more attention, but instead had given them bits and bobs to play with, old cotton reels and paper to cut into shapes, getting increasingly annoyed if they tried to distract her. When their mother was alive, they may have lacked money, but they had never lacked love. The housework would be abandoned if Archie or James wanted a cuddle, and when the others came home from school, she had listened patiently as they chatted away.
Everything had changed when she died. Now, when the kids came home Emma was often cross with them for getting under her feet, happy for them to play out on the streets until dinner was ready. God, no wonder they were running wild.
With a small groan, Emma hugged herself. She’d been so wrapped up in trying to run the home as her mother had that she’d forgotten the most important thing. Love. No wonder James and Archie were happy to live with Alice, going downstairs on Tuesday morning without demur. Alice had been wonderful, letting them run upstairs to Emma whenever they wanted, but the novelty soon wore off and for the rest of the day their trips grew more and more infrequent.
‘I want to live with Alice too,’ Susan said, breaking into Emma’s thoughts.
When Emma looked at her sister she saw Susan’s mouth drooping despondently, the child close to tears. Time to turn over a new leaf, she thought, and smiling softly, she rose to stroke Susan’s hair. ‘Oh, love, I’d miss you something rotten. What would I do without you to cuddle up to at night?’
Susan managed a small smile in return, but she obviously wasn’t completely mollified. ‘Alice’s flat is much nicer than ours, and I bet she buys loads of stuff for James and Archie. It ain’t fair, Em.’
‘Once I get a job we’ll be able to have new things too. I’ll be able to save up to buy us some decent clothes, and this winter I promise you’ll get a nice new coat.’
‘Me too?’ Bella cried, followed by an echo from Ann.
‘Yes, you too,’ Emma placated, ‘and what about you, Luke? What would you like?’
Luke’s head dipped to one side. ‘Well…if we’ve got the money, I’d like a cat, a ginger one. I like cats.’
‘We’ll see, but don’t forget that in future when you come home from school, you’ll all have little jobs to do.’
‘We know,’ Luke said.
Emma held out her arms to her youngest sister, gratified when Ann ran into them. ‘When I’m not here, be a good girl and do what Luke tells you.’
Ann’s head burrowed into Emma’s chest. ‘All right, Em.’
With a small sigh Emma closed her eyes. She hoped they’d be all right. Alice had agreed that they could run to her if there was an emergency, and that had eased her mind. Now all she wanted was to find a decent job, something she intended to do as soon as the kids left for school in the morning.
* * *
At five thirty the next morning, Emma heard Dick stirring, and she too rolled carefully off the mattress to follow him down the ladder.
She hated lighting the fire during the summer months, but without it she wouldn’t be able to boil a kettle or cook anything for the kids’ breakfasts. As soon as these tasks were completed she would thankfully douse it, and it wouldn’t be rekindled until she had to cook dinner.
‘You don’t usually get up this early,’ Dick said as he went to the sink for a sluice down, afterwards drying himself on a piece of rag.
‘If I get a job today I’ll have to get used to it. There’ll be loads to do before the kids go to school and I might as well start as I mean to go on.’
‘Loads to do? Such as?’
‘Well, after sorting the kids I’ll need to prepare dinner in advance and it takes a while to get the vegetables ready. Then I’ll have to cook them, at least partly, finishing them off when I come home.’
‘Yeah, I suppose so. I’d best get a move on or I’ll be late.’
‘What about your breakfast?’
‘Charlie always gets me a bacon roll from the café and a nice big mug of tea too.’
‘He’s a good boss, you’re lucky.’
‘Yeah, he ain’t bad, but he’s a bit of a slave-driver at times. Still, it could be worse. See you later,’ he called, the door shutting behind Dick before Emma had time to reply.
Emma’s stomach rumbled. A bacon roll! What she wouldn’t give for a bacon roll. One day, she thought, cheering herself up. If she found a good job they could all have bacon again. She went to the sink, pulling the metal bucket out from underneath and picking out vegetables to use in a stew. God, she was sick of vegetable stew, sick of eating the same thing every day. With her first pay packet she’d grab the ration book and head for the butcher’s. At the thought of meat, her mouth salivated.
When the kids got up, chaos reigned. As though to show their displeasure at this change of routine, all except Luke played up. Susan said she felt ill, but when Emma felt her forehead, there was no sign of a fever. Used to Susan’s wily ways to get out of school, Emma ignored her whines as she encouraged them to dress, sad that despite her best efforts they still looked like a band of ragamuffins.
She made the porridge, handing each of them a bowl, but when Susan sat on the floor, taking her first mouthful, she grimaced. ‘It’s horrible, Em. Ain’t we got any sugar left?’
‘No. You had the last of the sugar that Alice gave us yesterday.’
‘I can’t eat it without sugar.’
‘Then you’ll go hungry,’ Emma said impatiently.
Susan pouted, took a few more mouthfuls, but abandoned the rest. The others ate without complaint, and at last they were ready for school.
‘Now then,’ Emma said firmly, ‘off you go. I’ll be looking for a job today and may not be here when you come home from school. If that’s the case you all know what you have to do.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll look after them,’ Luke said.
‘I know you will,’ Emma said, smiling at her brother, ‘but don’t forget what I said. Don’t try to light the fire. I’ll do it when I come home.’
Luke nodded, but as Emma looked at the girls she saw the confusion and uncertainty in their eyes. Remembering her determination to turn over a new leaf, she hugged them one by one, saying reassuringly, ‘You’ll be fine with Luke and…and I’ll see you later. Be good at school,’ she added as they reluctantly shuffled off.
The door had hardly closed when Emma heard her father coming down the ladder. He scratched his head, then a fit of coughing racked his body.
‘I don’t suppose there’s any tea going?’ he croaked.
‘Since when have we had money for tea? I used to dry nettles for Mum, but you never drank it.’
‘I can’t stand the stuff.’
Emma said nothing. She hated talking to her father and avoided it as much as possible. Instead of sitting down he went to the sink, gulping down a mug of water before sluicing more over his head. Emma left him to it, climbing the stairs to the loft again.
She needed to get ready, and hoped the clothes she had sorted out the night before would be all right. She’d carefully ironed a blouse, but the pattern had almost faded, the material worn thin. The skirt wasn’t too bad, though you could see a line where the hem had been taken down, which no amount of ironing could hide. She had no stockings, but hoped nobody would notice, and lifting her hand to touch her hair, wished she had something to pin it up. It felt stiff, lank, but without soap she’d only been able to rinse it with cold water. Pulling at the tangles with her fingers, she did the best she could, then returned downstairs.
The room was empty, her father gone, no doubt late for work again. This was a common occurrence and he