Winnie of the Waterfront by Rosie Harris Page A

brother.
    ‘Right, I’m off then,’ Kathleen announced. ‘I don’t know when we’ll see each other again, Winnie, possibly never. Take care of yourself, won’t you!’
    Winnie remained po-faced until after Kathleen left the house. She didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how devastated she felt at being deserted by all the O’Mara family, but even before the door slammed shut Winnie found herself sobbing and there were scalding hot tears running down her cheeks.

Chapter Nine
    WINNIE MALLOY KNEW that Friday 12th October 1917 would be engraved on her mind for the rest of her life. No matter what else might happen, that date would be with her for ever.
    The previous night had been the most frightening she had ever experienced. She hadn’t slept a wink. The gas had gone out with an ominous and final plop around midnight, and since she had no money to put into the meter she’d had to stay there on her own in the dark all night long.
    Kathleen hadn’t troubled to rake out the ashes and make up the fire before she’d left, so, quite early on in the evening, the final faint red glow had dulled and what little warmth that had been coming from it disappeared in a flurry of grey ash.
    Too cold to sleep, Winnie shivered and shook as she cowered under the one blanket that covered her. Without her mother’s thick, matted black shawl the cold was bone-chilling. As the room grew colder so the unnerving noises increased. She could hear the scurry of cockroaches, the patter and scratching of mice as they nibbled at the greasy paper that had been wrapped around the paste sandwiches Kathleen had brought for her. There were also strange creaks and cracklings as the drop in temperature took its toll on the rest of the house.
    Mick had taken the clock, so as the night lengthened she was afraid to close her eyes in case she didn’t wake up in time to get ready for when Sister Hortense arrived.
    It was a dark, dismal morning. Winnie felt hungry and thirsty but there was nothing at all for her to eat. She wished she’d saved a sandwich from the night before. Then she remembered the mice that had been rooting for food and knew that even if she had saved one the mice would have eaten it by now. As soon as it was light enough to look for the sarsaparilla bottle she drained the dregs from the bottom of it. They tasted flat and rancid.
    She wanted to start getting ready, but without any light, even from the fire, she couldn’t see where her hairbrush was.
    It was mid-morning before Father Patrick and Sister Hortense arrived. Winnie was beginning to think that they had forgotten all about her and wondered what would happen to her if no one came at all. She’d strained her ears, hoping to hear noises from other parts of the house, but after the early morning exodus as everyone left for work there had been an unnerving silence. The entire building seemed to be empty. Tears began to roll down Winnie’s cheeks because no one had come to say goodbye to her, not even Sandy. She had been hoping that perhaps he would call in on his way to school and wish her well.
    As the double rap sounded for the second time on the outside door she broke out in a cold sweat. She was afraid that by the time she’d levered herself out of her chair and managed to make her way along the hallway they might have turned around and gone away again, thinking there was no one there.
    She should have thought about that before, she told herself. She should have been sitting on the bottom of the stairs so that she could have answered the door more speedily. In her struggle to get out of her chair and reach the door she leaned sideways trying to throw her legs over the side of the chair. Instead, she tipped it too far and suddenly found herself lying in an ungainly heap on the floor. Her anguished cry echoed through the house.
    ‘Dear me! What have we here?’
    Winnie heard the front door opening and raised her tear-stained face to find herself looking up