‘It’s that tobacco you keep chewing.’

‘Aye, an’ I’ll keep on chewing it an’ all,’ he declared defiantly. ‘Teeth or no teeth, it’s the only pleasure I’ve got.’ Winking, he gave Molly a naughty nudge. ‘Except when the wife’s in a good mood,’ he chipped, ‘which is not often enough these days.’ That said, he went away, whistling merrily. Hoping his luck might be in tonight, Molly thought with a silent chuckle.

Settling herself down for the ten minute journey, she glanced out of the window at the darkening skies. Rosie was right about the rain, because even while she watched, it began pattering on the window pane, its frantic rhythm growing faster by the minute.

Getting off the tram at the first stop, she ran all the way to the school, dodging the raindrops as she did so. The children were waiting inside as usual. Giving them both a hug, she decided, ‘We’ll hang on a bit for the rain to let off.’ Rosie was with the little ones now, so there was no need to panic.

‘I did a drawing for you,’ Milly told her, and held up a mangled piece of paper. On it was a pencil sketch of what looked like a scarecrow. ‘It’s you,’ she said proudly, and Molly had to stifle her laughter.

‘It’s beautiful!’ she gasped. ‘Thank you.’ And she gave Milly another hug.

Georgie tutted. ‘It looks like a scarecrow to me.’

Out of the mouths of babes, Molly thought, and raised her eyebrows warningly at Georgie. ‘And what have you been doing today?’

‘It isn’t a scarecrow!’ Milly’s face began to crumple. ‘It’s our Molly!’

Shaking her head meaningfully, Molly looked at Georgie. ‘You didn’t really mean that, did you?’ she pleaded, and peace was restored when he told Milly, ‘I can see it’s our Molly.’ Looking at the picture, he fibbed, ‘I were only joking before.’ He smiled all over when Molly gave him a grateful wink.

A moment later, the rain began to ease off. ‘Look, Moll, it’s Mrs Bolton, our teacher!’ Filled with awe, Milly tugged at her sister’s hand. ‘She gave Paul Martin the cane… right on his little arse. He cried for ages and ages.’

Molly was horrified. ‘Where did you hear that word?’

Milly was mystified. ‘What word?’

Georgie obliged. ‘Arse.’

Milly grinned. ‘Well, Paul’s mam had a fight with Mrs Bolton, and she said it… “You’d better not lay a cane on my Paul’s arse ever again”, that’s what she said.’

By this time Molly was beside herself, holding back the laughter and praying to God she wouldn’t let it loose in front of Mrs Bolton. ‘Right, well, we’d better go,’ she spluttered, and began pushing the children forward.

But just as she had feared, Molly was stopped in her tracks. ‘Ah, let me see now… Molly, isn’t it?’

Full of apprehension, Molly turned. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Bolton.’ She felt ten years old, and more afraid of Mrs Bolton than either Milly or Georgie were. And with every right.