Read Online A Christmas Promise by Annie Groves - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Annie Groves
Ads: Link
he had never got over the excitement of going out to the chicken coop and finding the rare, delicious prizes provided by the hens each day, which were shared with neighbours and friends.
‘I’ll pass some over to Nancy. I’ve heard her little grandchildren in the garden; they must be staying for a while,’ said Olive as she went out to the back garden to hang up the galvanised bucket on a nail hammered into the wall.
‘Mrs Black collared me to ask how many eggs had been laid today,’ Barney told Olive, whom he now looked on as an additional parent. ‘I didn’t tell her, though; I pretended I didn’t hear her.’
‘Knowing Nancy, she’ll have heard every one of them being laid,’ Olive said, laughing and shaking her head in wonderment at how the older woman could move at lightning speed when she had a mind. Olive knew her covetous eyes would have devoured the precious eggs, even though she had a lot to say about Article Row turning into a farm-yard when Barney first brought the chicks home. But Nancy wasn’t slow off the mark when Olive shared the surplus eggs and was usually the first to offer to take any going spare.
Olive shared them with Nancy, of course, but only after she had delivered them to those who deserved them, and who had pooled their potato peelings to boil up for chicken food and returned the shells to mix in with the mash and corn, which Nancy had been doing only recently – and now she knew why.
‘We can pass the eggs in to Nancy on the way to the shop,’ Olive said, checking her hat and giving a satisfied nod to her reflection they made their way to the front door.
Olive was just locking the front door when she was stopped in her tracks at the sight of the young telegraph boy, not much older and considerably shorter than Barney, heading down the Row of three-story houses on one side and the backs of ivy-clad business premises on the other. She watched his approach with a hint of dread, secretly praying he didn’t stop at her front gate.
In a flash, it seemed, Nancy’s door opened again and she was out by her own gate in no time at all. The two women looked fleetingly at each other as the telegraph boy approached the pavement outside their houses, and clenching his brakes before expertly swinging his leg over the crossbar of his bike.
Olive watched him skilfully balance the pedal of the bike on the pavement and she felt her heart thrumming in her throat as the cold hand of fear clutched at her heart, while every nerve in her body was screaming,
Please, Lord, don’t let it be Tilly … Please don’t let anything bad have happened to my precious daughter.
‘Mrs Robbins?’ The telegraph boy asked as fear screamed through her. Olive could only nod as words failed her. Then he handed her the dreaded telegram, every mother’s nightmare.
*
When Sally took her morning break she knew there was something she had to do before she even went for the cup of tea she was dying to drink. She looked at the clock: it was almost ten forty and if she was lucky she might just catch Drew before he was discharged.
He hadn’t been given a bed on Men’s Surgical as his father had an arrangement with the powers that be to keep him in a private room where he could recuperate in peace, be waited on hand and foot, and have visitors at any time of the day.
‘Steady on your pins?’ Sally asked as she popped her head round the door and was glad to see Drew smiling. ‘All set to go?’
‘I didn’t think I’d be this nervous,’ he laughed. ‘Dad’s ordered a car, would you believe?’ Drew was dressed in a smart new suit, the likes of which could not be bought here in London for love nor money – and even if it was possible to find one to buy, Sally was certain nobody had enough coupons to splash out on just one suit. Drew stood tall. He had been practising with the doctors for weeks now, and was determined he would walk out under his own steam with the aid of one walking stick, which had been
‘I’ll pass some over to Nancy. I’ve heard her little grandchildren in the garden; they must be staying for a while,’ said Olive as she went out to the back garden to hang up the galvanised bucket on a nail hammered into the wall.
‘Mrs Black collared me to ask how many eggs had been laid today,’ Barney told Olive, whom he now looked on as an additional parent. ‘I didn’t tell her, though; I pretended I didn’t hear her.’
‘Knowing Nancy, she’ll have heard every one of them being laid,’ Olive said, laughing and shaking her head in wonderment at how the older woman could move at lightning speed when she had a mind. Olive knew her covetous eyes would have devoured the precious eggs, even though she had a lot to say about Article Row turning into a farm-yard when Barney first brought the chicks home. But Nancy wasn’t slow off the mark when Olive shared the surplus eggs and was usually the first to offer to take any going spare.
Olive shared them with Nancy, of course, but only after she had delivered them to those who deserved them, and who had pooled their potato peelings to boil up for chicken food and returned the shells to mix in with the mash and corn, which Nancy had been doing only recently – and now she knew why.
‘We can pass the eggs in to Nancy on the way to the shop,’ Olive said, checking her hat and giving a satisfied nod to her reflection they made their way to the front door.
Olive was just locking the front door when she was stopped in her tracks at the sight of the young telegraph boy, not much older and considerably shorter than Barney, heading down the Row of three-story houses on one side and the backs of ivy-clad business premises on the other. She watched his approach with a hint of dread, secretly praying he didn’t stop at her front gate.
In a flash, it seemed, Nancy’s door opened again and she was out by her own gate in no time at all. The two women looked fleetingly at each other as the telegraph boy approached the pavement outside their houses, and clenching his brakes before expertly swinging his leg over the crossbar of his bike.
Olive watched him skilfully balance the pedal of the bike on the pavement and she felt her heart thrumming in her throat as the cold hand of fear clutched at her heart, while every nerve in her body was screaming,
Please, Lord, don’t let it be Tilly … Please don’t let anything bad have happened to my precious daughter.
‘Mrs Robbins?’ The telegraph boy asked as fear screamed through her. Olive could only nod as words failed her. Then he handed her the dreaded telegram, every mother’s nightmare.
*
When Sally took her morning break she knew there was something she had to do before she even went for the cup of tea she was dying to drink. She looked at the clock: it was almost ten forty and if she was lucky she might just catch Drew before he was discharged.
He hadn’t been given a bed on Men’s Surgical as his father had an arrangement with the powers that be to keep him in a private room where he could recuperate in peace, be waited on hand and foot, and have visitors at any time of the day.
‘Steady on your pins?’ Sally asked as she popped her head round the door and was glad to see Drew smiling. ‘All set to go?’
‘I didn’t think I’d be this nervous,’ he laughed. ‘Dad’s ordered a car, would you believe?’ Drew was dressed in a smart new suit, the likes of which could not be bought here in London for love nor money – and even if it was possible to find one to buy, Sally was certain nobody had enough coupons to splash out on just one suit. Drew stood tall. He had been practising with the doctors for weeks now, and was determined he would walk out under his own steam with the aid of one walking stick, which had been
Similar Books
