The Mersey Orphan by Sheila Riley

Author:Sheila Riley [Riley, Sheila]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books

There was a heavy knocking on the front door as Evie, Jack and Lucy sat down to eat the meatless stew known locally as blind scouse. Meat, even fatty scrag ends and offal, was in short supply, but there were no complaints from her brother and sister who tucked into the hot meal knowing they were lucky to get it.

Evie knew her savings would not stretch to paying another week’s rent and buying food. It was either one or the other. But she couldn’t let the kids go hungry. Jack’s leg was better, and she was glad of the wood he brought home each night, reluctant to ask where it came from as they needed all the help they could get, to eke out the meagre ration of inferior coal. Although Jack was out for much of the day, Evie didn’t have the guts to ask what he did with himself, worrying she might not like the answer.

‘I’ll go,’ Jack said, scraping back his chair. But Evie put her hand on his arm. Something akin to excitement ran through her veins. If this was her mother, turning up drunk and clinging to another fella for emotional and financial support, she would give her more than a piece of her mind. She would give Rene her marching orders.

When Evie dragged the door open, she was surprised to see Connie huddled on the step.

‘I hope you don’t mind me knocking, Evie,’ Connie said, pulling her coat more closely around her shoulders.

‘Come in,’ Evie said stepping to one side allowing her neighbour into the lobby, which was lit only by the weak beam of the gas lamp outside.

‘I won’t take long, I know you’ll be having your tea,’ Connie said apologetically. ‘But I’ve got something to ask you, I hope you don’t mind?’ Through the partially opened door of the kitchen, she could see the place was a damn sight cleaner than it had been the last time she was here.

The conspicuous fragrance of floor polish lingering on the shiny linoleum, skirting boards and spotless paintwork, vied with a tantalising aroma of something tasty wafting through the house.

‘Come into the kitchen where it’s warmer,’ Evie said, about to lead the way when Connie put her hand on her arm to stop her.

‘I’m not stopping,’ Connie said, giving Evie’s heart cause to quicken. She hoped Connie hadn’t come to complain about Lucy and young Bobby Harris throwing snowballs earlier. Evie had warned them to keep away from the tavern, knowing she couldn’t afford to replace a broken window.

‘I was wondering if you could do a few hours in the pub each day?’ Connie asked.

A job? Evie had never given a thought to serving behind the bar. That was her mother’s job. But a job was a job and she was in no position to turn her nose up at money coming in. No matter how it was come by.

Evie let out a sigh of relief. Connie hadn’t come to complain about Lucy throwing snowballs after all.

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