Lily’s mind was racing. If Ron really did mean it this time, their lives would be transformed. He’d be able to go into partnership with Pete, and the money would come rolling in … Oh, what was the matter with her? It was a silly dream. Ron would never give up gambling—years of broken promises were enough to prove that. ‘It’s all pie in the sky,’ she snapped. ‘As soon as you get your first pay packet you’ll be down the dog track.’
‘Ah, that’s just it. I won’t be able to. There’s no greyhound racing in Bracknell.’
For a moment, Lily dared to believe that Ron could change, but then common sense prevailed. ‘You’d find a track somewhere, or something else to gamble on. It’s a sickness with you, Ron, and you know it.’
‘Yes, but this time I really do want the cure. Pete and me will be in the same accommodation and if I’m tempted he’ll keep me on the straight and narrow, you’ll see.’
‘So you say, but I won’t be there to see it. You could be up to anything and I wouldn’t know.’
‘All right, you don’t trust me and I can understand that, but surely you trust Pete?’
‘Yes, he’s a good bloke, but he ain’t your keeper. If you really want to give up gambling, it’s down to you.’
‘Lily, I promise you, cross my heart and hope to die, I really am going to make it this time,’ Ron said as he stood up to pull her into his arms again. ‘I don’t deserve you, I know that, but I’ll make you proud this time.’
Once again his lips caressed her neck, and this time Lily didn’t pull away. Ron lifted her up with ease, cupping her legs in his arms as he carried her upstairs.
Mavis was so tired, her feet throbbing and the pram three-quarters full as she knocked on the last door in the street. The houses were large, with several steps leading up to the front doors, but she’d had many shut in her face. She’d also narrowly avoided a copper on his beat by diving out of sight. If she got a few things from this last house, with any luck she could make her way home. Mavis waited, fingers crossed, and when the door opened, she found herself confronted by a wizened old woman bundled up in what looked like several jumpers and a cardigan.
Blimey, Mavis thought, she looks scruffier than me but, taking a deep breath, she said politely, ‘I’m sorry to bother you, but have you got any household items or clothes that you want to get rid of?’
‘Get rid of! Do you mean sell them to you?’
Mavis told the usual lie, the one her mother had advised. ‘Oh, no, I don’t want to buy anything. I’m collecting for charity, stuff to pass on to the Salvation Army.’
‘I see,’ the tiny woman said. ‘In that case, you’d better come in and I’ll see what I can find.’
It was unusual to be invited in, but Mavis followed her into the house, along a hall and into a living room. There was no fire burning in the huge grate; the room was freezing, and she saw an old quilt draped over a chair that had been pushed to one side. Was that all she had for warmth? The room was huge, but with wallpaper peeling and an absence of any pictures or ornaments, it felt bleak.
‘I haven’t got much, my dear, but perhaps these candlesticks,’ the woman said as she reached up to remove them from the mantelpiece, handing them to Mavis.
They weren’t very large, blackened, and it was no wonder she hadn’t noticed them, Mavis thought, as she took them from the woman’s hands. She saw the marks through the grime but, after another swift look around the dismal room, Mavis quickly handed them back. This might be a large house, the outside appearance one of wealth, but even her small home in Cullen Street had a little more comfort. ‘No, no, I can’t take these. I’m sure they’re made of silver.’
‘Really? Are you sure?’
Mavis couldn’t decipher the symbols, but knew what they were called. ‘Yes, look, you can just about see the hallmarks.’
‘Oh, dear, in that case I’m afraid I can’t give them to you. They’re saleable, but surely I can find something for the Salvation Army. Let’s have a look in the kitchen.’
Once again Mavis followed the old woman, but found the kitchen as austere as the living room. Oh, this was dreadful, she thought. The poor woman must be penniless to live like this. Cupboards were opened, most almost empty, including the pantry. Once again Mavis was swamped with guilt. She had lied to the woman and now all she wanted was to get away. ‘It’s all right. It doesn’t matter. I’ve collected loads of stuff already and I really must go now.’
‘But it’s such a worthy cause and I’d like to help,’ the woman insisted, pulling something from a bottom cupboard. ‘What about this?’
Mavis carefully took the china biscuit barrel, its metal lid black with dirt. ‘Thank you. This is fine and more than enough,’ she said. Before the old lady could protest, Mavis fled the kitchen, ran down the hall, pulling the front door closed behind her before almost skidding down the few stairs and onto the pavement.
Full pram or not, Mavis just wanted to go home. She had looked with envy at the large houses, imagined the luxurious interiors, but seeing inside one was a revelation. That poor old woman had nothing, yet was still prepared to donate something to charity.
Mavis put the biscuit barrel in the pram. And then, deciding to risk her mother’s wrath that the pram wasn’t full, she started the long walk home. Oh, if only she didn’t have to do this. If only she could find a job when she left school, but, as her mother always pointed out, nobody in their right mind would employ her. Downcast, she trudged along, worn out and hungry by the time she reached Cullen Street.
Lily was feeling warm and mellow. After making love they had come downstairs again and now Ron was sitting by the fire, his feet on the surround, talking so enthusiastically about his plans that Lily was beginning to feel that he really could make it this time.
The back door opened and Mavis walked in, smiling with delight when she saw her father. ‘Hello, Dad.’
‘How’s my girl?’
‘So, you’re back,’ Lily interrupted. ‘Let’s see how you got on.’
‘The pram isn’t full.’
‘I told you not to come home until it was.’
‘Lily, leave it out,’ Ron protested. ‘You shouldn’t send her out tramping the streets; she looks frozen.’
Lily’s good mood vanished. How dare Ron criticise her? Hands on hips, she spat, ‘The fact that Mavis has to go out scrounging is down to you, Ron, not me. You blow your money every week, leaving me to somehow find the rent, let alone food. I have to send Mavis out. If I didn’t, we’d bloody well starve.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry, love,’ Ron said ruefully. ‘I know you do your best, but things really are going to change.’
‘Huh. I’ll believe it when I see it.’ And with that Lily marched out to the yard. She rummaged through the pram, relieved to see that Mavis hadn’t broken anything, and saw a few things that would show a bit of profit. She could have done with more. It was just as well she had other plans now, but then, seeing what looked like a half-decent biscuit barrel, Lily felt a surge of pleasure, her bad mood lifting as she gave it a closer inspection. The rest of the stuff could wait until later, and Lily threw a cover over the pram in case of rain.
Mavis was sitting by the fire when Lily went back inside, smiling happily to be with her father. ‘You did all right, and this is a really good find,’ Lily said, holding up the biscuit barrel. ‘If I’m not mistaken, it could be antique and the lid’s silver.’
‘Oh,