Rough Justice by Gilda O'Neill

the Great War. They would get married right away and he would help her and they’d have children and live happily ever after. David did return, and they did get married, but he was never able to help her as she’d dreamed. Now, as well as running the shop, Sarah looked after David, who, in Ada Tanner’s words, ‘hadn’t been right in the head’ since he’d come home. Ada had added, even more nastily, that it wasn’t as if he’d been the only one who’d been in the trenches. But Sarah Meckel treasured the man, and never gave even the slightest hint that life might sometimes get her down.
    Sarah said how much she enjoyed having Mary Lovell working in the shop with her, but according to Ada Tanner it was an act of ‘stupid waste’ – Nell thought of it as kindness – rather than a necessity. Sarah really didn’t need morethan a few hours’ help here and there, especially with money being so short for everyone, but she knew that Mary Lovell needed the work. Joe Lovell, like too many others, hadn’t been able to get a job no matter how hard he tried, and Martin, his son, was only bringing in a boy’s wage. But Mary spoke proudly of the fact that he gave what he earned gladly to his family every Friday evening when he came home from his shift in the brewery.
    Nell stacked the dry pans on the rack above the stove and turned her attention to drying the crockery.
    She felt her cheeks begin to colour as she thought about how Sarah Meckel even allowed Florrie Talbot to lodge upstairs above the shop, despite her being what Ada Tanner described as a ‘dockside tom’. Nell had been shocked when Sylvia explained to her what that meant, but then not a little torn when she thought of how she herself was living with Stephen without being married. She remembered the horrible moment when she had stood in the shop and flushed as red as a tomato when Ada had started leading off about Florrie again, and what she thought about the sort of person who would do such things without the benefit of having marriage lines tucked safely in her handbag.
    Nell opened the glass door of the fitted dresser that ran the length of one wall and put away the crockery on top of the neat piles she had taken such pleasure in arranging during the first weekshe had moved in. Bringing order to the chaos that had reigned in the kitchen made her feel so much better, as did her recalling how Sarah had stood up for Florrie Talbot. Sarah had made it quite clear that Florrie’s business was her own, and had asked Ada what right she had to slander the reputation of a woman who had made the ultimate sacrifice when she had lost her beloved fiancé in the war.
    There was always something like that going on in the corner shop – things to learn and things to make Nell think. She only wished she could spend more time with Sarah, but Stephen didn’t like Nell going there too often, he said she’d only go wasting money. Instead, he brought in most of what he thought they needed when he came home from the market – usually the overblown remains of his stock and some cheap cut of meat from one of the side-street butcher’s shops.
    Stephen also said he didn’t like Sarah and David Meckel because they were Jews. Nell didn’t understand why that should mean there was anything wrong with them, especially as he had seemed only too keen to do the business deal with Solly over the stall. Then, when Nell had asked Sylvia, she just shrugged and said, ‘You know what some people are like, my dad was Jewish and my mum’s family disowned her,’ immediately bringing the matter to an end. And Nell wasn’t about to ask Stephen. Her years in the home had taught her the warning signs of potentially aggressive behaviour, and she’d soondiscovered that Stephen Flanagan was the type of man who lost his temper very easily. So she ignored her doubts and got on with doing what she had to do – just as she always had.
    She dried her hands on her apron, and then gave the glass