market stall,’ she added pointedly.
Eddie glowered. ‘That’s different.’
‘No, it isn’t. It’s still stealing.’
‘But I was stealing for the family.’
‘That doesn’t make it right. We’re not that poor we have to steal from folks that’s probably not much better off than ourselves.’
‘It was only a couple of measly buns,’ Eddie muttered. ‘And it was almost packing-up time. They weren’t going to sell ’em and they’d’ve been stale by next day.’
‘That’s still no excuse, Eddie.’ Despite her anger, her tone softened a little.
‘So – ’ Eddie was meeting her gaze – ‘if I haven’t taken your precious money, who has then?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You sure there was some left? A’ you sure you haven’t spent it?’
Polly shook her head firmly. ‘No, there was two shillings and fourpence left.’
‘Blimey! An’ it’s all gone?’
To the boy who had a penny on a Saturday, and only then if he was lucky, the amount of money their mother had managed to put by sounded like a fortune.
Polly bit her lip and nodded, worried to death now about how she was to feed the family for the next week or two until her father came home. And even then he probably wouldn’t be fit enough to go back to work straight away.
‘You get to bed, Eddie.’
As he turned to go, he said over his shoulder. ‘Wake me up at six in the morning, Poll. I’m starting as a delivery lad for a greengrocer in the High Street. I even get a bike.’
Polly’s mouth dropped open but before she could ask him any more questions, he was creeping up the stairs and she couldn’t call him back for fear of waking the others. A few moments later Polly followed him up and slipped into bed beside Violet, shivering in the icy bedroom. Despite her overwhelming weariness, it was some time before she fell asleep.
The baby woke at half-past five crying hungrily. Polly pulled herself up feeling little rested since the night before. She dressed quickly and pulled on her outdoor coat for extra warmth. Carrying the baby in a shawl, she crept downstairs, lying Miriam in the big battered armchair by the range whilst she roused the fire and made the infant’s bottle. She made a bowl of hot porridge for Eddie and, having fed the baby and changed her, she woke her brother.
As he spooned the thick creamy porridge into his mouth, Polly asked, ‘How did you get the job? With Mr Wilmott, is it?’
Eddie answered between mouthfuls. ‘His usual lad’s got the typhoid.’
‘Does he know about our mam and dad?’
Eddie nodded. ‘Yeah. I reckon everyone knows now.’
‘And he doesn’t mind? That – that you might be – well – mixed up with it?’
Eddie shook his head. ‘Leo put a good word in for me yesterday and told me to go and see Mr Wilmott last night after he shut the shop.’ He grinned up at her cheekily. ‘That’s why I was late home.’
Polly blinked and smiled ruefully. ‘Oh, well then. I’ll let you off.’ She wagged her finger at him. ‘Just this once, mind.’
He stood up. ‘It won’t be much, Poll. Only pennies, but you can have whatever I get. Leo said some of the customers are quite generous with tips.’
Polly’s face brightened. Now she remembered. Leo had worked for Mr Wilmott, the greengrocer just round the corner on the High Street, at nights and weekends in his last year at school. ‘It was good of Leo to recommend you, Eddie. Mind you don’t let him down.’
‘I won’t, Poll.’
He pulled on his cap and his shabby overcoat. ‘I’ll be off then.’
That night, when Eddie came home, he was dragging a bag bursting with vegetables.
‘Oh, Eddie . . .’ Polly began, but he reassured her quickly. ‘I ain’t stolen it, Poll. Mr Wilmott clears out all his fruit and veg on a Saturday night that won’t keep till Monday morning. He’s given me all this.’
As Polly peered into the sack and pulled out fruit and vegetables, she saw that they were indeed past their best. Yet,
Eddie glowered. ‘That’s different.’
‘No, it isn’t. It’s still stealing.’
‘But I was stealing for the family.’
‘That doesn’t make it right. We’re not that poor we have to steal from folks that’s probably not much better off than ourselves.’
‘It was only a couple of measly buns,’ Eddie muttered. ‘And it was almost packing-up time. They weren’t going to sell ’em and they’d’ve been stale by next day.’
‘That’s still no excuse, Eddie.’ Despite her anger, her tone softened a little.
‘So – ’ Eddie was meeting her gaze – ‘if I haven’t taken your precious money, who has then?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You sure there was some left? A’ you sure you haven’t spent it?’
Polly shook her head firmly. ‘No, there was two shillings and fourpence left.’
‘Blimey! An’ it’s all gone?’
To the boy who had a penny on a Saturday, and only then if he was lucky, the amount of money their mother had managed to put by sounded like a fortune.
Polly bit her lip and nodded, worried to death now about how she was to feed the family for the next week or two until her father came home. And even then he probably wouldn’t be fit enough to go back to work straight away.
‘You get to bed, Eddie.’
As he turned to go, he said over his shoulder. ‘Wake me up at six in the morning, Poll. I’m starting as a delivery lad for a greengrocer in the High Street. I even get a bike.’
Polly’s mouth dropped open but before she could ask him any more questions, he was creeping up the stairs and she couldn’t call him back for fear of waking the others. A few moments later Polly followed him up and slipped into bed beside Violet, shivering in the icy bedroom. Despite her overwhelming weariness, it was some time before she fell asleep.
The baby woke at half-past five crying hungrily. Polly pulled herself up feeling little rested since the night before. She dressed quickly and pulled on her outdoor coat for extra warmth. Carrying the baby in a shawl, she crept downstairs, lying Miriam in the big battered armchair by the range whilst she roused the fire and made the infant’s bottle. She made a bowl of hot porridge for Eddie and, having fed the baby and changed her, she woke her brother.
As he spooned the thick creamy porridge into his mouth, Polly asked, ‘How did you get the job? With Mr Wilmott, is it?’
Eddie answered between mouthfuls. ‘His usual lad’s got the typhoid.’
‘Does he know about our mam and dad?’
Eddie nodded. ‘Yeah. I reckon everyone knows now.’
‘And he doesn’t mind? That – that you might be – well – mixed up with it?’
Eddie shook his head. ‘Leo put a good word in for me yesterday and told me to go and see Mr Wilmott last night after he shut the shop.’ He grinned up at her cheekily. ‘That’s why I was late home.’
Polly blinked and smiled ruefully. ‘Oh, well then. I’ll let you off.’ She wagged her finger at him. ‘Just this once, mind.’
He stood up. ‘It won’t be much, Poll. Only pennies, but you can have whatever I get. Leo said some of the customers are quite generous with tips.’
Polly’s face brightened. Now she remembered. Leo had worked for Mr Wilmott, the greengrocer just round the corner on the High Street, at nights and weekends in his last year at school. ‘It was good of Leo to recommend you, Eddie. Mind you don’t let him down.’
‘I won’t, Poll.’
He pulled on his cap and his shabby overcoat. ‘I’ll be off then.’
That night, when Eddie came home, he was dragging a bag bursting with vegetables.
‘Oh, Eddie . . .’ Polly began, but he reassured her quickly. ‘I ain’t stolen it, Poll. Mr Wilmott clears out all his fruit and veg on a Saturday night that won’t keep till Monday morning. He’s given me all this.’
As Polly peered into the sack and pulled out fruit and vegetables, she saw that they were indeed past their best. Yet,
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