There had been a lot of screeching and laughing, and afterwards their mam had made hot soup and they sat round the table like a real family.

‘I wouldn’t like it if my snowman’s head fell off.’

‘Georgie didn’t like it either.’

‘What did it look like?’

‘Well, it was big and fat.’ Molly blew out her cheeks and stuck out her belly. ‘And it smiled all the time. Georgie made its head by rolling the snow round and round in the yard. Milly found two buttons for the eyes and I made the mouth out of Dad’s old bootlace.’ She chuckled. ‘The snowman stood in the yard for two whole days, then the weather changed and its head began to shrink, until it fell sideways and dropped to the ground with a splosh. Georgie was so upset he ran to his room and didn’t come out till teatime.’

Bertha listened to the story with wide eyes. ‘Did he cry?’

Molly winked. ‘Just a bit.’

‘No, I didn’t!’ Georgie was at the parlour door, his pride dented. ‘It were our Milly who cried, not me.’

Molly pretended to have made a mistake. ‘Was it? Oh yes, I think you’re right.’ Then she quickly changed the subject and told them to go and wash, while she got the breakfast ready.

‘I want two boiled eggs.’ Georgie licked his lips in anticipation. ‘With soldiers to dip in.’

‘I want porridge, with jam and sugar and everything.’ That was Milly’s favourite.

‘I’m sorry. No soldiers and no porridge. You had the last of it yesterday, so now you’ll have what you’re given,’ Molly told them kindly.

Her announcement was greeted with a melody of groans.

Bertha was all right. She never worried too much about what was put in front of her; she just ate it. And Eddie was happy with his biscuits and bottle of milk. But the others were grown up enough to know what they wanted, and kept on at Molly. ‘Why can’t we have what we want for breakfast?’ Milly insisted. ‘All the other girls at school get to choose, so why can’t I?’

‘Because this is not a canteen, and besides, I haven’t been to the shops yet.’ The reason being that lately she had to count her pennies more than ever.

These days, she had to budget very carefully. It was dog’s work getting anything out of her dad, although she had managed to squeeze a few pounds to keep them going. But, all in all, times were hard, and getting harder by the day.

Looking at the disappointed faces now, she felt a failure. ‘I’ll see what I can do tomorrow,’ she promised.

Knowing that if their big sister made a promise she would do her best to keep it, they turned their attention to other matters. ‘Where’s Dad?’ Nervous, they all glanced towards the parlour door.

‘He’s still in bed,’ Molly answered. ‘You know he always has a lie-in on a Sunday.’

‘When’s Mammy coming home?’ That was Bertha, still hoping after all this time. ‘Will she be home for Christmas?’