THIRTY-TWO
There'll be some reckoning to be done.
Mary was hanging out clothes. It was not washday, but her wash load was too great to keep until Monday. ‘Oh my goodness, Eleanor, what’s happened, pet?’ Mary exclaimed when she saw her and ran over to her as she came in through the gate, putting arms about her and leading her indoors, away from prying eyes and ears, particularly Nellie Spearman’s.
‘What is it, pet’, she asked again when they were safely indoors, but all Eleanor could do was shake her head violently as tears started to run down her face again. ‘Are you hurt? Has there been an accident, pet? Eleanor, tell us love, what is it?’
‘Looks like she’s been run over by a horse and cart, don't it?’ Harold, sitting at the table, asked and Mary wondered at what sadistic quirk of fat
