cart. I’ve advised them both not to wear anything too good in case it gets dirty but Mam’s having none of it.’ She grimaced. ‘She’s already fussing about getting all Rose’s stuff washed and ironed and packed.’
‘Is she looking forward to going back to Tregarron after all these years?’ Florence asked.
‘She is. Da’s trying to persuade her to stay until the nextbus comes back to Liverpool, it’s only a couple of days, but she says she can’t close the shop for so long. She’ll only be there a couple of hours.’
‘And is Rose getting excited? Too much turmoil won’t be good for her, Iris,’ Florence reminded her friend.
‘So Mam tells her but she keeps asking Mam things like is there a library in Denbigh? What kind of shops are there? Are there any events going on in the village in summer? She’d drive you mad with her questions.’
‘And are there any “events”?’ Florence was curious.
‘Mam says she thinks there is some kind of agricultural show or flower show, though what Rose would find there to interest her, I don’t know. And as for the shops in Denbigh, I think they’re all small and sell mainly food and household stuff. I hope she’s not going to expect anything like Frisby Dyke’s or Bunney’s or Blackler’s.’
Mrs Taylor appeared carrying a tea tray and both girls got up to help her set the table. There were small sandwiches, minus their crusts, laid out on top of a lace doily on one layer of a cake stand, some small fancy cakes on another and in pride of place the Victoria sponge, which had been cut into neat slices. It all looked very appetising and Iris made a mental note to tell her mam about it all.
‘Tell your mother this is the lightest sponge I’ve ever tasted, Iris. I had a small piece as I cut it up, it’s delicious! How is your sister now?’
‘Oh, she’s so much better and looking forward to her trip,’ Iris replied.
‘She just might enjoy it so much that she won’t want to come back. I think I could settle quite well in the country. I’ve been talking to Mr Taylor about moving somewhere away from Liverpool when he retires but he says he doesn’t envisage doing that for a long time yet.’
‘I don’t know if I’d enjoy living somewhere like Tregarron permanently,’ Florence added, thinking it was the first she’d heard of this. ‘But it would be lovely for a change.’
‘It would drive me mad! No, Rose will have to come back home whether she wants to or not. She can’t stay with Aunty Gwen for ever. Even if she doesn’t go back to work in that hotel, she’ll have to get some kind of a job,’ Iris said firmly, sipping her tea.
‘Perhaps she could help your mother in the shop, Iris?’ Mrs Taylor suggested.
Iris nodded, wondering if this was something her mam had thought of already.
‘Before you go, Iris, I’ve some magazines I’ve finished with; perhaps you could take them for your mother?’ Mrs Taylor offered.
Iris nodded but privately wondered just when her mam, between running a home and a shop, would get the time to read them. Maybe her mam and Rose could look through them on the bus to Denbigh.
When she arrived home she deposited the magazines on the kitchen table thankfully; they’d been a bit of a nuisance to carry and also rather on the heavy side. ‘Florence’s mam sent these for you to read on the bus,’ she informed Kate.
‘What, all of them? How long does she think it takes?’ Kate asked, eyeing the pile and thinking there must be at least a dozen of them.
Iris shrugged as she took off her jacket and hat. ‘She also said your cake was delicious, the lightest she’d ever tasted. According to Florence they only ever have shop-bought bread and cakes.’
Kate raised her eyebrows. She didn’t know anyone who didn’t bake their own bread for a large shop-bought loaf cost sixpence and didn’t go very far in a big family. Surely a woman in Mrs Taylor’s position had plenty of time to bake? But she was
‘Is she looking forward to going back to Tregarron after all these years?’ Florence asked.
‘She is. Da’s trying to persuade her to stay until the nextbus comes back to Liverpool, it’s only a couple of days, but she says she can’t close the shop for so long. She’ll only be there a couple of hours.’
‘And is Rose getting excited? Too much turmoil won’t be good for her, Iris,’ Florence reminded her friend.
‘So Mam tells her but she keeps asking Mam things like is there a library in Denbigh? What kind of shops are there? Are there any events going on in the village in summer? She’d drive you mad with her questions.’
‘And are there any “events”?’ Florence was curious.
‘Mam says she thinks there is some kind of agricultural show or flower show, though what Rose would find there to interest her, I don’t know. And as for the shops in Denbigh, I think they’re all small and sell mainly food and household stuff. I hope she’s not going to expect anything like Frisby Dyke’s or Bunney’s or Blackler’s.’
Mrs Taylor appeared carrying a tea tray and both girls got up to help her set the table. There were small sandwiches, minus their crusts, laid out on top of a lace doily on one layer of a cake stand, some small fancy cakes on another and in pride of place the Victoria sponge, which had been cut into neat slices. It all looked very appetising and Iris made a mental note to tell her mam about it all.
‘Tell your mother this is the lightest sponge I’ve ever tasted, Iris. I had a small piece as I cut it up, it’s delicious! How is your sister now?’
‘Oh, she’s so much better and looking forward to her trip,’ Iris replied.
‘She just might enjoy it so much that she won’t want to come back. I think I could settle quite well in the country. I’ve been talking to Mr Taylor about moving somewhere away from Liverpool when he retires but he says he doesn’t envisage doing that for a long time yet.’
‘I don’t know if I’d enjoy living somewhere like Tregarron permanently,’ Florence added, thinking it was the first she’d heard of this. ‘But it would be lovely for a change.’
‘It would drive me mad! No, Rose will have to come back home whether she wants to or not. She can’t stay with Aunty Gwen for ever. Even if she doesn’t go back to work in that hotel, she’ll have to get some kind of a job,’ Iris said firmly, sipping her tea.
‘Perhaps she could help your mother in the shop, Iris?’ Mrs Taylor suggested.
Iris nodded, wondering if this was something her mam had thought of already.
‘Before you go, Iris, I’ve some magazines I’ve finished with; perhaps you could take them for your mother?’ Mrs Taylor offered.
Iris nodded but privately wondered just when her mam, between running a home and a shop, would get the time to read them. Maybe her mam and Rose could look through them on the bus to Denbigh.
When she arrived home she deposited the magazines on the kitchen table thankfully; they’d been a bit of a nuisance to carry and also rather on the heavy side. ‘Florence’s mam sent these for you to read on the bus,’ she informed Kate.
‘What, all of them? How long does she think it takes?’ Kate asked, eyeing the pile and thinking there must be at least a dozen of them.
Iris shrugged as she took off her jacket and hat. ‘She also said your cake was delicious, the lightest she’d ever tasted. According to Florence they only ever have shop-bought bread and cakes.’
Kate raised her eyebrows. She didn’t know anyone who didn’t bake their own bread for a large shop-bought loaf cost sixpence and didn’t go very far in a big family. Surely a woman in Mrs Taylor’s position had plenty of time to bake? But she was
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