Grandma was nicer than usual, and Auntie Serena is a darling. How she stands Grandma …’
‘It’s a good thing she does, though, or Grandma might have to come and live with us,’ Joy said with a strong shudder. ‘I once asked Auntie Serena how she put up with Grandma and she said she could do so easily so long as they lived next door to one another and did not share the same house. She said she can always walk away at the moment.’
‘Well, good for her,’ Gillian said. ‘And now let’s go to sleep or we’ll not be able to enjoy the pantomime tomorrow. Incidentally, what did you wish for when you found the threepenny bit?’
‘M.y.o.b.,’ Joy said immediately. ‘Come to that, what did you wish for when you got the wishbone?’
Gillian snorted. ‘Shan’t tell you,’ she said. ‘Nosy parker! Actually, if you really want to know, I wished you had a few more brains so you could come to St Hilda’s with me. Wasn’t that altru … altruis … nice of me, I mean? Oh, and I had a little extra wish whilst I was about it. I wished I was beautiful, with gleaming black hair and dark eyes and big bosoms. Now tell me what you wished!’
‘I wished I might be a fireman when I grow up,’ Joy said wistfully. ‘A fireman like Daddy, of course. I know it isn’t allowed now, but by the time I’m twenty or thirty …’
‘Oh, you!’ Gillian said, pretending to smother a chuckle in the bedclothes but making very sure, Joy realised, that her twin heard her amusement. ‘You could be in Control, mind, like our mother was, but I suppose that isn’t good enough for my thick twin; she’s got to be on the hose, dragging it in and out of burning buildings, dodging falling masonry, climbing the ladder to rescue folk trapped on the first floor …’
‘Shut up!’ Joy growled. ‘I know it’s dangerous and very hard work but I wouldn’t mind that. And wanting to be a fireman is a good deal better than wanting to be perishin’ beautiful. Coal black hair and big bosoms indeed! Some chance, Gillian Lawrence!’
‘Both will come to me in time,’ Gillian said with dignity. ‘You can dye hair, you know, and bosoms grow – sort of pop out – when you’re older. And if you get out of bed and try to hit me I’ll scream for Daddy or Mrs Clarke, so there!’
When Gillian awoke on the day after Boxing Day her first thought was of the pantomime they had seen the previous evening. The tickets had been Grandma’s Christmas present to Alex and his daughters, though it had been Auntie Serena’s idea, of course. Grandma’s idea of a Christmas present was to hand over a box of handkerchiefs which someone had given her the previous year, or a pair of felt slippers, usually several sizes too large. But on this occasion, thanks to their aunt, Grandma’s present of three tickets to the pantomime had been a splendid treat.
They had gone to the Empire Theatre to see The Queen of Hearts with Jimmy O’Dea. Because the Dodmans had never taken them to the theatre, Gillian and Joy had had only the haziest recollection of what a pantomime was all about and this, if anything, had increased their excited anticipation, which had been amply rewarded. Gillian, far more conscious of being thirteen and a half than her sister, had watched Joy enter enthusiastically into the spirit of the story, bouncing up and down in her seat yelling ‘Look behind you!’ and almost splitting her sides with laughter whenever the Dame appeared on the stage.
After the show they had gone home to have a supper of leftovers, or so Alex had warned, but when they had reached No. 77 it was to find Mrs Clarke in their kitchen, just withdrawing from the oven a large golden-topped pie. ‘It’s only what was left of the chicken and ham, and a good deal of potato,’ she had said, smiling at Alex. ‘But it’s an icy night and so I thought it would be more welcome than cold meat.’
‘You put me to shame, Mrs Clarke,’ Alex had said apologetically, unwrapping
‘It’s a good thing she does, though, or Grandma might have to come and live with us,’ Joy said with a strong shudder. ‘I once asked Auntie Serena how she put up with Grandma and she said she could do so easily so long as they lived next door to one another and did not share the same house. She said she can always walk away at the moment.’
‘Well, good for her,’ Gillian said. ‘And now let’s go to sleep or we’ll not be able to enjoy the pantomime tomorrow. Incidentally, what did you wish for when you found the threepenny bit?’
‘M.y.o.b.,’ Joy said immediately. ‘Come to that, what did you wish for when you got the wishbone?’
Gillian snorted. ‘Shan’t tell you,’ she said. ‘Nosy parker! Actually, if you really want to know, I wished you had a few more brains so you could come to St Hilda’s with me. Wasn’t that altru … altruis … nice of me, I mean? Oh, and I had a little extra wish whilst I was about it. I wished I was beautiful, with gleaming black hair and dark eyes and big bosoms. Now tell me what you wished!’
‘I wished I might be a fireman when I grow up,’ Joy said wistfully. ‘A fireman like Daddy, of course. I know it isn’t allowed now, but by the time I’m twenty or thirty …’
‘Oh, you!’ Gillian said, pretending to smother a chuckle in the bedclothes but making very sure, Joy realised, that her twin heard her amusement. ‘You could be in Control, mind, like our mother was, but I suppose that isn’t good enough for my thick twin; she’s got to be on the hose, dragging it in and out of burning buildings, dodging falling masonry, climbing the ladder to rescue folk trapped on the first floor …’
‘Shut up!’ Joy growled. ‘I know it’s dangerous and very hard work but I wouldn’t mind that. And wanting to be a fireman is a good deal better than wanting to be perishin’ beautiful. Coal black hair and big bosoms indeed! Some chance, Gillian Lawrence!’
‘Both will come to me in time,’ Gillian said with dignity. ‘You can dye hair, you know, and bosoms grow – sort of pop out – when you’re older. And if you get out of bed and try to hit me I’ll scream for Daddy or Mrs Clarke, so there!’
When Gillian awoke on the day after Boxing Day her first thought was of the pantomime they had seen the previous evening. The tickets had been Grandma’s Christmas present to Alex and his daughters, though it had been Auntie Serena’s idea, of course. Grandma’s idea of a Christmas present was to hand over a box of handkerchiefs which someone had given her the previous year, or a pair of felt slippers, usually several sizes too large. But on this occasion, thanks to their aunt, Grandma’s present of three tickets to the pantomime had been a splendid treat.
They had gone to the Empire Theatre to see The Queen of Hearts with Jimmy O’Dea. Because the Dodmans had never taken them to the theatre, Gillian and Joy had had only the haziest recollection of what a pantomime was all about and this, if anything, had increased their excited anticipation, which had been amply rewarded. Gillian, far more conscious of being thirteen and a half than her sister, had watched Joy enter enthusiastically into the spirit of the story, bouncing up and down in her seat yelling ‘Look behind you!’ and almost splitting her sides with laughter whenever the Dame appeared on the stage.
After the show they had gone home to have a supper of leftovers, or so Alex had warned, but when they had reached No. 77 it was to find Mrs Clarke in their kitchen, just withdrawing from the oven a large golden-topped pie. ‘It’s only what was left of the chicken and ham, and a good deal of potato,’ she had said, smiling at Alex. ‘But it’s an icy night and so I thought it would be more welcome than cold meat.’
‘You put me to shame, Mrs Clarke,’ Alex had said apologetically, unwrapping
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