The Urchin's Song by Rita Bradshaw

that they considered their daughter a mite above a miner’s son. Nevertheless, in much the same way they had conceded to Pearl’s friendship with Prudence, they allowed their headstrong daughter her way with regard to Barney. Betty had often longed to point out that it was Pearl who had done all the running. ‘Set her cap at him from when she was nowt but a bairn,’ Betty had confided in Josie one night when Gertie and the children were in bed and the others were out; she and Josie were sitting in front of the fire with a basket of mending between them. ‘Shameless at times, she was, but he couldn’t see it. Men can be right fools when it comes to a certain type of lass. Still, it’s done now.’
    Josie was reminded of this conversation in the next moment when Frank ambled through from the front room attired in his Sunday suit, his neck straining awkwardly out of his stiff white collar and his face as black as thunder. His wife glanced at him before saying, ‘It’s no use lookin’ like that. The weddin’s only two weeks away an’ there’s things to be sorted, you know that as well as I do, an’ I’m not havin’ them lookin’ down their noses at us. We can show ’em we’re just as well set up as them, leastways.’
    ‘Don’t talk daft, woman.’
    ‘Well, we can offer to pay a bit towards the jollifications, can’t we, an’ I can do a bit of bakin’.’
    ‘An’ I had to be wearin’ me suit for you to say that?’
    ‘Aye, you did.’ It was sharp and pointed. ‘An’ don’t you have more than a pint or two, should they offer.’ Betty now turned to Josie, and her tone was warm and soft when she said, ‘You’ll be all right, hinny? There’s a pap bottle on the side should you need it, but she’ll likely sleep till I’m back after screamin’ all day, poor little blighter.’
    Barney and Prudence had already left for Barney’s future in-laws’, and Josie was in charge of the house and the children, including three-month-old Millie, who had been suffering from a bout of diarrhoea. ‘I’ll be fine.’ Josie smiled at Betty but didn’t add, as would be customary in the circumstances, ‘Enjoy yourself,’ because she knew that was the last thing Betty was concerned with. She hadn’t been looking forward to this evening and had approached it like a necessary military procedure, instructing Frank on what he could and couldn’t say until the two had finished up having the mother and father of a row the night before.
    Josie followed Frank and Betty to the front door, waving them down the street before reseating herself on the settle. She didn’t take the more comfortable armchair that was Frank’s in spite of the fact she was now effectively alone downstairs, apart from little Millie asleep in her crib. No one in the household, not even Prudence, would have dreamed of sitting in the large, high-backed seat which dominated the kitchen and was set at an angle to the range.
    Josie gathered up Frank’s spare working shirt again and commenced her task of attempting to draw the frayed pieces of cloth together. The shirt had been washed and darned so many times it was threadbare. The monotony of the job allowed her mind to wander to thoughts of her mother, something it did frequently. Although Vera had called the weekend before and told the two girls that their mother was fine, worry was an ever-present spectre sitting on Josie’s shoulder, restricting her appetite and causing her to imagine all sorts of things. After a while her fingers became slower, the warmth of the fire and the steady ticking from the wooden clock on the mantelpiece above the range bathing her in exhaustion. Within moments she was fast asleep.
     
    Prudence sat watching her father and his fat waddling piece of lard - as she termed Betty in her mind - attempting to make small talk with Pearl’s parents, and it was all she could do not to let her contempt show on her face. Ignorant halfwits, the pair of them. Him, with his