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‘You’re still set on Mary Ellen then?’ Wendy twinkled at him. ‘I remember seeing you at the Christmas party last year … under the mistletoe …’
‘Yeah.’ Billy’s cheeks were slightly pink. ‘We’re promised to each other, but Mary Ellen’s sister won’t let her marry me until I’m doing a proper job – and it will be years before I’m through my apprenticeship.’
‘Well, you’re too young to marry yet, either of you,’ Wendy said. ‘I haven’t seen Mary Ellen for a long time. Is she still working at Parker’s clothing factory in Stepney? I was surprised when she went there; I thought she was set on being a teacher.’
‘Rose made her leave school and be apprenticed in the rag trade,’ Billy said. ‘When she took her to live with her in that posh council flat … Gone up in the world now she’s Sister O’Hanran, has our Rose …’ His eyes flashed with mischief.
‘Well, that is something to be proud of,’ Wendy said. ‘Rose worked very hard, and she always promised that she would have Mary Ellen to live with her when she could afford her own place.’
‘Mary Ellen wanted to stay here with me.’
‘It’s only because Sister Beatrice likes you that you can stay,’ Wendy reminded him. ‘Most of the boys leave at fifteen and you’re eighteen now.’
‘Yeah and I ought to be earning more money,’ Billy grumbled. ‘Well, I’ll get out of your way then …’
Wendy smiled as the good-looking lad left the ward. Billy was like one of her family now. She’d come to the home a year or so after he did and she’d stopped on, just as Billy had. He was a part of the place and helped out with little jobs that needed doing. Mr Morris was the caretaker, but in an ancient building like this there was always something that needed doing: washers on taps, cracked basins, stained ceilings when there was a leak in the bathroom, which Billy had found and fixed without them needing to call in a plumber. Sister Beatrice said Billy was useful, and as he had no family around she’d let him stay on, even though he was working. Wendy suspected the stern nun had a soft spot for the rebellious boy who’d done so well since he joined them at St Saviour’s. He ate sandwiches at work during the day but had his breakfast and supper with the older boys at the home, many of whom still looked up to him. Billy had gained quite a reputation for winning cups for running and football, and he still acted as a monitor at times, keeping some of the wilder ones in order and taking them to football practice in a battered old shooting brake he and a friend borrowed sometimes. Once he’d passed his driving test and could drive without supervision, he hoped to get a small van of his own. It would help with the football team he’d organised for the local youth club, to which most of the lads belonged.
Sister Beatrice had been given the discretion to choose when her children were ready to move on. It was the one clause she’d stipulated when the contracts had been drawn up and the local authority moved in.
‘I must be allowed to decide when my children are sufficiently settled to move on,’ she’d said, fighting tooth and nail for the principles she believed in. ‘Moving a disturbed or vulnerable child out to a place where he or she feels isolated or uneasy can set them back years. While I agree that the fresh air and better facilities at Halfpenny House are so much better for them, their mental state and ability to accept that move is paramount. If everything is to be done in a matter of days I am not the person for the job.’
Mark and Angela had done battle on her behalf, both with the Board of St Saviour’s charity, and the local authorities, who had wanted to impose their own ideas. However, such was the esteem she was held in by the local police, community bigwigs and general population, that her terms were accepted, and even Miss Ruth Sampson, who was still in overall charge of the local Children’s Department, had agreed that they needed Sister Beatrice if the swell of public feeling was to be appeased. Over the years of hardship she’d become firmly entrenched in the hearts and minds of the people of the area and was known as the Angel of ’Alfpenny Street to everyone. Women who slammed their doors in the faces of the council busybodies opened them to Sister Beatrice with a smile and the offer of a cup of tea.
St Saviour’s wasn’t quite the same as it had been in Angela’s time. She’d started up all kinds of schemes to keep the children busy and formed a team spirit amongst the orphans, most of whom had known poverty and tragedy. These days the children were brought here for a while to get over their bereavement and to learn to cope with life again without the parents they’d lost, but then most were moved out to Halfpenny House in Essex, unless they were considered to need a more specialised home. Billy was different. He would never have settled anywhere but the East End of London, and because she knew that, Sister Beatrice had provided him with a home until he could find his own.
Wendy knew how difficult it was to find somewhere decent to live. She’d stayed on in the nurses’ home for a while and taken her time before getting herself a nice little maisonette in one of the renovated buildings within walking distance of St Saviour’s, but she hadn’t done that until after she knew St Saviour’s was going to be her life. At one time she’d hoped that she might marry Andre and live in France, but the shrapnel in his head had moved sharply and entered his brain. Wendy had been horrified when she’d received the telephone call asking her to come at once. It had been too late when she got there. Mercifully, Andre had felt little pain, because it had happened so quickly. Wendy had understood that he’d been badly wounded in the war, but he’d seemed to be well and the shock of his death had devastated her, destroying her last hopes of marriage and a family.
If it hadn’t been for the twins, Sarah and Samantha May, who had some years previously come to them near to starving after their father abandoned them, she wasn’t sure what she would’ve done. Wendy had been instrumental in rescuing them when their uncaring aunt had tried to separate them and she’d accompanied them to their new home in France when their mother’s sister had claimed them, seeing them settled and happy before returning to London. When a couple of years or so later, Andre died and Wendy had wept bitter tears, Sarah had wound loving arms about her and sung her a lullaby in French, and, in remembering all the young girl had suffered, loving her and promising her that she wouldn’t be sad and she would always be her friend, Wendy had found solace.
Eventually, she’d made a nice home for herself above a sweet shop just off Commercial Road, but she knew Billy wouldn’t be able to afford anything like her flat on his wages; it was hard for youngsters with no family to find anywhere decent to live, even though a lot of new building had been going on since the war. If you didn’t dwell on the loss of life, Hitler had done them a favour really, bombing the slums, because there were better homes to be had now; flats and council houses further out in the suburbs. Yet Wendy hated the war and everything to do with it; she’d lost two men she loved to that awful war, and she knew she would never risk her heart again.
She was a nurse and that would be her life, just as it had been Sister Beatrice’s, even though she wasn’t thinking of becoming a nun. Wendy sensed that something terrible had happened to Sister Beatrice when she was a young woman. It wasn’t just that she’d lost a man she loved – no, it was more than that, because it had gone too deep for her ever to recover. Sister never spoke of her past and Wendy wouldn’t dream of asking her. They were friends and relied on one another in their work, but it didn’t go further than that … she couldn’t ask personal details.
Wendy was thoughtful as she started writing up her report for the day. Nurse Paula would be coming to take over in another twenty minutes. Wendy was visiting Nan and Eddie that evening; they’d asked her to supper to celebrate Eddie’s birthday. He was seventy-two and as forgetful as ever, but he and Nan were like family to Wendy. Alice and her husband Bob would be there too; they had three children now and Alice had given up her part-time work as a carer at St Saviour’s. She didn’t need to work now that her husband had a nice little business of his own. He was in partnership with Alice’s cousin Eric, and was married to Michelle, who had worked with Wendy as a nurse when she first arrived. Michelle had one child but had confided to Wendy that she was expecting her second, and so would be leaving, because with two children she wouldn’t be able to manage to work, at least until they started school – and that meant they would be short-staffed again. They had temporary nurses in to cover holidays, and Paula helped out when she could, but they really did need another full-time nurse.
Wendy had just finished her report when Paula came in. She looked cold and was rubbing her hands.
‘The wind is bitter this evening,’ she told Wendy. ‘You want to wrap up well because you’ll feel it when you get out.’
‘It’s supposed to be spring,’ Wendy said and pulled a wry face. ‘Billy came and fixed the trolley for us. He’s very good at it but he wants a better job so he can get married.’
‘He’s far too young to think about it yet,’ Paula said and shook her head. ‘I’m sure Mary Ellen will tell him she’s not ready to marry yet anyway.’
‘Have you seen her recently?’
‘Yes. I met her in the market just this morning. She was on a break from her job at that factory. She’d popped out to do some shopping for her boss. Apparently, he’s a widower and lives alone now that his kids are grown up …’
Paula broke off as they heard a commotion and then someone burst into the ward. The boy was angry and looked as if he’d been fighting the harassed police sergeant who followed him.
‘Get off me,’ the lad said. ‘I ain’t going to let her wash me. I can look after myself.’
‘I’m sorry, Staff Nurse,’ Sergeant Sallis said. ‘Your carer was just trying to tell them they needed to be bathed and looked at and he broke away from her … Come on, Archie lad, let the young lady look after you. She’s only doing her job.’
‘I’ve told you, we can wash ourselves. We’re not dirty and we’ve not got nits or fleas. Mum kept us proper and I’ve made sure June washes every morning and night. If you’d left us alone, we could’ve looked after ourselves at home …’
‘How were you goin’ to do that, lad?’ Sergeant Sallis asked mildly. ‘You’re still at school. You couldn’t earn enough to feed yourselves, let alone pay the rent and the gas. Besides, the landlord wanted you out of the house, because it’s coming down. Sister Beatrice says you can stay here until we sort your mum out …’
‘She didn’t do it,’ Archie said, glaring at him and then at the nurses. ‘Mum ain’t a thief. She’d belt me round the ear if I pinched anything. I know she didn’t do what they say she did …’
‘I believe you, lad,’ Sergeant Sallis said, ‘but there’s evidence that says she did …’
‘It’s false,’ Archie said and looked angry. ‘She told me someone had set her up, made it look as if she was guilty, but I know Mum wouldn’t do anything like that. She just wouldn’t, however hard-up she was …’
‘We’ll get to the bottom of it,’ Sergeant Sallis promised, but looking at his face Wendy could tell he was worried. ‘Do you know anyone who has it in for your mother, lad? Give me a hint and I’ll do what I can, I give you my word.’
‘She didn’t tell me, but I know she was bothered about something,’ Archie said. ‘She wouldn’t let on, because she wouldn’t want to upset us – and we don’t need to be taken into care. Mum will be home soon and she’ll look after us.’
‘Well, until she is, you’re lucky to be brought here,’ Wendy told him. ‘Look, I’ll tell Tilly that you can wash yourselves – but I need to examine you to make sure you don’t have anything infectious, measles or something like that, all right?’
Archie thought for a moment and then inclined his head reluctantly. ‘As long as you don’t start washing our hair with that horrible stuff like the school nurse does to the kids with nits.’
‘I promise,’ Wendy said, smiled at Archie and went out into the hall with him. ‘You don’t need to stop any longer, Sergeant. Archie is going to be sensible now. We have to look after June, don’t we?’ She looked at the truculent lad and saw him nod. ‘At least here you will have decent food and you don’t have to worry about the rent until your mother comes back.’
‘What will happen to all our things? The landlord says we have to get out and they’re going to pull our row down – but I don’t know what to do with our things.’
‘I’ll talk to Sister Beatrice. She’s the Warden here. I can’t promise anything, but someone ought to be responsible. Perhaps we can find storage for you. Sister knows lots of people and she may be able to arrange it.’
Wendy was thinking it was a job for Angela Adderbury. If she’d been here she would have known someone who could store the family’s possessions, but all Wendy could do was ask Sister for advice.
‘All right …’ Archie said grudgingly. ‘But we shan’t be here long. Mum will be home soon and she’ll find us somewhere to live. I know she didn’t take that money and they can’t keep her in jail if she’s innocent, can they?’
Wendy murmured something appropriate, but she knew life wasn’t that simple or that fair. It wouldn’t be the first time an innocent woman, or man, come to that, had been jailed for a crime they didn’t commit. If life turned out the way it should, Wendy would have a husband and children, but she hadn’t and wouldn’t, and she’d had to learn to accept that – as Archie would accept this in time.
She felt for his bewilderment and his hurt, but for the moment there was nothing she could do to help him, except ensure that he was warm, comfortable and safe.
‘Are you hungry?’ she asked.
Archie hesitated and then inclined his head. ‘We had a sandwich at the police station, but that was ages ago.’
‘As soon as you’ve bathed, changed into our clothes and I’ve made sure you’re healthy, which won’t take a minute, because I can see you’re fine, you can have your supper. I’ll ask Cook to make you some eggs on toast – how about that?’
‘I’d rather have beans,’ Archie said. ‘June likes scrambled eggs though.’
‘One beans on toast, one scrambled eggs,’ Wendy said. ‘Tell you what, I’ll make them myself and have my supper with you in the dining room – what do you think?’
‘Yeah, all right,’ Archie said and grinned at her.
Wendy blinked, because the change in him was amazing. This one was a real charmer, she thought and laughed inside, because there was something infectious about that grin. She found herself drawn to the young lad; he’d been like a tiger in defence of his mother’s honesty and she liked that – found it admirable.
Wendy would talk to Nan and Eddie about the family’s possessions that evening, she decided. Eddie was an old soldier and resourceful. He might know somewhere they could store Mrs Miller’s things so that they wouldn’t be looted or destroyed when the demolition people moved in – and if Eddie could help she would oversee the move herself that weekend …
CHAPTER 3 (#u03c152e8-2afa-5cba-8aba-68f69720a496)
‘Where are you going?’ Rose O’Hanran asked her younger sister as she saw her putting on her boxy red jacket with the swing pleats at the back. ‘Not to meet that Billy Baggins I hope?’
‘Yes, I’m meeting Billy this evening. We’re going to the church social hall. It’s Rock ’n’ Roll night on Fridays. You know we go every week for that …’
Rose snorted her disapproval. She’d done her best to break the bond that had formed between Billy Baggins and Mary Ellen in the years they’d lived at St Saviour’s together. Sometimes, she wished that she’d never taken her sister there, but at the time she’d seemed to have little option. With their mother dying of consumption, Rose had needed to make a choice between staying in the slums to look after her young sister and never achieving her ambition, and putting Mary Ellen in the orphanage so that she could train as a nurse. She’d chosen the latter and it had been a good decision in every way but one.
‘I know that boy will never amount to anything,’ Rose grumbled at her. ‘I’ve told you, Mary Ellen, you could do a lot better.’
‘I love Billy,’ Mary Ellen said and looked rebellious. ‘You made me leave school and go to work as a seamstress and I did as you asked, but I’m not giving Billy up, whatever you say. He’s my friend and one day we’ll get married.’
‘And end up back in some grotty little terrace slum house?’ Rose was scornful. ‘Remember what happened to his brother …’
‘I’m not likely to forget, and nor is Billy,’ Mary Ellen retorted. Arthur Baggins was currently in prison serving the first of twenty years’ hard labour for armed robbery. He’d been released from prison six months previously, fallen in with a gang of rough types and ended up back in jail before he’d had time to catch his breath. ‘You’re wrong to think Billy is like his father or his brother. He works hard and he will get on, I know he will. He’s not going to be just a mechanic forever. One day he’ll drive the coaches as well and maybe he’ll own a garage …’
‘If ifs and ands were pots and pans, there’d be no need for tinker mans,’ Rose chanted, feeling irritated by Mary Ellen’s blind faith in the boy she’d befriended years ago. ‘If he ever amounts to anything I’ll go to China and back.’
‘Be careful, I might keep you to that,’ Mary Ellen laughed and swung her long brown hair back as she picked up her purse and slipped the loop over her wrist. She was dressed in a grey felt full skirt with several layers of net petticoats underneath, the waist nipped in tight with a wide red belt. Her flat shoes were red, and matched her jacket, and she had a red hairband holding her hair back from her face. Her hair wasn’t permed but had a natural bend and she had it cut every three months at the hairdresser near the market. Her lipstick was pale peach and she had a dusting of powder on her nose and cheeks, but didn’t wear a foundation. Because her complexion was so clear, Mary Ellen hardly needed make-up at all, as Rose was always telling her, but she couldn’t stop her because at seventeen she was old enough to know her own mind in most things. ‘I shan’t be later than half past ten.’ She popped a kiss on Rose’s cheek and picked up her scarf, going towards the door.
One good thing about Mary Ellen’s job was that she got a decent discount on all she bought from the factory. Of course she was capable of making her own clothes, and quite often made up a skirt or a shift dress in a night for Rose. There were sometimes offcuts of material left over at the factory, not enough to make a whole garment, but with a bit of skill Mary Ellen turned them into rather fetching and original outfits. Sam, her boss at the factory, had told her she could have these scraps of material cheap, sometimes for nothing, but offcuts were popular with all the seamstresses so Mary Ellen had to take her turn with the others. It meant she had several pretty dresses and skirts to wear, and she’d made sure Rose benefitted too.
‘I’ll give you something for them,’ Rose had offered when Mary Ellen made her a summer skirt and matching bolero jacket, but she refused, saying that Rose had done plenty for her. Her generosity made Rose feel uneasy at times, because she’d always treated Mary Ellen as a duty. For years she’d begrudged the time she’d had to give up to visit her sister and she hadn’t bothered about finding a place to rent where she could have her sister to live with her until it suited her. When the new high-rise flats went up, Rose had known they were for her. Situated a short bus ride from the hospital, where she was now Sister O’Hanran, at reasonable rent and with three bedrooms, it was perfect for them. Although, if she could’ve got a smaller flat she would have taken that; they didn’t need the extra room and Mary Ellen had plagued her to let Billy have it for weeks, until she’d finally given up.
‘I shall be out myself this evening,’ Rose said, capitulating, because she couldn’t forbid Mary Ellen to go to the club when she herself was meeting some friends from work – and one friend in particular. ‘I’ll be home by eleven, so make sure you’re back by then or there will be trouble.’
‘’Course, Rose,’ Mary Ellen’s eyes twinkled with laughter, and Rose was struck by how pretty she looked. For years she’d thought of her as a kid, but she was very definitely a young woman with thoughts and ideas of her own now. ‘I shan’t do anything you wouldn’t …’
She danced off laughing and Rose frowned as she returned to the bedroom to continue dressing. As she fetched the new dress her sister had recently made for her, Rose was feeling excited. Mike Bonner was the registrar for one of the senior consultants at the London Hospital. Rose had admired him from afar for some time now, but although he always smiled when he came to her ward, she hadn’t thought he was interested. This evening he’d asked her to be one of the crowd he’d invited to share his birthday celebrations at a rather smart restaurant that had just opened up West. She would have to catch a bus to get there and that meant coming home alone late at night, which she wasn’t keen on, but it would be worth it if Mike Bonner finally noticed her …
‘Ellie, you look gorgeous,’ Billy said and kissed Mary Ellen softly on the lips as they met at the bus stop. He’d waited outside the youth club for her bus to arrive and it was still chilly in the evenings yet, even though it was April. ‘And you smell delicious – I could eat every bit of you.’
Mary Ellen smiled and touched his hair. Thankfully, Billy didn’t smother his hair with Brylcreem, as some men did, but allowed it to spring up in the same unruly style it always had. The colour was still a riotous red and she was glad, because she didn’t want him to be any other way than the way he was. Without Billy, Mary Ellen knew she would never have made it through the dark days after Rose abandoned her in the orphanage eight years previously.
‘Have you found anywhere to live yet?’ Mary Ellen asked as they joined the queue for the Rock ’n’ Roll club, which was held in St Mary’s church hall and supervised by the man who ran the youth club. The youth club had been started three years earlier by Father Joe, the Catholic priest who had organised so many events for St Saviour’s Orphanage and other kids. After he’d left London to go and work in a mission in Africa for two years, another clergyman had come to take over. He told the kids to call him Peter, and he was an Anglican curate in his first post in Spitalfields. Peter Simmons was involved with many activities for children, and popular with the teenagers who visited the club, because of his easy-going nature. He was keen on rugby and rowing and a member of the same athletics club that Billy frequented at least twice a week and together they’d organised a football team for the local kids, both those from St Saviour’s and any other kids who loved to play. There was no shortage of volunteers, because belonging to a club that played matches was better than kicking a ball about the streets.
‘I went to see a couple of rooms near Assembly Lane yesterday evening,’ Billy said, looking rueful. ‘They were awful and the whole place stank of old cabbage. You would’ve hated it, love. I’m still looking …’
‘I know you are,’ Mary Ellen said and squeezed his hand. ‘I got a rise today – another five bob a week. If we were married we might get a flat somewhere, because with my money we could afford it.’
‘Rose would never let you, not unless I could prove I can keep you, Mary Ellen. You know what she thinks of me … a waster like my brother.’
‘You’re nothing like Arthur,’ Mary Ellen fired up. ‘I’ve told her so many times but she doesn’t listen. She thinks I’m still a kid but I’m not … I’ll be eighteen this Sep-tember and you’ll soon be nineteen; neither of us is a kid now.’
‘No, you’re a real woman, my woman,’ Billy said and slid his arm about her waist, ‘but unfortunately, Rose can stop us gettin’ married until you’re twenty-one. It ain’t fair, because we can drive at seventeen, fight for our country and drink in the pub at eighteen – but we can’t marry until we’re twenty-one without permission. The bloomin’ government should change the law, but what do they know? I’d have to get round Sister B – but that’s a doddle …’ He grinned. ‘Shall I get us a coffee while you take your coat off?’
‘Yes, all right – listen, I love this one. It’s Bill Haley …’
‘Yeah, one of my favourites,’ Billy agreed. He shrugged off his old and much-worn leather bomber jacket, which he’d bought from Petticoat Lane and believed to have belonged to a fighter pilot in the war, and gave it to her. ‘Stick this with yours, love?’
‘’Course,’ Mary Ellen said and took the two jackets through to the cloakroom to hang on a peg. She paused for a moment to fluff her hair up in front of the mirror and then jumped as someone grabbed her arm. Turning, she looked at the girl who’d caught hold of her and smiled in pleasure. ‘Marion! I haven’t seen you for weeks. Where have you been?’
‘My boss at Woolworth’s sent me away for training. I’m a senior adviser on the counters, and windows, supervising how they look, and the girls on them; I’m getting six pounds a week now …’
‘Lucky you,’ Mary Ellen said, half envious. She still wasn’t earning that much, even after she’d been given her rise. ‘I think I’m going to pack in my job and start on at Woolworth’s.’
‘You wouldn’t get as much as me,’ Marion said. ‘It’s about three pounds ten shillings or even less for new-comers.’
‘Oh … that wouldn’t be as much as what I’m getting now,’ Mary Ellen said, feeling disappointed. If she could have earned as much as Marion, she might have been able to afford her own house with Billy, always supposing Rose would let her get married.
‘Six pounds sounds a lot,’ Marion said, ‘but I’m struggling to find a decent room I can afford. If I go out a few times a week and eat three meals a day it doesn’t leave anything much over for clothes – at least you get discount on yours, Mary Ellen.’
‘Yes, I do,’ she agreed. ‘How much are you paying for your room then?’
‘Three quid with breakfast and evening meal,’ Marion said. ‘You’re lucky you’ve got a sister. When I left St Saviour’s I had to stay in a hostel for girls like me; it was much cheaper but it was awful, worse than being an orphan. All the rules … and the beds were hard and the toilets were filthy …’
‘I bet Rose would let you move in with us for less than you’re paying,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘She charges me twenty-five bob a week for board and all my food …’
‘But you’re her sister,’ Marion pointed out. ‘I wouldn’t mind giving her two pounds a week if she would have me.’
‘I’ll ask her,’ Mary Ellen promised. ‘I think she would be glad for you to share the rent. It makes it easier for her, and we can help with the chores and cooking. Rose gets tired sometimes when she’s on late shifts. If they’re short of nurses she sometimes has to do longer hours.’
‘Is Billy with you?’ Marion asked as they left the cloakroom together. ‘I came with Jill from work. She’s on the cosmetic counter and gets a lot of free samples when the salesmen come round. They think she can influence the buyers, but of course our stuff is all ordered from head office. Jill only gives advice as to what is selling and what isn’t …’
‘I like that Tangee lipstick,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘They’ve got some lovely colours and it stays on well.’
‘Do you like this scent?’ Marion leaned nearer for her to smell. ‘It’s Lily of the Valley and Jill gave it to me – the last of the bottle. She’s got a new one … Evening in Paris …’
‘Yes, it’s all right,’ Mary Ellen said, not liking it but not wanting to offend her. ‘Billy got me some Elizabeth Arden perfume for last Christmas; it’s lovely …’
‘I can smell it,’ Marion agreed, looking a bit envious. ‘Did that skirt come from your workshop?’
‘Yes, but I made the net petticoats myself. If you come round one night I’ll show you some of my stuff, Marion. We could get some material cheap on the market and I’ll make a skirt and petticoats for you, too.’
‘Will you really?’ Marion looked pleased. ‘If Jill gets any of those lipsticks you like free, I’ll ask her for one for you …’
Billy stood up as the girls approached. ‘I’ve got a coffee for us, Ellie. Marion, I can get one for you if you like?’
‘No, thanks, Billy,’ Marion said, giving him a flirtatious look. ‘I’m with a friend – but you can ask me for a dance later, if you like?’
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘I expect you’ll be busy all night once you start …’
Billy shrugged apologetically as Marion swayed off, her hips moving enticingly. You’d never know now that as a child her leg had been badly broken and for a while she’d walked with a limp. ‘We were all mates at St Saviour’s,’ he said. ‘I suppose she thinks she can say things like that … but she knows we’re together …’
‘Marion fancies you,’ Mary Ellen said, feeling a twinge of jealousy, which she instantly quashed. Billy was good looking – not handsome, but rugged because of all the sport – and he had a nice open face. She knew there were plenty of other girls who fancied Billy but she also knew that he loved her.
Mary Ellen hadn’t wanted to work in the clothing manufacturers’ workshops. She still wanted to teach children, but Rose had put paid to her dreams when she’d made her leave school at fifteen and start on as an apprentice. She was well aware that life didn’t always give you what you wanted; she’d learned that when she was very young and her mother died, but she’d got more of the good things than most, because she had a steady job working for a boss she liked, and she’d got Billy – and when she was twenty-one they would marry, no matter what Rose thought, but that was such a long time to wait …
