Free The Girl From Barefoot House by Maureen Lee

The girls were slightly plump like their mother, with the same dark brown eyes and the same brown hair which they wore long and parted in the middle. They looked like a set of Victorian dolls, with their pink, glowing faces, pert noses and tiny rosebud mouths.
    Lily might well be the youngest, but she had more to say than the others put together. She talked in a firm, opiniated voice, to be met with, ‘Oh, shut up, Lily,’ from various members of the family.
    At half past five, Stanley arrived home from his boring job in a bank, followed by Mr Kavanagh a few minutes later. He was very tall, very thin, very sunburnt, with pale, creamy hair like his sons. His dark suit was covered with threads, and Josie remembered Mam saying he owned a haberdasher’s in Penny Lane. He had the air of a man who was seriously moidered, but smiled benignly on his large family, who were still around the table where they’d been for almost an hour, because everyone was too busy talking to leave. Only eight-year-old Ben, next to Josie, hadn’t said a word.
    Mrs Kavanagh went into the kitchen and fetched a plate of scouse. ‘There’s treacle pud for afters, Eddie.’
    ‘Goodo,’ he said, winking at Josie, and she thought it mightn’t be so bad living in Machin Street, with the Kavanaghs only a few doors away.
    At half past six, Mrs Kavanagh suggested she go home. ‘Only because Ivy should be back by now and she’ll be worried where you are. Tell her it’s my fault you’re late. Oh, and luv.’ Josie was led into the hall, where it wasn’t exactly quiet but at least they were alone. Mrs Kavanagh sat on the stairs and pulled her down beside her. ‘That time we met in Blackler’s basement, luv, I guessedstraight away that Mabel was your mam – you’re too alike to pretend otherwise. Anyroad, I never told your auntie that I’d seen you. Poor Ivy, she’s not a bad woman, but she’s a stickler for appearances. It means I know darn well you didn’t have a dad who died in the Battle of Britain – Mabel would have been bound to mention she was married the day we met. And I remember you telling me then you were nearly four, so you can’t be only five like Ivy ses. I didn’t argue when she told me all that rubbish the other night. Even so, her secret’s safe with me. And, Josie, whatever happens, remember you’re always welcome in this house. Mabel was one of the nicest girls I’ve ever known, as well as the prettiest. I don’t give a damn what she got up to, and she’d have wanted me to be your friend.’
    ‘Ta.’ It was a relief to know that another person knew the truth.
    ‘Oh, and another thing, luv. You won’t have met your Uncle Vince yet, but you’ll find he’s a real Prince Charming.’
    ‘Will I?’ Josie felt even more relieved. Mam hadn’t talked much about Uncle Vince, but she’d had the feeling he’d done something bad. If Mrs Kavanagh thought so highly of him, then she must have got the wrong end of the stick. Who, she wondered was ‘His Lordship’, the person who had to be given his marching before Mam moved back in?
    Lily offered to come with her when she realised she was leaving. ‘In case you’ve forgotten your house, like.’
    ‘’Course I haven’t forgotten,’ Josie said scornfully. ‘It’s seventy-six.’
    ‘Still, I’ll come with you all the same.’
    To her surprise, when they were outside Lily linked arms, and Josie didn’t know whether to be pleased orannoyed. Since she’d got to know her, she wasn’t sure if she liked Lily all that much. She was far too bossy and sure of herself.
    ‘Ma said you’re starting St Joseph’s on Monday. Our Marigold left last term – she’s gone to commercial college – but there’s still four of us Kavanaghs left. I’ll call for you, shall I?’
    ‘If you like.’
    ‘Pity we won’t be in the same class, else I’d have told Tommy Atherton to shove off and you could have sat beside me.’
    Josie wriggled her shoulders and didn’t answer. Aunt