younger sister.
Grace muttered and rustled the paper she was reading. ‘That’s as maybe, but she should ask first.’
‘Sorry, Gran,’ Myrtle said. She didn’t want to fall out with the old lady. She and her grandmother had a special relationship; they shared the same wry sense of humour and could always be relied upon to drop in a sarcastic remark at any opportunity. Whatever was happening, it was Grace and Myrtle who shared an amused glance.
Hester Deeton and Bob arrived armed with little gifts for each member of the family. ‘And I’ve made a cake,’ Hester said uncertainly. ‘I hope it’ll be acceptable.’
‘Acceptable, Mrs Deeton? It’ll be wonderful,’ Peggy assured her. ‘We couldn’t get all the ingredients to make our usual cake, though Mam has managed two puddings. There seem to be shortages already.’
‘I’d put things aside from the summer. It’s not hoarding,’ Hester added swiftly, in case anyone should think she was breaking the advice the authorities were already handing out and what would soon become law when rationing started in earnest.
Laurence Bower arrived just before lunch with a box of chocolates. As he handed them to Mary he said, ‘These are for all the family, but mind you pick out your favourites. You must have been working so hard to get everything ready for today.’
‘I’ve had help. Mother still does a lot of the cooking and the girls are very good.’
‘Still—’ Laurence looked into Mary’s eyes as he added softly, ‘You deserve a little treat.’ Laurence had never looked at anyone else since the death of his wife, but Mary was still a pretty woman with a slim figure and gentle brown eyes and Laurence found himself experiencing feelings he thought had gone forever. He’d lived a solitary existence for the last three years, but now he wondered whether, at forty-five, he was foolish to resign himself to a life of loneliness. He sat beside Mary at the dinner table and joined in the merry banter. Even Hester, after two glasses of sherry and with spots of colour in her cheeks, relaxed and for a brief time managed to put aside the many anxieties which life seemed to hold for her. Bob, sitting between Peggy and Rose, was the life and soul of the party. After lunch, when they’d all taken turns to help with the washing up – all except Grace, who everyone insisted should put her feet up – it was Bob who organized games and quizzes.
For a few hours they were able to put aside all thoughts of the war, of its impending restrictions and dangers and, by late evening when the visitors left, every one of them declared it to be the best Christmas they could remember.
Eight
Only a few days after Christmas Letty came bursting in through the back door, tears streaming down her face. ‘They’ve only gone and done it, the silly buggers. In’t it enough that I’ve got one lad in danger, without them going an’ all?’
Grace bent to put two cakes in the range oven and closed the door carefully. Straightening up, she said, with a sigh, ‘What’s them two rascals done this time?’
‘Eh?’ Letty blinked and then, as realization came to her, she shook her head. ‘Oh, no, t’ain’t the two young ’uns. Not this time. ’Tis Walter and Bertie.’
Grace stared at her for a moment and then guessing what had happened said kindly, ‘Sit down, Letty, and tell me all about it.’
‘They’ve only gone and volunteered, that’s what.’
‘Never? Well, they want their heads banging together, Letty. They’d no need to go yet. At least they could’ve waited until they were called up.’
‘I know,’ Letty wailed as fresh tears welled in her eyes. ‘And t’daft part about it is, Walter might not’ve had to go at all. His firm’s turning to some sort of war production, so they say. Likely he’d’ve been in a – what do they call it?’
‘Reserved occupation.’
‘That’s it.’ She paused a moment before adding flatly, ‘Bertie might have had to go
Grace muttered and rustled the paper she was reading. ‘That’s as maybe, but she should ask first.’
‘Sorry, Gran,’ Myrtle said. She didn’t want to fall out with the old lady. She and her grandmother had a special relationship; they shared the same wry sense of humour and could always be relied upon to drop in a sarcastic remark at any opportunity. Whatever was happening, it was Grace and Myrtle who shared an amused glance.
Hester Deeton and Bob arrived armed with little gifts for each member of the family. ‘And I’ve made a cake,’ Hester said uncertainly. ‘I hope it’ll be acceptable.’
‘Acceptable, Mrs Deeton? It’ll be wonderful,’ Peggy assured her. ‘We couldn’t get all the ingredients to make our usual cake, though Mam has managed two puddings. There seem to be shortages already.’
‘I’d put things aside from the summer. It’s not hoarding,’ Hester added swiftly, in case anyone should think she was breaking the advice the authorities were already handing out and what would soon become law when rationing started in earnest.
Laurence Bower arrived just before lunch with a box of chocolates. As he handed them to Mary he said, ‘These are for all the family, but mind you pick out your favourites. You must have been working so hard to get everything ready for today.’
‘I’ve had help. Mother still does a lot of the cooking and the girls are very good.’
‘Still—’ Laurence looked into Mary’s eyes as he added softly, ‘You deserve a little treat.’ Laurence had never looked at anyone else since the death of his wife, but Mary was still a pretty woman with a slim figure and gentle brown eyes and Laurence found himself experiencing feelings he thought had gone forever. He’d lived a solitary existence for the last three years, but now he wondered whether, at forty-five, he was foolish to resign himself to a life of loneliness. He sat beside Mary at the dinner table and joined in the merry banter. Even Hester, after two glasses of sherry and with spots of colour in her cheeks, relaxed and for a brief time managed to put aside the many anxieties which life seemed to hold for her. Bob, sitting between Peggy and Rose, was the life and soul of the party. After lunch, when they’d all taken turns to help with the washing up – all except Grace, who everyone insisted should put her feet up – it was Bob who organized games and quizzes.
For a few hours they were able to put aside all thoughts of the war, of its impending restrictions and dangers and, by late evening when the visitors left, every one of them declared it to be the best Christmas they could remember.
Eight
Only a few days after Christmas Letty came bursting in through the back door, tears streaming down her face. ‘They’ve only gone and done it, the silly buggers. In’t it enough that I’ve got one lad in danger, without them going an’ all?’
Grace bent to put two cakes in the range oven and closed the door carefully. Straightening up, she said, with a sigh, ‘What’s them two rascals done this time?’
‘Eh?’ Letty blinked and then, as realization came to her, she shook her head. ‘Oh, no, t’ain’t the two young ’uns. Not this time. ’Tis Walter and Bertie.’
Grace stared at her for a moment and then guessing what had happened said kindly, ‘Sit down, Letty, and tell me all about it.’
‘They’ve only gone and volunteered, that’s what.’
‘Never? Well, they want their heads banging together, Letty. They’d no need to go yet. At least they could’ve waited until they were called up.’
‘I know,’ Letty wailed as fresh tears welled in her eyes. ‘And t’daft part about it is, Walter might not’ve had to go at all. His firm’s turning to some sort of war production, so they say. Likely he’d’ve been in a – what do they call it?’
‘Reserved occupation.’
‘That’s it.’ She paused a moment before adding flatly, ‘Bertie might have had to go
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