Free Anyone Who Had a Heart by Mia Dolan Page B

beginning to spill over the edge.
    Before she had chance to spring for the tap, Jane bounced back, her face contorted with a sickly grin. ‘Poke, poke, poke!’ Each word was accompanied with a jab of her finger.
    This was too much! Marcie reached for the tap with one hand; with the other she grabbed Jane by the nape of the neck and ducked her head in the water.
    Just seconds – that was all it was – but Jane came up dripping.
    Marcie left her there.
    ‘You wait, Marcie Brooks!’ Jane shouted after her. ‘I’ll tell on you. You just wait. I’ll tell on you.’
    Marcie shook her head and couldn’t help smiling because Jane sounded so juvenile, just like a schoolgirl threatening to tell teacher. The problem was this was more serious. Marcie hadn’t meant to lose her temper but she was tired and she’d had enough of Jane’s bullying. She consoled herself with the thought that Jane was really the one at fault. She had as much right to complain about Jane as Jane had to complain about her. All she hoped was it wouldn’t come to that, after all, Miss Pope was bound to side with her niece.
    For the rest of that day she kept her nose to the sewing machine. Watching the stitching grow down each boring seam was monotonous but also strangely mesmerising. Jane was put out of her mind, at least for now.
    Miss Pope did not ask to see her. Nobody mentioned anything having happened in the ladies’ cloakroom. Nobody even seemed to notice that Jane’s thick fringe was wet or that her eye make-up was smudged into a murky sludge colour.
    The day ended as it always did, with the day’s work being folded and put away, and the machines switched off. All is well, Marcie told herself.
    The next morning Marcie walked past Jane with a spring in her step, confident that nothing had been said and nothing would be said.
    Jane didn’t say a word and Marcie said nothing either . Nose in the air she collected some work and went straight to her machine.
    It wasn’t until mid morning that a sudden cloud appeared. Miss Pope said she wanted to have a word with her.
    That bitch Jane Gale! Had she done for her after all?
    She looked in Jane’s direction. Her machine was standing idle, her seat empty, a pillowcase clamped in place ready for sewing.
    She could be in the ladies’ cloakroom. Or she might already be with Miss Pope making good her story.
    It was difficult not to be nervous, but she determined to stick up for herself. Jane had kept on and on until she’d retaliated. What else was she supposed to do?
    Neatly folding her work, she noted where her stitching had got to so she could easily return to it and switched off the power supply.
    They wouldn’t sack her for dipping Jane’s face in the water surely? She couldn’t have been immersed for more than three seconds – not long enough to drown her.
    If all else fails I’ll have to apologise again, she said to herself. It wouldn’t be easy but she’d do it if she had to.
    She walked to the door, certain she could feel the eyes of the other seamstresses burning into her back. She knew the other girls whispered that she was a bit standoffish but she couldn’t help that. Keeping slightly aloof was the strategy she’d adopted for keeping her unmarried mother state a secret. They’d understand that if they knew, but they didn’t know.
    A nervous feeling knotted and bent and twisted itself around in her stomach.
    Mouth dry, tongue cleaving to the roof of her mouth, she followed Miss Pope into the tiny office where interviews were carried out and forms filled in.
    Miss Pope had a kindly face, pink cheeks and rustcoloured hair turning grey at the roots. She didn’t resemble her niece in any way whatsoever. Seeing as Jane’s sewing wasn’t that brilliant, Marcie had no doubt that Miss Pope was being kind giving the girl a job. Just like me being kind to Garth, she decided. With a sudden pang of guilt she reminded herself that she hadn’t seen poor Garth for ages and neither had she