The relief from worry, and the thought that I need never go back to that hated place, carried me over the week-end in a state approaching euphoria, but of course the problem had to be faced once more, what job was I going to do? One evening, during the week following the fiasco at Diamonds, I was looking down the ‘situations vacant’ in the Sentinel, and there, almost leaping out of the paper was, ‘Kennel maid required, apply, Mrs. Snow, Penkhull Kennels and Catteries’. I was very excited and had visions of this being just the job I was looking for! Mum agreed to go with me the following day. We did not know exactly where Penkhull was, but Dad suggested that we should go to Stoke on the train then ask our way from there, which we did. It was pouring with rain and we had to ask lots of people before we eventually found the kennels. It turned out to be a rather unprepossessing wooden bungalow, set back from the road up a fairly long drive. I must admit that it did not come up to my expectations but I was quite optimistic that it would turn out to be better than it looked! .
The proprietress, Mrs. Snow, opened the door and what a sight she was! Her hair was dyed in a very artificial red colour, and her face was heavily made up. I thought she looked like the people I had seen on the stage at the Pantomime, and was quite fascinated. Mum of course had formed her opinion instantly. We were invited in, Mrs. Snow being very jolly and apologizing for the untidiness, “that is why I want some help, I’ve so many animals, I can’t manage on my own”. There were cats with litters of kittens, on chairs, and in odd corners, bitches with pups in boxes, or under tables, assorted dogs and cats roaming about, one or two sleeping, two tied to the table. It was unbelievable and the smell was awful! Mrs. Snow gaily rabbited on about how “I would sleep in of course”, and Mum need not worry about me, as she (Mrs. Snow) went into Hanley most evenings and would take me with her! While she was saying this, she kept bringing the flat of her hand down on the odd table or bit of flat surface not occupied by an animal, saying, “They are only animal fleas quite harmless really.” .
Mum hastily declined the offer of a cup of tea, anxious only to get outside in the clean rain. “Well I do hope you decide to let her come, we haven’t talked about wages have we, but we can do that when you come again”, said Mrs. Snow, seeing us off at the door. As soon as we were safely down the drive and out of earshot Mum said, “Come on hurry up and lets get home to have a wash. I wanted to ask her how she dared to offer a job in such a disgusting place, but she looked the type who could have turned very nasty, I was just thankful to get out”. When we got home, her indignation boiled over, as she told Dad about it, accompanied by actions with the flat of her hand on the sideboard, showing how ‘this horrible woman was killing fleas as she was talking to us. “Of course,” said Mum, “as soon as I saw her it was plain to see what she was, thick make up and dyed hair”, whereupon she gave Dad a meaningful look. “Just imagine her having the cheek to say she would take our Brenda with her to Hanley at night”..
The implications of this were lost on me, and I was a lot older before I understood! Regarding the make up, most women would put a dab of powder on if they were going out, and a few would even have a light dash of lipstick, but I can remember as a child, if Mum was going out, and she was powdering her face she would say, don’t you ever tell anyone that your mother powders her face.