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young man who, having once worked for George Galloway, enjoyed the more congenial working atmosphere at Bradley’s Cartage Contractors. Carrie had been lucky to find Jamie, for not only was he a sensible, reliable clerk and book-keeper, he was a mine of information. He had been able to give his new employer a good deal of advice on contracts and charges, as well as having contacts with many of the local firms’ transport and dispatch managers. He had settled in very happily with the Bradley firm and was well thought of by the young owner.
     
    ‘What’ll ’appen ter the contracts if war breaks out, Mrs Bradley?’ he asked, looking up from the ledger.
     
    Carrie shook her head. ‘I really don’t know, Jamie,’ she replied. ‘As far as food goes, we’ll prob’ly carry on as normal. As fer the rum an’ leavver contracts, we might lose ’em. It all depends. Anyway, I’m not worryin’ over somefing which might never ’appen.’
     
    ‘I read in the Sunday paper that they might call up twenty-year-olds soon,’ Jamie informed her.
     
    ‘You’re twenty-four, aren’t yer?’ Carrie said.
     
    ‘Yes, but they’ll soon get round ter the older ones,’ Jamie replied, looking a trifle worried.
     
    ‘Well, if that’s the case I’ll ask fer a deferment for yer, Jamie. I can’t manage this business efficiently wivvout yer, an’ I’ll tell’em so too,’ Carrie told him forthrightly.
     
    Jamie’s face brightened. ‘That would be really good if yer could,’ he said. ‘Me mum’s worried about me gettin’ called up now me dad can’t work.’
     
    Carrie knew the problems his family faced since his father had been badly injured in a factory accident and she gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘Yer might be able ter get off by claimin’ yer the sole breadwinner,’ she suggested.
     
    ‘I ’ope so,’ Jamie replied, dropping his head once more to the sea of figures in the ledger.
     
    Carrie left him to cope while she went across the yard to make their morning tea. She felt sorry for the young man. He was painfully shy and did not have a girl friend, and he had been quick to point out to her when she had asked him if he was courting that he could not think about marriage while things were difficult at home. Carrie knew, however, that it had not stopped Jamie being attracted to Rachel; she had seen the young man’s reaction whenever her daughter walked into the office. His eyes would light up and he would become flustered when she spoke to him. Rachel had mentioned Jamie’s shyness and how nervous he appeared when she helped him prepare the men’s wages every Thursday. Carrie hoped that the young man would gain in confidence, but she had to admit to herself that things did not augur well for him at the moment.
     
     
    Maisie Dougall had been to the market to get her groceries, and once back in Page Street she pulled on the doorstring of number 10 and stepped into the dark passageway, wiping her feet carefully on the coconut mat as she called out.
     
    ‘I’m in ’ere,’ the old lady answered in a weak voice.
     
    Maisie walked into the tidy parlour and found Florrie huddled over a low fire with a black shawl wrapped round her, the tasselled ends resting in her lap. Her face looked ashen and she raised her head slowly. ‘What’s bin goin’ on over there then?’ she asked, nodding towards the window.
     
    Maisie knew very well that ill as Florrie was, any unusual happenings in the street would not go unnoticed by her, unless she was confined to her bed. ‘Did yer see those blokes pull up in that car this mornin’?’ she asked her.
     
    ‘I saw ’em from the winder,’ Florrie replied. ‘Who were they?’
     
    Maisie sat herself down in the vacant chair facing the old lady and put her shopping bag down by her side. ‘Well, I was just orf ter the market when I saw the motor draw up. Aye, aye, I ses ter meself, who’s this then? They looked a bit posh ter me an’ I see the old bloke tryin’