the years. Widowed at thirty-two with five children, she had struggled to bring up her family on her own. She’d had to work all hours, cleaning offices and taking in mending for the local laundry.
And then, when Dora was thirteen, Alf Doyle had come into their lives. He didn’t look like anyone’s idea of a knight in shining armour, with his big lumbering body and hands like ham hocks. But he had certainly rescued Rose Doyle and her kids.
A gentle giant, everyone called him. He worked as a van driver on the railways. Not the best-paid job in the world, but it was steady and at least he didn’t have to line up with the other men at the dock gates every morning, looking for work.
Everyone said Rose was lucky. After all, it wasn’t every man who would take on a widow and all those children. But Alf loved the kids as if they were his own. He took them all on outings to the coast and the countryside and the boating lake at Victoria Park, treated them to sweets and ice creams and all kinds of other delights.
Dora couldn’t have hated him more if she’d tried.
By the time Josie returned with the food, they’d warmed the plates and were crowded around the table. The hot fried rock salmon and chips was a lot better than Nanna Winnie’s notoriously inedible stew, especially when Dora was allowed the batter scraps soaked in salt and vinegar to celebrate her big achievement.
‘Don’t suppose they’ll be feeding you like this in that nurses’ home!’ Rose said.
‘It’s hard work, from what I hear,’ Alf mumbled through a mouthful of chips.
‘I’m not afraid of hard work,’ Dora said.
‘A bit of hard work never hurt anyone.’ Nanna Winnie took out her teeth and slipped them into her pocket.
‘Mum!’ Rose protested. ‘Do you have to do that at the table?’
‘Why not? I don’t need ’em now I’ve finished eating. And they rub my gums raw.’
After tea, Dora and Josie cleared the plates away while Alf relaxed in his armchair beside the fire. Rose sat opposite with her mending, while Nanna Winnie half dozed in her rocking chair.
‘You know what I’m going to do one day, Rosie?’ Alf said. ‘Buy you a house. A proper modern house, out in Loughton near your sister Brenda’s place. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Somewhere with a decent garden, not that stinking little back yard.’
‘Oi, do you mind? That back yard’s been good enough for me all these years,’ Nanna said, opening one eye. But Alf wasn’t listening.
‘You can grow flowers, and I can grow fruit and veg, and keep chickens. And we’ll have electricity in all the rooms.’
‘I don’t hold with electricity,’ Nanna grumbled.
‘That sounds nice.’ Rose smiled down at her mending. She never stopped working, no matter what the occasion. King George himself could come round for his tea, and Rose would still be turning the collars on a couple of shirts.
‘Nice? It’ll be more than nice, love. And it’s what you deserve.’ Alf scratched his expanded belly and sighed with contentment. ‘I’m the luckiest man in the world, do you know that? I’ve got a beautiful wife, lovely kids – what more could a man ask for, eh?’
‘Listen to him go on, making all kinds of stupid promises he can’t keep,’ Dora whispered to Josie as they loaded plates into the sink in the scullery. ‘I don’t know how Mum puts up with it.’
‘She doesn’t mind.’ Josie shrugged, stacking the dishes in the deep sink. ‘She knows how Alf likes to talk.’
‘All the same, I wish he’d shut up about the bloody house in Loughton. He’s only a van driver, not Governor of the Bank of England.’
‘Dora!’ Josie laughed at her in surprise. ‘I don’t know why you don’t like him.’
Dora looked at her sister. Josie was very grown-up for her age. There were four years between them, but since their middle sister Maggie had died they’d become more like friends than sisters. They had once shared all kinds of secrets, tucked together in their big bed, whispering and laughing together under the covers so Bea couldn’t hear.
But there were some secrets Dora couldn’t share, not even with her sister.
‘I just don’t,’ she mumbled, picking a plate off the draining board to dry. ‘I won’t miss him when I leave, that’s for sure.’
‘Don’t talk about leaving, I don’t like it,’ Josie said, pulling a face. Then in the next breath she added, ‘Do you think I could have your old