The Boy with the Latch Key. Cathy Sharp

me wonder; Betty is a troublemaker and a bad influence on others – I’ve never been in favour of mixing your children and my offenders. Some of my girls are not a good influence. You might be well advised to move the girl before she gets into real trouble.’

      ‘Thank you for your advice, which will be considered,’ Beatrice said coldly. Did the woman think she’d been born yesterday? ‘Is there anything more you wish to discuss concerning my children?’

      ‘No. I just feel you would be better advised to move her or to think about fostering. June needs parents to keep her in order and her mother clearly cannot cope. She’s been allowed to get out of hand and …’ Ruby was silenced as Sister Beatrice rose to her feet. ‘Well, it’s just my advice, for what it’s worth …’

      ‘Quite.’ The one word was quelling.

      Ruby’s cheeks turned dark pink and she turned and left without another word. Beatrice fought for calm. She didn’t know when she’d felt angrier. These people just couldn’t help interfering, making difficulties where none existed. Anyone would think she’d never dealt with a difficult child in her life! No one could have been a bigger rebel than Billy Baggins when he first arrived, and look at him now … He’d certainly repaid the care he’d been given in many ways, and that was why she was disinclined to ask him to move on, even though he ought to have gone long ago. However, he helped out with the older boys, getting them interested in football and athletics and keeping them out of trouble.

      Still, there was no sense in ignoring the warning. She would speak to Wendy and Nancy about June and her brother. It was at times like these when she missed Nan. Her old friend had a wise head and they’d often discussed the difficult children, but like Angela, Nan had her own life these days …

      Leaving the paperwork on her desk, Beatrice decided to take a walk round the home. It was by quietly observing the children at their work and play that she made her own decisions. Obviously Archie and June Miller would not be able to stay here if their mother was sent to prison long term, because few of the children did these days. St Saviour’s did a very necessary job of taking in frightened, anxious children, reassuring them, making them understand that a new life awaited them at Halfpenny House and then sending them on. However, Beatrice would do her utmost to make certain that the brother and sister stayed together …

      Ruby made herself a coffee in her office and glared at the dividing wall between her and the orphanage next door. Sometimes it made her as mad as fire to see the way that lot went on, heads in the clouds as if all children were little angels who must be treated like fine china. Talk about a dinosaur! Sister Beatrice should have been shipped back off to her convent years ago in Ruby’s opinion. Stuffy old trout! Ruby had only been trying to give her good advice, to prevent a girl on the edge from slipping over into the abyss, from which it was very hard to climb back. Once the girl had a reputation for being trouble she would find life a lot harder than simply being moved to an orphanage in a pleasant location.

      Ruby knew a bit about hardship herself, but she hadn’t gone to the bad, even though she’d had every provocation. She’d had to fight for what she’d got and that didn’t give her much patience with those that had it easy. By the look of her, Sister Beatrice had never done a proper day’s work in her life. Oh, she’d trained as a nurse, but she hadn’t had to struggle every step to claw her way through high school and pass her grades. With Ruby’s home life, she could’ve been forgiven for leaving school at fifteen and taking a job – anything to get away! She hadn’t lain down and wept and felt sorry for herself. She’d passed her exams despite all the stuff she’d had to cope with and, after some years of hard graft, she’d landed a good job with the Children’s Department. An orphan herself, Ruby had lived with an uncle and aunt for four years, until she’d won a scholarship to college. After that, she’d made her own way. Nothing would ever persuade her to live under his roof again. She didn’t even visit her buttoned-up Aunt Joan and she wouldn’t go near him if she were starving! Her uncle was a grubby-minded little man who couldn’t keep his hands to himself – and Ruby should know! She’d had to fight him off since she was twelve.

      When she’d taken the first lowly position in the Children’s Department, Ruby had had to struggle for recognition and the chance to realise her ambition. It was only when she’d helped Ruth Sampson out with a difficult case on a couple of occasions that she’d started to move up. It was important to Ruby that her superior should appreciate her; she wasn’t sure, but she had the feeling that Ruth didn’t like men any more than she did – it was why she’d never married and dedicated herself to her job. What Ruby didn’t know for sure was whether she felt more than liking for her.

      It was something she had to keep hidden, this passion for another woman. Sex and love between two women wasn’t seen as correct, either politically or lawfully, and although the voices raised against the old-fashioned laws were growing in number, at this time it didn’t look as if things would ever change. Ruby saw that as unfair and discrimination against someone like her; she couldn’t help it if she wanted to love a woman and not a man. The very thought of a man touching her made her shudder – so why shouldn’t she find happiness with someone of her own persuasion? Yet she knew she had to be careful. If she offended Ruth, she would be out of the Department and looking for another job – and she might find herself in worse trouble …

      Ruby’s job paid quite well. She had her own tiny flat, just a bedroom, tiny bathroom, kitchen and that was it; there was no space for anything much but it was hers, her sanctuary. Her bed folded away during the day and she had a battered old sofa she sat on; a single wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a chair and a table that let down and could be stood against the wall at night. It was all she needed. She’d got where she was by working hard and keeping her emotions tightly under control.

      She was in charge of this side of St Saviour’s, but her bit wasn’t called that now. It was a centre for girls on probation, girls who could end up in an institution that had bars on the windows and cells rather than dormitories if they didn’t behave. Ruby had twenty girls in her care at the Halfpenny Probationary Centre, and two assistant female workers under her supervision as well as a male orderly; his strength was needed occasionally if one of the worst offenders became violent. One girl had been strange whenever there was a full moon and they’d had to restrain her a few times, but she’d now been removed to a secure unit. There wasn’t a sick ward here, and in the case of illness Ruby called in the doctor or asked one of the nurses from next door to pop in, but if the girls were ill they went to hospital. She wasn’t a nurse and wouldn’t allow herself to be drawn into caring for her girls in that way; they were here because they needed to be disciplined and she was here to see they behaved. Ruby wasn’t soft, she’d been trained in a hard school, and she was up to the tricks of the girls who landed themselves in her charge.

      At twenty-seven she’d finally got the kind of job she’d been after for years and she was proud of herself. She wrote regular reports on the behaviour of the girls in her charge and she prided herself that she’d had nothing significant to report for months. Ruby had made certain that her girls knew they must live by her rules; she considered herself as being fair but strict and she’d told them that if they made trouble or ran away the next step was a remand home and then prison. So far not one girl had run away, and that was more than they could say next door. Ruby happened to know that one of the boys they’d sent to Halfpenny House had absconded recently. She’d heard that they’d had trouble keeping staff there and that some of the kids were rebellious. Of course the boy who’d run off wasn’t an offender and at fourteen he was probably old enough to find himself a job, but that old trout next door shouldn’t be too proud to take some advice when it was given in good faith …

      An altercation outside her door interrupted her thoughts and then a girl burst in, shouting at the top of her voice, followed by one of the carers. Ruby dismissed the carer with a wave of her hand and looked at the girl. She was Betty Goodge and she was wearing lipstick again, something expressly forbidden.

      ‘Be quiet, Betty,’ Ruby said sternly. ‘Why are you wearing lipstick? You are far too young, even if we allowed it – and you know the rules. Even the older girls are not permitted any make-up during their stay here.’

      ‘Rotten