The Mersey Girls by Katie Flynn

could be seen from both homes, and if Caitlin leaned out of her window and looked very hard to the left and Lucy leaned out of hers and looked downwards and to the right they could each see the lit-up square and the head and shoulders of the other.
    Signals were many, including ones which needed a bit of curtain, some cardboard and a lamp held close to the window, but shouting beat them as a means of communication which could be immediately understood.
    ‘Night, Cait!’
    ‘Night, Lu!’
    ‘Where’s your cat, Cait?’
    ‘On the bottom of me bed, Lu . . . why?’
    ‘He pulled a rude face at me in the cabbages this evening. He’s a funny old devil, your cat.’
    ‘I know. As funny as your old Shep.’
    ‘My old Shep’s all right, but they won’t let him sleep on my bed, worse luck. Wish I had a cat, Cait. If I could have a kitten . . .’ there was a short scuffle and then a wail. ‘Oh, Maeve, you are mean to me! Don’t you love me? There’s something real urgent I’ve got to tell Caitlin before I close me window and get into bed!’
    Caitlin heard mutterings which she guessed were being made by Maeve, then the slam of a window shutting. Presently, it opened again, with extreme caution, as she had known it would.
    ‘Sorry about that – see you in the morning, Cait!’
    ‘Aye, see you in the morning, Lu!’

    It isn’t unknown for it to rain in Kerry in July and when Lucy woke at daybreak the following day, with the birds kicking up enough row to deafen you, especially in a room right under the eaves, she opened her eyes on the soft and misty rain which so often continues all day and ruins the best laid plans of mice and men.
    ‘Oh, not rain!’ Lucy muttered to herself. ‘It’s the first day of me summer holidays, God, you can’t mean to ruin it all with rain!’ She sat up on her elbow and peered out through the window once more. Rain was pattering against the window panes and a row of fat raindrops clung to the slate roof-edge, just waiting to drop. Outside, the big red cockerel, who was not above giving you a nip if you went near his harem of hens, cleared his throat and cock-a-doodle-doed; he sounded uncertain, as though he wasn’t perfectly sure whether day was really breaking, but was prepared to give it a go anyhow.
    ‘We were going to have a picnic,’ Lucy reminded her Maker, snuggling down the bed again. ‘It’s the first day of everyone’s summer holidays, Lord, so you’re punishing everyone by sending rain! I do wish you’d think again and give us some blue sky instead.’
    With that she fell asleep once more and when she woke because Maeve was slamming about in the kitchen and Grandad was shouting to one of the men and Shep was barking, the sun was streaming in through her window and the sky was so blue it hurt her sleepy eyes.
    ‘Thank you, dear Lord, thank you,’ Lucy burbled, jumping out of bed. Ah, it wouldn’t do to leap into her clothes without a wash, not when God had been so obliging as to change the rain to sun just for her! She said a couple of Hail Marys under her breath as she washed and dressed, then ran downstairs, humming beneath her breath.
    In the kitchen, Maeve had made Lucy’s breakfast; two fried eggs, a round of fried bread and a rasher of bacon, crisped just as she liked it. The tea in the pot steamed merrily and on the dresser were two greaseproof packets and a blue cloth bag which bulged in a satisfactory sort of way.
    ‘There’s your dinners,’ Maeve said, dishing up the food and jerking her head towards the bag and the greaseproof wrapped packets. ‘I’ve done your sandwiches in the greaseproof and you can get some water to drink, and there’s apples and some of my rich fruit cake in the bag.’
    ‘Oh, Maeve, you are kind to me,’ Lucy said rapturously. ‘This is the best breakfast in the world!’
    She ate fast and very soon was poised in the doorway, bag in hand, looking rather guiltily back at Maeve.
    ‘Are you sure I can go? That you can