Outside, she found Granny Arkwright bent double, her bag lying on the ground beside her, while she fought off a stray dog with her walking stick. ‘Mangy thing! I dropped me bag and now it’s after me apples.’

Picking up the bag, Molly helped the old woman home. It wasn’t far. ‘Number two, Duckworth Street, dear,’ she told Molly. ‘Every day the journey to the shops gets longer, and my legs seem to get shorter.’

She laughed at Bertha, who had not stopped staring solemnly at her. ‘I’m a comical old bugger, ain’t I?’ she cackled. ‘But you’ll be old one day, my beauty. Everybody gets old, or dead, and I’d rather be old.’ After that she held tight to Molly’s arm and muttered to herself all the way home.

Helping her as far as the door, Molly was told, ‘That’s far enough, lass. I don’t ever let anybody into my house – not that yer might rob me or owt, but I have to be careful, what with being on my own.’

She smiled on them both. ‘But you’ve been very kind and I want to thank you.’ Reaching into her purse, she took out a florin. ‘That’s for your trouble,’ she said.

Molly graciously refused, but it was pressed into her palm. ‘You take it for the children,’ the old woman insisted. ‘Tomorrow’s Christmas Day. I don’t suppose you’ve got a tree nor trimmings neither, so go on, lass. You’ve earned it. You carried an old lady’s bag all the way…’ She laughed until she began coughing and could hardly breathe. ‘You very nearly carried me an’ all.’

Molly wasn’t satisfied until the old lady had the door open and her bag inside the passage.

‘Will you do it again for me, lass?’

For a minute, Molly wasn’t sure what she meant. ‘Do what?’

‘Well, carry me bag, o’ course!’ the old lady tutted. ‘I’m too old to be carting heavy bags about. What’s more, that Mr Bruce wears me out with his arguing and moaning. I’m asking you to do me shopping, lass. I’ll pay you a florin a week. That’s for a trip to the butcher’s in town, and a trip to Mr Bruce’s corner shop. What do you say? Will you help me out?’

Molly didn’t need to think twice. ‘It’s a deal.’ They worked out which days she would come and at what time, then shook hands on it.

Molly ran Bertha all the way home. Bursting into Rosie’s front room, she grabbed her by the waist and danced her round. ‘We’ve got a job!’ she cried. ‘Granny Arkwright’s took me on to do her shopping – a florin a week!’

When she was let loose, Rosie fell into the nearest chair. ‘Oh, that’s grand news. When do we start?’

‘Not tomorrow ’cos that’s Christmas Day, but we’ll walk the streets on Boxing Day and knock on every door in Blackburn.’ Lifting Bertha into her arms, Molly swung her round in turn, making her scream with delight. ‘We’re on our way!’ she cried. ‘We’re on our way!’