to our house dinner time for a bite to eat. You and all, if you want.’
Marion hesitated and Polly said, ‘Go on, Marion. Don’t be so stiff-necked.’
Marion knew Polly could afford to give the children something wholesome. Then bread and scrape for tea, and thin porridge for breakfast would matter less. On the other hand rationing was coming in soon and everyone would get only so much. ‘It wouldn’t be fair to take yours,’ she said.
‘We don’t know what’s going to be rationed yet,’ Polly pointed out. ‘We’ll have to wait and see. But now Pat, the boys and Mary Ellen eat their dinners in their works’ canteens and so I’ll save on any rations they would eat.’
‘All right,’ Marion said. ‘Thank you, Polly. We’ll see how it goes. But you just see to the children. I’ll get something for myself.’
Polly knew she probably wouldn’t. She ate not nearly enough, in her sister’s opinion, but at least Polly could ensure that the children were well fed once a day.
The children were delighted when Marion told them they would be having dinner at their Auntie Polly’s. They all loved her crowded and untidy house. Aunt Polly wasn’t one to be always on about people washing their hands either, and as there were barely enough chairs to sit down at the table, which was mostly cluttered anyway, theyusually stood around with food in their hands, which the Whittaker children thought wonderful.
‘The only downside to all this,’ Marion said to Sarah one evening when the younger ones were in bed, ‘is that Tony sees even more of Jack.’
‘Jack isn’t that bad,’ Sarah protested.
Marion shook her head. ‘I’m worried about Tony and the power Jack seems to have over him. I’m very much afraid our Tony needs a father’s hand to stop him going to the bad altogether.’
In a way she was right, because Tony missed his father so much it was like an ache inside him. Richard, sitting in Bill’s chair when he came in from work and rustling the paper he often bought on the way home, as his father had, just annoyed Tony more and he tended to gravitate more to his uncle Pat and envied Jack that his father came home each night.
In fact, he envied Jack for many things, not least because he could think up such exciting things to do. When Tony was with him and up to some mischief or other, he didn’t miss his father half as much.
At some point, most boys tried to hitch a ride on a horse-drawn dray, and Jack and Tony had done so many times. The journeys never lasted long because the driver was either aware they were there or a passer-by would alert him. ‘Oi, put yer whip be’ind,’ they would shout, and any clinging boy would drop swiftly from the cart before the driver’s curling whip could bite into his skin.
However, when Jack suggested doing the same to a clattering swaying tram Tony thought it the most exciting thing he had ever done. Neither the conductor nor the driver noticed them, but they were thrown off into the road when the tram took a corner at speed and they narrowly missed being crushed to death by a delivery van, whose driver swerved just in time to avoid them.
Marion was told this by the policeman who delivered the shamefaced and tearful Tony home, but his contriteness was wasted on her when the policeman told her that the delivery driver might never be the same again. After hauling her son inside, she paddled his bottom with a hairbrush and wished she could administer the same punishment to her nephew.
All the other children were shocked at what Tony had done and both Richard and Sarah told him so.
‘Haven’t you got a brain in that bonehead of yours?’ Sarah railed at him. ‘Didn’t you think for one minute what a stupid idea it was?’
Tony was silent. He was feeling incredibly miserable. His bottom felt as if it was on fire and his stomach yawned emptily, for he had been sent to bed without anything to eat. It hadn’t seemed stupid when Jack suggested it. It had seemed
Marion hesitated and Polly said, ‘Go on, Marion. Don’t be so stiff-necked.’
Marion knew Polly could afford to give the children something wholesome. Then bread and scrape for tea, and thin porridge for breakfast would matter less. On the other hand rationing was coming in soon and everyone would get only so much. ‘It wouldn’t be fair to take yours,’ she said.
‘We don’t know what’s going to be rationed yet,’ Polly pointed out. ‘We’ll have to wait and see. But now Pat, the boys and Mary Ellen eat their dinners in their works’ canteens and so I’ll save on any rations they would eat.’
‘All right,’ Marion said. ‘Thank you, Polly. We’ll see how it goes. But you just see to the children. I’ll get something for myself.’
Polly knew she probably wouldn’t. She ate not nearly enough, in her sister’s opinion, but at least Polly could ensure that the children were well fed once a day.
The children were delighted when Marion told them they would be having dinner at their Auntie Polly’s. They all loved her crowded and untidy house. Aunt Polly wasn’t one to be always on about people washing their hands either, and as there were barely enough chairs to sit down at the table, which was mostly cluttered anyway, theyusually stood around with food in their hands, which the Whittaker children thought wonderful.
‘The only downside to all this,’ Marion said to Sarah one evening when the younger ones were in bed, ‘is that Tony sees even more of Jack.’
‘Jack isn’t that bad,’ Sarah protested.
Marion shook her head. ‘I’m worried about Tony and the power Jack seems to have over him. I’m very much afraid our Tony needs a father’s hand to stop him going to the bad altogether.’
In a way she was right, because Tony missed his father so much it was like an ache inside him. Richard, sitting in Bill’s chair when he came in from work and rustling the paper he often bought on the way home, as his father had, just annoyed Tony more and he tended to gravitate more to his uncle Pat and envied Jack that his father came home each night.
In fact, he envied Jack for many things, not least because he could think up such exciting things to do. When Tony was with him and up to some mischief or other, he didn’t miss his father half as much.
At some point, most boys tried to hitch a ride on a horse-drawn dray, and Jack and Tony had done so many times. The journeys never lasted long because the driver was either aware they were there or a passer-by would alert him. ‘Oi, put yer whip be’ind,’ they would shout, and any clinging boy would drop swiftly from the cart before the driver’s curling whip could bite into his skin.
However, when Jack suggested doing the same to a clattering swaying tram Tony thought it the most exciting thing he had ever done. Neither the conductor nor the driver noticed them, but they were thrown off into the road when the tram took a corner at speed and they narrowly missed being crushed to death by a delivery van, whose driver swerved just in time to avoid them.
Marion was told this by the policeman who delivered the shamefaced and tearful Tony home, but his contriteness was wasted on her when the policeman told her that the delivery driver might never be the same again. After hauling her son inside, she paddled his bottom with a hairbrush and wished she could administer the same punishment to her nephew.
All the other children were shocked at what Tony had done and both Richard and Sarah told him so.
‘Haven’t you got a brain in that bonehead of yours?’ Sarah railed at him. ‘Didn’t you think for one minute what a stupid idea it was?’
Tony was silent. He was feeling incredibly miserable. His bottom felt as if it was on fire and his stomach yawned emptily, for he had been sent to bed without anything to eat. It hadn’t seemed stupid when Jack suggested it. It had seemed
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