Page 57 of The Stolen Child

‘I don’t know. You can ask. He likes you, so maybe he’ll agree.’

Elsie held up two slices of buttered bread. ‘You’ll have to eat these on the go.’

Sally tied her hair back into a ponytail, then grabbed her bag and keys, ready to leave for work.

Once they arrived at the cleaners’ room in the office block, nerves began dancing in Sally’s stomach. She didn’t want to lose this job, but she also knew she couldn’t keep up the hours she was working. They found Cyril with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, rubbing his stockinged feet.

‘Gout,’ he said sorrowfully. ‘That’s what the doctor said. Right painful bugger it is too.’

Sally cursed his painful feet, which were unlikely to put him in a charitable mood.

‘Cyril, can I talk to you about something?’

‘Sure.’ He nodded to the bench beside him.

‘I’ve been offered an apprenticeship at the hair salon.’ Sally said.

The charwomen all cheered from behind her.

‘Good for you, love,’ Cyril said, looking genuinely pleased for her, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. ‘Are you giving me your notice?’

‘No. I can’t afford to give up this job, as I’ll only be on apprenticeship wages. But I’m finding it hard to do both.’

Cyril frowned. ‘You want less hours?’

Sally nodded, smiling brightly at him, hoping to win him over.

‘Can’t help, love. I’d like to. But this is a full-time job.’

Sally nodded miserably. She understood and had half expected this response. But then the door opened, and a woman with peroxided blonde hair walked in, eliciting another round of cheers from the charwomen. ‘Hallo, Mary!’

She made her way towards Cyril, who welcomed her warmly. ‘How’s that little wain of yours?’

‘Getting big and bold,’ Mary replied with a happy smile. She took a step closer. ‘The thing is, gaffer, money is tight. And, while I don’t want to leave him, I’d like to come back – for a few nights a week.’

Cyril laughed out loud. ‘What do you ladies think this is? A pick-and-bleeding-mix? That’s two of you looking for part-time work for a full-time job. Well, I never.’

Elsie moved closer and whispered to Sally, ‘You need to do the pools this weekend. I think it’s your lucky week!’ Then she turned to Cyril, ‘Even you can see the obvious solution here. Or do I have to spell it out for you?’

Cyril huffed and puffed briefly, then turned to Sally and said, ‘A free wash and set for my wife, and I’ll allow it.’

Sally threw her arms round him in delight, and then Elsie orchestrated an impromptu cha, cha, cha train line dance, with Cyril at the head, and the other girls joining in behind them.

With her heart racing for joy, Sally thought, I’m doing it, Sister Jones. I’m chasing that dream, and you know what? I’m going to get it too.

BEFORE

September 1976

Sally

Doddington Estate, Battersea Park Road, London

Sally smoothed her hair, then added another slick of lipstick. By the time she’d got home from the salon today, she’d almost cancelled her plans to have drinks with Elsie. Saturdays in the salon were their busiest day and she was exhausted. But now that she’d had a wash and change of clothes she was looking forward to spending the evening with Elsie.

But when she arrived at Elsie’s small flat at six o’clock, the door opened to reveal a sullen friend. Sally followed Elsie inside gingerly, feeling tension pierce the air around them.

‘How are you?’