Free Our Lizzie by Anna Jacobs

limping. She was a nice lass, very willing and quick to learn, but today she seemed a bit slower than usual. At first he wondered if her early enthusiasm for the new job was wearing off. After a while, however, he noticed the limp she was trying to hide, the way she stood on one foot when she thought no one was looking, and decided that her feet must be hurting. He went to whisper in his mother’s ear and she, too, began to watch Lizzie.
    When there was a lull, Sally sent Lizzie out to the back for a quick cup of tea and a bun. She’d always found that if you fed your staff mid-morning, they worked better. And she had an arrangement with the baker’s across the road to buy stale buns or cake left over from the previous day, so it didn’t cost much. After a minute, she followed Lizzie out to the packing area and, not seeing her, raised one eyebrow at young Fred. “Where is she?”
    â€œIn the lav.”
    Sally peered outside, saw a movement in the corner and marched across the yard, to find Lizzie with her black stocking off dabbing at her foot with a handkerchief dampened under the outside tap. “What—” she began, then she noticed the foot. A huge blister on the heel, broken and weeping, and another on the big toe. How on earth had the child put up with that all morning?
    â€œYour shoes are too tight,” she said in a firm voice. “You must get some more.”
    Lizzie hung her head. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Dearden. I asked Mam and she said there was still a lot of wear in these.”
    Sally drew in a long slow breath. You didn’t blame a mother in front of a child, but it made her feel angry that Mrs. Kershaw hadn’t even checked her daughter’s feet before refusing, as she herself would have done. “You can’t put that shoe back on again. I’ve got some slippers you can use for the rest of the day. They’re black, so no one will notice. Come with me.”
    â€œI’m that sorry, Mrs. Dearden.” Lizzie limped after the broad figure of her employer up the stairs into the family’s living quarters, a place she’d never been before. “I won’t let it stop me working. I’ll make up for—”
    â€œHere. Sit down on that chair and let me put some sticking plasters on your foot. What’s the other foot like?”
    â€œOh, not as bad.”
    â€œShow me.” She inspected it. “It’s just as bad.” But the lass hadn’t complained. Not so much as a whimper. If Peter wasn’t so sharp-eyed, no one would even have known.
    â€œI’m sorry to be such a trouble,” Lizzie said miserably, sure she was going to lose her lovely new job.
    Sally guessed instantly what had brought tears to those big green eyes. “I’m not going to sack you, you silly child. But from now on, you’re to come and tell me if anything’s troubling you. Anything . Is that clear?”
    â€œYes, Mrs. Dearden.”
    â€œAnd wipe those tears away!”
    Lizzie fumbled through her pockets. “I—I’ve lost my handkerchief.”
    â€œTch!” Sally went into her bedroom and came out with a perfectly folded and ironed handkerchief. “Here, use this!”
    Lizzie mopped her face and blew her nose, then looked down in dismay at the soggy square of material. “I’ll w-wash this before I bring it back.” Her voice wobbled, because the kindness was shaking her self-control.
    â€œRight, then, go down and eat your bun, then get back to work.”
    â€œI can go straight back to make up for the time I’ve lost,” Lizzie offered, but her stomach growled and betrayed her.
    Sally could not help smiling. “I think we can afford the time for you to eat a bun, child.”
    â€œYes, Mrs. Dearden. And—and thank you for helping me. I’ll ask Mam again about the shoes tonight.”
    When Lizzie had gone, Sally sat on for a moment, lost in thought. Meg