dummy. Sure it will be a poor substitute but it’s better than nothing.’
Kitty wanted to cry as she grieved for the loss of not only her mother, whose death had put her in this position, but also that of Mrs Grant and the rest of the neighbours that she had left behind. What, she wondered, would the folk at Restalrig be like? Three minutes later she would find out because there, a few steps in front of her, was her father and his cronies unloading a handcart in front of the tenement that was to be their new home.
Later that evening, once they had moved all their belongings into the new flat, Granny Jenny threw a shovel of coal on the fire and turned to speak to Kitty. ‘Right,’ she announced, taking a deep breath through her nose, ‘that will heat the water so we can get Rosebud washed and settled.’
Kitty’s disdainful response to her grandmother was to shrug. She wanted to scream, ‘Granny, that little brat has only been in this world for a week and she has turned my life upside down. And why do we all in the family, except for Dad, have to dance attendance on her because she is a poor wee motherless soul? Don’t you realise that my brothers and I are also motherless – and it’s all because of her – so why don’t you care about that!’ But she stayed silent because she knew better than to take her granny on.
‘Are you listening to me, Kitty?’ Jenny demanded forcefully.
Kitty nodded.
‘Good. Now as to getting on with the tea’ – Jenny pursed her lips before continuing – ‘no time for cooking now, so put wee Rosebud in the pram and walk her over the road to the chippie and get … Here, hang on till I ask your dad if any of his mates will be staying to eat with us.’
It was nine o’clock before Kitty found herself with only sleeping Rosebud for company. Granny Jenny had left after tea to carry out her duties at the forces welcoming centre. Aunt Kate had arrived after work but she was only able to stay a couple of hours as she was on fire duty at her work. This meant that she and a number of her colleagues slept there in case the building was bombed and set alight and they would therefore be there to deal with the blaze. Dad, of course, was over in what was going to be his new watering hole, the Learig tavern, just down the road. Kitty laughed inwardly. So with my brothers being out socialising with their pals, that leaves me the only sucker left in here – well, two if you count Rose-blooming-screaming-hungry-bud!
Lifting the poker she stirred up the fire. As the flames leapt she looked into them to see if she could see any pictures. She remembered how her mum, Sandra, had often sat with her and they would play the game of looking for moving pictures in the louping flames. She was so engrossed in her memories that the shrill ringing of the doorbell caused her to drop the poker and jump up.
Racing out of the room and along the hallway she called out, ‘I’m coming. I’m coming. For goodness sake, don’t waken up baby greeting face.’ Hauling open the door, Kitty was surprised to see a rather plump dyed-blonde lady standing on the doorstep. ‘I’m your neighbour from next door,’ the woman explained as she brushed past Kitty and walked towards the living room. ‘Is your mammy in?’
Kitty did follow the lady but she did not respond.
‘Hoping that I’m going to get a pal in your mum, so I am,’ the woman chuckled. ‘Need to get a rest from old Mrs Dickson on the ground floor. Forever going on, so she is, about people sticking to their days of the drying green – and whatever your mammy does, she shouldn’t get old Mrs D’s back up by either not sweeping and washing the stair properly, or even worse, forgetting to do it at all.’
The woman now took out a packet of Woodbine cigarettes and after lighting one up for herself she offered the packet to Kitty.
Kitty laughed. ‘I don’t smoke and my mum used to say I never should.’
Running her tongue around the inside of
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