Without a word to anyone, she staggered up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door. Sally was just thankful she hadn’t brought some awful man home with her, and that Ernie was still asleep, so couldn’t witness Florrie’s less than sober state. As she finished the dusting, Sally wondered how long it would be before Mr Solomon realised just what he’d taken on with Florrie. She went to wake Ernie at lunch time, and he threw back the covers. ‘Where’s Mum? I wanna see Mum.’ ‘She’s asleep, luv, and you know she doesn’t like being woken up.’ ‘But I wanna see ’er,’ he insisted. ‘Well, you can’t.’ ‘I ain’t washing till I do,’ he said, folding his arms and glowering. Sally swept him up, none too gently, and carried him along the landing, thanking her lucky stars that Florrie had indeed come back and on her own – she didn’t dare think what she could have done if that hadn’t been the case. ‘Don’t you dare make a sound,’ she whispered in his ear, ‘or we’ll both be for it.’ She opened the door just enough so that he could see the mound under the covers, and hear Florrie’s snoring.
