“I said I could house two girls at the most and you’ve only got one!” Mrs Postlethwaite retorted. “I don’t like boys, I don’t trust boys, and I have no intention of housing one… especially a scratchy little street urchin like that!” she says as a well-manicured nail point directly at Billy.
An unwelcome lump grows in Billy’s throat as he feels unloved and unwanted by anyone but his mother, but the billeting officer doesn’t give up. He pleads with the lady’s ‘charitable’ nature and reminds her she’s a church goer, reiterates that it will all be over by Christmas and looks down on the scruffy boy with his tangled hair and tatty clothes. “Look at him… yes he’s tatty but all he needs is a good bath and some clean clothes…”