Molly's War Read Online Free
Author: Maggie Hope
one of the dead. Molly felt like telling her not to worry, she was fine, everything was fine. And everything would have been if it wasn’t for the leaden feeling somewhere inside her.
‘I’ll come back,’ she said instead, and went to look in the newsagent’s window to see if there were any single rooms to let at a price she could afford. Or even some live-in digs, with a family.
The newsagent’s was closed for dinner, which surprised Molly, she hadn’t realised it was after twelve. But there were cards in the window. She took her indelible pencil out of her bag and jotted addresses down on the back of the envelope she had received from the mine manager. Peering through the window, she saw it was twelve-twenty-five. She didn’t have a watch, that was what her dad had been going to get her for Christmas, he’d promised her.
Molly walked along to the fish and chip shop. She should eat, she told herself. But the line of girls from the factory made her shrink inside herself and the smell of the grease took away any appetite she had. Instead she turned and walked down a side street.
Adelaide Street – that was the first address on the envelope. It was cheap too, only 8/6 a week, and she’d have no bus fares to pay. Cheaper than any of the others. When Molly saw the house she was heartened. The lace at the windows was clean and white and the front door step scrubbed and sand-stoned. She lifted a hand to the shining brass knocker. The door was opened by a girl who looked to be about twelve, wearing a green gym slip and cream-coloured blouse and over them a pinafore that was much too big for her. Her hair was tied back severely with a length of green tape.
She stared at Molly through thick-lensed glasses with large, nervous eyes.
‘What do you want?’ she asked baldly.
‘I’ve come about the room,’ said Molly, and smiled to show she was friendly and harmless.
‘My dad’s at work,’ said the girl. ‘And I have to go back to school in ten minutes.’
‘Well, can I come in? When does your dad get in from work? Where’s your mother?’
‘I haven’t got a mother and Dad doesn’t get in until four o’clock.’
Molly looked at her and after a moment the girl opened the door wide, revealing a passage with brown linoleum polished to a gleaming finish. There was even a length of carpet in the middle and a side table. Oh, yes, Molly liked the look of this house.
‘I’ll leave my name, shall I? I can come later. Four o’clock, did you say?’
The girl looked even more nervous and glanced about her hesitantly. ‘Er, I haven’t got a pencil,’ she murmured.
‘I have, I’ve got one here,’ said Molly. Taking charge, she walked past the girl and wrote her name swiftly on a piece of paper torn from the envelope, laying it on the table. She looked around her. The door to the living room was open, there was a smell of beeswax. ‘I’ll be back tonight,’ she said. ‘By the way, what’s your name?’
‘Betty. Betty Jones.’
‘I’ll see you later, Betty.’
By, thought Molly as she walked off, that girl’s as timid as a mouse. But she felt some fellow feeling with the poor kid. After all, she hadn’t been much older when she had lost her own mother.
The line outside the fish shop had disappeared, the factory only allowed thirty minutes for dinner. Molly went in and bought a penny bag of chips and walked along to where the Gaunless stream ran alongside the road. She sat on a low wall by the water and ate the chips. Already she was feeling slightly better. With luck she would get the lodgings at a shilling or two less than she had expected to pay. Nice, clean lodgings an’ all.
Chapter Three
‘I’LL BE BACK at work on Monday, I promise, Mr Bolton,’ said Molly.
‘Yes, well,’ he answered, standing up to show that the interview was ended, ‘I hope you are. You understand I have every sympathy with your position, my dear, but I can’t keep your place open any longer. We have a lot of
‘I’ll come back,’ she said instead, and went to look in the newsagent’s window to see if there were any single rooms to let at a price she could afford. Or even some live-in digs, with a family.
The newsagent’s was closed for dinner, which surprised Molly, she hadn’t realised it was after twelve. But there were cards in the window. She took her indelible pencil out of her bag and jotted addresses down on the back of the envelope she had received from the mine manager. Peering through the window, she saw it was twelve-twenty-five. She didn’t have a watch, that was what her dad had been going to get her for Christmas, he’d promised her.
Molly walked along to the fish and chip shop. She should eat, she told herself. But the line of girls from the factory made her shrink inside herself and the smell of the grease took away any appetite she had. Instead she turned and walked down a side street.
Adelaide Street – that was the first address on the envelope. It was cheap too, only 8/6 a week, and she’d have no bus fares to pay. Cheaper than any of the others. When Molly saw the house she was heartened. The lace at the windows was clean and white and the front door step scrubbed and sand-stoned. She lifted a hand to the shining brass knocker. The door was opened by a girl who looked to be about twelve, wearing a green gym slip and cream-coloured blouse and over them a pinafore that was much too big for her. Her hair was tied back severely with a length of green tape.
She stared at Molly through thick-lensed glasses with large, nervous eyes.
‘What do you want?’ she asked baldly.
‘I’ve come about the room,’ said Molly, and smiled to show she was friendly and harmless.
‘My dad’s at work,’ said the girl. ‘And I have to go back to school in ten minutes.’
‘Well, can I come in? When does your dad get in from work? Where’s your mother?’
‘I haven’t got a mother and Dad doesn’t get in until four o’clock.’
Molly looked at her and after a moment the girl opened the door wide, revealing a passage with brown linoleum polished to a gleaming finish. There was even a length of carpet in the middle and a side table. Oh, yes, Molly liked the look of this house.
‘I’ll leave my name, shall I? I can come later. Four o’clock, did you say?’
The girl looked even more nervous and glanced about her hesitantly. ‘Er, I haven’t got a pencil,’ she murmured.
‘I have, I’ve got one here,’ said Molly. Taking charge, she walked past the girl and wrote her name swiftly on a piece of paper torn from the envelope, laying it on the table. She looked around her. The door to the living room was open, there was a smell of beeswax. ‘I’ll be back tonight,’ she said. ‘By the way, what’s your name?’
‘Betty. Betty Jones.’
‘I’ll see you later, Betty.’
By, thought Molly as she walked off, that girl’s as timid as a mouse. But she felt some fellow feeling with the poor kid. After all, she hadn’t been much older when she had lost her own mother.
The line outside the fish shop had disappeared, the factory only allowed thirty minutes for dinner. Molly went in and bought a penny bag of chips and walked along to where the Gaunless stream ran alongside the road. She sat on a low wall by the water and ate the chips. Already she was feeling slightly better. With luck she would get the lodgings at a shilling or two less than she had expected to pay. Nice, clean lodgings an’ all.
Chapter Three
‘I’LL BE BACK at work on Monday, I promise, Mr Bolton,’ said Molly.
‘Yes, well,’ he answered, standing up to show that the interview was ended, ‘I hope you are. You understand I have every sympathy with your position, my dear, but I can’t keep your place open any longer. We have a lot of
Readers choose
T.A Richards Neville
Ellen Datlow
Christina Moore
Michael R. Fletcher
Alyssa Goodnight
Heidi Belleau
Maureen Child
Michael Jan Friedman
Yōko Ogawa
Barry Sadler