CHAPTER FIVE

Frederick Bailey showed Evie and Jeanie into a beautifully decorated room overlooking the square. Evie realised she was gaping at all the ornaments on every surface and quickly closed her mouth.

‘So, Mrs Carter … Pendle’s. I do hope everything is all right. I haven’t been over to the old place for a long while. I’ve a man who sees to things like that for me.’

‘Oh, yes, I haven’t come to complain,’ said Jeanie, sitting down in an armchair that Frederick Bailey indicated. ‘But we’ve been there more than a week now and hadn’t heard from anyone, and I was wondering … that is, we wondered … about the rent …’

When her mother seemed to have ground to a halt, Evie continued, ‘And my grandmother is a very talented seamstress and wants to open a sewing business in the shop part. We thought we’d better make sure that was all right … that you’d allow it and that we can paint the place and make it more suitable.’

‘You may do as you like,’ Frederick Bailey said. ‘I’m not a man for strict rules and regulations.’

‘So we can go ahead?’ asked Evie eagerly. She couldn’t help her wide grin – this was exactly what she had hoped for. ‘Thank you.’

Mr Bailey laughed. ‘Well, I’m glad about that,’ he said.

‘What about the rent?’ prompted Evie. She looked sideways at her mother but Jeanie seemed lost in thought and was gazing around the room with real interest. ‘We mean to make a go of the sewing, and my dad has a job, too, so we can pay what’s fair.’

‘Ah, so there’s a Mr Carter … I was wondering about your father,’ said Mr Bailey. ‘What is it he does?’

‘He works at Clackett’s market garden, across from Pendle’s.’

‘Does he indeed?’ Mr Bailey paused to think. ‘Well, how about ten shillings a week? How does that sound?’

‘Oh, Mr Bailey, that’s marvellous! Ten shillings? Are you sure that’s all?’ gasped Evie. Again she looked at her mother, but she was still distracted by the unusual room and gave no reaction.

Frederick Bailey waved a hand as if to dismiss the subject. ‘I’ll have my man, Jack, collect the payments.’

‘Jack? Would that be Jack Fletcher? We haven’t met him yet but it was he who arranged for us to come to Pendle’s.’

‘Yes, Jack Fletcher works for me. No doubt you’ll meet him soon. There’s nothing for you to worry about, Evelyn.’

‘It’s all becoming clearer now.’

Evie realised how anxious she’d become about their new home and these people none of them had met. What a relief it was to have it all sorted out. Coming here today had been exactly the right thing to do.

‘Thank you, Mr Bailey,’ she said. She nudged her mother, who was still occupied with her own thoughts. ‘Mum …?’

‘Thank you, Mr Bailey. That’s right good of you,’ Jeanie said, smiling up at him.

‘Please, call me Frederick. Now, forgive my manners, I should have offered you tea, but I’m without Mrs Summers, as you know only too well.’

‘Let me help,’ Jeanie said without hesitation, throwing off her distraction. She was on her feet instantly.

‘That’s uncommonly kind of you, Mrs Carter.’

‘Jeanie, please.’

‘Jeanie. Why don’t we all go down?’

He led the way into the hall, pushing fragments of the broken ornament aside with his foot, then down a curving staircase at the end to a basement kitchen that looked old-fashioned and equipped very much as Mrs Russell’s was, to Evie’s eye. She could imagine Annie being quite at home here, though Annie wouldn’t have had the dirty breakfast crockery piled up in the sink. The cups Mr Bailey set out were a strange mix: a pot mug and a couple of delicate teacups of different sizes with mismatched saucers. Didn’t he have a tea set to use when visitors came, Evie wondered.

‘This is pretty,’ she said, taking up one of the fine cups to admire it while her mother saw to the kettle.

‘Yes, but almost worthless without its own saucer, I’m afraid,’ said Frederick. He searched absent-mindedly for the tea caddy, which Jeanie found in an obvious cupboard next to the stove, then asked his two visitors about their plans for the sewing business while the tea was brewing in a brown Bessie pot, just like the one at home.

‘My mother’s idea,’ said Jeanie.

‘It’s Grandma who’s the expert,’ said Evie proudly. ‘She’s brilliant at sewing and can do all sorts of things – make clothes and do alterations and mending, too. She made that jacket Mum’s wearing.’

‘Evie …’ tutted Jeanie.

‘Very pretty,’ said Frederick, looking at Jeanie, who gazed straight back at him, smiling.

‘And she can make up a pair of curtains in no time.’

‘She sounds very special, your grandmother,’ Frederick said, handing round the china cups and saucers and taking up the mug of tea himself. ‘And are you both going to work with her?’ He looked at Jeanie when he asked this but it was Evie who answered.

‘Oh, yes. Grandma wouldn’t have it any other way,’ she prattled on. ‘She’s a great one for family sticking together.’

‘Well, I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Jeanie quietly but firmly. ‘It’s you and Grandma who have the eye and the patience for sewing. I never helped with the mending in Shenty Street. I reckon you could get on fine without me.’ She ignored Evie’s open mouth of astonishment. ‘What I was wondering, Frederick, was if you think Mrs Summers has left for good and whether you are in need of a cleaner? Or …’ she looked around and then back to him with her pretty smile, ‘… a housekeeper?’

Frederick began laughing quietly.

What on earth was funny? And what was Mum on about? Evie felt her heart thumping loudly. Starting the sewing business had been decided, hadn’t it? She looked from her mother to Frederick Bailey and suddenly felt something was happening here that she didn’t understand.

Jeanie was standing waiting quite calmly for him to answer her.

‘A housekeeper … Do you know, Jeanie, I think you’d be quite perfect,’ he said eventually.

‘But, Mum, what about the sewing?’ Evie didn’t want to question her mother in front of Mr Bailey but she had to say something before it was too late. ‘It was going to be the three of us working together, same as in Shenty Street,’ she reminded her, her voice almost pleading. Where had this new idea come from? It wasn’t part of the plan at all. And what would Grandma Sue have to say?

‘Well, Evie, we’re not in Shenty Street any more. It’s different now,’ Jeanie said. Though she spoke quietly her tone was very sure. She smiled at their new landlord to show there was no criticism in her words and then looked around at the pile of unwashed dishes, the newspapers strewn across the kitchen table and the loaf of bread left out drying among a pile of crumbs.

‘You’ve grasped the situation precisely,’ Frederick replied, sounding delighted. ‘When were you thinking of starting?’

‘Tomorrow – would that suit you? Shall I do mornings and see how we get on?’

Evie gasped. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Even Grandma Sue didn’t take the lead like that without discussing things first.

‘But, Mum—’ she started.

‘I don’t doubt we’ll get on brilliantly, Jeanie,’ said Frederick, extending his hand to shake hers.

‘So what happened then?’ asked Sue, pouring cups of tea to wash down their lunchtime sandwiches. Michael had returned to Clackett’s for the afternoon, pleased with the news of the low rent and his wife’s new job, and the boys had gone out to play somewhere.

Jeanie and Evie were telling Sue more about their morning in Redmond. The way her mother recounted the events once she and Evie had entered Frederick Bailey’s house lacked some detail; so much so that Evie thought it was just one version of the meeting with their landlord and she might have told it in altogether another way. Nonetheless, it was a sort of truth.

‘He showed us round the house so that I could see exactly how much work it’s going to be. He’s an art and antiques dealer – buys and sells old things like paintings and ornaments, pretty but useless – and the house is full of the stuff. It’s everywhere and it all needs to be dusted. He says some of it is quite valuable and I’m to be careful.’

‘Must be odd to live in a house that’s full of things you mean to sell,’ said Sue. ‘I wonder he doesn’t become fond of them and want to keep them.’

‘He may, for all I know. It’s nowt to do with me,’ said Jeanie with a shrug. ‘But I think this job will suit me better than sewing. I was never one for stitching – you know that.’

‘I know no such thing,’ said Sue, sharp as a tack. ‘But I reckon you’ve made your mind up. And at least you got the rent sorted out, so that’s one good thing.’ She looked at Evie. ‘Come on, love, let’s decide on the colour for the walls now we’ve got the front room all prepared. We can get on since we’ve got permission, even if it’s only us two.’

They went through to the front, leaving Jeanie to wash up.

‘We’ll have to choose a nice light colour. I can’t be sewing anywhere dark with my old eyes,’ said Sue.

‘I’d like yellow,’ said Evie. ‘A light shade of yellow – like primroses. Do you think that would be all right for your eyes, Grandma?’

‘I reckon it would, lass. We’ll see what we can find. Now tell me, you’re not too sorry your mum’s not to be working with us after all, are you?’

Evie knew better than to deny it but she was surprised at the surge of disappointment that swept through her once again as she said, ‘I wanted it to be like it was in Shenty Street – all us women together, like you said. I couldn’t believe it when Mum said to Mr Bailey that she could be his housekeeper without even asking me if I minded – or if I thought you would mind either.’

‘I’m disappointed, too, love, but your mother will go her own sweet way. She always was one for getting what she wants. It was the same when she first set eyes on your dad. Nowt I could say would change her mind – not that I haven’t got used to him and his ways,’ she added kindly.

‘You’ve another letter from Evie,’ said Ada, handing it to Billy as he came in from work. ‘She’s a keen writer, I’ll say that for her.’

‘I’m glad of that,’ Billy grinned.

‘Well, just remember what I’ve said. I know you’re fond of her but Evie doesn’t live here any more,’ Ada advised. ‘It’s hard to keep up a … a friendship in letters. She might not always be so keen to stay in touch, lad. You don’t know what folk she’ll meet in the south. She’s Michael Carter’s daughter, don’t forget, and we all know how reliable he is.’

‘Yes, Mum, but she’s Sue Goodwin’s granddaughter, too, and there’s no one more sound than Mrs Goodwin. I’m thinking of getting a train down one weekend and meeting up. It’ll be lovely to see her and nice to see where she lives.’

‘Oh, aye? Well, don’t go getting your hopes up, our Billy. There’s girls round here, too, you know.’

‘Yes, Mum, I know there are girls round here,’ said Billy patiently, and took his letter upstairs to read in peace.

Dear Billy,

Thank you for your letter. I always look forward to hearing from you. Your letters are the best thing to happen and I can’t wait for them to arrive.

I hope you’ve had a good week.

Grandma and me have been really busy getting ready for our first customers. I’ve put a notice up in the village store and our shop is painted now. It’s a sort of cream colour. We wanted yellow but we couldn’t find anything nice so we went for the nearest. Pete and Bob helped. Pete did the ceiling, bless him, but Bob just made a mess. I suppose he is only little.

Mum is enjoying being housekeeper to Mr Bailey. She’s started taking more care of herself and is more cheerful – I’d got quite worried about her in Shenty Street when we were working so hard on the washing – and though I saw for myself that Mr Bailey’s house is a big job she doesn’t look too weary when she gets home. It seems odd that Mr Bailey pays Mum and then Mum pays Jack Fletcher, Mr Bailey’s man, who comes for the rent!

We all like Jack. He’s very friendly and knows all kinds of people. He found a big table for the shop, which will be useful when we’re cutting out or making curtains. He even delivered it to us.

Jack and Dad sometimes go together to the Red Lion in the village. I’m glad Dad’s got someone to go with and see him home in good time, although if Jack isn’t around Dad goes on his own and tends to stay later. Mr Clackett doesn’t hold with drinking, he says, though Dad sometimes goes to the Lion at dinnertime instead of coming here for his dinner. There aren’t card games or bookies’ runners at this pub so I’m hoping no harm will come of it.

I know Sundays can be difficult travelling by train but you said you were thinking of coming down. It would be lovely to see you, Billy. Let me know when you can manage it, and make it soon, please!

Lots of love,

Evie xxx

Billy read the letter twice through, laughing at the thought of the kind of mess Robert would have made with the paint, and happy that Evie and her grandmother were about to open for business after all their hard work to make the premises smart.

It wasn’t good news that Michael Carter was drinking during the day but at least it was unlikely that he’d get into the kind of trouble he had with Mr Hopkins.

At that moment there was a knock at the front door. He opened it to find Geraldine Sullivan standing there, looking lovely in a flowered summer dress and clutching a packet of custard creams.

‘Hello, Gerry,’ Billy said. ‘This is a nice surprise.’

‘All right, Billy? Your mum was at the shop earlier and left these on the counter by mistake. I only noticed after she’d gone.’

‘Ah, Geraldine. Nice to see you, love,’ said Ada, appearing from the kitchen. ‘Come in. I’ve just boiled the kettle.’

‘Oh, thank you, Mrs Taylor, but I won’t stop,’ Geraldine said. ‘I only came round to drop these off for you.’

‘Thank you, love. Isn’t that kind of her, Billy?’ said his mother. She took the packet of biscuits without so much as glancing at them. ‘Are you sure you won’t have a cup of tea, love?’

‘No, thanks, Mrs T. I’d best be getting home. Bye, now. See you around, Billy.’ She beamed her glamorous smile at the Taylors, then turned and click-clacked down the street on her high heels.

Ada looked put out and Billy followed her into the kitchen to find the teapot already under the cosy and three cups and saucers on the table.

‘Expecting a visitor, were you, Mum?’ he asked pointedly.

Ada couldn’t hide her discomfort that she’d been rumbled though she tried to make the best of it. ‘I thought Geraldine might bring my biscuits round when I found I’d come home without them,’ she said.

‘You could have gone and got them, Mum. It’s only down the street.’

‘I know, but she’s so friendly – and works so hard at Mr Amsell’s … I just thought – she’s a lovely girl, isn’t she, Billy?’

‘Geraldine Sullivan is a right bonny lass, and a nice one, no one could deny that.’

Billy sat back in a kitchen chair thinking his mother wasn’t cut out for scheming. If only Evie’s father were so easy to read, the Carters would have had a far smoother ride.

That got him thinking about Evie’s letter. He’d write back tonight and tomorrow he’d look for a pretty card to send with the letter to congratulate Mrs Goodwin and Evie on opening for business. It wouldn’t be too long before he got to see them for himself and he couldn’t wait!

‘Looks a bit bare,’ said Evie, surveying the sewing room. The only relief from its plainness was a colourful card with a bunch of flowers on the front, which Billy had sent. ‘If only our fabric had arrived.’

Sue had written to Marie Sullivan to ask if she’d choose some fabric in autumn shades for her from the mill shop near Shenty Street. She’d sent Marie a postal order to cover all her costs and Marie had been only too pleased to help, but the parcel still hadn’t arrived. Evie was feeling anxious about that – its absence seemed a big setback on top of her mother deciding not to work with them.

Peter had made an ‘OPEN’ sign and hung it on the front door. They’d closed the door in the passage so that the house part was private but Evie thought they needn’t have bothered about that. She hadn’t imagined a stampede of customers this first morning of business, but nor had she thought she’d be sitting here twiddling her thumbs.

‘What you need,’ said Peter, ‘are a few props.’

‘Props? What on earth do you mean?’ asked Sue.

‘Like in a theatre. They set the stage with things to make it look like what it’s supposed to be. This looks like an empty room with a big table and chairs in it to me, so what you need is to make it look like a dressmaker’s. It doesn’t have to be real, it just has to look as if it is.’

‘Clever lad.’ His grandma was impressed.

‘When did you get to be so wise?’ laughed Evie, nudging her brother with her elbow.

‘We need fabric,’ said Sue, getting the idea at once. ‘It needs to look like we’re already working on summat – busy, like. Right, you three, go and find anything you can think of to drape about the place. But make sure it’s clean,’ she added as her grandchildren disappeared into the house.

Half an hour later the room had been transformed. The bedroom curtains were folded neatly and stacked on the shelves like bolts of fabric, Jeanie’s best dress was displayed on a hanger hooked over the dado rail, and a pile of used paper dress patterns in their envelopes were arranged on a corner of the table opposite Sue’s sewing machine. Leftover trimmings and spare buttons that Sue had saved over the years were displayed on Jeanie’s pretty cake plate, and finally Sue’s workbasket was placed prominently in the window, open and with spools of thread cascading colourfully over the edges.

‘That’s more like it,’ said Sue, standing back to survey their handiwork.

‘And you can hardly see where I spilled the paint,’ said Robert, drawing everyone’s attention to the stain, just as they were beginning to overlook it.

‘Ideally I would place a pile of fashion magazines over that,’ said Peter seriously, ‘but we don’t have any.’

They were interrupted by the arrival of the postman, wearing a uniform so like Billy’s that Evie’s heart gave a little skip. He pushed open the door and brought through a huge box wrapped in brown paper.

‘Mrs Goodwin? Delivery for you.’

‘Ooh, looks like Marie’s parcel, right on cue. Thank you,’ she said to the postman, and let the boys cut away the wrapping. ‘Save that brown paper and string. You never know when they will be useful,’ Sue, for whom wartime habits were still second nature, reminded them. Then they opened the cardboard box to reveal what Marie had come up with.

There was much oohing and aahing from Evie and Sue over the printed cotton remnants and end-of-rolls that Marie had found. Sue had been a bit unsure about shelling out for fabric without specific commissions, but now she knew she’d done the right thing. These pieces hadn’t cost much at the mill shop but the quality was second to none.

‘Pete, Bob, get those bedroom curtains back upstairs, and we’ll put these pieces in their place,’ instructed Sue.

She and Evie had no sooner finished folding the remnants into a pretty display when the door opened and Josie Lambert came in carrying a bag.

‘Thought I’d get in early before you get busy,’ she said. ‘I’ve left Nancy and Archie with my mother. Oh, the shop looks lovely. You’ve got a good eye, Mrs Goodwin. Do you think you could take in this frock I wore when I was expecting Nancy? It’s too good to throw away and I like the colour.’

‘I can completely refashion it for you, if you’d like,’ offered Sue, getting into her stride at once. ‘There’s yards in this front panel – what kind of dress were you thinking of …?’

Evie let Sue do the talking but listened carefully to what she was saying, while Peter went to make a pot of tea, bringing through a cup for Mrs Lambert, too. All Evie’s worries about starting up the sewing business were evaporating. Sue looked happier than she had for weeks and Evie saw how confident and in control she was at being her own boss again.

Then she thought about the arrangement Billy had made to come to see her on Sunday and she felt happiness bubbling up inside her. The fabrics had arrived and they were beautiful, she and Sue had their first customer, and Billy was coming to see her – it was all just about perfect.

Jeanie arrived home from Redmond early in the afternoon as usual. She came into the workroom to see how Sue and Evie were getting on, and was impressed with their efforts and also with the fabrics Marie had chosen for them from the mill shop.

‘Not thinking of joining us after all?’ asked Sue without rancour.

‘I’m getting on fine at Frederick’s, thank you,’ said Jeanie with a big smile. ‘Oh, but I can understand why that Summers woman thought it a big job. You should see his study! Luckily he was out all morning at an auction so I was able to get on in the sitting room at least.’

‘He trusts you with the run of the place and his precious things, then?’ Sue enquired. She’d yet to meet Frederick Bailey and Evie suspected that for some reason Sue hadn’t formed a very high opinion of him so far, despite the low rent he was asking.

‘And why wouldn’t he?’ said Jeanie. ‘I’ll get on and make us some sandwiches. I got a bit of cheese from Mrs Sutton on the way home so they won’t be just salad today.’

‘The day’s getting better and better,’ said Sue as Jeanie went to make their lunch.

‘Mum’s in a very good mood,’ said Evie. ‘She’s a lot more cheerful altogether these days.’

‘Mmm …’ Sue replied noncommittally, taking her tailor’s shears to Josie Lambert’s maternity dress.

Michael didn’t come home to eat the sandwiches and Sue tutted that he must have gone to get some chips and a pie at the Red Lion, which cost pennies that they didn’t have. The boys went off to play in the field at the back of the market garden with Martin Clackett, leaving Sue and Evie in peace to work. Evie watched and learned as her grandmother turned Josie Lambert’s vast garment into a swathe of fabric, which Evie pressed and then Sue recut into a stylish new shape. Evie machined the seams as directed and the afternoon passed, Evie feeling more settled than she had in weeks.

They were interrupted by Mrs Sutton from the village store, who came to ask about having some curtains made.

‘I’ve seen a few people reading your notice, Evie,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if you weren’t rushed off your feet before the summer’s out.’

‘We’ll cope,’ said Sue, winking at Evie. ‘Now, are you wanting them lined, Mrs Sutton? I would recommend it …’

‘Two customers already,’ beamed Evie when Mrs Sutton had gone.

‘It’s a good start,’ Sue confirmed. ‘What d’you reckon? Will we manage without your mum?’

‘I still wish she was in here working with us but we’ve had a lovely day, just the two of us, and Pete was such a help putting the finishing touches to the shop.’

‘And you’ve also got Billy coming to visit next weekend – something for you to look forward to, love.’

‘He’ll be at Redmond station on the first train of the morning, and he’s getting a train back in the late afternoon, so we won’t have very long, but he wants to see us all and the village, too.’

‘He’s a grand lad,’ said Sue. ‘We’ll make sure there’s more than vegetables for his dinner,’ and Evie hugged her.

Michael was woken by someone shaking his arm. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the glare of the sun through the greenhouse windows. He must have dozed off for a moment in the heat … Distantly he could hear the sound of children playing. What time was it now …?

‘Michael! Michael Carter! What do you think you’re doing, asleep on the job?’

Mr Clackett was leaning over him, looking furious.

‘Oh, Mr Clackett, it’s the heat in here … made me a bit sleepy, like.’

‘Heat? Beer, more like. I can smell it on your breath, and your clothes smell like the inside of the Red Lion. You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?’

‘Well, it was only a couple of pints. It’s thirsty work in these glasshouses—’

‘Couple of pints! And how is beer better than good honest water when I’m paying you to pick tomatoes? I don’t hold with drinking, Michael, and I certainly don’t hold with slacking. If you’re paid to do a job I expect you to do it. If you don’t then I’d rather employ someone else. There’s a ton of veg to be picked and you’re not doing your share.’

‘I’m that sorry, Mr Clackett. I must have dozed off for a minute, that’s all.’

‘It’s two hours since you left at lunchtime. It’s not fair if you take your wages but don’t do the hours.’

‘Two hours? Oh, surely not,’ said Michael, trying to jolly his boss out of his outrage. ‘Can’t possibly be that long. Tell you what – why don’t I stay a bit later to make up? I’ll do that as a favour, seeing as there’s so much to pick.’

‘A favour! You’ll do it to make up for sleeping away half the afternoon at my expense, never mind any favours.’

‘Oh … that’s what I meant,’ said Michael sheepishly.

‘And let me tell you this. I’m a fair man and I don’t hold with taking and not giving in return. If I find you asleep on the job again you won’t be working here any longer.’

‘No, Mr Clackett. And I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’

‘If it does it will be the last time,’ Mr Clackett reiterated, shaking a finger at Michael. He turned and walked away, muttering, ‘Favour indeed …’ and the sound of his heavy boots faded into the distance, leaving Michael with a dislocated feeling.

The afternoon was silent, save for the hum of bees among the tomato plants. The children’s voices he had heard earlier had faded away at some point and he wasn’t sure what time it was or exactly where he’d left off what he’d been doing. He pulled himself upright and stretched, feeling seedy and weary, and regretful of his pints at the pub.

Still, Mr Clackett hadn’t actually sacked him. And there was no reason why anyone else should hear of this …

When Michael came in at the end of the afternoon he looked worn and weary, and he grumbled that he had a headache coming on.

‘Hard day, love?’ sympathised Jeanie as Michael sat down at the table. ‘Never mind, I’ve a delicious vegetable stew for you.’ She laughed lightly because she made the same joke every evening, but today Michael could barely raise a smile.

‘I’ve had it up to here with vegetables,’ he said.

‘What d’you mean, love? You’ve not been there more’n a few weeks, and Mr and Mrs Clackett have been very generous towards us with the rejects. I don’t know what we’d have done without all this food.’

‘Aye, you’re right, of course, Jeanie, but I don’t know as the job suits me all that well.’

Peter was scowling into his stew and Robert began bouncing on his chair as if he wanted to say something but his mouth was zipped shut.

‘What do you mean, Michael?’ Jeanie looked anxious. ‘It’s only picking vegetables – there’s nothing about it to suit or not suit. You just do it.’

‘I don’t know … might be looking for another job.’

‘That’s exactly what Mr Clackett said!’ burst out Robert, then clapped a hand over his mouth as if to silence himself as Peter gave him an almighty kicking under the table.

‘What!’ shrilled Jeanie. ‘Boys, Evie, take your stew into the yard, please,’ instructed Jeanie, and there was a scraping of chairs and a gathering of bread, spoons and bowls as they did as they were asked.

‘All right, you two,’ said Evie, when they’d made themselves as comfortable as they could in the shady backyard on a rotting garden bench and an upturned flowerpot. She put her bowl of stew down on the ground. ‘What have you heard? Pete?’

‘We were playing out the back of Clackett’s with Martin late this afternoon and we overheard Mr Clackett giving Dad a warning. It sounded like he’d spent the afternoon asleep in one of the sheds instead of doing his work. Mr Clackett said he’d sack him if he did it again.’

‘Yes,’ said Robert, his eyes huge with the importance of his news. ‘And Mr Clackett said Dad wasn’t to go to the Red Lion at dinnertime and then go back to work the worse for drink ever again.’

Evie raised her hands to her face in horror and tears sprung into her eyes. The thought of Dad losing this job so soon after the last one, especially now the family were working so hard at making a new life, and with everyone in the village having been so friendly, was more than she could contemplate. People might not be nearly so kind if the Carters got a reputation for being unreliable. It could even mean she and Grandma Sue would lose potential customers before they’d even got their business started. That would be so unfair. Evie pulled the boys into her arms, and as the row started indoors, they huddled together wishing they were back home on Shenty Street.