‘Spell “education”.’

Ruthie was in trouble now. Bridget was not a good speller and had taught Ruthie only short words like ‘milk’ and ‘school’ which she had taught herself.

‘Come along, child. I haven’t got all day.’

Ruthie gave it a brave try. ‘Ed… yookay… shun.’

Matron scribbled something on the form. ‘Do you have lice?’

‘No, she does not!’ Bridget cried angrily. ‘My lass’s hair is washed and combed regular.’

Matron ignored the outburst and stood up. ‘Bend your head, child.’

Ruthie gave her mother a nervous glance, but when Bridget nodded reassuringly, she bent her head and let the woman rummage through her hair. Leaving Ruthie’s hair all of a tumble, Matron returned to her desk and wrote on the form, saying aloud, ‘Clean head. No lice.’

‘That’s what I said,’ Bridget told her. ‘Washed and combed regular.’ A well-directed scowl shut her up.

‘Right then.’ Laying down her pen, Matron stepped forward.

‘Do you know what kind of things we do here at the charity school?’

‘Mammy said I have to learn how to read and write. And I have to be a good girl.’

‘What do you think about being a good girl?’

‘I’m not always a good girl.’

‘None of us are,’ Matron murmured caustically.

Bridget looked at her curiously.

Matron noticed and cleared her throat. ‘I see no reason why you shouldn’t start school straightaway. Collect her at three thirty, Mrs Mulligan.’ And before Bridget could reply, she was away down the corridor with Ruthie following like a sorry shadow.

‘’Bye, sweetheart.’ Bridget waved and smiled, but Ruthie was whisked away round a corner, and even the sound of their echoing footsteps was soon gone. ‘I feel like she’s been taken to be hanged,’ Bridget murmured, sorely tempted to go after her. Then she reminded herself firmly that Ruthie was only going to school, and that three thirty would soon roll round.

Joe Tidy was rushed off his feet. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he told Bridget as she came hurrying towards the stall. ‘I’ve not had a minute’s peace this morning.’

‘The train was late,’ Bridget apologised. ‘I’ve just taken Ruthie to school and I miss her already.’ She didn’t have time to say much else because the customers were queuing.

Accrington was always busy on a Monday. It was as if people huddled indoors all Saturday and Sunday then came rushing out on Monday morning to spend their Friday wages.

The rush went on until gone midday. After that, it slowed to a trickle, and Bridget had a favour to ask. ‘Being as it’s quiet, do you think you could spare me for half an hour?’

‘What for?’ Old Joe felt the cold more and more these days.

Blowing into his hands and stamping his feet as always, he moaned, ‘First yer late in, and now you’re wanting to be away afore we’ve even closed up shop.’

‘When I got off the train just now, I saw a blue dress in Taylor’s shop window. If it fits me, I reckon it’ll be perfect to get wed in.’