with your auntie.’
Aunt Ivy must have been watching through the window as the door opened and she came out and waited for them on the step, clapping her hands and laughing aloud as they approached. ‘You’re right,’ she cried. ‘She’s just like our Mabel.’
‘I never met your sister, Mrs Adams, but one of her friends remarked on the fact to Sister Bernadette.’
‘Come in, darling.’ Aunt Ivy took Josie’s hand. ‘I’m sure you’re going to be very happy in your new home.’
‘That’s what I just told her,’ the woman smiled.
The woman stayed only a few minutes to hand over Mam’s handbag, which looked remarkably undamaged.‘Josie’s ration book and identity card are in there. The rest of your sister’s possessions are in Huskisson Street. You can collect them any time. Ask for Miss Maude Connelly.’
‘Thank you,’ Aunt Ivy said, ‘but I shan’t bother.’
Teddy! She’d forgotten all about him. Josie thought about Teddy sitting on top of the gas masks. She remembered her new velvet frock, Mam’s bezzie costume, all ready to come to this very house last Sunday after Mass. Her heart threatened to burst with sadness. If only she hadn’t gone to buy sweets that night. If only she’d stayed outside the Prince Albert with Tommy and Nora, then she would be dead. More than anything in the world she wished she were dead so she could be with Mam.
The woman was going, she had a dozen things to do that afternoon. She kissed Josie’s cheek and wished her every happiness, and shook Aunt Ivy’s hand. ‘She’s such a sweet little girl. With a bit of love and kindness, I’m sure her voice will soon come back. It was almost certainly the shock that did it, the shock of the explosion, then losing her mother. I’ve known it happen before. If you have any problems, do get in touch. You have my card. Goodbye, Mrs Adams. Goodbye, Josie.’
‘Tara,’ Aunt Ivy called as she closed the door.
Josie shrank against the row of coats hanging in the hall, because in the space of the few seconds it took to shut the door and turn around Aunt Ivy had become a completely different person. No longer smiling, her eyes glittered alarmingly as she swooped upon her niece, grabbed her arm and led her none too gently into a room at the back of the house. Four chairs with backs like ladders were set around a table covered with a dark green chenille cloth. The sideboard was twice the size of theone in Huskisson Street, with shelves almost reaching the ceiling, full of darkly patterned dishes. Through the window, overlooking a small garden, she could see that a corrugated-iron air raid shelter had been built.
‘Sit down,’ Aunt Ivy said curtly.
‘I want it understood right from the start,’ Aunt Ivy went on in the same curt voice when they were seated at the table, a voice nothing like the one she’d used when the woman was there, ‘that I’m only having you because it’s me Christian duty. Seeing as how you’re me sister’s child, to do otherwise would be a sin. You’ll have a roof over your head, I’ll feed and clothe you, but that’s as far as it goes. Have you got that, miss?’
Josie nodded. Her head was throbbing. A ball of black fear rolled around her stomach, and she was worried she might vomit all over the posh cloth. It was horrible here, she hated it. And she hated Aunt Ivy most of all.
There was nothing about Aunt Ivy to remind her of Mam. It was hard to believe they had been sisters. Neither tall nor short, thin nor fat, her aunt’s eyes were the colour of dirty water. She had yellow, mottled skin and a very low hairline, rigidly straight. When she frowned, as she did now, the black hair and thick black eyebrows almost met. Her hair was neatly parted, neatly waved, and a hairclip secured the longer side. She wore a purple costume with a mauve lacy jumper underneath, high-heeled black shoes and a surprising amount of make-up – almost as much as Irish Rose, though she didn’t use mascara.
Aunt Ivy must have been watching through the window as the door opened and she came out and waited for them on the step, clapping her hands and laughing aloud as they approached. ‘You’re right,’ she cried. ‘She’s just like our Mabel.’
‘I never met your sister, Mrs Adams, but one of her friends remarked on the fact to Sister Bernadette.’
‘Come in, darling.’ Aunt Ivy took Josie’s hand. ‘I’m sure you’re going to be very happy in your new home.’
‘That’s what I just told her,’ the woman smiled.
The woman stayed only a few minutes to hand over Mam’s handbag, which looked remarkably undamaged.‘Josie’s ration book and identity card are in there. The rest of your sister’s possessions are in Huskisson Street. You can collect them any time. Ask for Miss Maude Connelly.’
‘Thank you,’ Aunt Ivy said, ‘but I shan’t bother.’
Teddy! She’d forgotten all about him. Josie thought about Teddy sitting on top of the gas masks. She remembered her new velvet frock, Mam’s bezzie costume, all ready to come to this very house last Sunday after Mass. Her heart threatened to burst with sadness. If only she hadn’t gone to buy sweets that night. If only she’d stayed outside the Prince Albert with Tommy and Nora, then she would be dead. More than anything in the world she wished she were dead so she could be with Mam.
The woman was going, she had a dozen things to do that afternoon. She kissed Josie’s cheek and wished her every happiness, and shook Aunt Ivy’s hand. ‘She’s such a sweet little girl. With a bit of love and kindness, I’m sure her voice will soon come back. It was almost certainly the shock that did it, the shock of the explosion, then losing her mother. I’ve known it happen before. If you have any problems, do get in touch. You have my card. Goodbye, Mrs Adams. Goodbye, Josie.’
‘Tara,’ Aunt Ivy called as she closed the door.
Josie shrank against the row of coats hanging in the hall, because in the space of the few seconds it took to shut the door and turn around Aunt Ivy had become a completely different person. No longer smiling, her eyes glittered alarmingly as she swooped upon her niece, grabbed her arm and led her none too gently into a room at the back of the house. Four chairs with backs like ladders were set around a table covered with a dark green chenille cloth. The sideboard was twice the size of theone in Huskisson Street, with shelves almost reaching the ceiling, full of darkly patterned dishes. Through the window, overlooking a small garden, she could see that a corrugated-iron air raid shelter had been built.
‘Sit down,’ Aunt Ivy said curtly.
‘I want it understood right from the start,’ Aunt Ivy went on in the same curt voice when they were seated at the table, a voice nothing like the one she’d used when the woman was there, ‘that I’m only having you because it’s me Christian duty. Seeing as how you’re me sister’s child, to do otherwise would be a sin. You’ll have a roof over your head, I’ll feed and clothe you, but that’s as far as it goes. Have you got that, miss?’
Josie nodded. Her head was throbbing. A ball of black fear rolled around her stomach, and she was worried she might vomit all over the posh cloth. It was horrible here, she hated it. And she hated Aunt Ivy most of all.
There was nothing about Aunt Ivy to remind her of Mam. It was hard to believe they had been sisters. Neither tall nor short, thin nor fat, her aunt’s eyes were the colour of dirty water. She had yellow, mottled skin and a very low hairline, rigidly straight. When she frowned, as she did now, the black hair and thick black eyebrows almost met. Her hair was neatly parted, neatly waved, and a hairclip secured the longer side. She wore a purple costume with a mauve lacy jumper underneath, high-heeled black shoes and a surprising amount of make-up – almost as much as Irish Rose, though she didn’t use mascara.
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