her, the girl’s startlingly blue eyes wide with concern.
‘Yes, yes, I was just having a little nap. Have you finished in the sitting room?’
‘Yes, and I’ve put the cleaner away.’
‘Good girl,’ Edith said as she glanced at the clock. ‘You still have fifteen minutes to go, so do you think you could manage to make a cup of tea and then peel some potatoes?’
‘Er … yes.’
‘I won’t get up, but you’ll find everything you need easily enough.’
As Mavis moved away, Edith watched her every move and at first she looked competent enough. However, when it came to handling the teapot, Edith could see that the girl’s hands were trembling. She’d prepared for this, making sure that her old Brown Betty was in use, along with a couple of odd cups and saucers. Yes, Mavis was nervous, but Edith was sure that she wasn’t as bad as Lily Jackson had indicated. In fact, she was sure that a lot of the girl’s problems were due to lack of confidence, probably a result of the constant criticism she received, and not just from her mother.
Edith had seen a lot when she’d been school secretary—had taken an interest and observed many children she was sure just needed extra help. Of course, class sizes, along with lack of time, made it impossible for the teachers to concentrate on just a few children and though some were more prepared than others to put in the extra mile, Edith was sure that what these children needed was specialised schools.
Eyes closing with sadness, Edith wished she had been able to fulfil her dream of becoming a teacher. The war and then having Alec had put paid to that. Now, of course, with multiple sclerosis, it would remain just a dream, yet perhaps, just perhaps, she could put her theories to the test with Mavis.
When the tea was made, Mavis carefully covered the pot with the cosy, and then looked at the tray that Edith had already set with two cups and saucers, a sugar bowl and small jug of milk. ‘Pour one for both of us,’ Edith said, ‘but no sugar for me.’
Mavis looked worried, but Edith made sure she looked unconcerned. Hesitantly the girl poured two cups of tea, her hands shaking so much that tea slopped into the saucers.
‘Thank you, my dear.’
‘I … I’m sorry I spilt some.’
‘Oh, it’s only a little,’ Edith said, hiding her fastidiousness as she poured the tea from the saucer, back into her cup. ‘Do drink yours and then get on with the potatoes. Four medium-sized ones cut in half should be enough. It’s too early to put them on yet, so just leave them in a saucepan of cold water.’
‘Yes, Mrs Pugh.’
When Mavis was finished, Edith again looked at the clock. She had worked for just over an hour, but the first ten minutes had been wasted just getting the girl to wash her hands properly. However, she now needed her out of the house and struggled to her feet. ‘Thank you, Mavis. You’ve done really well and I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘I … I’m not in any hurry, Mrs Pugh. In fact, I’d be happy to stay longer.’
‘No, my dear, you get off home. I told your mother an hour and she must be expecting you.’
The colour seemed to drain from Mavis’s face. ‘She … she won’t mind.’
Edith was puzzled. Mavis seemed reluctant to go home, in fact, almost afraid. ‘Is there something wrong, Mavis? Are you in some sort of trouble with your mother?’
‘No, but … but what about the cups? I could wash them up.’
Edith didn’t want the girl here when Alec came home and he was due in about fifteen minutes. Until she had sorted Mavis out, she wanted to keep them apart as much as possible, and it would be difficult enough at weekends. ‘Thank you, Mavis, but I’ll see to the cups. Off you go now.’
With reluctance, Mavis walked with Edith to the door. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Pugh.’
‘Goodbye, Mavis,’ Edith said, pleased when she closed the door behind the girl that her instincts had been right. Mavis wasn’t happy at home. And judging from the way she had worked, with more coaching, she was indeed the perfect choice.
Larry Barnet and his mother had been out and Lily had been forced to go back an hour later. This time they were home and without preamble she confronted Larry, told him what Kate Truman had said; but, like Tommy, he looked horrified, his large, brown eyes wide with innocence.
‘It wasn’t us! It was her,’ he protested, going on to tell a story that matched Tommy’s.
‘Now look,’ Jill Barnet said. ‘I know they shouldn’t have done it, but your daughter asked them to get their willies out. Boys will be boys and at this age they’re curious. With Mavis asking for it, you should thank your lucky stars that it didn’t go any further.’
‘But it did. They threw her on the ground, lifted her skirt, and if someone hadn’t come along I dread to think what would have happened. Mavis was able to run off, but she was frightened out of her wits and, if you ask me, she had a lucky escape.’
‘We didn’t do that, Mum, we didn’t,’ Larry cried. ‘It was her. She pulled up her skirt, wanted us to see that she was different to us.’
‘That isn’t true! You’re telling lies.’
Jill Barnet bristled. ‘Hold your horses, lady. You said earlier you heard about this from Kate Truman. If your daughter is so innocent, and was scared out of her wits when she ran off, how come she didn’t tell you about it herself?’
Lily floundered. Yes, why hadn’t Mavis told her? It had happened a month ago, but she had no memories of her running home frightened.
Jill spoke again, and Lily saw the pity in her eyes. ‘I think you need to talk to Mavis. If she keeps up this sort of behaviour, she could end up in trouble.’
With a gasp, Lily turned on her heel. She marched out, hurried home and slammed the door behind her. In the kitchen she began to pace, going over and over what she had heard.
Dark clouds gathered in Lily’s mind, a storm building, and when she came to a conclusion, it broke with ferocity. When she got her hands on Mavis, she’d kill her! It was bad enough that her daughter was backward, but to find out that she was a little slut was like a slap in the face.
Lily craved respectability. She wanted to be like the other women in the street, ones whose husbands provided for them, and had prayed that Ron meant all his promises this time. Yes, he was a known gambler, but if he really did change and start up his own business, she would at last be able to hold her head high. Lily fumed with anger. It was never going to happen, and now this! Mavis was acting like a tramp and the gossips would have a field day. She’d never live it down. Never! Lily’s eyes flew to the clock. Where was Mavis? It was after six, and though she was doing an hour’s cleaning for Edith Pugh, the girl should have been home by now.
By seven, Lily was almost at the end of her tether, her mind still dark with fury. She flung her coat on and stormed out of the house, determined to find Mavis.
It was a good walk to Edith Pugh’s house, yet it didn’t calm Lily. She banged loudly on the woman’s door, tapping her foot with impatience until it was opened, and saying bluntly, ‘Is my daughter still here?’
The young man frowned as he peered out at her. ‘Your daughter?’
‘Yes, Mavis—Mavis Jackson.’
‘Oh, Mavis. No, she isn’t here.’
‘Do you know where she is?’
‘No, I’m afraid she left before I arrived home.’
‘What about your mother? Does