Our Lizzie
“Engrossed in her own fears, she spent the days listlessly doing housework, all the time dreading Sam’s return from work, then the evenings trying not to upset him. Without money, she couldn’t run away. Without money, she was at his mercy. And sometimes she felt herself without hope, too. But then the flame of rebellion would flicker into life again. She was not, definitely not, going to stay with him for ever. She would find a way to leave.
In the four weeks she had been home from hospital, he hadn’t hit her, not once. But that didn’t stop her expecting a blow, and a few times, on the days something had obviously gone wrong at work, she had seen the veins in his temples bulge with suppressed anger and his hands clench into fists.
One day she’d plucked up her courage, defied Sam and gone round to the back door of Redley House, asking to speak to her sister. Polly, who had outlasted most other maids, was now on excellent terms with the housekeeper.
“You come in for a cup of tea, lass,”
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