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under the door. She picked it up, and found to her delight that it was a note from Jonathan.

      Dear Scarlett,

      Sorry about the way things ended tonight. I hope you’re still speaking to me. If you are, would you like to go up the pier or something tomorrow? I’ll be in the kitchen at half past nine.

      Yours sincerely,

       Jonathan

      He had written it last night! And he had come over to her room to deliver it in spite of that cow, his mother. Scarlett put her thumbs in her ears, waggled her fingers and stuck out her tongue in the general direction of the flat at the front of the pub. So much for her, the interfering old witch. She went to get washed.

      The bathroom was as repellent as the rest of the staff accommodation. The lino on the floor was curled and cracked, the bath and basin had brown stains on them where the taps dripped, there was green mould growing in one of the corners and there were notices taped up, all written in fierce black capitals:

       Leave this room as you would wish to find it. Staff are allowed one bath a week. Do not waste the toilet paper. No more than three inches of water allowed in the bath.

      Scarlett flushed several lots of paper down the toilet and washed under a running hot tap.

      Once she was dressed, Scarlett thought she had better see how her father was. She tapped on his door, got no answer, knocked harder and finally opened it and put her head round. Victor was still asleep. She was just about to close the door again when he woke up with a start.

      ‘What? I didn’t…oh, Scarlett, it’s you, love. Come in. What’s the time?’

      ‘Half past eight.’

      ‘Oh—thank God. For a moment I thought…I got to be downstairs by half nine. Mustn’t be late, not for my first full day.’

      He felt for his packet of cigarettes and lit one up to help him face the morning.

      Downstairs by half past nine! Now, there was a novelty. Scarlett had enough tact not to say so out loud, though. Her father looked dreadful still.

      ‘I’ll go and make some tea while you go to the bathroom,’ she offered.

      ‘Would you, pet? That’d save my life. Oh—but what about milk?’

      ‘I know where to get that,’ Scarlett said proudly. Jonathan had pointed out the whereabouts of the corner shop yesterday. ‘I’ll be back by the time you’re dressed.’

      As good as her word, she walked into the room with the breakfast tray just as Victor was doing up his shoelaces.

      ‘You’re a treasure,’ he said.

      They sat at the rickety table, Scarlett with a bowl of cereal, Victor with his cup of tea and second cigarette of the day. Washed and shaved, he looked a bit better.

      ‘I looked in on you last night, but you were sound-o,’ he said. ‘It’s some place this, isn’t it? Bit different from the dear old Lion.’

      ‘It’s horrible,’ Scarlett said.

      Awkwardly, her father patted her shoulder.

      ‘You’ll get used to it. We both will,’ he said, though it sounded as if he was trying to convince himself just as much as Scarlett. ‘It’s just so big and…well…not exactly cosy, is it? You should see the turnover they have here! The ale I served last night! It was just nonstop from opening to closing. They come down here on the train and the charabancs and all they want is to get pie-eyed as quickly as possible. They was queuing up outside the door at six, and when the Guv’nor opened up it was like a tidal wave coming in. They was three deep at the bar before you could turn round. I never saw anything like it in my life.’

      It was no wonder he looked tired. That had been Friday night. Today was Saturday, and likely to be even busier, and here he was up and dressed well before his usual time. Scarlett got up and gave him a hug. After all, they were in this together.

      ‘You’ll be all right, Dad.’

      ‘Yeah, well—I got to be, ain’t I? But thanks all the same, love.’

      Scarlett glanced at the clock that used to stand on the mantelpiece at the Red Lion.

      ‘Twenty-eight minutes past, Dad.’

      Victor sighed, took one last drag on his cigarette, stubbed it out and stood up.

      ‘Better go, then. Oh—’ He looked at Scarlett with new concern. ‘What about you, love? Will you be all right? I don’t know how long this is going to take. I might be down there till opening time, and then it’ll be well gone two before I get up here again.’

      ‘I’ll be all right, Dad,’ she assured him. ‘Now go on—it’s time!’

      She hurried him out of the door, stacked the breakfast things and clattered down the stairs. For the first time since her mother died, she had something nice to look forward to.

      It didn’t last long. The moment she opened the kitchen door, disappointment hit her like a brick. Jonathan was not there. With leaden feet, Scarlett went over to the sink and started washing up. In the time it took to wash the dishes, she had gone through a whole sad scenario in her head. Jonathan had changed his mind and gone off sailing with his friends, he would avoid seeing her in future and his horrible mother was going to make her life hell. Scarlett felt utterly alone.

      ‘Oh, Mum…’ she said out loud.

      How desperately she wanted to feel those comforting arms around her, to nestle her head against that warm shoulder, to hear that lovely reassuring voice.

      ‘Hello! Sorry I’m a bit late. My m—I had to do some things before I left.’

      Jonathan!

      Hastily, Scarlett brushed away tears with the back of her hand. But she couldn’t quite control the wobble in her voice. ‘Hello—’

      She turned to face him, trying to smile, and saw his cheerful grin fade to concern.

      ‘What’s the matter? Has Irma been foul to you? She can be a right cow at times—’

      Scarlett shook her head. ‘No—’

      ‘What, then? Has—?’

      ‘It’s nothing. I’m all right, really.’

      Part of her longed to tell him everything, but it was too soon. She knew that if she talked about her mother, she would start crying and never be able to stop. She could feel it all dammed up inside her, waiting to burst out.

      Jonathan came and leaned against the sink.

      ‘You’ve got to be careful with Irma. She sucks up to my mum all the time, and she’ll snitch on you for the tiniest thing. I’ve seen her get people sacked for stuff she’s made a song and dance about when really it’s not been that important. So watch out. Leave all this nice and tidy for a start, or she’ll get in a right tizz with you.’

      Scarlett nodded, not trusting herself to speak yet.

      ‘Look…er…do you fancy going up the pier or something?’ Jonathan asked.

      Scarlett managed something like a real smile.

      ‘Yes. That’d be nice.’

      There was still a great black pit of grief inside her, but a day out with Jonathan was a shaft of light.

      ‘You’d best go and fetch a mac or something, then. It looks like it might rain later.’

      Scarlett stacked the clean dishes in an empty cupboard and ran upstairs, running over the contents of her wardrobe in her mind. What to wear? Her only raincoat was the grey one she wore for school. Apart from that and the rest of her school uniform, she had a couple of summer dresses, some shorts and blouses and a smart suit for best that used to be her mother’s

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