Molly's War
“Molly saw it as she rounded the corner from Adelaide Street and waited for the bus to go by before crossing the road to the factory. She was heavy-eyed this morning, had slept badly after last night’s greasy supper. Mr Jones had knocked on her door again after she had gone to bed and she had been startled out of her first sleep. Standing by the closed door she had asked what he wanted. Could he smell the faint aroma of fish which hung in the air?
‘Let me in a minute, Molly, I just want to talk ...to you,’ he had said.
‘I can’t, Mr Jones, I’m not dressed,’ she’d replied.
‘Aw, come on, do you think I haven’t seen a lass in her pyjamas before?’ Molly had stood there, shivering with cold. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, Mr Jones.’ ‘Why can’t you call me Bart? It’s only friendly like.’ ‘Goodnight, Mr Jones,’ Molly had said firmly and went back to bed. She pulled the covers up over her ears, determined not to let him bother her, but despite that her heart beat fast and she was trembling.MoreLess
‘Let me in a minute, Molly, I just want to talk ...to you,’ he had said.
‘I can’t, Mr Jones, I’m not dressed,’ she’d replied.
‘Aw, come on, do you think I haven’t seen a lass in her pyjamas before?’ Molly had stood there, shivering with cold. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, Mr Jones.’ ‘Why can’t you call me Bart? It’s only friendly like.’ ‘Goodnight, Mr Jones,’ Molly had said firmly and went back to bed. She pulled the covers up over her ears, determined not to let him bother her, but despite that her heart beat fast and she was trembling.MoreLess
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