Free There'll Be Blue Skies by Ellie Dean

under the bed, and hurried to strip Ernie’s bed. The blanket was, thankfully, only slightly damp, but the sheets and mattress were soaked.
    Sally was almost in tears as she used the dry corner of one of the sheets to try and get the worst out of the mattress. It would stain, she was certain, and it had looked brand new when Mr Reilly had brought it upstairs.
    Having done her best with the wet patch, she hauled the mattress over to the gas fire and fed in one of the tanners Mrs Reilly had given her. It would take all night to dry and probably cost far more than a single tanner, but she dared not let the mattress ruin. Mrs Reilly would be furious.
    Ernie sniffled and shivered as he huddled into the towel. ‘I’m cold, Sal. I wanna go back to bed.’
    Sally tamped down on the rising panic and dragged on her overcoat to cover the petticoat she used as a nightdress. Having gathered up the soaking sheets and pyjamas, she perched Ernie on her hip. ‘I got to wash these, first,’ she whispered. ‘You too,’ she added, wrinkling her nose. ‘God, Ernie, you pick yer moments, don’t yer? You ain’t done this for years.’
    ‘I wanna go ’ome, Sal,’ he whined.
    ‘Don’t be daft,’ she whispered back. ‘I thought you and Charlie was getting on like an ’ouse on fire?’
    He shrugged and buried his head in her shoulder. ‘Will Mrs Reilly be cross with me, like Mum?’
    ‘Course not,’ she replied, fearing that Mrs Reilly would probably have them both out on their ears if she found out Ernie wet the bed. She tiptoed down the stairs to the bathroom and pulled down the blackout blind before turning on the light and locking the door.
    Sitting him on the chair in the corner, she lit the boiler and flinched at the loud noise it made. Surely the whole house would be woken? She stood very still in the centre of the bathroom and listened. When she was satisfied no-one was stirring, she turned the taps just enough to quietly cover the bottom of the huge tub with a couple of inches of water. ‘Now, Ernie,’ she whispered with some urgency. ‘You’re not to make a noise. Not a word. You understand?’
    ‘But I don’t want another ba—’
    ‘Shush. You’ll have the whole ’ouse awake.’ She slipped off her coat and hung it on the hook at the back of the door.
    He sat sullenly in the few inches of water as she soaped him, but perked up when she bundled him back in the towel and plonked him on the chair. ‘I’m thirsty,’ he declared in his piping voice. ‘Can I have a drink?’
    ‘That’s the last thing you’ll get. Sit there and don’t make a sound while I wash these.’ The tone of her furious whisper seemed enough to silence him, and Sally dumped the sheets and pyjama trousers into the bath. She worked up a good lather and scrubbed them as hard as she could, rinsing them under the tap, checking there were no stains left before she wrung them out.
    ‘I’m tired, Sal. I wanna go to sleep.’
    ‘In a minute.’
    The sheets were dripping, but there was nowhere she dared hang them. Frantic and tearful, Sally eyed the mop and bucket in the corner. She carried the bucket across the room to the sturdy radiator, tied a corner of the sheet to one of the pipes, and began to twist it tighter and tighter, squeezing as much water out of it as she could.
    Some of it went in the bucket, but most of it puddled on the linoleum. She quickly mopped the floor and repeated the process with the other sheet. Satisfied she’d managed to get them as dry as possible, she hurriedly mopped the floor again.
    ‘Can I go to bed now?’ Ernie asked sleepily.
    ‘Not until you’ve been to the lav,’ she whispered back. ‘I can’t risk you doing this again tonight.’ She put on her coat and carried him into the lavatory. When he was done, she didn’t dare pull the chain, for the noise it made could wake the dead.
    Once back in their room, she dressed him in his pants and vest and settled him back in his bed, using a dry folded towel