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?
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