to study her grandmother’s condition. As if the last episode hadn’t taken toll enough on her, this one had left her seriously depleted. Before Pat’s attack on her, Bertha’s age might have slowed her down a bit, she might not have been able to carry heavy loads any longer, but she’d still been very agile for a woman in her late sixties. Now she looked so old and frail … Aidy just hoped this was only temporary and once she’d recovered, Bertha would return to her old self.

‘Can I get you anything, Gran?’ she asked.

The further fracture had been so excruciating that Bertha had resorted to accepting the morphine tablet the doctor had offered her … but only half of it. She was therefore feeling a little dopey, as if she’d downed a couple of large schooners of good quality sherry, but the medicine had at least eradicated her pain sufficiently to let the doctor re-set and re-plaster her leg and it was still working its magic. All she was feeling from her injury at the moment was a bearable dull throb. Once the effects of the pill wore off, though, she was adamant that her own pain-killing remedy would see her through from now on.

In a laboured voice, she responded, ‘No, thanks, lovey. I just want to sleep now.’

Aidy leaned down to peck her cheek then whispered, ‘This is all my fault and I’m so sorry, Gran. I know you lied to the Doc. You weren’t disobeying his orders at all. You were trying to wake me up because I was late back for work, weren’t you?’

Drowsily she answered, ‘When I woke up and saw you fast off in the chair, then noticed the time, I was worried you’d be in trouble. I did me best to shout you awake but I just couldn’t … I didn’t want to tell the doctor what really happened and make you look bad, a young woman of your age, sleeping the afternoon away …’

Aidy wasn’t listening to her. The mention of work had sent a wave of sheer panic rushing through her.

‘Oh, Gran, I’ve got to go! I should be at work. Will you be …’

Despite her own drug-induced state, Bertha knew why Aidy was concerned. ‘Just go, love. I’ll be fine. And stop worrying. Yer boss’ll be understanding when you tell ’em yer old gran had an accident and you had to get the doctor to her.’

Aidy just had to pray she would be.

Having run all the way back to work, her lungs felt like they were on fire and she was gasping for breath by the time she slipped through the gates, dashed over the yard and sneaked her way round to her own department. Stopping for a moment outside the door to the workroom, she tried to compose herself then walked inside as if she had just slipped out for a moment.

As Aidy made her way to her table, her eyes darted this way and that. Thankfully there was no sign of Imelda. Hopefully she had got away with her lateness.

Colleen accosted her as soon as she slid into her seat, simultaneously pressing the button to start up her machine and grabbing the garment she had just finished making up before the dinner-time hooter had sounded.

‘Where yer been, Aidy?’ her friend demanded.

‘It’s a long story, Col. I’ll fill you in later. I need to press on.’

So intent on getting on with her work was she, Aidy didn’t notice Colleen was trying to tell her something. Quickly checking the cotton was threaded through her machine correctly, she placed the neckline of the dress under the needle foot, pinned a collar in place, pressed her foot down on the pedal and began to attach the collar to the dress. Over the drone of her machine and the forty-nine others, Aidy realised Colleen was shouting at her. Stopping what she was doing, she flashed an irritated look at her, snapping, ‘I hope it’s urgent, Colleen. You know I’ve a lot of catching up to do.’

‘It’s more than urgent, Aidy, it’s critical. Hardwick wants to see you in her office. She told me to tell you you’re to report there immediately you show up.’

Aidy’s face paled. ‘She knows I’m late back?’

‘“Late back” is an understatement, Aidy. You’ve been missing half the afternoon. She’s been here several times, asking where you were. I tried to cover up for you, told her the first time you’d gone to the privy, the second you’d had to go again ’cos you’d got a stomach upset, but the third time she wasn’t wearing it. Told me to send you to see her if you did happen to show your face this afternoon. You’d better go.’

Imelda Hardwick’s office was no bigger than a broom cupboard. She was sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair at a small cluttered desk, her face wearing a pensive frown as she concentrated on the paperwork she was looking through. When a highly worried Aidy tapped on her open door, announcing her presence, Imelda looked up at her blankly for a moment before she quickly turned over the sheet she was looking at and said sardonically, ‘Oh, so you have decided after all to grace us with your presence?’

Aidy blurted, ‘I’m so sorry I was late back this afternoon, Mrs Hardwick, but you see …’

Imelda held up a warning hand to stop her. ‘You’ve been absent without permission. That on its own is a sackable offence, but on top of your poor performance lately … well, I have no choice but to dismiss you.’

Aidy froze. She couldn’t lose her job. How was she going to support her family? A vision of the workhouse reared up before her and she cried out, ‘Oh, please, please, Mrs Hardwick, give me another chance. Once you’ve heard my reason for being late back …’

Imelda cut in, ‘You’re not dead, Aidy, so there’s no excuse for you not being at your bench. If I am seen to let you get away with flouting company rules, the other women will be expecting the same treatment. Worse than that even, if my bosses find out I’m not doing my job properly, I could lose it.’ Especially in light of what is going on, she thought. She might have a soft spot for Aidy but not at the expense of her own job. ‘Your wages and cards have been made up for you, ready to collect on your way out.’

Colleen was mortified when Aidy returned to her machine to collect her personal belongings. She’d thought that her friend and work colleague was in for a good dressing down, but the sack! Not wanting to face the same situation if she was caught slacking, she hurriedly assured Aidy she would pass on her goodbyes to the rest of her colleagues, Aidy herself being too upset and humiliated due the circumstances. They promised they would get together as often as time allowed them to, but both knew that as matters stood that was a tall order.

Aidy walked off the factory floor carrying her handbag, her face stricken with worry. An uncertain future faced her and her family with no wage coming in. She was acutely conscious that many of the other workers were looking at her with understanding and pity.

She needed to find a replacement job as soon as possible, though she knew the odds were stacked against her in the current work climate. She wasn’t expected home for about another hour, so decided to use that time checking shop window cards and vacancies posted outside factories in the vicinity, praying that a firm had a job she was capable of doing.

It proved to be a fruitless search. No vacancies for skilled machinists were posted on any of the factory notice boards, and the shop jobs she saw did not pay a wage anywhere near what she needed to keep a roof over her family’s head and them all fed.

When Aidy arrived home she found Marion huddled under the blanket beside Bertha on the sofa. Bertha herself, although still dopey from the effects of shock and the morphine she had taken earlier, was struggling to listen to a story Marion was reading to her out of a tattered children’s book. George and a friend were on the rug in front of the range, swapping cigarette cards. There was no sign of Betty. Worried about her serious predicament and what could happen to them all if she didn’t resolve it, despite herself, Aidy took her frustration out on George and Marion.

‘Couldn’t either of you have set the table for dinner?’ she barked at them. She then told George’s friend, ‘You’d better get off home before your mother comes looking for you.’ At her tone of voice the boy grabbed his cards and scarpered out like the devil was on his tail. Then she ordered George, ‘Clear those cards away and go and fill the water jug.’ He didn’t need another telling. She turned to address Marion next, ‘Stop mithering Gran. Can’t you see she’s not well? Go and find something useful to do.’

Tears filled Marion’s eyes. ‘But I was only …’

‘I don’t care what you were only doing. I said, get off the sofa and leave Gran in peace! You can set the table.’ She had a headache building at the thought of her siblings getting under her feet while she was trying to get the meal. ‘Look, I’ll collect the water and set the table, you both just go out and play, but make sure you’re back in an hour and that you bring Betty with you. Go on then,’ Aidy commanded them.

During this time Bertha had been staring at her fixedly. She wasn’t that befuddled she did not know that something was seriously wrong with her granddaughter.

Aidy then snapped at her, ‘Do you need anything before I make a start on the dinner?’

‘Yes, I do, love. I need to know what’s got your goat. Summat has. You’ve snapped at us all like a mad dog at a bone.’ She eyed her granddaughter shrewdly. ‘I guess yer boss wasn’t happy you were late back to work?’

Despite not wanting to tell Bertha what had transpired so as not to worry her, it wasn’t right to lie to her. ‘No, she wasn’t happy, Gran. Not happy at all.’ Giving a deep sigh, Aidy went over to the armchair and sank down into it, clasping her hands in her lap. Head bowed, she said tremulously, ‘I got the sack.’

Bertha froze. She had suspected that whatever it was that was bothering Aidy was serious. But … given the sack?

Aidy could see that her grandmother was feeling guilty for the part she had played in bringing this about. ‘This is not your fault, Gran. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. You were just trying to wake me. It’s me who should feel guilty. You’ve suffered the agony of breaking your leg again and are facing another seven weeks on the sofa.’

Bertha pursed her lips, her eyes hardening. ‘If anyone is to blame it’s Pat Nelson for attacking me in the first place,’ she snarled. She was well aware of the economic situation in the country and that jobs were getting scarcer by the day, but Aidy needed encouragement, not despondency. In an optimistic tone she said, ‘Well, you’ll get snapped up by another firm, with your skills.’

Aidy sighed. ‘Maybe I would have a while back, Gran, but not for the foreseeable future, the way things are. I did a quick tour round several of the local factories and none was offering any vacancies for machinists. The jobs in the shop windows are all for cleaners or shop assistants, not offering a wage we could mange on.’

Still determined to offer hope, not hopelessness, Bertha said, ‘There’s a job somewhere with your name on it, love.’

Aidy flashed her a wan smile. ‘I hope so, Gran. But what’s worrying me is how long it’s going to take me to find it.’ She gave another deep sigh. ‘Look, it’s bad enough for me knowing you know about this, but I don’t want the kids to get wind and them be worried too.’

Neither Aidy nor Bertha heard the back door open and someone come in to stand listening to them through the crack in the kitchen door. Or the sound of footsteps softly retreating.

‘Of course I won’t breathe a word to them,’ Bertha assured her.

A knock sounded on the back door then. Aidy’s shoulders sagged. She was in no mood for visitors tonight. ‘Are you expecting anyone?’ she asked Bertha. Her gran shook her head. ‘Unless it’s someone wanting one of me potions.’ Due to her incapacity, her supply of remedies was just about depleted, so it wasn’t likely she could satisfy the needs of whoever was calling.

The knock came again, more demanding this time.

Aidy sighed. ‘Whoever it is isn’t going to give up are they? I’ll peep round the kitchen curtain, see who it is before I answer it.’

In the kitchen she secreted herself to one side of the sink, tweaked the faded curtain aside and strained her neck in an effort to see who their caller was. Whoever it was they were standing too close to the door for her to make them out but it was a man, that much she could tell. Then he stepped back and she had a full view of him. It was Arch.

She let the curtain fall back into place in case he spotted her. Why was he here? Had he come to beg her to give their marriage another go? Had he heard she’d lost her job and come to gloat? But then, did it even matter to her what he had come for? She was not yet ready for another face to face with him, still smarting from their last encounter. But was it fair of her to ignore him, not afford him even the courtesy of listening to what he had to say? She heard the clunk of his boots on the cobbles then, the back gate squeak its opening and closing. He had saved her the decision.

Returning to her seat in the armchair, she told her grandmother, ‘Whoever it was had gone.’ Outwardly she appeared calm and composed but inwardly her heart was breaking, her insides churning, her feelings divided. She still loved Arch, but was mourning the loss of the man she had thought her husband to be. The luxury of having time to come to terms with all this was not to be afforded her. She had people she loved beyond measure reliant on her to protect them. She had promised her dead mother she would, and had every intention of honouring that promise to the best of her ability.

Taking a deep breath, she announced to Bertha, ‘When the kids are in bed I’m going to work out how much to put aside for the rent and for coal … milk … gas. Well, if it comes to it, we can do without light, make do with candles. And what’s left … well, we’ll have to be very careful with until I get set on again. Thank goodness we don’t owe anybody anything.’ Then a thought struck her. ‘Oh, yes, we do. I’d forgotten about the Doc’s bill.’

Bertha mused, ‘Time was a pie or a cake or a bit of cleaning and washing would have done that. But I suppose the new chap has to pay his bills in cash, the same as us. I’ve a few shillin’ in me remedy money jar, which might just about cover it.’

Aidy prayed it would or they’d just have to hope they didn’t have any need of his medical assistance for a long time to come.