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"Don't use that case, will you ?"

"Of course I won't, I've said so. Why did you wake me up for that?"

Screwing about on his hunkers he bent nearer to me, saying, "I could kill him when he makes up to you like that. You dont want him, do you?"

"No, I've told you. And look, our Ronnie," I exclaimed in low rapid tones, 'if Mam or Dad knew you came in here there would be something to do, I'm telling you. "

"Why?" His voice sounded huffed.

"Don't keep saying " Why? " You know you shouldn't be ..."

"What harm am I doing, anyway?" he put in.

"I just want to talk to you."

"But what about?" My voice sounded as desperate as I felt.

"Oh, heaps of things. I can't talk to anybody else, and we should be able to talk now. I want to talk about all kinds of things. Us, for instance yes us, and ... and God ... man, the world, the devil, and the flesh."

I knew that in the last bit he was quoting Father Howard's Sunday sermon, but as he said 'flesh' his hands came on to me and his voice changed to a sort of trembling groan as he whispered, "Move over and let me sit near you, just on the top ... just on the top."

"No, no!" I pressed myself against the wall; then springing up and on to my knees and holding the quilt in front of me, I gasped, "Get out, our Ronnie; if you dont I'll yell for me mam."

Slowly he drew himself up from his hunkers, and with his hands outstretched he began to plead, "Christine ... Christine, honest to God, I meant nothing. I just wanted to sit against you. Honest."

"Go. Go on ... get out!"

"You've got to believe me. Look, I won't ever touch you again. I just want to be with you and talk to you. Can't you see?"

"Go on. If you dont I'll shout. I will, mind. And if you come in again I'll tell me mam. Go on."

His face took on such a look of sadness that I almost felt sorry for my attitude, but when the door closed on him I flew to it and jam bed a chair under the knob, then rushing back into bed I covered my head with the bedclothes and prayed, "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, amen. Holy Mary, oh please, please dont let our Ronnie come in again, dont make me have to tell me mam. Oh please! please!"

Next morning I went to mass and to the side altar, and there I implored Our Lady to protect me. Against what I did not

say, I just asked her to keep me a good girl, to keep my thoughts and mind pure and never to let me do anything wrong.

Just when I passed over the bridge before ascending the hill I met Don.

He stood dead in front of me, searching my face in an exaggerated fashion, then exclaimed, "No makeup? Mam's forbidden it, eh?"

I felt very tired and somehow unable to do battle with him.

Instinctively, I knew I had to fight the same battle against him as I had against Ronnie, and the thought, for the moment, had ceased to be terrifying and was just a dead weight on my mind. Quietly I replied,

"I'm not old enough for makeup, I'll use it some time."

"Well, dont wait too long. By the way, I'm coming in to see your mam and dad shortly."

I raised my eyes just the slightest. The house was always open to him, why should he make a statement like this?

Then he said, "Any idea what I'll be after?"

I shook my head.

"No, none."

"Now, now, dont be coy, the come-hither stuff doesn't suit you, Christine. You want me to put it into words? All right, I'll tell you.

I'm going to say "Uncle Bill and Aunt Annie" I'm going to do it proper like, I'm going to say to them' he now struck a pose before going on

"Will it meet with your approval that I take your daughter out, courtin' like?"

My heart was pounding now and I said, tersely, "You can save yourself the trouble, Don, and you know it. I thought we had finished with all that."

The laughter slid from his face and his big mouth seemed to shrink until it looked like Aunt Phyllis's. Then he said quietly, "I've behaved me self I've kept me temper, I've done everything according to the book and even that doesn't suit you. Well, I'll do as I said. I'll ask, and if they dont approve then I'll do it in me own way ... the courtin', I mean. So make up your mind you're for me, Christine. I've always known it, and I'd put you in the river afore I'd let anyone else lay eyes on you."

Under his fixed stare and his words, which were bringing a feeling of terror spurting up in me, I stood as if hypnotized, until a snuffling and a joyous yelp at my legs told me that Stinker had come to meet me, and I turned to him as to some kind, normal human creature and, heedless of my good coat, I stooped down and gathered his warm wriggling body up into my arms. As Stinker's tongue licked his welcome on my face I thought of what my mother had said, "Don't show him you're afraid," but I was afraid, and he knew it. It was impossible to feel as I did inside and it not to show in my eyes, but with an effort I brought out, "You're mad, Don Dowling, quite mad."

His next words made me more terrified than ever, for he said quite calmly, "Yes I am, Christine, you're right there. I am mad where you're concerned. I'm stark, staring mad. I think I always have been."

Then putting out his hand he pushed Stinker's head roughly aside away from my face, and his tone had altered when he said, "Don't let him lick your face like that, I can't stand it."

"Leave him alone!" Suddenly I was angry, and because I was angry I had courage.

"Who cares what you can stand and what you can't stand?

You're nothing but a big bully, Don Dowling. And dont you push him like that. And dont speak to me again. "

I marched away and he made no effort to stop me, but I knew he was watching me. As I neared the house my steps became slower and I put Stinker down. My courage had ebbed and fear was flowing over me again and I wanted to be sick.

When I got in my mother asked if anything was wrong and I said no, I was just cold. And I was cold, I was cold all through. I went upstairs and peered into the little square of mirror and my reflection brought me no comfort. I wished I looked like Mollie. At that moment I longed to be all Mollie, fat, merry and comfortable. As I stared at myself I got a sort of insight into my character and I knew that although I looked bonny, inside I was ordinary, and somehow I knew that my main desire was to remain so. I wanted to feel comfortable and easy, I wanted my days to be without turmoil or stress. Perhaps I would have taken a different attitude, a pride in my looks, if I had not been vitally aware that it was these very looks that aroused that something, that terrifying something, in both our Ronnie and Don.

Three days later Stinker was missing. At times he would go on the rampage, but whatever time of the year it was, the approach of darkness would find him at the back door. But this particular night there was no scratching or barking, and when nine o'clock came and he had not returned, Dad put his coat on and went on to the fells calling for him.

He would not let me go with him.

He was out for almost an hour, and when he returned he asked, "Is he in yet?"

I shook my head.

Next morning I was up at dawn searching the woods. My steps seemed to be directed towards the tree bay, and when I reached it I almost vomited my relief. There was no tortured body nailed to the tree this morning.

I returned home relieved yet crying, and Dad said he would go down to the pound and see if anyone had picked him up as a stray and taken him there. When he returned, it was to say that Stinker was not in the pound.

That afternoon when Sam came out of school we searched the fells together, looking over crags and down narrow, shallow crevices near which we used to play when he was a puppy. And lastly the river, perhaps someone had pushed him in the river. What a silly thought, he could swim like a duck. As I plodded up from the river bank to the house again, Sam walking silently by my side, I was overwhelmed by a sense of loss. I had not really realized before that Stinker was not just our dog, he was my dog. The lads could call him until they were hoarse, but he would never obey them unless I gave him the word, and his greatest joy was when he could sneak upstairs and curl up on my bed. He did not manage this often as Mam did not believe in dogs lying on beds.

When he could not be found my thoughts turned to Fifty Gunthorpe and the maimed rabbit and the plucked bird. The two poor things seemed now to link up with Stinker and I cried and shuddered alternately. Then Fitty Gunthorpe faded into the back of my mind and into his place came Don, and this for no other reason than my remembering his rough handling of Stinker the other morning and my reaction to it.

Unreasonably, I began to say, "He's done something just to spite me.

It's him. I know it's him. "

Then on the Thursday night I had to revise all my ideas and for the only time in my life I wanted to shower my gratitude on Don Dowling.

So grateful was I that I almost threw myself at him and put my arms round his neck and kissed him, for he came up the backyard shouting,

"Christine!

Christine! look what I've got. " And there, on-rill moving his was Stinker, a rather thinner Stinker, but Stinker. and Dad Down on my knees on the scullery floor I kissed ana y and and hugged his shaggy head to me, and he wriggled his bote) all over me in joy at our meeting. Then I cast grateful eyes upwards to Don as my mother asked,

" Where on earth did you get him, Don ? "

He was scratching the back of his head and looking down at Stinker and me as he replied, "Just a mere piece of luck, Aunt Annie. I happened to go through Spillers Cut, you know where the taggerine yard is, and I heard a yelp, and something about it reminded me of this scallywag here. So I went in and put my head round the door of the shed, and there he was, tied up in what had been a horse-box. He nearly pulled a partition down when he saw me. The taggerine bloke said he had come in with some kids a couple of days before. He said he had left them all playing together in the yard and when he came back they were gone and the dog was tied up. He was waiting for them comin' back to claim him.

He had fed him what he could, he said. "

"Oh, Don." My gratitude was in my voice and eyes as I slowly stood up and said, "Thanks. Oh, thanks." I was about to add, "I'm sorry I was so nasty," but checked myself in time. Yet at this moment I was sorry, I found I was even liking him a bit.

He smiled down at me, saying, "I thought it would put you on top of the world again having him back. You've been going round like an accident looking for an ambulance."

I laughed shakily.

"I felt like one, too." Then because his eyes were on me, I lifted Stinker up into my arms and went into the kitchen.

Life seemed a little more tranquil after this event. Don was nicer, our Ronnie left me alone at night, my mother continued to improve, at least I thought so. In fact she led me to believe that she was very much better because she said to me one day, "You'll soon be able to go back to your job, lass." Yet she gave no time limit. But I was in no hurry to return to Mrs. Tumbull's.

It had been a wonderful day for washing. I had got up early and had the washing done and everything dried and damped

this particular o' y tea-time, and this had pleased her when nine "

iSt' you'll make a grand housewife before coat^r' 0^' , suddenly changing her tone she added, 1^. /^f aA ju to have this kind of life.

You've been ^ J^- 'g different besides washing. When you get ev ou'll have one of them washing machines and Ac mats. " Suddenly her laugh was joined to . said, " Well, I know I'm daft. If you have a How t won't have clip pie mats, will you, you'll have carpet". / he nodded and ended, " Aye, you'll have carpets, you'll have a house with carpets, all right. "

It was a lovely prophecy, and it made me feel happy.

She was sitting in her chair by the open door, her knitting in her hands, and she said in a tone that was warmly conspiratorial, "What about having a cup of tea afore they come in, eh?" I nodded. One of the luxuries of her life was a cup of tea and a piece of fruit cake.

I had just mashed the tea and put the pot on the hob when I heard Aunt Phyllis's voice coming through the wall, and to it was joined Don's.

They both seemed to be yelling, but not at each other. Going swiftly into the scullery where Mam, her hands pressed tightly into her lap now, was straining her ear towards the backyard, I whispered rapidly,

"They're on at Sam again, Mam. What's he done now I wonder?"

Mam shook her head, then whispered back, "He's just this minute got in from school."

We had not long to wait before we knew the trouble. While Dad was in the scullery washing his hands Sam came creeping in from the back door.

His eyes were red and his face was swollen with crying. He did not look at my mother or me but went straight to Dad and, rubbing his finger along the outside of the tin dish in which Dad was washing, he fixed his gaze on the muddy water and said almost in a mumble, "Uncle Bill, they're going to make me go to the pit."

Dad reached out for the towel, then asked, "When's all this come about?"

"Just the day," said Sam.

"Did you tell them you wanted to go to a farm somewhere?"

"Aye. Yes, I've been on about it all the time, but our Don came in the day and said he spoke for me up top."

Sam was still looking at the water and still moving his finger back and forth on the outside of the dish, and Dad looked down at him for a moment before turning away and saying, "Well, you'll have to look at it this way, Sam. Jobs are as scarce as gold dust. Some would say you're very lucky to get a chance of a start, although I did hear' now he turned and looked at my mother " I did hear they're signing some men on again. "

My mother took her interest from Sam and said eagerly, "They are?"

"Aye, not here but further afield, but it's a good sign. I'm going down first thing in the morning to have a talk with Lambert and see if there will be any chance." He looked up at the ceiling and exclaimed,