For the young Betty, as the much-loved daughter of working-class Labour stalwarts, the party was the social and political centre of life: canvassing on the streets, gossiping over tea and biscuits at the weekly meetings of the Labour women's section. Hers was a Coronation Street world of back-to-back stone houses, poverty and domestic pride - scrubbing doorsteps, black-leading fireplaces, scattering wet tea leaves on the carpet to draw out the dust and Sunday treats of Yorkshire pudding with onion gravy. Both parents worked in the textile mills: Mum, a weaver, developed emphysema from years of dust and fibre particles; Dad, a weftman and outspoken trade unionist, was frequently unemployed. Young Betty got stars in her eyes at the local theatre, the Empire Palace, where she appeared as principal boy in the annual amateur pantomime and auditioned for the John Tiller School in London, where she went armed with two pairs of black satin shorts, a couple of blouses and a black bow. Despite a brief spell high-kicking at the Palladium, life behind the scenes was so horrible, particularly at the Theatre Girls' Club, a forerunner of Cell Block H, that she fled back to Dewsbury with a political career firmly in her sights.