naturally.
She enjoyed her days in the Red Cross shop with Audrey. It gave them a chance to catch up with everything that interested them and usually swap books they had just read. Also, as the air raids had become less frequent of late, it gave them a chance to review the stock and get on with the important work of sending parcels to prisoners of war and servicemen in colder climates, who needed new socks and balaclavas, which the other WVS members knitted in the church hall each morning. There was always something to keep them busy, and that was just the way Olive liked it.
‘How’s Archie these days?’ Audrey asked when they closed the shop at lunchtime and sat down in the small back room for a well-earned cup of tea. Olive didn’t mind Audrey’s interest. Audrey had a genuine interest in her friendship with Archie; whereas, Nancy Black was looking for salacious gossip. Also, Olive knew that if she didn’t talk to someone about her slowly developing relationship with Archie she might burst with the effort of keeping it to herself. It was Audrey who had persuaded her that she had done nothing wrong – and nor had Archie.
They were two people who had been through exactly the same thing – widowed, young in Olive’s case, and not so old in Archie’s – and they each knew exactly what the other was going through. Their friendship was a comfort to Archie, Olive knew – and it seemed that Audrey had more or less given her permission to allow herself to think that way, and not feel ashamed about giving Archie a shoulder to cry on, as she would have done if she had listened to Nancy Black’s toxic criticism of anyone or anything that did not concern her. There was something about Audrey’s kind, calming manner that was wonderfully comforting, and Olive felt she could be herself with Audrey and take time off from being everybody else’s mainstay.
‘I heard the butcher is having some meat delivered this afternoon, if you fancy queuing up with me,’ Audrey said over the rim of her cup, and Olive’s face lit up.
‘Wouldn’t it be lovely if it was a nice bit of brisket for a pot roast?’ Both women closed their eyes, savouring the memories of the days when they could walk into the butcher’s and choose any piece of meat they wanted. ‘It’ll probably be liver,’ said Olive. ‘I can’t stand liver.’
‘Better than the meat bones some housewives say are for the dog.’ Audrey laughed. ‘You know quite well they are rushing home to make a pan of soup with them.’
‘And glad of it, too,’ Olive added, looking at Audrey from the other side of the table, and they both burst out laughing.
‘Look what this war has turned us into,’ Olive said, when they had calmed a little, ‘a pair of drooling dreamers just at the mention of a cheap cut of meat.’
‘This pie’s lovely, Olive,’ Archie said appreciatively, enjoying the steak and kidney that Olive had managed to bag at the butcher’s.
‘I was lucky, there wasn’t much left after I’d been served, and I’m sure Audrey was sorry she let me go before her in the queue.’
‘I’ve heard some farmers are substituting beef with horse,’ said Archie, who was in a position to know these things.
Barney suddenly looked up from his plate, his face a mixture of don’t-say-that distress and revulsion, his knife and fork hovering between his pie and his mouth, and Olive raised her eyebrows.
‘You’d eat it if you were starving, lad,’ Archie said, tucking in, ‘and if you don’t want your share, just push it over this way.’
‘Oh, you don’t get me that easily,’ Barney said, relaxing and cutting a wedge of pie. ‘I nearly fell for that then!’ He chuckled as he tucked into his pie, enjoying every mouthful now.
‘I can assure you that I would never buy horse to eat, and our butcher would never dare sell it,’ Olive said in a voice that brooked no argument.
‘How would you know?’ Archie asked conversationally. ‘Have you ever
She enjoyed her days in the Red Cross shop with Audrey. It gave them a chance to catch up with everything that interested them and usually swap books they had just read. Also, as the air raids had become less frequent of late, it gave them a chance to review the stock and get on with the important work of sending parcels to prisoners of war and servicemen in colder climates, who needed new socks and balaclavas, which the other WVS members knitted in the church hall each morning. There was always something to keep them busy, and that was just the way Olive liked it.
‘How’s Archie these days?’ Audrey asked when they closed the shop at lunchtime and sat down in the small back room for a well-earned cup of tea. Olive didn’t mind Audrey’s interest. Audrey had a genuine interest in her friendship with Archie; whereas, Nancy Black was looking for salacious gossip. Also, Olive knew that if she didn’t talk to someone about her slowly developing relationship with Archie she might burst with the effort of keeping it to herself. It was Audrey who had persuaded her that she had done nothing wrong – and nor had Archie.
They were two people who had been through exactly the same thing – widowed, young in Olive’s case, and not so old in Archie’s – and they each knew exactly what the other was going through. Their friendship was a comfort to Archie, Olive knew – and it seemed that Audrey had more or less given her permission to allow herself to think that way, and not feel ashamed about giving Archie a shoulder to cry on, as she would have done if she had listened to Nancy Black’s toxic criticism of anyone or anything that did not concern her. There was something about Audrey’s kind, calming manner that was wonderfully comforting, and Olive felt she could be herself with Audrey and take time off from being everybody else’s mainstay.
‘I heard the butcher is having some meat delivered this afternoon, if you fancy queuing up with me,’ Audrey said over the rim of her cup, and Olive’s face lit up.
‘Wouldn’t it be lovely if it was a nice bit of brisket for a pot roast?’ Both women closed their eyes, savouring the memories of the days when they could walk into the butcher’s and choose any piece of meat they wanted. ‘It’ll probably be liver,’ said Olive. ‘I can’t stand liver.’
‘Better than the meat bones some housewives say are for the dog.’ Audrey laughed. ‘You know quite well they are rushing home to make a pan of soup with them.’
‘And glad of it, too,’ Olive added, looking at Audrey from the other side of the table, and they both burst out laughing.
‘Look what this war has turned us into,’ Olive said, when they had calmed a little, ‘a pair of drooling dreamers just at the mention of a cheap cut of meat.’
‘This pie’s lovely, Olive,’ Archie said appreciatively, enjoying the steak and kidney that Olive had managed to bag at the butcher’s.
‘I was lucky, there wasn’t much left after I’d been served, and I’m sure Audrey was sorry she let me go before her in the queue.’
‘I’ve heard some farmers are substituting beef with horse,’ said Archie, who was in a position to know these things.
Barney suddenly looked up from his plate, his face a mixture of don’t-say-that distress and revulsion, his knife and fork hovering between his pie and his mouth, and Olive raised her eyebrows.
‘You’d eat it if you were starving, lad,’ Archie said, tucking in, ‘and if you don’t want your share, just push it over this way.’
‘Oh, you don’t get me that easily,’ Barney said, relaxing and cutting a wedge of pie. ‘I nearly fell for that then!’ He chuckled as he tucked into his pie, enjoying every mouthful now.
‘I can assure you that I would never buy horse to eat, and our butcher would never dare sell it,’ Olive said in a voice that brooked no argument.
‘How would you know?’ Archie asked conversationally. ‘Have you ever
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