Read The Boy I Love for Free Online Page B

All the same she knew her mother wouldn’t wear it. Taking the note out, she placed it on the kitchen table.
    â€˜He gave me this as a bonus.’
    As her mother held the money up to the light Hetty laughed. ‘He’s a butcher, Mam, not a master forger.’
    She placed the note down on the table again where it looked dull and insignificant against the bright greens and reds of the new oilcloth. ‘It’s got something nasty stuck to it.’
    Hetty hadn’t noticed the small clump of sausage meat sticking to one corner. She picked it off. ‘It’ll still spend.’
    â€˜Then spend it on yourself.’ She turned back to the stove where her husband’s supper of mince and onions was boiling noisily.
    â€˜What about Dad. What would he like?’
    Her mother laughed harshly. ‘A crate of beer?’ Looking at the clock on the dresser she said, ‘He promised he’d be home by now. He’ll be sat in that pub, laughing and joking. How can he laugh and joke, eh? How can he behave like … like …’
    â€˜It’s his way of coping, Mam.’
    Her mother stared at her scornfully. ‘ Coping ! How do I cope, eh? How do I cope with it?’
    Badly, Hetty thought. Next to the clock her brother Albert’s photograph was draped in a square of black crepe. In the parlour a candle was kept burning in front of another, larger photo of Albert in uniform, a crucifix propped against the ornate frame. Bertie’s shrine, her father called it once, and never mentioned it again.
    Her mother sat down at the table and picked up the ten-shilling note. Holding it out to Hetty she said, ‘He must think a lot of you.’
    Hetty took the note and crumpled it into her pocket. ‘He says I work hard, that’s all.’
    â€˜It’s a pity you have to work at all for riff-raff like him. I remember when his father ran that shop, so filthy you wouldn’t have set foot in it.’ She got up again. Going to the back door she opened it and peered out into the yard. ‘Where’s your father got to? His tea’s ruined.’
    â€˜Shall I go and fetch him?’
    â€˜I don’t like you going in pubs.’
    â€˜I don’t mind.’
    â€˜Are you sure?’ She twisted her apron in her hands, looking from Hetty to the door and back again. ‘Maybe just walk up the street and see if you can see him.’
    Hetty put her coat on and stepped past her mother into the yard. ‘I won’t be long.’
    At the corner of Tanner Street Hetty saw her father walking towards her.
    Joe Roberts sighed. ‘She sent you out to look for me?’
    â€˜She was worried. Besides, it was my idea.’
    â€˜Was it?’ He smiled at her. Linking her arm through his he patted her hand. ‘How’s my girl? That big bruiser of a butcher asked you to marry him yet?’
    â€˜I’m working on him.’
    â€˜Good. Plenty of money, the Morgans. No harm marrying money.’
    â€˜Mam says he’s riff-raff.’
    Joe laughed. ‘Patrick Morgan might be but she thinks the sun shines out of that brother of his. Him being a major has gone to your mother’s head. Anyone would think he’d won the war single-handed, if they listened to her. What’s she cooking for tea?’
    â€˜Mince.’
    â€˜God love us. Can’t you smuggle a nice bit of sausage home, pet?’
    They had reached the back yard gate and Hetty drew her arm away from her father’s. Joe pulled at the hem of his jacket and straightened his tie. He grinned at her. ‘Once more into the breach?’
    She grinned back. ‘Once more.’
    As she was about to go in Joe caught her arm. ‘I was joking just now. Money’s nowt – you marry for love. Life’s hard enough with it.’ He sighed. ‘Come on. Let’s not keep your Mam worrying.’
    When she told Elsie and the others she was leaving the sugar factory to work