Lucy placed Bert down on the pegged rug by the fire and passed Susie her doll, as she sat sulking in the chair next to her mother, who was busy ironing.
‘Thank you, Lucy, I knew you’d find it. Dolly will have been crying all day without me – she doesn’t like to be left alone.’ Susie kissed her older sister and grinned. ‘I’ve missed you too, and Mam says we’ve to get to bed in good time tonight, to get out from under her and Father’s feet. I don’t want to go to bed without you, and I thought you weren’t going to come home when it went dark.’ Susie hung onto her sister’s neck and wanted Lucy’s assurance that all would be well, now that she was home.
Lucy stood up and looked at her mother, after kissing four-year-old Susie. ‘So, we are due a new one in our family, and you’ve told my father? He’ll not be pleased.’
‘Aye, he’ll not be in a good mood when he comes home tonight. But what does he expect? I told him to sleep away from me; that he’s only to look at me and I’d be with child again. My mother was the same – we catch on so fast. You’d do well to keep your legs closed until you are wed to a good man, else you’ll end up the same as me, with a house full of bairns and no time for nowt.’ Dorothy looked at her eldest; if she had lectured her once about the virtues of keeping pure, she must have lectured her a dozen times. She wanted better for her daughter than a life married to a temperamental husband, and a life of drudgery, with children tugging on her apron strings every second of the day, as she had.
‘I’m never going to be like you. I don’t care if I never have any children. I’ve seen all too well what it does to a woman. Besides, I’m going to find me a man that will look after me and not keep me chained to housework and bringing up his children.’ Lucy smiled at her young sister; she did love her siblings, but when it came to having a family of her own one day, that was a different matter. She’d seen all too well the anguish of bringing up a family on little money, and with little or no help from the breadwinner of the family.
‘You’ll change your tune when the right man comes along, and catches your eye and corners you with his soft words and loving touches. We’ve all said the same as you, and before you know it, you are wed with children around your feet and the bloom of youth faded from your cheeks. Now, help me get these children to bed before your father arrives, because aye, he’s not pleased and it’s best that you are all out of his sight.’ Dorothy sighed; she needed to protect her children from her husband’s wrath, and the best way to do that was to get them all in their beds and out of earshot of the harsh words that she knew he’d be yelling, if not more.
Lucy lay next to her sister in their attic bedroom at the top of the house. Even though she was as high up as the house was tall, she could hear her father’s voice bellowing in the kitchen below. She glanced at her sister and was thankful she was fast asleep, and that it was only her who could hear their father’s ranting and the plates being smashed on the kitchen floor. Her poor mother. It wasn’t only her fault that she was with child yet again; it took two, as anybody knew. Her father should have kept his John Thomas in his pocket, and then every nine months or so neither her nor her parents would have to endure the rage that followed the news of yet another baby to be born within the family. She only hoped that this night Father would not raise his voice any louder at her mother, and that perhaps the amount of ale he’d drunk would make him ready for his bed.
She held her breath and looked up through the attic skylight at the frosty night sky outside. If only she could escape this life of drudgery; of being responsible for her siblings and having to smell the stench of the flay-pits every day. She’d got to the age when she was ashamed of her roots and of her father’s profession – a stinking hide-tanner with too many children, and a home that was volatile with worry, although there was still love within it. No wonder none of the more well-to-do young men of the district would give her a second glance. It didn’t matter that she was the bonniest lass in the district; she was nothing: no money, no class and a father who was a drunk at least one night of the week.
She bit her lip as she heard
