Ron swiftly crushed Lily in his arms. ‘Bye, darling.’
‘Bye,’ she whispered, then kissed him fiercely.
He gave Mavis a hug, and then picked up his case, unable to look at his wife and daughter again as he walked out, leaving Mavis with tears streaming down her cheeks.
When Lily heard the door close behind her husband, she stared down at the five-pound note in her hand. She didn’t believe for one minute that Ron had loaned it to Pete. How many times had he bailed Ron out? She’d lost count, but nevertheless she was thankful for his consideration. Oh, why couldn’t Ron be more like Pete? A man who was so steady and reliable that it was a wonder he hadn’t been snapped up years ago. It was his looks, of course, women unable to get past his pugnacious face and baldness; yet if they got to know him, they’d realise that he had a heart of gold. Pete was thirty-eight now, but still a bachelor, and what a shame because he’d make someone a perfect husband. Unlike Ron, she thought, ruefully. Yet from the first time she’d seen him, he’d been the only man for her. Of course, she hadn’t known that he’d turn out to be an addicted gambler, and was mad to stay with him, but when all was said and done, she still loved him.
Lily’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud sob. Mavis was still crying, and though in truth she felt like crying too, Lily had long since learned to hide her feelings; had refused to let people see how their pity affected her. Not only that, when it came to selling, if people thought she was soft, they’d take advantage of her.
‘Oh, for goodness sake, Mavis, stop blubbing. All right, your dad’s working away, but it ain’t the end of the world. He’ll be back before you know it. Now shut your noise and get ready for school.’
Mavis fled upstairs and, thankful for the peace, Lily sank onto a kitchen chair. It was great to have a fiver but, with no guarantee that Ron would keep his word, she’d have to make it last. Still, with some decent stuff to sell, especially the biscuit barrel, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little treat. She’d start by cooking the egg and a couple of pieces of toast. Mavis could have that, but once the girl was at school, she’d buy a couple more eggs along with a bit of bacon. Bacon, Lily thought, smiling blissfully.
It was ten minutes before Mavis showed her face again, wan looking, but dressed. At least she wasn’t crying now, so Lily placed the breakfast in front of her, saying, ‘Go on, eat it up.’
‘Me! But what about you?’
‘I’ll have something later.’
Despite being upset about her father leaving, Mavis tucked in, bolting the food down as though frightened her mother would change her mind.
‘Come on, Mavis, wash your face and then get a move on. Don’t forget to go to Mrs Pugh’s after school.’
‘Can I go to Gran’s first? I was supposed to get her some jellied eels yesterday, but I forgot.’
‘Leave it out, you idiot. What sort of impression will it make if you’re late on your first day? I’m popping round to your gran’s later so I’ll get them. Keep the money your gran gave you and you can have a school dinner. Now as I said, get a move on.’
Mavis at last moved, but when she reappeared with her coat on, Lily saw the tell-tale bulge underneath it and her eyes narrowed. ‘Hold it, my girl. What are you hiding?’
‘N … nothing.’
‘Don’t give me that. Hand it over.’
‘Mum … please, let me take it back. Dad left you some money, and he’s going to send more.’
‘Take what back?’ Lily asked, but then the penny dropped and she looked at the sideboard to see that the biscuit barrel was missing. ‘You … you …’ she ground out through clenched teeth and, marching up to Mavis, she pulled back her coat to snatch the barrel. ‘I’ve a good mind to give you a bloody good hiding.’
Mavis cringed as Lily raised her hand, but begged, ‘Please, Mum, that old lady was really poor.’
‘Poor! Don’t make me laugh. She probably owns the big house you said she lived in. She could sell it—buy something smaller and be stinking rich—whereas all I’ve got to flog is this biscuit barrel.’
‘You … you’ve got five pounds.’
‘Yes, but it’s got to last us until God knows when, or are you daft enough to believe that your precious father is going to send me more?’
‘He … he might.’
‘Yes, you said it, he might. Now get out of my sight, you silly soft sod, and think yourself lucky you ain’t felt my hand across your face.’
Mavis fled and, after placing the barrel back onto the sideboard, Lily slumped onto a chair again. Mavis trying to sneak the bloody thing out was the last thing she needed. It was bad enough that Ron had left and she dreaded the time they’d be apart, her head thumping as she ran both hands across her face. Mavis had been upset when Ron left too, but despite this the old woman had obviously played on her daughter’s mind. Mavis didn’t have an ounce of sense—that was the trouble.
Lily gulped down her cup of insipid tea. She would go round to see her mother, but wondered what she’d say when she heard that Ron would be working away. There’d be no point in telling her that he was going to turn over a new leaf, especially as her mother had heard it so many times before. She had no time for Ron, and Lily couldn’t blame her. Yet maybe, just maybe, he did really mean it this time.
Mavis was fighting tears. She’d upset her mother again, said the wrong things as usual, but she’d decided to take the biscuit barrel back as soon as she saw her father leaving the five-pound note. She hadn’t thought about the old lady owning that great big house, and had only seen the poverty she lived in. Her mum was right; the woman could sell her house, whereas they had no guarantee that her dad would send more money. Mavis blinked rapidly, wishing she hadn’t upset her mum, especially as she’d given her an egg on toast for breakfast. At any other time she’d have relished it but, worried about getting the biscuit barrel out of the house, she had hardly tasted it.
Nervous of bumping into Tommy and Larry again, her eyes darted along the road, but at least they went to Battersea County School, which was in the opposite direction from hers. If she could just get out of Cullen Street without them spotting her, she’d be safe. Thankfully there was no sign of them, but Sandra Truman from next door was just leaving, and, though she too went to a different school, Battersea Grammar, after exchanging greetings, they fell into step.
‘You’re quiet. What’s up, Mavis?’
‘My dad’s working away and it’ll be ages before he comes back.’
‘Working away? Why?’
‘He’ll be earning more money. When he comes back, he’s gonna start up his own business.’
Sandra looked sceptical, which didn’t surprise Mavis. Everyone knew her dad was a gambler and, living next door, the Trumans must have heard the rows. She and Sandra had been friends when they were younger, but after taking their eleven plus exams things had changed. Sandra was clever, had passed, and had gone on to grammar school. She’d made new friends, all as clever as her, and though they’d tried to include her, Mavis felt inadequate alongside them and had drifted away. It was the same at her secondary school. Unable to keep up, she hadn’t formed any real friendships, knowing that few girls would want to hang around with an idiot like her.
‘I know you’ll miss your dad,’ Sandra said kindly, ‘but it sounds like it’ll be worth it.’
Tommy Wilson came bounding around the corner, clutching a loaf of bread. Mavis froze. She’d