are big enough to take on staff. God, what wouldn’t I give to escape Ronnie’s clutches and work for someone decent, and human!’ she swore daringly. ‘He’s a swine of a brother, but he’s an even worse boss. He never lifts a finger himself. Just stands behind the counter all day shouting orders. “Do this! Do that! And do it quicker while you’re at it.” He’s ten times worse than Papa ever was. You’re lucky to have William for a brother.’
‘I’d be luckier still if William were able to give me paid work,’ Diana snapped, irritated by Tina’s grumblings. From where Diana was standing, Tina had everything a girl could possibly want: paid work; money in her pocket; a settled home, with a mother and father waiting. It was bad enough to be unemployed, but to be unemployed without a home to fall back on was infinitely worse. She would have given her eye teeth at that moment for one of her mother’s cuddles, and a bowl of home-made cawl eaten in the warmth of the back kitchen of her old home.
She looked down, pretending to study her worn shoes. The soles were leaking. She could feel water, icy and damp, soaking through her woollen stockings, freezing her toes. She had to stop thinking about the past. It only made her cry. And crying made her weak when she had to be strong. The old days had gone. Her mother wouldn’t be released for another nine years eight months and four days, and already the woman she visited in Cardiff prison didn’t look like her mother any more. The last time she’d seen her, Megan had been pale and drawn. A painfully thin shadow of the vivacious, loving woman who’d steered her and Will through baby and childhood.
She hesitated for a moment. Glancing under the overhanging shade of the umbrella, she looked up and down Taff Street. The shop windows shone, bright golden beacons that illuminated tempting displays of the new season’s flared skirts, long jumpers and shiny glass and brass jewellery. All well beyond her pocket. Away from the pools of light, a patchwork of dismal grey and black shadows blanketed the rain-burnished flag and cobblestones. Too early for the nine o’clock market bargain rush and too late for the day shoppers, the crowds had thinned from the torrent that had flooded the street at midday, to a trickling stream. Women in cheap coats that had shrunk in the rain dumped their string and brown paper carrier bags at their feet, while they waited for trams. Men and older children, who’d escaped the discomfort of their homes by lingering in the light and warmth of the shops and cafés, were buttoning their shabby jackets in preparation for long, cold and wet walks home. The last time she was home she’d noticed that more and more people were behaving as though they didn’t have homes to go to. When she’d mentioned this to Will and Charlie they told her that most families had taken to lighting their kitchen stoves only two days a week. The price of coal being what it was, they had no choice. It was either freeze and eat bread and jam, or be warm and go hungry.
Pulling her collar higher to avoid the rain that poured down her neck from a bent spoke in the umbrella, she stepped decisively forward.
‘I’ll try Springer’s shoe shop,’ she said briskly, wanting to delay the moment when she’d have to return to the café. She knew her uncle would probably be waiting for her, but she was gripped by an overwhelming sense of urgency. It was already half-past five. She had to – simply had to find a job before the shops closed at six so that when she walked back into her uncle’s house she could look her aunt squarely in the eye and say, ‘I won’t be a burden to you. I have a job. I can pay my own way.’
‘There’s no point in trying there. They laid off Ginny Jones last week.’ Tina dampened Diana’s hopes before they’d even begun to smoulder, let alone flame. ‘You’d stand a better chance in one of the pictures. Why don’t we walk up to the
‘I’d be luckier still if William were able to give me paid work,’ Diana snapped, irritated by Tina’s grumblings. From where Diana was standing, Tina had everything a girl could possibly want: paid work; money in her pocket; a settled home, with a mother and father waiting. It was bad enough to be unemployed, but to be unemployed without a home to fall back on was infinitely worse. She would have given her eye teeth at that moment for one of her mother’s cuddles, and a bowl of home-made cawl eaten in the warmth of the back kitchen of her old home.
She looked down, pretending to study her worn shoes. The soles were leaking. She could feel water, icy and damp, soaking through her woollen stockings, freezing her toes. She had to stop thinking about the past. It only made her cry. And crying made her weak when she had to be strong. The old days had gone. Her mother wouldn’t be released for another nine years eight months and four days, and already the woman she visited in Cardiff prison didn’t look like her mother any more. The last time she’d seen her, Megan had been pale and drawn. A painfully thin shadow of the vivacious, loving woman who’d steered her and Will through baby and childhood.
She hesitated for a moment. Glancing under the overhanging shade of the umbrella, she looked up and down Taff Street. The shop windows shone, bright golden beacons that illuminated tempting displays of the new season’s flared skirts, long jumpers and shiny glass and brass jewellery. All well beyond her pocket. Away from the pools of light, a patchwork of dismal grey and black shadows blanketed the rain-burnished flag and cobblestones. Too early for the nine o’clock market bargain rush and too late for the day shoppers, the crowds had thinned from the torrent that had flooded the street at midday, to a trickling stream. Women in cheap coats that had shrunk in the rain dumped their string and brown paper carrier bags at their feet, while they waited for trams. Men and older children, who’d escaped the discomfort of their homes by lingering in the light and warmth of the shops and cafés, were buttoning their shabby jackets in preparation for long, cold and wet walks home. The last time she was home she’d noticed that more and more people were behaving as though they didn’t have homes to go to. When she’d mentioned this to Will and Charlie they told her that most families had taken to lighting their kitchen stoves only two days a week. The price of coal being what it was, they had no choice. It was either freeze and eat bread and jam, or be warm and go hungry.
Pulling her collar higher to avoid the rain that poured down her neck from a bent spoke in the umbrella, she stepped decisively forward.
‘I’ll try Springer’s shoe shop,’ she said briskly, wanting to delay the moment when she’d have to return to the café. She knew her uncle would probably be waiting for her, but she was gripped by an overwhelming sense of urgency. It was already half-past five. She had to – simply had to find a job before the shops closed at six so that when she walked back into her uncle’s house she could look her aunt squarely in the eye and say, ‘I won’t be a burden to you. I have a job. I can pay my own way.’
‘There’s no point in trying there. They laid off Ginny Jones last week.’ Tina dampened Diana’s hopes before they’d even begun to smoulder, let alone flame. ‘You’d stand a better chance in one of the pictures. Why don’t we walk up to the
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