dirty little buggers showed her their willies, and pulled up her skirt.’
‘They what!’ she screeched. ‘Bloody hell, you’d better come in.’
Lily stepped inside, but when they walked into the kitchen she was puzzled by Tommy’s reaction. Instead of fear, Tommy just smiled when he saw her. He was a nice-looking lad with dark hair and green eyes, but at only fourteen, coming up fifteen, his build was tall and lanky. Lily fixed her eyes on his face, waiting to see his guilt when his mother spoke to him angrily.
‘Mrs Jackson says you got hold of her daughter. Is that right?’
‘Got hold of her. What do you mean?’
‘Did you and Larry show Mavis your thingies?’
A light seemed to dawn in Tommy’s eyes. ‘Oh, yeah, but that was about a month ago and we only did it’ cos she asked us to.’
‘She asked you to?’
‘Yeah, Mum. She’s a bit funny, a weirdo, and every chance she gets the daft cow latches on to us. She’s always trying to get us to show her our willies and, just to shut her up, we did.’
‘You’re lying,’ Lily snapped. ‘It wasn’t like that and you know it.’
‘Ask Larry if you don’t believe me,’ Tommy said.
‘Oh, I will, you can be sure of that.’
‘Tommy, swear to me that you’re telling the truth,’ Olive ordered.
‘Mum, I swear,’ Tommy said earnestly. ‘On my life, we didn’t touch her.’
Olive turned to fix her eyes on Lily. ‘I know my son and he’s telling the truth. If you ask me, it’s your daughter who needs sorting out. It sounds like she’s acting like a little tart.’
Shocked and floundering, Lily said, ‘I’ll see what Larry has to say.’ She spun around and without another word marched out of the house.
When Mavis left school she ran almost all the way to the route Sandra would take on her way home. She had to find her, to talk to her, her face pinched with anxiety as she scanned the street.
At last Mavis saw Sandra walking along, thankfully alone, and, quickening her pace, she caught up with her. ‘Sandra, please, you know what I told you this morning? Please, please, don’t tell anyone.’
‘Mavis, it’s all right. I only told my mum.’
‘Oh, no! No! She’ll pass it on to my mum. Oh, God, she’ll kill me!’ Hand over her mouth, Mavis fled.
‘Wait, you didn’t do anything wro …’
Blood pounding in her ears, Mavis didn’t hear Sandra. She ran blindly at first, but then unable to carry on she at last stopped, her chest heaving as she drew in great gulps of air. How could she go home now? How could she face her mother?
Feet dragging, Mavis made her way to Mrs Pugh’s house, and when the woman opened the door, she felt she had found sanctuary.
‘Hello, Mavis, come on in,’ the woman said. ‘You look upset. Are you all right?’
It was a quarter to five, but Mrs Pugh hadn’t said anything about her tardiness and, fighting for composure, Mavis said, ‘Ye … yes, I’m fine.’
‘I expect you’re a little nervous, but there’s no need. I’m not an ogre, though I am rather fussy when it comes to cleaning. We’ll concentrate on the sitting room today,’ Mrs Pugh said, indicating with a crook of her finger that Mavis should follow her.
Despite feeling sick with fear at the thought of going home, Mavis found her eyes widening. The room was immaculate. There was a cream and brown brocade three piece suite, the sofa facing the fireplace and a chair each side. The curtains were also cream, sumptuous, and under the window there was a mahogany sideboard with a crystal rose bowl on top. In one corner she saw a glass-fronted cabinet, full of porcelain figurines, and now another fear made her heart pound. Oh, please, she inwardly begged, don’t let me break anything.
‘Now, Mavis, as your mother told me you can be a bit clumsy, I’ve already dusted the ornaments. I’d like you to vacuum the carpet, and then under the cushions on my three piece suite. Is that all right, my dear?’
Mrs Pugh was smiling, her voice kind. Mavis found herself relaxing a little. ‘Ye … yes.’
‘Right then, take off your coat and hang it in the hall. I don’t want any marks on my furniture, so before you start please wash your hands. You’ll then find my vacuum cleaner in the cupboard under the stairs.’
‘Wh … where do I go to wash my hands?’
‘Come with me,’ Edith Pugh said, leading Mavis back into the hall. She then opened a door that revealed a small cloakroom with a lavatory and sink.
Mavis walked inside, and though still flustered, she couldn’t help marvelling at the luxury of an inside lav. She ran water into the sink and washed her hands, but seeing a beautiful white, fluffy towel hanging on a small rail, she looked at it worriedly. What if she marked it? Deciding not to risk it, she wiped her hands on her skirt and then stepped outside to see Edith Pugh waiting.
‘May I see your hands, Mavis?’
Surprised, Mavis held them out.
‘Yes, that’s better, but you haven’t scrubbed under your nails. I’m sorry, my dear, I know I’m fussy but, as I said, I don’t want my furniture marked. Do them again and use the nail brush this time.’
Mavis did as she was told, but even with the small nail brush it took her a long time to remove all the grime. Oh, if only she could stay here. If only she didn’t have to go home and face her mother. At last, her fingers feeling sore, she faced Mrs Pugh again, thankful that this time her hands passed inspection.
‘Right, Mavis, I’ll leave you to it,’ the woman said and after showing her the understairs cupboard, she at last went down the hall and into the kitchen.
Mavis started work, and though her mind was raging, she made sure to cover every inch of carpet around the furniture. Gran! She could go there. No, no, Gran would be just as disgusted when she found out and wouldn’t want to take her in. Yet surely going to Gran’s was better than going home.
‘Mavis, have you vacuumed under the suite?’
Startled, Mavis spun round. ‘Er … no.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, but that isn’t good enough. I told you yesterday that we’d give one room a day a thorough clean, so please don’t cut corners. Now do under the suite.’
‘Yes, Mrs Pugh,’ Mavis said meekly.
This time the woman didn’t leave, but stood watching as Mavis heaved one of the chairs to one side. It was worse when it came to the sofa, but somehow she managed to move it, thankful to see a look of approval on Mrs Pugh’s face when she’d finished.
‘Well done, Mavis, and now that just leaves under the cushions. When you’ve done that, come through to the kitchen.’
Mavis had felt uncomfortable with Mrs Pugh watching her and was glad when she left. She still wasn’t sure what to make of the woman. One minute she seemed kind, the next strict and stern—but even being here with Mrs Pugh was preferable to facing her mother.
Edith’s body was aching and she hobbled with pain to sit by the kitchen fire. Mavis had seemed nervous and upset when she arrived, but other than that, so far so good, she decided.
Mavis had meekly followed her orders and it boded well, but there was a long way to go yet. To forward her plans Edith knew she had to strike the right note. There had to be a measure of firmness, together with kindness, and somehow she had to ensure that Mavis was more presentable.
Edith laid her head back, finding that the distant hum of the vacuum cleaner was soothing. She closed her eyes, drifting,