Rainy Days for the Harpers Girls. Rosie Clarke

he visited.

      ‘Is that you, Marion love?’ her mother asked weakly. ‘I’m sorry about the sausages. I only went out for a moment and the door didn’t shut…’

      ‘It’s the latch,’ Marion said. ‘It needs fixing…’ If her father were here, he could do it easily, but he wouldn’t bother unless his wife put herself out and that meant another row.

      ‘You should get someone…’ her mother’s weak voice said. ‘The sausages cost more than the price of a new lock…’

      ‘Not unless Dad does it himself,’ Marion said. Sometimes, she thought her mother had no grasp of what things cost these days. ‘I reckon half a crown at least.’

      ‘Not if you ask Mr Jackson…’ Mrs Kaye insisted. ‘Tell him what his dog did and he might do it for free…’

      ‘If Dan was here, he’d do it, but he’d make the neighbour pay for it,’ Marion said. ‘I’ll go around and speak to him if I get time…. there’s the washing and the floor…’

      ‘Leave the things to soak and I’ll try to rinse them in the mornin’,’ her mother offered.

      ‘I’ll see…’ Marion replied. She hesitated, then, ‘Will you have something to eat, Ma – or a cup of tea?’

      ‘Kathy got me a drink. I don’t want anything else – get on with whatever you need to, love…’

      Marion sighed as she went down the stairs. If she left the clothes soaking, they would be there when she got home the next day. She would put them in for a while and pop round next door, see what Mr Jackson had to say, but she hoped the dog was shut up, because it was always jumping up at people and Marion was afraid it might bite.

      She negotiated the back path to their neighbour’s kitchen door, avoiding a bicycle that had been parked against the washing prop but fallen down, taking the wooden prop with it, and then stepped over three pairs of working men’s boots that looked as if they needed a good clean. Mrs Jackson had a husband and three hulking great sons at work in the building trade, four daughters, two employed at the laundry, one married, and one – the pride of her mother’s life – training to be a nurse.

      It was Paula Jackson, or Nurse Jackson, who opened the door to her, and Marion breathed a sigh of relief. Paula was friendly and often stopped to say hello if they met in the corner shop.

      ‘Marion, lovely to see you – will you come in?’ Paula invited. ‘If you can squeeze in for my monsters…’ She called her brothers names all the time but they only grinned. ‘What can I do for you? Mum said yours didn’t look so good when she saw her in the yard. They had quite a chat about that suffragette, Mary Richardson, what damaged a painting at the National Gallery, I believe…’

      So, Ma had lied about only being gone a moment. Marion drew a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry to trouble you, Paula, but do you think your dad would fix the lock on our back door please? Ma left it open this morning and a dog got in and pinched the sausages we were supposed to have for tea…’

      ‘That will be where the varmint got them from then,’ Mrs Jackson said, coming to stand behind her daughter. She smiled at Marion. ‘I saw it scoffing them but was too late to rescue anything. I’d take my stick to it, but these daft lumps would cry buckets…’ She jerked her head in the direction of her sons, who were eating their tea of lamb stew and mash. ‘I’ll see my husband comes round this evenin’ and does it for yer, love…’

      ‘Thanks, Mrs Jackson…’ Marion said and then blushed as Reggie Jackson loomed up behind his mother. He towered over them all, a tall, broad-shouldered man with nearly black hair and blue eyes.

      ‘I’ll do it now, Ma,’ he said and grinned at Marion. ‘It’s my dog so my fault – and I’ll be round right away, Miss Kaye…’

      Marion mumbled something and bolted. If anything terrified her more than the Jackson’s dog, it was Reggie. The way he looked at her made her want to hide herself, because there was such laughter in those eyes. Ma said Reggie Jackson was too good-looking for his own sake and the plague of all decent girls and if they weren’t careful, they’d be left with the trouble and he’d be off to some fancy foreign place without a care. Ma was prone to saying such things. She was always warning both Marion and Kathy to be careful of men, but Milly was too young to understand yet. Marion and Kathy did, despite Kathy being only days off her thirteenth birthday. They knew and they’d taken the warning to heart, because neither wanted to end up like Ma.

      ‘Mr Jackson is coming,’ Marion mumbled as she entered the kitchen. She loaded the rush basket with more dirty clothes and took them into the scullery, dumping them into the hot water in the copper, and started to rinse those she’d already soaked in the sink, as she heard the voices in the kitchen. The lads were laughing and talking to Reggie. They liked him and he sometimes played football with them in the street, something their father had never done.

      Marion delayed her return to the kitchen until good manners drove her back. The least she could do was offer a cup of tea and, of course, payment.

      The lock was finished and Kathy had already made the tea when Marion returned. Her sister was smiling, clearly enjoying Reggie’s company, as were the boys.

      ‘Thank you so much, Mr Jackson,’ Marion said. ‘How much do I owe you please?’

      ‘Nothing at all, Miss Kaye,’ he replied, his grin making her stomach clench. He had no right to be so good-looking and nice and a decent girl had better be on her guard. ‘Any little jobs you need doin’ are free to you and your family – and I still owe you for the sausages.’

      ‘No, that is quite fair; you’ve repaired the lock,’ Marion said.

      ‘I bought the sausages,’ Robbie chimed in. ‘They cost me a bob…’

      Reggie laughed and looked at her. ‘I dare not give you the shillin’, Robbie – but I’ll take yer to the footie on Saturday if yer like?’

      ‘Thanks, Reggie!’ Robbie looked at him adoringly. ‘I don’t care if yer dog did eat me sausages if I get ter go to the footie…’

      ‘Right yer are then,’ Reggie said. ‘Shall we take the young’un an’ all?’ He jerked his head at Dickon and Robbie frowned but then relented.

      ‘Yeah, all right, he can come too…’

      Marion went to the door to look at the brand-new lock. It must have cost him far more than the sausages. ‘You had no need to do that…’ she whispered, ‘but thank you…’

      ‘You’re welcome, Miss Kaye,’ he said and smiled at her and something in his eyes made her heart stand still before racing on. ‘Anytime, anywhere – I’m always at your service, Miss Marion…’ The twinkle in his eyes scared her to death and she took a step back. ‘Me dog likes yer – and if he thinks yer OK, yer must be…’

      The cheek of him! She caught her breath as he walked away, standing to watch despite herself. At his gate, Reggie turned and winked and then he was through and walking up to his back door.

      Marion returned to her work. She wanted to get all the clothes rinsed and hanging up to dry in the scullery before she went to bed – and it didn’t look as if she would have time to do the floor…

      3

      ‘Will you be working late again this evening?’ Beth Burrows asked her husband Jack as she reached for her warm coat and pulled it on that morning in mid-March. The wind still had a bite in it even though Mr Marco had dressed Harpers’ windows with spring clothes, daffodils and Easter bunnies. They were a colourful sight and had already brought customers in looking for the new hats, but she wasn’t ready to give up her winter coat just yet.

      ‘I should think so,’ Jack said and kissed her briefly, looking distracted. As part owner and manager of a hotel, he was always working extra hours to make it profitable and she knew things had