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mended my roller skates, either.
    Then one Saturday morning, I went to the pictures. I was sitting next to Pam in the sixpenny seats, and the Western had just finished (the cowboys had won, as usual) and in the gap before the cartoon, Pam’s brother Tom leaned over and said to me, ‘Was it your dad I saw selling dog food down Victoria Street?’
    I was so taken aback, it took me a moment to reply. Then I said, ‘I don’t think so. He’s an aircraft mechanic.’
    â€˜Well, it looked like him,’ said Tom. ‘He was going door-to-door.’
    I didn’t say any more.
Tom and Jerry
came on, and I was too busy laughing with everyone else. But when I got home later, and almost tripped over some tins of dog food piled up inside the back door, I remembered.
    I stared at the tins with a peculiar feeling in my stomach. I’d wanted Dad to find work locally. And there was nothing
wrong
with selling dog food. Of course there wasn’t. But I’d always been very proud of the fact my dad fixed aeroplanes. Selling dog food was a bit of a come-down.
    It was at that moment that I heard voices from beyond the scullery door.
    â€˜â€¦don’t see why we couldn’t have gone to Newcastle.’
    â€˜Gwen, you know why, we agreed that Megan’s education should come first.’
    â€˜I still don’t see why she couldn’t just take the Eleven Plus in Newcastle. Or join us later. Anyway, she might not even pass, and who knows if you’ll ever get another chance?’
    I felt tears stinging my eyes. So they
did
blame me. Dad had given up his new job; Mum had lost the chance of her own home. And it was my fault.
    I turned towards the back door. But my foot caught on one of those wretched tins, which fell to the floor with a clang. Before I could escape into the yard, the door opened, and Dad peered through.
    â€˜That you, Megs? Was wondering if there was a specially big mouse clattering about in there. Come on in. In fact, if you’ve got a moment, why don’t you show us what you’ve been set for your homework this week?’
    Dad’s eyes were very sharp, but if he’d noticed my tears he didn’t say anything. I was glad to bend my head over my homework books.
    To my surprise, it really helped, concentrating on mental arithmetic, and I stopped feeling like I was about to cry. Dad turned out to be very good at sums – and very patient too. When we closed the book, he said that we’d practice every day from now on.
    Upstairs in my room, though, I felt awful. I was sure, on top of everything else, that he and Mum thought I’d been eavesdropping. And with Shirley sitting in the middle of my rug, playing ‘school’ with her dolls, I couldn’t even have a quiet cry.

Chapter Nine

Disaster
    The day before the Eleven Plus, Miss Bulmer said that we weren’t to fret or feel nervous, just to come to school after a good breakfast next morning, and do our best. She also said that we shouldn’t do any homework that evening, but something completely different. So when Pam came running up, and said there was going to be a big race against the Copperworks Terrace lot over at the Hill that afternoon, I didn’t think twice.
    â€˜I can share your skates, can’t I?’
    â€˜â€™Course you can,’ said Pam at once. (Sometimes she had been a little reluctant to share, but I guess witha big contest against the Copperworks Terrace lot she knew we needed every good skater we had.)
    We linked arms and ran for the gates. And that was when I spotted Mum through the railings. She was wearing her Sunday best frock and hat, and she had Shirley by one hand.
    â€˜Oh, there you are,’ she said, when I came up. ‘I need you to mind your sister.’
    â€˜But I’m just off out with Pam!’
    â€˜Not today you’re not. I’m going to meet Dad now off the Cardiff train, and I want you to take Shirley and look