Molly was no fool. She knew that he was deliberately lying. Yet if she were to insist on leaving today, it would have to be without her wages for the week she had worked in hand. She could not afford to do anything so irresponsible. And yet, she had promised Sal that they would be leaving just as soon as she had told Mr Craig and collected her wages. ‘You must have money of your own!’ she said now, ignoring his smile and thinking it too greasy by half. ‘My wages aren’t so great that you need to raid the cash-box.’

‘Oh, but they are, because, y’see, the wife keeps every penny under lock and key.’ He shrugged his narrow shoulders. ‘I’m no good with money. It’s her that takes care of all that, and you know yourself how sharp she is.’

Molly couldn’t deny the truth of that, because Mrs Craig might be small and wiry, but her tongue was spiteful at times and she did have a very domineering way with her. All the same, Molly could not bring herself to believe that Mr Craig bent entirely to his wife’s demands. She had seen him defy her too often in the café for that to be so. But, be that as it may, Molly was not leaving without her wages, and she told him so in no uncertain terms.

‘And I don’t blame you, girlie,’ he said in a mock serious voice. ‘I’d be the very same meself. But you’ll have to wait till the wife gets back.’ Suddenly, his mood changed and he eyed Molly in a resentful manner. ‘Y’know I’d be within me rights to send you packing without a penny, don’t you?’

‘How’s that?’

‘Huh! It’s easy to see that you don’t often take up an honest day’s work, ain’t it?’ he sneered. ‘Else you’d know that it’s quite in order for me to insist on a week’s notice.’

‘I’ve only got your word for that,’ retorted Molly, thinking how soon he had betrayed his true, obnoxious character.

‘Oh, it’s right enough! Just ask around… you’ll see I’m telling the truth. And besides that, don’t you realize what a terrible problem you’re setting me, by clearing off without giving proper notice, eh? Where am I gonna find somebody to replace you in a matter o’ twenty-four hours?’

‘That’s your problem.’ Molly resented the way he had begun to make her feel guilty. ‘The plain fact is, I can’t stay on. Me and my young ’uns have a particular place to go.’ Suddenly she remembered how kind Mr Craig and his wife had been when she and the children turned up here, cold, hungry and homeless. It wasn’t in her nature to be thankless. ‘I am grateful for you giving me a job and a roof over our heads,’ she said in a softer voice, ‘really I am, Mr Craig. But I have to move on… my children aren’t all that happy here, and I dread leaving them on their own when I need to work. You do understand how I can’t go though – not without my wages. I’ve no other money, except the twenty shillings you paid me for this week’s work. And that won’t last long, as well you know.’