out of Manchester. As for young Smalley there, he’s got some dirt in his eye, that’s all.’
‘What about bed-wetting? I hope they don’t wet the bed. I wouldn’t stand for that. I’ve heard some terrible stories from other landladies.’
‘These boys have all passed their scholarship - besides which, they’re all over twelve years of age. But even if they did wet the bed - which they don’t, I can assure you - you would get a special enuresis allowance on top of all the allowances you’ll already be getting for three.’
‘Aye, but boys eat more than girls, don’t they?’
But the mention of money seemed somehow to have done the trick and changed things a little, because Mrs Mossop said:
‘Oh well, I suppose I’ve got no choice. I really did want girls but these three’ll have to do. All right then. I’ll take them.’
Miss Barrymore entered the details on her pad and then heaved a great sigh of relief.
‘Now perhaps I can see to my own accommodation,’ she said. ‘Best of luck, boys. I’ll see you at our new school tomorrow.’
The bus drove off and the boys were left with their new mother.
Inside the house, they saw two young children - a podgy boy who looked a little overweight for his age, and a rather tubby girl who was studying them closely. Mrs Mossop said:
‘This is my daughter. Beryl, who is now eight, and this is my darling little boy, Neville, who is six. Say how-do- you-do to our visitors, children.’
‘How do’y’ do?’ said Beryl with a strong, adenoidal twang.
‘How do you do,’ said Neville, like a trained parrot.
‘Fin Billy,’ said Billy, taking the initiative, ‘and this is Robin and Titch. Is Mr Mossop in the army?’
‘I can see you’re a nosy boy and no mistake,’ she said. ‘But no, if you want to know, my husband, Donald, is on war work at Salford Docks. He gets home leave every six months or so. Now are you satisfied?’
‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Mossop.’
‘Anyroad, yours is the back bedroom,’ she said. ‘It’s a bit small but I’m sure you’ll be all right. The three of you will have to share the double bed, as I only expected two evacuees.’
‘Fine, Mrs Mossop. We’ll be OK,’ said Robin, his usual optimistic self.
‘You can take your things up now and unpack. Go and get a wash in the bathroom but don’t make a mess. I hope you brought your own soap and towels with you. When you’ve finished, come down and I’ll give you something to eat.’
‘Yes, Mrs Mossop, we brought soap and towels. And we’ve got some food to give you as well - tins of Spam from the WVS and some chocolate biscuits from my mother in Manchester,’ said Billy.
‘Well, I’m glad somebody appreciates all that we’re doing for you here in Blackpool.’
Upstairs they shared out the wardrobe and drawer space and began putting their things away - which was not a very big job as they hadn’t brought all that much with them. They had been occupied in this way for about ten minutes when young Beryl knocked at the door and said:
‘I have a letter here for William.’
‘A letter for me?’ said Billy, perplexed. ‘I don’t know anyone here.’
‘But someone knows you,’ replied Beryl. ‘It’s from