Her children had looked up at her, their eyes filled with the kind of adoration reserved by the masses for the pope. Oh, she would not let them down. Knowing the women would be in their houses, preparing the tea for their own families and away from the street, she’d opened the front door and, pushing the pram before her, slipped out. She had taken the one and sixpence she had left to her name, money Kathleen had given her to help with food for the tea, knowing that unless she could find more, they would be turned out of their house on Friday. To keep a roof over their head and food on the table she would sell herself down on the docks. Everyone knew, when Annie O’Prey had fallen on hard times, it wasn’t a cup of tea and a slice of Annie’s famed Victoria sandwich that the coalman had stepped inside for. She would never admit it now, but the black handprints on Annie’s backside half an hour later had been a dead giveaway. Annie had paid for a hundredweight in kind and Peggy knew of others who had done the same in desperate times.

Now, if she couldn’t get what she needed from the pawnbroker, there was nowhere else for her to turn. She was days away from losing her home and the children’s welfare would take her children into care when that happened. All she would be left with was big Paddy – and what a thought that was. Her children were hungry. She would sell the clothes off their backs, the shoes off their feet – and if she had to, Peggy would sell herself.

Now she wandered down the Dock Road, looking around her, watching carefully, and then she saw it happen before her very eyes. A woman stepped out from a closed shop doorway and a man approached her. They spoke and then she opened a door in the wall and they disappeared inside. Peggy sighed; this woman was not wearing slippers. She wore heels, a fancy coat and her hair was done.

*

The visit to the pawnshop almost robbed her of the last of her dignity, or so she thought.

The pawnbroker picked up each shoe and checked the soles. He put the blankets on one side. ‘I don’t suppose they’ve had a wash?’

Peggy looked down at her hands.

‘Well, in that case, I can’t give you much because if you don’t come back, I’ll have to get them to the wash house before I can sell them. Three shillings for the blankets and ten and six for the shoes.’

Peggy gasped. ‘Is that all?’ It had hardly been worth the long and exhausting walk.

‘I’ll have to get this lot resoled. It’s a business I run, not a charity.’