The Cuckoo Child by Katie Flynn

Naturally, this had made the day even more special, so Dot thanked Fizz fervently for a grand time, waved to him until he disappeared inside his own home and then made her way to No. 6.
    She had no means of knowing the time, but dusk was falling and she knew that Aunt Myrtle would have served the evening meal long since. She would not have worried over her niece’s absence, because Dot was often out late in the summer when the evenings were long and light, but she would not have saved her anything other than bread and jam. Not that I need it, Dot told herself buoyantly, letting herself into the house and going towards the kitchen. After all those chips and fizzy lemonade she doubted if she could eat another mouthful.
    She opened the kitchen door rather cautiously, because you never knew with Uncle Rupert. He got paid on a Friday but liked to do the majority of his drinking on a Saturday, so if he had spent all his money the previous night he would be home and in a bad temper. However, when she poked her head round the door, the kitchen contained only her aunt and her cousins Dick and Alan. She slipped into the room and grinned at her aunt. ‘Me and Fizz went to New Brighton to deliver some laundry for his mam,’ she said brightly, even though no one had asked her where she had been all day. ‘He tried to teach me how to swim – I nearly can – and we mucked around on the sand all day. It’s all right, his mam said we could; she give us our bus fares and a penny or two over for chips.’ As she spoke, she glanced at the clock above the mantel and saw that it was not yet nine o’clock. Presumably, her uncle was down the pub, and since he never returned till closing time she would be safe enough for a while. She looked, hopefully, at Aunt Myrtle. ‘I know I missed supper and I know I had chips, but I’m awful hungry, Aunt Myrtle. Any chance of a mouthful of bread an’ cheese? It ‘ud go down a treat.’
    Aunt Myrtle heaved an exaggerated sigh but went over to the bread crock, got out the loaf and cut a thick slice. Then she took a pot of jam from the cupboard and smeared a small amount over the bread. ‘You know my rules,’ she said. ‘Food’s on the table at six an’ if you’re late, you get nowt. Still, you can fill up on bread and jam. You’re norra bad kid.’
    Accepting the bread and jam, Dot had the grace to feel guilty. In point of fact, she was not hungry, but had suddenly realised that it would not do to let her aunt think she was being well fed by someone else or next time she came in, having missed a meal, her aunt would not offer bread and jam. So she settled down to eat the food and found, in fact, that she was glad of it and equally glad of the mug of tea which her aunt handed to her presently.
    Dick was sitting at the table with a sheet of newspaper spread out in front of him. He had his father’s boots on the newspaper and was glumly cleaning them. For this task, he would undoubtedly be paid a ha’penny – if his father would not shell out, then his mother would – because, once a month, the whole family went to early Mass on Sunday morning and Aunt Myrtle insisted that they should go in style. Suits, collars and even ties were redeemed from the pawn shop on Saturday night and usually returned on Monday morning, whilst boots and shoes were polished and hair was neatly brushed back and oiled into flatness with Brylcreem if they were in the money, but otherwise with a smear of anything greasy which would keep it down for the duration of the service.
    Dot finished her bread and jam, drained her mug and went over to the sink. They had no running water but she noted with approval that the buckets beneath it were all full; Sam or Li had done their chores before going off to enjoy whatever jaunt they were involved in. Sam liked the pictures and Li was a football player. He and his mates had a much prized football which they had all saved up to buy, and would kick it around in one of the parks until