Put Out the Fires by Maureen Lee Page B

they were put in front of you.
    She never mentioned the gifts to her dad. Jack Doy would do his nut if he thought any of his family were eating food that hadn’t been acquired completely above board. Eileen salved her conscience a little by giving a lot of stuff to Sheila; five of the eggs had gone her sister’s way, and Tony had the sixth.
    She wondered, it being Saturday and Francis’s day, what sort of present he would bring? After home for nearly two months and back at work for the best part of that time, it had become a sort of ritual; he always turned up with sherry or a box of chocolates.
    Once, he’d brought a pair of silk stockings, though the intimacy of the gift made her feel uncomfortable and she’d given them away.
    Sheila was becoming increasingly impatient, accusing her of being too nice to Francis. “Before you know it, everything will be back to normal and Nick might never have existed.”
    “But what else can I do?” Eileen asked helplessly. “We’re living under the same roof together. If he’s nice to me, it’s awful hard not to be nice back.”
    It was relentless, the charm, the presents, the way he offered to do things around the house when she was at work - the other day he’d distempered the back kitchen a lovely duck-egg blue. Now he was talking about using his accumulated wages to have a bath put in the washhouse, which would save fetching the tin tub indoors and bathing in front of the fire.
    “What do you think, princess? Let me know when you’ve made up your mind and I’ll get someone in to do I it.”
    What else could she say, but, “Yes, please, Francis?” A proper bath seemed the very ultimate of luxury to Eileen imagine not having to hump in pail after pail of water from the back kitchen!
    Mind you, he’d always liked the house to be smart so he could show off when people came round on Corporation business. Number 16 was one of the few houses in the street to have electricity, and Eileen had a proper stove in the back kitchen to cook on - there was a green tiled fireplace in the living room where the old range used to be. Francis could always work miracles. Even in wartime, she marvelled, he was able to find a plumber and a new bath, though it would probably be one of the Corpy workmen doing the job as a foreigner.
    She sighed and cursed herself for being so weak-willed and easily influenced. It was ironic to think that Sheila Mid her dad were able to resist her husband’s charm offensive, and even Tony seemed wary of his dad, yet die, the chief victim, was gradually being drawn back under his spell.
    “The other day a letter had come from the solicitor dealing with the divorce, wondering why he hadn’t heard from her. She took the letter into work and showed it to Miss Thomas.
    “I’ve no idea what to do,” she confessed.
    Miss Thomas didn’t answer for a while. Eventually, she shook her head. “I don’t know how to advise you, Eileen. Is it definitely all over with Nick?”
    Eileen winced. “It seems like it,” she muttered.
    “But you still love him? I can tell by your face.”
    “I’ll love Nick all my life, but it’s nowt to do with him in a way,” Eileen said. “I’d made up me mind about the divorce long before things got serious between me and Nick, but Francis is all sweetness and light. He can’t do enough for me. He even sends his white shirts to the laundry to save on the washing. Once or twice, I’ve found meself calling him ‘luv’. I’d feel dead mean Walking out. Anyroad, where would I go?”
    “Oh, Eileen! You’re in a right old mess.”
    “I am that,” Eileen said ruefully. “Y’know, when I’m on the afternoon shift, it’s nice to go home and find the cocoa made. He asks how the day went, all concerned like, and we end up having quite a pleasant little chat.”
    Miss Thomas leaned forward, her chin cupped in her hands. “You know, I’d very much like to meet Francis Costello. He sounds a remarkable man.”
    “What do you