Peace In My Heart. Freda Lightfoot

handing her a sheet bearing a long list of names and addresses. ‘You can start calling on them right now, then the rest on Monday morning and insist they pay up.’

      Evie met his unyielding gaze in consternation, realizing she was not in a position to refuse. There was probably much more to this job than she’d imagined. She hadn’t at all taken into account that some folk would avoid paying his betting company. ‘How do I do that?’ she asked in alarm.

      ‘With firm determination and politeness, at which you’re most efficient. And tek no notice if they claim to be poor or hide away pretending they’re not home. Keep hammering on their flaming door till they let you in. Then deliver the payments you receive to me this evening and every evening thereafter.’

      ‘Heck, not sure I’ll be any good at this,’ she said, dreading the prospect of being demanding of people in poverty or difficult strangers addicted to gambling to hand over to her what they owed to Mullins, let alone walking the streets each evening to his house in the dark. Why had she ever agreed to take on such a task? The reason was obvious. Because of this house he’d offered her to rent, she reminded herself, glancing around with pride at the improvements already achieved. Something she’d been desperately in need of.

      Giving her a smarmy grin, he said, ‘Aye, you’ll have to be good at this job, lass, otherwise you’ll be bloody sacked and chucked out of this house.’ Having made this cutting remark, he marched away.