Read Online A Sixpenny Christmas by Katie Flynn - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Katie Flynn
Ads: Link
Myrtle had one when her kids were small. I reckon young Toby is only just out of it so if you can arrange for someone to pick it up I’m sure she’ll be glad to give it you.’
‘To lend it maybe,’ Ellen said cautiously. ‘You never know, Myrtle might have half a dozen more kids. She’s got five already.’
Mrs Meakin sighed. ‘She’s a good girl our Myrtle, but she can’t say no, nor ever did, and of course Jimmy’s a strong Catholic and comes from a big family hisself. He’s one of eleven, ain’t he? So you’re probably right and the cot’ll be a loan rather than a gift.’
Ellen thought of her sister Myrtle’s three-storey house in Blackpool. It was a happy house. Myrtle’s kids shared the big attic rooms on the top floor and her sister and Jimmy took in paying guests in the summer. Jimmy ran a pleasure boat which he was buying on the never-never, and a happier family you would have to go a long way to find. If only Sam were like Jimmy, Ellen found herself thinking. If only he didn’t drink; that’d be something. I dare say Jimmy has the odd bevvy from time to time – well, I know he does – but he’d no more dream of being nasty to our Myrtle than he’d fly to the perishin’ moon. Still, I s’pose it’s just possible my darlin’ Lana will make Sam a changed man. Mebbe I shan’t have to get one of them court orders to keep him out of the house. Wouldn’t it be just grand if he turned into another Jimmy?
She was saying as much to her mother as they reached Dryden Street and her own small terraced house. They approached the front door and Mrs Meakin hauled the key up through the letterbox, fitted it into the keyhole and swung the door wide. ‘In you go, chuck,’ she said breezily, dumping the suitcase at the foot of the stairs and heading for the kitchen. ‘I’ll put the kettle on; after carting that big fat babby of yours all the way from the hospital I reckon what you need most will be a nice cuppa.’
Ellen, agreeing with her, followed her into the kitchen and was surprised, even a trifle alarmed, to see that the kettle was already on the stove and hissing gently. She looked round wildly, expecting to see Sam looming up, but instead her neighbours, Mrs Rathbone and Mrs Durrant, stood by the kitchen table beaming at her. ‘Welcome home, Mrs O’Mara,’ they said, beaming, Mrs Durrant adding: ‘How do, Mrs Meakin? Me and me pal here is longin’ to see the little ’un!’ Both visitors clucked over the baby, then Mrs Rathbone pointed to the kitchen table. ‘I made a cake and there’s some biscuits what Mrs Durrant here brought round earlier. We knew you was coming out today but we didn’t know what time you’d arrive.’
Ellen licked her lips at the sight of the big soggy fruit cake and the plate of mixed biscuits standing in the middle of the table. The neighbours on either side of her had both moved out since her pregnancy, going to live with married daughters some way off, and their houses had been taken by the two women smiling across at her. So despite having lived in Dryden Street all her married life, Ellen hardly knew them. She supposed that thefurious fights between herself and Sam had kept folk at a distance, but Mrs Rathbone and Mrs Durrant were clearly offering friendship and she appreciated what a difference good neighbours could make. They would not interfere between a married couple, but she was sure, now, that these women would give her what support they could.
Mrs Meakin, having seen her daughter and granddaughter safely home, left to catch her tram, and Ellen thanked her new friends profusely, saying that she was just going to put Lana down but would be very glad of a cuppa and a bite when she returned. ‘And you must call me Ellen,’ she instructed. ‘And I’ll call you . . . ?’
‘I’m Hannah,’ Mrs Durrant said, ‘and this here . . .’ she pointed to Mrs Rathbone, ‘is Janet. If there’s anything you want, ’cos you won’t be up to gettin’
‘To lend it maybe,’ Ellen said cautiously. ‘You never know, Myrtle might have half a dozen more kids. She’s got five already.’
Mrs Meakin sighed. ‘She’s a good girl our Myrtle, but she can’t say no, nor ever did, and of course Jimmy’s a strong Catholic and comes from a big family hisself. He’s one of eleven, ain’t he? So you’re probably right and the cot’ll be a loan rather than a gift.’
Ellen thought of her sister Myrtle’s three-storey house in Blackpool. It was a happy house. Myrtle’s kids shared the big attic rooms on the top floor and her sister and Jimmy took in paying guests in the summer. Jimmy ran a pleasure boat which he was buying on the never-never, and a happier family you would have to go a long way to find. If only Sam were like Jimmy, Ellen found herself thinking. If only he didn’t drink; that’d be something. I dare say Jimmy has the odd bevvy from time to time – well, I know he does – but he’d no more dream of being nasty to our Myrtle than he’d fly to the perishin’ moon. Still, I s’pose it’s just possible my darlin’ Lana will make Sam a changed man. Mebbe I shan’t have to get one of them court orders to keep him out of the house. Wouldn’t it be just grand if he turned into another Jimmy?
She was saying as much to her mother as they reached Dryden Street and her own small terraced house. They approached the front door and Mrs Meakin hauled the key up through the letterbox, fitted it into the keyhole and swung the door wide. ‘In you go, chuck,’ she said breezily, dumping the suitcase at the foot of the stairs and heading for the kitchen. ‘I’ll put the kettle on; after carting that big fat babby of yours all the way from the hospital I reckon what you need most will be a nice cuppa.’
Ellen, agreeing with her, followed her into the kitchen and was surprised, even a trifle alarmed, to see that the kettle was already on the stove and hissing gently. She looked round wildly, expecting to see Sam looming up, but instead her neighbours, Mrs Rathbone and Mrs Durrant, stood by the kitchen table beaming at her. ‘Welcome home, Mrs O’Mara,’ they said, beaming, Mrs Durrant adding: ‘How do, Mrs Meakin? Me and me pal here is longin’ to see the little ’un!’ Both visitors clucked over the baby, then Mrs Rathbone pointed to the kitchen table. ‘I made a cake and there’s some biscuits what Mrs Durrant here brought round earlier. We knew you was coming out today but we didn’t know what time you’d arrive.’
Ellen licked her lips at the sight of the big soggy fruit cake and the plate of mixed biscuits standing in the middle of the table. The neighbours on either side of her had both moved out since her pregnancy, going to live with married daughters some way off, and their houses had been taken by the two women smiling across at her. So despite having lived in Dryden Street all her married life, Ellen hardly knew them. She supposed that thefurious fights between herself and Sam had kept folk at a distance, but Mrs Rathbone and Mrs Durrant were clearly offering friendship and she appreciated what a difference good neighbours could make. They would not interfere between a married couple, but she was sure, now, that these women would give her what support they could.
Mrs Meakin, having seen her daughter and granddaughter safely home, left to catch her tram, and Ellen thanked her new friends profusely, saying that she was just going to put Lana down but would be very glad of a cuppa and a bite when she returned. ‘And you must call me Ellen,’ she instructed. ‘And I’ll call you . . . ?’
‘I’m Hannah,’ Mrs Durrant said, ‘and this here . . .’ she pointed to Mrs Rathbone, ‘is Janet. If there’s anything you want, ’cos you won’t be up to gettin’
Similar Books
