Molly's War Read Online Free Page B

single bed stood in solitary splendour in the middle of an expanse of highly polished linoleum. It was covered with a white cotton bedspread. But there was a dressing table in the corner with a plain wooden chair in front of it, and in the corner a cupboard. Mr Jones opened the cupboard door and showed Molly a row of hooks with a shelf above. ‘You can put your things in here,’ he said, and turned and stared fiercely at her. ‘I can’t abide slovens,’ he snapped. ‘I won’t have things laid about, do you understand?’ Without waiting for an answer he went on, ‘That’ll be two weeks in advance, you can move in when you like. Seventeen shillings, please.’
    ‘Is there a fire?’
    He looked affronted. ‘If you must have a fire, you’ll have to find your own coal. I don’t hold with fires in bedrooms. I can’t have you using electric either, I’m not made of money. It’s a coal fire or nothing. An’ you’ll have to see to getting the chimney swept yourself an’ all.’
    Molly hesitated. She looked about her. There were floral curtains at the window and a tiny cast-iron fireplace with a paper fan in the grate. But there was a key in the lock; she could shut herself in at least. She wouldn’t have to see a lot of Mr Jones. And if she hated it she could always move out. ‘I’ll take it,’ she said, and fumbled in her bag for her purse. ‘I’ll be back with my stuff on Sunday, I have to work Monday.’
    ‘I won’t have the place cluttered up, mind,’ he warned. ‘And I don’t know about Sunday. Me and Betty go to Chapel on Sunday, ten o’clock service. Are you Chapel?’
    ‘I’ll be bringing just a few things,’ Molly insisted, thinking that for two pins she would tell him what to do with his room. ‘I will be cleaning it after all. And since you ask, yes, I’m Chapel.’ Not that she’d been to service much since Dad died, she thought dismally.
    ‘Aye, well. Just mind what I’ve told you,’ said Mr Jones, and marched off down the stairs leaving her to follow.
    Molly caught the bus back to Eden Hope, it came along just as she approached the stop. She sat staring out of the window, wondering if she had done the right thing. Maybe not, she thought, chewing on the corner of a thumb nail. As she had walked down the stairs in Adelaide Street the door to the kitchen was open. She had smelled boiled cabbage and overdone meat.
    ‘Haven’t I told you to keep this door shut, you gormless fool? The place will stink of food,’ she’d heard Mr Jones snap as he banged the door to behind him. She thought she’d heard a muffled cry too but was letting herself out of the house by then.
    Molly caught sight of her reflection in the darkened window of the bus and put her hand down on her lap. It was years since she’d chewed her thumb, Mam had always been telling her off about it. Suddenly she felt such an intense desire for her mother, her father, Harry, any of them, that it cut into her like a knife. She blinked, blew her nose, and stared fixedly out of the window. The bus had just stopped. Shildon, she thought, it’s Shildon. She forced herself to think of that. Home of the railways, most of the men hereabouts worked in the wagon works. There were Christmas lights in the windows of some of the shops, shining out on to the pavement. What was she going to do to celebrate Christmas? Suddenly she dreaded the thought of it. Her first Christmas on her own. Oh, Harry, where are you? she thought sadly.
    ‘Fares, please.’
    The conductor had to say it twice before it registered with Molly.
    ‘Sorry. Return to Eden Hope Colliery,’ she said. The bell on his ticket machine tinkled. She put the ticket in her bag, alongside the return ticket she had got on the bus from Bishop that morning. Oh, well, she would use both of them up, she supposed. But there was a frighteningly small amount of money left in her purse, she would have to dip into her £25 soon. And she couldn’t afford to do that too often.
    Ann