Bess looked around the small room. “You’re keeping it quite clean,” she approved.
Peter stood in the corner with his hands folded in front of him. “Yes, Mrs Smith,” he said. He was nervous as Bess inspected the room she rented for him.
With a small table and chair, a chest, a bed and a selection of crockery, the room was sparsely furnished but far better than anything Peter had previously known. It was dry, sheltered and had a fireplace with a supply of wood and coal to fight the damp chill of winter.
“Yes.” Bess nodded. “You’ve done well.”
Peter visibly relaxed. He had learned that Bess was a formidable woman to cross, verbally and physically.
“Now, let’s find out how your reading is progressing,” Bess said. “Bring over your books.”
“Yes, Mrs Smith,” Peter said and carried across hi
