Pure as the Lily by Catherine Cookson Page B

what I’ll do. I’ll go round and see to my lot and then I’ll come back to give you a hand because, my God, there’s a shambles down there.”
    “Thanks, Mrs. McArthur.”
    “Sit down, lass, you’re almost dropping. Look, I’ll make you some tea afore I go.” 6 8i “Thanks, Mrs. McArthur.” She felt she was going to faint; the child slipped from her arms to the floor but stood close to her knees whimpering.
    Mrs. McArthur was bending over her now, saying, Now look, don’t you pass out, lass. Is there anything in the house? A drop of hard? “
    There’s some spirit in the cupboard over there. “ She pointed.
    When Mrs. McArthur put the whisky to her lips she sipped at it and shuddered, but after she had drunk it she felt less faint.
    “I’ll be going now, lass. Will you be all right?”
    “Yes, thank you, Mrs. McArthur.”
    “I’d better tell you, lass.” Mrs. McArthur stood with the door in her hand.
    “They’re looking for your da, the polis. They went up home but he was out. Then they went along to your grannie’s, and he wasn’t there. And I think they’ve been to the allotments. I don’t know whether they’ve got him yet. He’ll get into trouble for this; you know that, don’t you lass?” She looked at the kindly woman. She couldn’t say, ^es, Mrs. McArthur,” she just nodded.

Chapter Seven
    she opened the shop on the Friday morning at nine o’clock; the first person to enter was a policeman.
    “Can you tell me where your da is, lass?”
    “No.”
    Til have to look upstairs ‘you can; he’s not there. “
    “I’m sorry, lass, but I’ll have to
    “You heard what I said, you can.” She lifted the flap of the counter and he passed through. A few minutes later he came down.
    “If you know where he is, lass, you’d better tell, ‘cos he’ll be found in the end.”
    “If I knew where he was I’d tell you.” And she meant it, because if she knew where he was, and he was alive, a little of the terror might seep out of her.
    “It’s a bad business,” he said.
    “I’m sorry for you; I’m sorry for you all.”
    “Thanks,” she said.
    “Mr. Tollett’s in a bad way, they tell me.”
    She didn’t answer. She knew he was in a bad way, she had phoned early this morning.
    “Let’s hope for all concerned he doesn’t snuff it.”
    She stared at him, but still made no comment. The shop had never had so many customers all at once since it had been a shop. People who had never spent a penny in it before came in just to look at her, and by the end of the morning she was answering their looks straight in their eyes, and defying them to say anything.
    She couldn’t understand the feelings that were in her. Part of her was terrified for her da and the consequences of his act, part of her was sick with anguish for Ben Ben who was so kind and good and part of her was full of defiance, and this was supplying her with a strength, strength to keep the shop going, strength to let them all see she could keep the shop going, and the house going, and look after the child. And when the customers’ eyes, especially those of the women, rested on her stomach, she made herself stare back at them . hard.
    And in the afternoon when Mrs. Mulhattan came into the shop and greeted her affably, saying, “Oh me dear, it’s heart sorry I am for you. Aye, trouble, trouble, and him a quiet man who never said a wrong word to a body in his life. It’s good of you to keep things goin’, it is, it is that. Now I’ve brought a bit off me bill. There’s ten shillings; fair’s fair, I’m
    not the one to withhold what I owe an’ a man out of action. “ Mary took the ten shillings, nipped back the pages of the ledger, marked it off Mrs. Mulhattan’s account, then wrote on a piece of paper: “ Received from Mrs. Mulhattan ten shillings, balance owing four pounds,” and handed it across the counter to the beaming, flabby-breasted Hannah, who now said, “ Well now, me dear, just a few things to be