That Liverpool Girl by Ruth Hamilton

writing to the new owner of the estate,’ he began. ‘I have to give an account of everybody who lives round here.’
    ‘Oh, aye? The Liverpool woman what’s dad ran off with a cleaner?’
    ‘Yes.’ He bit back the words ‘at least she cleaned’.
    ‘And?’ The upper teeth dropped again. For a split second, she looked like something that lived under a bridge to frighten billy goats. She was quick, though. The set was clicked back into position in a fraction of a trice. He’d seen better-looking gargoyles acting as rainwater goods outside mansions and the like.
    ‘And people want you out. They daren’t say it to your face, and they’ll deny it if you ask, because they fear you. You’re a bully, and your brain’s smaller than your gob. Oh, and if anyone else complains about mail being interfered with, it’ll be the police that provide the transport to shift you. Stop steaming things open. Stop poking about in parcels and putting new string round them. We’re all on to you. Folk aren’t as daft as you want them to be.’
    She dropped into a chair, which complained loudly at the sudden assault. ‘Who do you think you’re talking to, Keith Greenhalgh?’
    ‘You. I’m talking to you. You’re in a rent-free cottage, and we need space for evacuees.’
    She almost managed to fold her arms across an upper body the size of Brazil. ‘So to keep me house, I have to take a bloody Scouser in?’
    He shook his head. ‘Not likely. I wouldn’t put any child within a mile of you, Elsie Openshaw. Your own couldn’t get away quickly enough. Young Daisy threw herself at that farmhand until he impregnated her. Everyone along here knows that. They know how you treated Bill and the kids, and they know first-hand how you treat your neighbours. If I told them you were leaving, they’d have a bonfire, but the guy would be large and female. Even the blackout wouldn’t stop them celebrating seeing the back of you.’ There, he had done it. A peaceable creature by nature, this was hardly his forte. He wasn’t shaking. There was a chill in the air, that was all.
    Her mouth opened and closed, Bill’s teeth shifting nervously in a cavern that threatened to inhale them, but no words emerged. A terrible fear visited her chest. Widows of long-serving farmhands were always housed. Sometimes, they had to share accommodation, but they were never thrown out. ‘Can she change things, just like that?’ she finally managed.
    ‘She can. So can I. It’s part of my job, Elsie. If any tenant, whether tied or rent-paying, makes life difficult for another or others, he or she will be given notice to leave. It’s in every agreement signed by a resident.’
    The woman gulped.
    ‘Careful. You’ll be having Bill’s dentures for dinner.’ Keith sat down. ‘Two conditions. One, you clean this place up – it stinks. Two, you stop yapping about everything and everybody. Don’t put people off when they think about taking a Liverpool child. Those kiddies live in a huge port, and there’ll be ships, explosives and God alone knows what docked nearby. Sorry. Number three is the one I almost forgot. Leave the post alone, or I’ll have you out of here so fast your curlers’ll catch fire before you reach Willows Lane.’
    Elsie struggled to her feet. ‘I’ve just remembered, there’s a letter for you.’ She went off towards the front room, which was now her precious shop.
    ‘Did you hear all I said?’ he shouted.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And?’
    She returned. ‘Woman’s writing,’ she wheezed. ‘From Liverpool.’
    ‘Right.’ He stared at her. Was she the full quid, or was she a bent farthing? ‘Elsie?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Did you hear my conditions if you’re going to stay here?’
    She nodded, and her several chins wobbled, though not in harmony. It was as if they were fighting for space above a tight collar, and no one was winning. After a few seconds, the layers of blubber reached some sort of agreement and settled down, presumably to