Molly's War by Maggie Hope Page A

know, surely? But if she doesn’t, no doubt she’ll soon find out. Howay then, there’ll likely be a crowd in the store.’ And the two women bustled off into Newgate Street.
    ‘There’ll be more chance of work for you shortly, especially if the war does come,’ the clerk in the Labour Exchange said to Molly. ‘Nothing at present.’ He looked over her shoulder at the queue: shabby, down at heel, depressing. ‘Take this chit over to the cash desk for your money.’
    ‘But I must get something!’ she said, desperation making her tone sharp. ‘I can’t live on the dole, it’s not enough.’
    ‘Well, it’s all you’re going to get,’ the clerk said wearily. ‘Next, please.’
    Already the next person in line was moving forward, nudging Molly out of the way. She took her chit and went over to the cash desk. Eight shillings and sixpence. It barely covered her rent. Out on Kingsway once again, she stood for a moment irresolute. She had tried all the shops in the town the day before, there was nothing there. Lingford’s the baking powder factory, too. They had vacancies but when they’d asked where she had been working last and where her references were Molly had backed away. ‘Excuse me,’ she had said. ‘I must go, I … I forgot …’ She’d left the manager looking after her in astonishment. Did she want work or not?
    ‘I’ll walk to West Auckland, St Helens at least,’ she said aloud.
    ‘Eh? What did you say?’ A man was turning into the Labour Exchange. He paused and stared at her.
    ‘Nothing, sorry, just talking to myself,’ replied Molly, blushing.
    ‘Aye, well, pet, it’s when you begin to answer back that you have to worry,’ he said, grinning. He was an older man. His shirt collar was clean but threadbare, his suit shiny with age. His grin slipped a little as he looked into her face, saw the shadows under her eyes, how thin she was.
    ‘Are you all right, pet?’
    It was the first time anyone had spoken to her with any sort of concern for such a long time that her eyes filled and she had to turn away in case he saw it. ‘I’m fine, really,’ she mumbled, and fled down Kingsway and round the corner into South Church Road.
    It was a fine day at least, she thought, as she got her emotions under control and strode out for West Auckland. She paused at a butcher’s shop in Cockton Hill and bought a penny dip, a bread bun dipped in the juices from roasted meat. Once away from the houses and on the open road she stopped at a stile and sat down to eat it. She had to force herself to take it slowly, savouring every bite. She had been so hungry she had felt sick with it, and light-headed too. She sat for a short while until the food made her feel better before resuming her journey. She was approaching Tindale Crescent, close to the factories which had been built on the site of an old colliery. Not far to go now. The sun was warm on her face, her spirits lifted. Perhaps Mr Bolton would give her her job back? After all, the factory was working full pelt, she knew that, turning out khaki uniforms for the troops.
    Molly was hot and dusty by the time she reached the factory. She hesitated at the gate, her heart thumping in her breast as she tried to raise the courage to go in. It had been one thing thinking about it but now she was actually here … She lifted her chin and went into the reception area.
    ‘Molly Mason!’ exclaimed the girl behind the desk. ‘By, I never expected to see you.’
    ‘Hello, Alice.’ The receptionist hadn’t been hostile, merely surprised, and Molly felt slightly better. ‘I’d like to see Mr Bolton, if I may?’
    He kept her waiting for half an hour before calling her into his office.
    ‘I suppose you want your job back,’ he said with no preamble. He sat back in his chair and stared at her, no expression on his face.
    ‘I would, yes,’ said Molly in a small voice. She looked down at her clenched hands. He wasn’t going to give her work, she could tell by his