dressed for the occasion, one in a dress coat, the other in a two-piece suit, both with hat and gloves.
‘Hey, now here’s an idea,’ Sammy said, stopping behind the women and gently pulling Kitty into line beside him. ‘Let’s get our picture taken.’
Kitty wasn’t sure.
‘My gran told me never to have my photograph taken with a young man . . .’ She stopped and blushed, remembering that what Gran had actually said was that couples photographed
together before their marriage would never be wed. ‘She’s a bit superstitious though – silly really.’
‘No, sounds like just the thing my grandmother would say. How about we just get our pictures taken separately; then I can take you with me when I go and you can keep me here with you.
How’s that sound?’
‘I wish you were going to be here with me, Sammy.’
‘It won’t be for long, Kitty – I’m sure of it – once we push them out of France, it’ll be over.’
A young mother, carrying her little boy on her hip, joined the queue behind them. The child was not much more than a baby and he stared shyly at Kitty and hid his face in his mother’s neck
when Sammy spoke to him.
‘We’re getting our picture taken for Daddy, aren’t we?’ the young mother said, tipping her head to see her small son’s face. ‘Daddy’s gone to France,
hasn’t he?’
‘I bet your daddy’s proud of you!’ Kitty said as the child lifted his face from his mother’s shoulder. ‘What’s his name?’ she asked the mother.
‘William, his dad’s William too – well, Bill.’ Hearing his name, the child turned his head and stared at his mother.
Ten minutes passed and they moved up to the shop door and, at last, stepped into the studio followed by the young mother and her son. The two women in their Sunday best were waiting in front of
them. The air was heavy with the smell of chemicals and furniture polish. A soldier came out through a curtain behind an oak counter, and was followed by a tall thin woman who went with him to the
door and spoke to the people who were still waiting on the pavement outside.
‘Mr Wilson regrets that he will not be able to photograph everyone waiting today. We’ve been expecting a delivery this afternoon and I’m afraid we’re nearly out. If you
could come back tomorrow.’
The photographer’s assistant stepped back into the shop, turned the sign in the window from Open to Closed , and invited the two women to follow her through the curtain into
the studio. The young mother was beginning to look flustered, as she struggled to entertain her child who was now fidgeting and squealing a protest at being held for so long. He arched his back,
then made a grab for his mother’s hair and succeeded in pulling the rolled curl at her temple free from its hairgrips. At that moment, the assistant reappeared from the back of the shop.
‘Mr Wilson says he is very sorry but he can only do one more now – on account of those ladies wanting separate portraits as well as being done together.’ Her look suggested
that, if she had her way, the two women would not be getting one photograph, let alone three.
Kitty and Sammy glanced at each other and then at the harassed young mother who could not hide her disappointment. Kitty smiled at her.
‘Would you like to go next? We were just passing by – I mean, it does seem a pity, now that you’ve got this far with the little one, for you not to go in.’
The young woman’s face lit up.
‘Oh, are you sure? Only Bill’s going to miss his first birthday and I . . . Oh thank you, thanks ever so much.’
She balanced William on her hip and struggled to open her handbag and take out her comb. Sammy reached out and took the baby from her.
‘Hey, big fella, let your ma fix her hair.’
Sammy held the boy up at arm’s length over his head and Kitty opened her eyes wide and cooed at him.
‘Look at you, young William! Look how big you are!’
William’s mother took a compact from her
‘Hey, now here’s an idea,’ Sammy said, stopping behind the women and gently pulling Kitty into line beside him. ‘Let’s get our picture taken.’
Kitty wasn’t sure.
‘My gran told me never to have my photograph taken with a young man . . .’ She stopped and blushed, remembering that what Gran had actually said was that couples photographed
together before their marriage would never be wed. ‘She’s a bit superstitious though – silly really.’
‘No, sounds like just the thing my grandmother would say. How about we just get our pictures taken separately; then I can take you with me when I go and you can keep me here with you.
How’s that sound?’
‘I wish you were going to be here with me, Sammy.’
‘It won’t be for long, Kitty – I’m sure of it – once we push them out of France, it’ll be over.’
A young mother, carrying her little boy on her hip, joined the queue behind them. The child was not much more than a baby and he stared shyly at Kitty and hid his face in his mother’s neck
when Sammy spoke to him.
‘We’re getting our picture taken for Daddy, aren’t we?’ the young mother said, tipping her head to see her small son’s face. ‘Daddy’s gone to France,
hasn’t he?’
‘I bet your daddy’s proud of you!’ Kitty said as the child lifted his face from his mother’s shoulder. ‘What’s his name?’ she asked the mother.
‘William, his dad’s William too – well, Bill.’ Hearing his name, the child turned his head and stared at his mother.
Ten minutes passed and they moved up to the shop door and, at last, stepped into the studio followed by the young mother and her son. The two women in their Sunday best were waiting in front of
them. The air was heavy with the smell of chemicals and furniture polish. A soldier came out through a curtain behind an oak counter, and was followed by a tall thin woman who went with him to the
door and spoke to the people who were still waiting on the pavement outside.
‘Mr Wilson regrets that he will not be able to photograph everyone waiting today. We’ve been expecting a delivery this afternoon and I’m afraid we’re nearly out. If you
could come back tomorrow.’
The photographer’s assistant stepped back into the shop, turned the sign in the window from Open to Closed , and invited the two women to follow her through the curtain into
the studio. The young mother was beginning to look flustered, as she struggled to entertain her child who was now fidgeting and squealing a protest at being held for so long. He arched his back,
then made a grab for his mother’s hair and succeeded in pulling the rolled curl at her temple free from its hairgrips. At that moment, the assistant reappeared from the back of the shop.
‘Mr Wilson says he is very sorry but he can only do one more now – on account of those ladies wanting separate portraits as well as being done together.’ Her look suggested
that, if she had her way, the two women would not be getting one photograph, let alone three.
Kitty and Sammy glanced at each other and then at the harassed young mother who could not hide her disappointment. Kitty smiled at her.
‘Would you like to go next? We were just passing by – I mean, it does seem a pity, now that you’ve got this far with the little one, for you not to go in.’
The young woman’s face lit up.
‘Oh, are you sure? Only Bill’s going to miss his first birthday and I . . . Oh thank you, thanks ever so much.’
She balanced William on her hip and struggled to open her handbag and take out her comb. Sammy reached out and took the baby from her.
‘Hey, big fella, let your ma fix her hair.’
Sammy held the boy up at arm’s length over his head and Kitty opened her eyes wide and cooed at him.
‘Look at you, young William! Look how big you are!’
William’s mother took a compact from her
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