Free The Girl From Barefoot House by Maureen Lee Page A

Ivy had been in touch with the school and would have told them she was five, which meant she’d have to go through the whole first year again, learn to read and write and do sums when she could already do them. She was wondering how this could be avoided when Lily said, ‘I think our Ben’s stuck on you.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Our Ben, he’s got a crush on you. He didn’t say a word during tea, just kept looking at you sideways, sort’a thing. Mind you, he’s a soppy lad, our Ben. I wouldn’t be all that flattered if I were you.’
    ‘Don’t worry, I’m not,’ Josie snapped.
    They had arrived at Aunt Ivy’s, who opened the door to Josie’s knock, her face like thunder. ‘And where the hell d’you think you’ve been, miss? I’ve …’ Her voice became a simper and she gave a sickly smile when she saw Lily. ‘Oh, hello, luv. I should have known she’d be in your house. Your mam, she’s all heart.’
    ‘She’s a living saint, Mrs Adams,’ Lily said in sepulchral tones. Josie realised she was making fun of her aunt, and warmed to her new friend. ‘And she said Josie can cometo ours for tea every night. “Another mouth at the table won’t make much difference,” as she said to me da’.’
    Josie couldn’t remember Mrs Kavanagh saying any such thing, but didn’t argue. Aunt Ivy began to mutter something about if she was being fed regularly she’d have to take along some rations, and Lily said, ‘God bless you, Mrs Adams.’ She nudged Josie playfully in the ribs, and went home.
    It was hard not to think of the Kavanaghs’ happy, noisy house when the door closed and she was left alone with Aunt Ivy, who remarked spitefully, ‘If you hadn’t been at the Kavanaghs’, miss, you’d have gone to bed early. I was dead worried when I got in and you weren’t here.’
    ‘I’d like to go to bed early, please.’
    Her aunt shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. You’ll find a nightie on the bed. I got it in Lewis’s on me way home from work.’
    ‘Ta.’ She was halfway upstairs, already feeling tearful, longing to be alone so she could think about Mam which she’d hardly done at all over the last few hours, when Aunt Ivy called, ‘Don’t forget to draw the blackout curtains.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Are you all right?’
    Josie turned, taken aback by this unexpected expression of concern. ‘I’m okay, ta.’ Her aunt was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up. Her face was odd, all screwed up, as if she were about to cry.
    ‘I suppose, well, as that woman said this morning, you’ve had a shock. It’ll take a while to get over that business with your mam. I was dead upset when me own mam died, but I got over it eventually. You’ll find the same.’
    ‘Ta,’ Josie said again. Perhaps Aunt Ivy was sorry about the way she’d behaved earlier and would be nicer in future, but this turned out not to be the case.

2
    It wasn’t until Saturday, at breakfast, that Josie met Uncle Vince. When she went into the dining room he was tucking into a plate of bacon and fried bread, a small, slight figure wearing a shirt without a collar and a hand-knitted Fair Isle waistcoat. Aunt Ivy, her back to Josie, was pouring tea. She glanced at her niece and didn’t speak.
    ‘Hello there, luv.’ Uncle Vince turned round and chucked her under the chin. He smiled. ‘You’re a lovely big girl for six.’
    ‘Five,’ Aunt Ivy snapped.
    ‘Oh, yes, five.’ He winked at Josie from behind his wife’s back, and she risked a little smile back.
    As Mrs Kavanagh had said, he was a genuine Prince Charming, with thick, straight hair a lovely golden colour, blue eyes as pale as a misty sky at dawn, and a dead straight nose. Had his chin been firmer, he would have been perfect, but it sloped away under his mouth, making him look weak. He must have been weak, Josie thought, the way he let Aunt Ivy boss him around. Yet the funny thing was, she was mad about him.
    She had still been awake last night at half ten when Uncle Vince came