Free Private Sorrow, A by Maureen Reynolds Page B

couldn’t get back to sleep again. Still, there was only one more week to go and everything would hopefully be back to what it was.
    In the morning, after Edna had left for work, Irene took Billy to school and she made a detour after dropping him off at Rosebank Primary. Instead of heading back to Paradise Road, she walked up Constitution Road and slowed up when she reached John’s house. The house looked deserted and no lights shone in the front rooms. Irene stood for a moment, unable to decide what to do. Should she walk up to the front door and tell John she was just passing or should she walk on?
    After a few moments hesitation, she retraced her steps and went home. She hated seeing Edna so unhappy and she was also a bit annoyed at John for this high-handed treatment. He had made his intentions very clear and now it looked as if he had changed his mind. He was quite entitled to do that, Irene thought, but he should have been honest with her daughter.
    As she turned and walked away, Irene hadn’t noticed the figure standing in the darkness behind the curtains, but she had seen Irene. ‘Well, well, what was that all about?’ she said out loud. But there was no one to answer her and she moved into the kitchen to make some tea and toast.

12
    Molly wanted to make an early start. She wasn’t sure how long it would take her to reach the house where Mrs Pert was staying with her sister. Clepington Road was long and Molly wasn’t sure where to begin looking. She decided to take the bus to the top of Caird Avenue then get her bearings from there.
    As it turned out, she had made the right choice because the flat was in a well-kept, stone-built tenement a few hundred yards away. Vera had said the sister’s name was Isa Young and Molly soon found the flat. It was on the ground floor and the wooden door looked quite substantial, as if it would have been able to withstand the onslaught of an invading army. The brass bell and nameplate were shiny and fingerprint free. They looked as if they were well buffed up every day with Brasso, and Molly felt guilty for having the cheek to ring the bell.
    It took a few minutes for someone to come to the door but Molly knew the two ladies who lived here must now be in there eighties. That was why she got a surprise when a smart looking woman, who looked to be about fifty years old, opened the door. Slightly taken aback, Molly asked if she could see Mrs Pert.
    It was the woman’s turn to look surprised. ‘Can I ask what it’s about?’
    Molly didn’t want to discuss it on the doorstep but it looked as if the woman wasn’t going to let a complete stranger past the fortress of the door. Molly handed over her card and said. ‘It’s about an old neighbour of Mrs Pert. A girl called Etta Barton. I’m working for her mother, trying to trace her.’
    ‘Wait there a minute, while I check if she wants to talk to you.’ With that curt sentence she turned on her heels and disappeared into the dim lobby, but not before making sure she closed the door first.
    Molly felt a fool standing in the close. She should have made an arrangement to see Mrs Pert in advance and not pounce on people like she had been doing. Suddenly, the door was opened and the woman said, ‘Come in.’
    Molly followed her through the lobby to a bright living room, which had too much furniture in it; large solid pieces that looked antique and well cared for. A fire was blazing in the grate and two women sat in comfy armchairs at either end. Molly could tell they were sisters because they resembled each other very much. Both were thin with short, grey hair and sharp, enquiring eyes that gazed at her with anticipation. ‘Sit down. Sit down. I’m Isa and this is Mabel Pert.’
    Molly sat down on a large armless chair, which was surprisingly comfortable and wished she had something like it in her own flat. The young woman came back into the room and Isa introduced her as her daughter Moira.
    Mabel said, ‘Sorry you had to wait