herself, but Polly was sharper than that. ‘We weren’t talking about Eddie. I’m asking you where you got the money to buy ribbon.’
‘I told you—’
Polly gripped Violet’s arm. ‘So it was you, was it? You took the money, didn’t you? It wasn’t Eddie at all.’
‘Let go. You’re hurting.’
‘I’ll hurt you all right. Have you spent it all?’
‘I never took—’
‘Don’t make it worse by lying. Where’s the rest of the money? Surely you haven’t spent it all on yourself, you greedy little girl. A whole two and fourpence. Me mam could have fed us for a week on that.’
It was perhaps an exaggeration, but the younger girl wasn’t to know.
Violet glared into her sister’s eyes. ‘I never touched the tea caddy—’
Polly’s eyes narrowed and her voice was quiet now but all the more menacing as she said slowly, ‘Who said anything about the tea caddy?’
The two girls stared at each other for a moment before Polly, holding the smaller girl with one hand, delved into Violet’s apron pocket. Her hand closed over a few coins and she pulled them out and thrust them under the girl’s nose. ‘You little liar! You’re a thief and a liar, Violet. Aren’t you ashamed, with our mam scarcely cold in her grave and Dad—?’
With a cry, Violet twisted free of Polly’s grasp and ran towards the door. Pausing briefly, she turned back and spat, ‘And what are you going to do about it? Get your precious Leo onto me?’
With that she ran out of the house, slamming the door behind her, leaving Polly gazing down at the one shilling and five coppers in her hand. A piece of ribbon hadn’t cost that much, she thought, and wondered what else Violet had spent their precious money on. Sighing, she slipped the coins into her own apron pocket.
No more putting money in the tea caddy, she thought. At least, not until Dad gets home.
Polly’s world was now bound up with housework, caring for the little ones and praying that her father survived; if he didn’t it would be the workhouse for them all, for sure. The responsibility for the family lay heavily on her. She had no free time, no time to read or to play; she’d had to grow up very quickly. Outside the family circle, there was only Bertha in whom she could confide. She’d even lost touch with her schoolfriends. How she yearned to be back at school, sitting in the classroom or playing in the schoolyard. Such happy carefree days that she hadn’t appreciated at the time.
But one afternoon after school had finished, Miss Broughton, her former teacher, knocked on the door.
‘Oh, please come in, come in. That’s if you’re not afraid of catching—’
‘Goodness me, no.’ Miss Broughton smiled as she peeled off her gloves and sat down in the chair near the range. ‘I just came to see how you were coping, Polly. I heard about your mother, my dear. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?’
Polly shook her head, biting her lip. Then the words she’d held back for so long came bursting out. ‘I don’t want to sound disloyal to my dad, specially not while he’s in hospital. Miss Broughton, I did so want to stay on at school, but he made me leave. Said being a teacher wasn’t for the likes of us.’
‘Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear he said that and, I have to say, I don’t agree with him. You’d have made an excellent pupil teacher, Polly, my dear. I’d already spoken to the head about you and he was willing to give you a trial. And I was ready to give you whatever extra tuition you needed out of school hours.’ She sighed. ‘But you had to leave and now, I suppose . . .’ Her voice faded away.
‘No,’ Polly said dully. ‘There’s no chance now. With Mam gone, there’s only me to look after the little ones.’
‘And you’re so young too,’ Miss Broughton murmured. ‘But don’t give up hope, Polly. You never know, perhaps when you’re older, when Stevie and the baby are both at school, perhaps then . . .’
But to the young
‘I told you—’
Polly gripped Violet’s arm. ‘So it was you, was it? You took the money, didn’t you? It wasn’t Eddie at all.’
‘Let go. You’re hurting.’
‘I’ll hurt you all right. Have you spent it all?’
‘I never took—’
‘Don’t make it worse by lying. Where’s the rest of the money? Surely you haven’t spent it all on yourself, you greedy little girl. A whole two and fourpence. Me mam could have fed us for a week on that.’
It was perhaps an exaggeration, but the younger girl wasn’t to know.
Violet glared into her sister’s eyes. ‘I never touched the tea caddy—’
Polly’s eyes narrowed and her voice was quiet now but all the more menacing as she said slowly, ‘Who said anything about the tea caddy?’
The two girls stared at each other for a moment before Polly, holding the smaller girl with one hand, delved into Violet’s apron pocket. Her hand closed over a few coins and she pulled them out and thrust them under the girl’s nose. ‘You little liar! You’re a thief and a liar, Violet. Aren’t you ashamed, with our mam scarcely cold in her grave and Dad—?’
With a cry, Violet twisted free of Polly’s grasp and ran towards the door. Pausing briefly, she turned back and spat, ‘And what are you going to do about it? Get your precious Leo onto me?’
With that she ran out of the house, slamming the door behind her, leaving Polly gazing down at the one shilling and five coppers in her hand. A piece of ribbon hadn’t cost that much, she thought, and wondered what else Violet had spent their precious money on. Sighing, she slipped the coins into her own apron pocket.
No more putting money in the tea caddy, she thought. At least, not until Dad gets home.
Polly’s world was now bound up with housework, caring for the little ones and praying that her father survived; if he didn’t it would be the workhouse for them all, for sure. The responsibility for the family lay heavily on her. She had no free time, no time to read or to play; she’d had to grow up very quickly. Outside the family circle, there was only Bertha in whom she could confide. She’d even lost touch with her schoolfriends. How she yearned to be back at school, sitting in the classroom or playing in the schoolyard. Such happy carefree days that she hadn’t appreciated at the time.
But one afternoon after school had finished, Miss Broughton, her former teacher, knocked on the door.
‘Oh, please come in, come in. That’s if you’re not afraid of catching—’
‘Goodness me, no.’ Miss Broughton smiled as she peeled off her gloves and sat down in the chair near the range. ‘I just came to see how you were coping, Polly. I heard about your mother, my dear. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?’
Polly shook her head, biting her lip. Then the words she’d held back for so long came bursting out. ‘I don’t want to sound disloyal to my dad, specially not while he’s in hospital. Miss Broughton, I did so want to stay on at school, but he made me leave. Said being a teacher wasn’t for the likes of us.’
‘Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear he said that and, I have to say, I don’t agree with him. You’d have made an excellent pupil teacher, Polly, my dear. I’d already spoken to the head about you and he was willing to give you a trial. And I was ready to give you whatever extra tuition you needed out of school hours.’ She sighed. ‘But you had to leave and now, I suppose . . .’ Her voice faded away.
‘No,’ Polly said dully. ‘There’s no chance now. With Mam gone, there’s only me to look after the little ones.’
‘And you’re so young too,’ Miss Broughton murmured. ‘But don’t give up hope, Polly. You never know, perhaps when you’re older, when Stevie and the baby are both at school, perhaps then . . .’
But to the young
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