An’ as good as gold the day long. She’s never bin a moment’s trouble.’ Muriel’s voice held a pleading note as, together with her son, she watched Bess’s daughter play with a wooden spoon and an old saucepan lid on the clippy mat in front of the kitchen range. Ronald Shawe didn’t answer for a moment. Then he said, his voice flat, ‘Aye, she’s bonny, Mam.’ Muriel glanced at his face and then said quickly, ‘Ee, lad, you’ve finished your tea. Have another cup afore it goes cold an’ the last of that jam roll.You must be able to smell it ’cos you never fail to turn up when I’ve just baked one.’ Ronald smiled now, patting his mother’s hand as he said softly, ‘No one makes a jam roll like you, Mam, but don’t tell May I said that or she’ll have me guts for garters.’ ‘Oh, our Ronald.’ Muriel, pink with pleasure, placed the last of the roll on his plate. ‘Your May’s a canny little cook an’ well you know it.You don’t look as if you’re fading away to me, that’s for sure.’ ‘Aye, she keeps me fed.’ Ronald’s voice was cheery but he didn’t feel cheery inside, he never did when he called at his parents’ house and was confronted by the evidence of the shame his sister had brought on them all.
