so lonely or so desolate in all her life. For the first time she realised that she couldn’t cope on her own and it made her feel scared.
She’d known it all along, of course, but because her dad did so much for her, and never commented or drew her attention to the fact, she had tended to overlook how much he helped her.
The first morning after he had gone into the army she tried to get herself ready for school. Dragging herself to the kitchen sink she wiped over her face with a piece of flannel that hung over the tap. It hadn’t been rinsed out when it had been used the night before and it smelled horrible, like milk gone sour. Getting dressed without having him there to help her was frustrating and painful, but she managed it.
She picked up her lunch tin. It seemed lighter than usual so she looked inside and was shocked to find that it was empty. That had been another one of her dad’s jobs. He always made up sandwiches for her and for himself before he went to bed at night so that they were ready and waiting for them both to pick up as they were about to leave the house.
She stuck the empty tin back on the draining board. Not much point in carrying it to school if it was empty, she thought dejectedly.
So what would she have to eat? she wondered. She struggled to the earthenware crock where the bread was kept, but that was empty. Her dad always bought a loaf on his way home from work. Obviously her mam was so used to him doing so that she hadn’t thought to get any.
Before she could resolve the problem, Sandy Coulson was at the door. She didn’t know whether to drag herself down the hall to answer it or struggle into her carriage that was parked at the bottom of the stairs. Before she could make her mind up the door opened a fraction and his carrotred head appeared round it.
‘Are you ready, Winnie?’
‘Almost!’
He seemed to take in the situation with one sweeping glance of his bright green eyes, and to understand her predicament. Swiftly, he came into the hall, swept her up in his arms and settled her in the invalid carriage.
‘There you are! Got everything you need?’
When she didn’t answer he propped open the front door as wide as it would go, seized the handle of the carriage and bumped her unceremoniously out onto the pavement.
He moved so fast, almost running, that she felt breathless by the time they reached school. He propelled her into the centre of the playground.
‘Too early to go in yet,’ he said, and sauntered away to where his friends were gathered in a group.
When the bell sounded he came back and wheeled her into the classroom to her designated place near the stove. ‘See you at dinner break,’ he said nonchalantly, and walked away.
He was there as he’d promised, but once he’d wheeled her out into the playground he didn’t hang around but went off to join his own friends.
Winnie looked for her lunch tin, then remembered she hadn’t brought it because there was nothing to put in it. My belly’s going to think my throat’s been cut by the time I get home, she thought miserably. She wondered what there would be to eat then. Scouse, if she was lucky, otherwise a dip-butty made from dripping or bacon fat.
When school ended that afternoon, Sandy wheeled her home, opened the front door, bounced her into the hallway and turned and left.
She would have liked him to stay and talk. It wasn’t easy having a conversation with him when he was wheeling her along the road because he was holding on to the handle which was behind her head.
On the Friday night, when she tried to ask him about whether he minded having to bring her home, he looked embarrassed.
‘I’m going that way every day so it makes no difference to me that I push you there and back,’ he muttered.
‘Don’t you ever hang out with some of the other boys after school?’ she asked curiously.
‘Nah! Well, not often. If I want to see any of them I can always nip back after I’ve wheeled you home.’
Her