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Marion admitted to herself that she couldn’t be really happy for her sister’s good fortune, just incredibly envious. Polly had been poor all her married life and now she would have plenty of money, at least as long as the war lasted, while she, Marion, would have to scrimp and scrape. It was her husband who was putting his life on the line, not Polly’s. She found it very hard not to feel resentful.

      Clara quite understood how Marion felt when she next came round.

      ‘It hardly seems fair that my Bill will soon be risking his life daily for a pittance,’ Marion said to her mother, ‘and because Pat Reilly is not fit for that, he’s sitting pretty and earning a wage many would give their eyeteeth for.’

      ‘I know,’ Clara said. ‘And all this came about because they said he had flat feet. I ask you! If they had refused him because he had chronic liver failure, I could have understood it more. Anyroad, Marion, just imagine how bad the others after jobs were for Pat Reilly to be the best of them.’

      Marion gave a grim smile. ‘I thought that too.’

      ‘And, of course, Pat’s fine wages will do them no good at all,’ Clara said. ‘It will just dribble through Polly’s fingers.’

      Marion thought that a little unfair, for Polly was always very good with money, but she didn’t say anything because for once her mother seemed to understand how aggrieved she had felt at her sister’s good fortune. ‘And just think, with extra money at his disposal, Pat Reilly could easily drink himself into an early grave. Mind you, in his case that could be a blessing.’

      ‘Oh, Mam!’ Marion said, shocked.

      ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t thought the same, for I’ll not believe it.’

      A crimson flush flooded Marion’s face because her mother was right, though she felt so ashamed of it. ‘Bill always said there wasn’t that much wrong with Pat,’ she ventured.

      ‘There is a great deal wrong with a man who takes a young girl down and fills her belly every year without any idea how he is going to provide for any of his kids. They have lived like paupers.’

      They had, as Marion knew only too well, so why then couldn’t she take joy in the fact that life was going to be easier for them from now on? That she couldn’t disturbed her because she realised she was not half as generous as her sister, who didn’t seem to have a resentful bone in her body.

      As one week followed another no bombs fell and the only sign that Britain was at war at all was the news of ships being sunk, and everyone trying to cope with the blackout. Those who could, stayed indoors when darkness fell because to venture out was risking life and limb in such inky blackness.

      The Government advised people to paint white lines on the kerbs outside their houses, and around any trees, pillar boxes and lampposts to try to cut down on the number of accidents.

      ‘It won’t work, of course,’ Polly said. ‘The white paint won’t show up in the pitch black any more than any other colour would.’

      ‘I know,’ Marion said. ‘It’s stupid, and so was sending the kids away when we’ve had no bombs. A lot of mothers like Phyllis Cox are bringing them back home.’

      ‘Don’t blame them.’

      ‘Nor do I. But I wish they would organise something for the children left behind. It does no good for kids to be hanging about all the time. It only leads to mischief when they have too much time on their hands.’

      ‘Oh, I’ll say so,’ Polly said. ‘Gladys Kent complained about our Jack only the other day. She has a house that opens on to the street and the little bugger tied her knocker in such a way that he could operate it from a distance. Course, when she tried to open the door she couldn’t. She said she knew it was him because she heard him killing himself laughing behind the wall.’

      ‘Was Tony involved as well?’

      ‘Think so.’

      ‘Why didn’t you come and tell me?’

      ‘It was only a prank, Marion,’ Polly said. ‘Pat gave them both a good talking to and they won’t do it again.’

      ‘I miss Bill for that,’ Marion said. ‘He was always so good with Tony over something like that. Mind, I miss Bill for more than just that, and though he includes postal orders in his letters he hasn’t much to spare either. I am so worried about money because it’s five weeks now since Bill left, with no sign of any Separation Allowance from the Government. Each morning when I wake I feel as if I’ve a lump of lead in my stomach when I think of the day ahead and trying to feed hungry children on a pittance. I mean, Bill left me ten pounds but twelve shillings a week for the rent makes a big hole in that.’

      ‘But there is no reason for you or the nippers to go without,’ Polly said. ‘I’ve told you many a time. We have the money now and, God knows, you’ve helped me and mine enough in the past. Why are you so pig-headed?’

      ‘Polly, if I had money from you, I haven’t the least idea when I would ever be able to pay you back.’

      ‘Have I ever asked for you to pay me back?’ Polly said, exasperated by her sister’s stubbornness.

      ‘I would have to pay you back,’ Marion said. ‘It’s the way I am.’

      ‘Have you managed to pay the rent?’

      ‘Marion made a face. ‘No, not for the last week I didn’t, and I can’t see it being any better this week, or next either.’

      ‘You’ll have to pay summat off soon,’ Polly warned. ‘Some of these landlords only give you three or four weeks, especially in posh houses like these.’

      ‘Polly, don’t you think that I’m not panic-stricken about just that?’ Marion snapped. ‘But I can’t magic money out of the air.’

      ‘Well,’ said Polly, ‘if you’re adamant that you won’t accept help from me, listen to this. I was talking to a woman down our yard and she said that her old man joined up in the spring because, like Pat, he hadn’t ever really had what you’d call regular work, and she told me that they dain’t get her Separation Allowance sorted out for over two months.’

      ‘Oh God!’ Marion cried. ‘If that happens to me I will be out on my ear. It would be the workhouse for the lot of us.’

      ‘Don’t be so bloody soft,’ Polly said. ‘Me and Pat would never let that happen to you or the nippers. Anyroad, what I’m trying to tell you is there is somewhere you can go, some organisation that helps in situations like this. This woman was telling me all about it, ‘cos she was on her beam ends, she said, and she had to go and see them.’

      ‘Beam ends,’ Marion said, ‘I know how that feels all right. And did this place help her?’

      ‘Yeah,’ Polly said. ‘You can’t go every week or owt to top up your Separation Allowance, for all you might need it, but if they are taking their time sorting out what you are due, they’ll help you. It’s called the SSAFA, which stands for Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Families Association and they have a big office place on Colmore Row. I’ll go with you tomorrow if you like.’

      ‘Oh, Polly, would you really?’

      ‘Course I would, you daft sod,’ Polly said cheerfully. ‘In things like this you are like a babe in arms, our Marion.’

      Polly had advised her to take her marriage lines, the kids’ birth certificates and her rent book with her. ‘They don’t know who you are, do they?’ she said. ‘I mean, you could be just someone come in off the street trying to get money they ain’t entitled to.’

      Marion knew that her sister was right. She took all the details of the Royal Warwickshires, the regiment in which Bill had enlisted, and even took the three letters that he had sent her from the training camp. A woman came out to see her where she waited on the wooden bench in the reception hall to which she had been directed, and Marion was a little unnerved by

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