makes you say that?’ Emma asked, her voice sharp.
‘I dunno. It’s just a feeling.’
Emma paled. Luke didn’t do this often, but as on other occasions, when he had a feeling about something it usually turned out to be true, like the time he had somehow foreseen that Susan would fall down the stairs, his prompt action averting a nasty accident.
Emma hid her concern, hoping she sounded more assured than she felt. ‘Look, don’t worry. I’ll speak to Mr Bell about it in the morning and I’m sure it’ll be all right.’
With her eyes veiled, Emma’s thoughts raced.If Horace refused to let the children move in, what would happen to them? If he said no, how could she leave them to fend for themselves? Unexpectedly, the responsibility of the children weighed heavily on her and she felt a surge of resentment. At first she’d been horrified at the idea of marriage, but then the thought of living permanently in that lovely house had swayed her. She had fantasised about it being hers, and now her fantasy was coming true. Of course, talking to Alice had helped, especially when the woman assured her that the sexual side of marriage wasn’t as bad as she had feared.
Emma rose to her feet, ushering the girls from her side as she began to prepare their dinner. It all rested on what Mr Bell had to say about the children in the morning, and now she found herself wishing the hours away.
10
Tom scowled as Horace Bell left the pub. Bloody skinflint! He had been tempted to tell the uppity sod that he could forget marrying Emma, but common sense prevailed. He needed someone to take the kids on–the sods were driving him bloody mad–and if things went well with Polly, he might be able to tempt her with a rent-free flat. She might balk at the idea of taking on five kids, but Dick would be one less, old enough now to find a place of his own. Mind you, he’d miss the lad’s money, but once Emma was married to Horace Bell, she was sure to tip him a few bob.
He licked his lips as he pictured Polly. Unlike Myra, who had been a smasher when he married her, Polly’s face wasn’t much to look at, but her figure was enough to tempt any man. She wasn’t very tall, but nicely rounded, and as time was called in the pub, he decided to pop round to see her.
She lived in the next street, and another plus was that she didn’t have any nippers of her own. As he knocked on the door, Tom was a little nervous. It had been a long time since he’d done this courting lark, and though Polly always stopped to have a word when she saw him, her smile warm and holding a coy invitation, he hadn’t asked her out yet.
Her eyes rounded when she saw him on the step, but she soon regained her equilibrium.
‘Tom, what a nice surprise! What can I do for you, love?’
‘Er…I was wondering if I could have a word.’
‘Of course you can.’
‘Can I come in?’
Polly frowned and leaned forward, her eyes flicking up and down the street. ‘Yeah, all right.’
Tom following the woman along a long narrow passage and into a small back kitchen. He glanced around. It wasn’t much, but spotless, and that was another point in Polly’s favour. ‘Do you fancy a drink, Tom?’
‘I wouldn’t say no.’
‘I’ve only got a bottle of gin but you’re welcome to a snifter. Take a seat, love.’
Tom watched as Polly found two cups. Having opened the bottle she poured them each a good measure, her smile rueful.
‘I hate Sundays, Tom. It’s a family day and rottenon your own. I ain’t much of a drinker, but on Sundays this is my special treat and it gets me through. Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?’
Tom took a swig of gin and grimaced. He wasn’t fond of the stuff, but it gave him a bit of Dutch courage. ‘Well, girl, I was wondering if I could take you out one night.’
‘Me! You want to take me out?’
Tom chuckled at the expression on her face. ‘Well, there ain’t anyone else here and I wasn’t talking to the
‘I dunno. It’s just a feeling.’
Emma paled. Luke didn’t do this often, but as on other occasions, when he had a feeling about something it usually turned out to be true, like the time he had somehow foreseen that Susan would fall down the stairs, his prompt action averting a nasty accident.
Emma hid her concern, hoping she sounded more assured than she felt. ‘Look, don’t worry. I’ll speak to Mr Bell about it in the morning and I’m sure it’ll be all right.’
With her eyes veiled, Emma’s thoughts raced.If Horace refused to let the children move in, what would happen to them? If he said no, how could she leave them to fend for themselves? Unexpectedly, the responsibility of the children weighed heavily on her and she felt a surge of resentment. At first she’d been horrified at the idea of marriage, but then the thought of living permanently in that lovely house had swayed her. She had fantasised about it being hers, and now her fantasy was coming true. Of course, talking to Alice had helped, especially when the woman assured her that the sexual side of marriage wasn’t as bad as she had feared.
Emma rose to her feet, ushering the girls from her side as she began to prepare their dinner. It all rested on what Mr Bell had to say about the children in the morning, and now she found herself wishing the hours away.
10
Tom scowled as Horace Bell left the pub. Bloody skinflint! He had been tempted to tell the uppity sod that he could forget marrying Emma, but common sense prevailed. He needed someone to take the kids on–the sods were driving him bloody mad–and if things went well with Polly, he might be able to tempt her with a rent-free flat. She might balk at the idea of taking on five kids, but Dick would be one less, old enough now to find a place of his own. Mind you, he’d miss the lad’s money, but once Emma was married to Horace Bell, she was sure to tip him a few bob.
He licked his lips as he pictured Polly. Unlike Myra, who had been a smasher when he married her, Polly’s face wasn’t much to look at, but her figure was enough to tempt any man. She wasn’t very tall, but nicely rounded, and as time was called in the pub, he decided to pop round to see her.
She lived in the next street, and another plus was that she didn’t have any nippers of her own. As he knocked on the door, Tom was a little nervous. It had been a long time since he’d done this courting lark, and though Polly always stopped to have a word when she saw him, her smile warm and holding a coy invitation, he hadn’t asked her out yet.
Her eyes rounded when she saw him on the step, but she soon regained her equilibrium.
‘Tom, what a nice surprise! What can I do for you, love?’
‘Er…I was wondering if I could have a word.’
‘Of course you can.’
‘Can I come in?’
Polly frowned and leaned forward, her eyes flicking up and down the street. ‘Yeah, all right.’
Tom following the woman along a long narrow passage and into a small back kitchen. He glanced around. It wasn’t much, but spotless, and that was another point in Polly’s favour. ‘Do you fancy a drink, Tom?’
‘I wouldn’t say no.’
‘I’ve only got a bottle of gin but you’re welcome to a snifter. Take a seat, love.’
Tom watched as Polly found two cups. Having opened the bottle she poured them each a good measure, her smile rueful.
‘I hate Sundays, Tom. It’s a family day and rottenon your own. I ain’t much of a drinker, but on Sundays this is my special treat and it gets me through. Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?’
Tom took a swig of gin and grimaced. He wasn’t fond of the stuff, but it gave him a bit of Dutch courage. ‘Well, girl, I was wondering if I could take you out one night.’
‘Me! You want to take me out?’
Tom chuckled at the expression on her face. ‘Well, there ain’t anyone else here and I wasn’t talking to the
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