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managing the Ragley Rovers football team, frequent visits to the bookmaker and, of course, a regular intake of Tetley’s bitter.
    And pigs might fly
, thought Vera. She gave Ronnie a steely look. ‘And what have you in mind, Ronald?’ she asked evenly.
    Ronnie looked down at the advertisement in the
Easington Herald & Pioneer
. ‘It’s a technical assistant,’ he said.
    ‘And what exactly does that mean?’ asked Vera.
    ‘Well, it’s a
technical assistant
, in t’packaging industry,’ he said.
    ‘And what will you be packing, Ronald?’ asked Vera with a hint of impatience.
    ‘Well, er, Easter eggs, Miss Evans,’ said Ronnie, ‘an’ ah need a ref’rence.’
    It was 8.30 a.m. on Monday, 11 October in the school office. I closed the Yorkshire Purchasing Organization catalogue and looked up from my desk. This was definitely more interesting than ordering powder paint.
    At number 7, School View, Ruby was propped up in a single bed in the front room. She had returned home from hospital and was now convalescing. This had resulted in the reorganization of the furniture and general jumble that cluttered her house. Sue Phillips, our tall blonde Chair of the Ragley Parent Teacher Association and staff nurse at the hospital in York, was in attendance.
    ‘Ow’s it lookin’, Mrs Phillips?’ asked Ruby, looking down at the scars on her legs.
    ‘Fine, Ruby,’ said Sue. ‘They’re healing well and Nurse Wojciechowski will be calling in each day to change the dressings and do some physio.’
    ‘Ah know ’er,’ said Ruby darkly. ‘’Er brother plays f’my Ronnie’s football team. She dunt take no prisoners.’
    ‘Well, Ruby,’ said Sue with a smile, ‘we all have our own bedside manner.’
    ‘Ah know, an’ ’ers is like ’Itler.’ Ruby pushed a few strands of damp wavy chestnut hair away from her eyes. ‘Anyway, don’t worry, ah know which side m’bread’s buttered an’ ah’ll do as ah’m told … it’s t’only way ah’ll get back t’school.’
    ‘You need plenty of rest first, Ruby,’ said Sue as she packed up her medical bag.
    ‘Be that as it may, but ah need t’earn some money,’ said Ruby disconsolately. ‘We can’t live on fresh air.’
    Sue looked down at one of Ragley village’s most popular characters and held her hand. ‘Ruby, shall I make you a cup of tea before I get off to work?’ Then she looked dubiously through the open kitchen door at the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink.
    ‘No, thank you kindly,’ said Ruby. ‘Our Natasha should be back soon. She only does part-time at Diane’s.’
    ‘Well,’ said Sue, surveying the cluttered room, ‘I’ll call back after work to check on you.’ She picked up her bag, smoothed her smart blue uniform and paused at the front door. ‘And where’s Ronnie?’ she asked as an afterthought.
    ‘Out somewhere trying t’get a job,’ said Ruby sadly, ‘but ah’ll believe it when ah see it.’
    ‘What’s the job, Ruby?’
    ‘’E sed summat abart t’packaging industry, whatever that is.’
    ‘Well, you never know, Ruby … there’s always a first time,’ said Sue.
    ‘This is my Ronnie we’re talkin’ about ’ere,’ said Ruby, shaking her head. ‘Y’know what they say – a tiger never changes its spots.’ She looked down at her dumpy, work-red hands. ‘There was a time ah ’ad great expectations, but not any more.’ Sue nodded knowingly, let herself out and drove off down the High Street towards York.
    Ruby was a year short of her fiftieth birthday and life was beginning to wear her down. At twenty stones and in her extra-large, bright-orange overall, she had been a familiar sight skipping round the school with her mop and galvanized bucket, singing songs from her favourite film,
The Sound of Music
. That was until the accident. Now everything had changed. Her world had become a struggle.
    Ruby and Ronnie had six children. Thirty-one year-old Andy was a sergeant in the army and twenty-nine-year-old Racquel