Read Online Cockney Orphan by Carol Rivers - Free Book Online Page B

without you, Gran?’
    ‘Oh, don’t give me any of that flannel,’ she cried. ‘Hurry up, your bacon’s getting cold.’
    ‘It’s not out of the pan yet.’
    ‘It will be by the time you get your arse on the chair.’
    Enjoying the familiar banter, Vic removed the pristine white collarless shirt from the wooden slats and raised the rack to the ceiling again. When he was dressed, he sat down in front of two fat
slices of crispy bacon, one egg and two thick wedges of bread spread with lard. A cup of tea stood beside his plate and a round of toast as back-up.
    Gran sat beside him, her small, plump figure lost in the folds of her black garments. He had never known her to wear any other colour. Woollen jumpers, long skirts, headscarves, gloves and
coats, all as black as night.
    ‘Go on,’ Vic urged, lifting the plate of toast towards her, ‘indulge yourself. Have a slice.’
    ‘No thanks, cock, I prefer me Bemax. The tin says it’s gas proof!’ Gran chuckled as she tilted her spoon into the chipped china bowl.
    ‘That stuff ’ll put hairs on your chest, you know,’ Vic teased as he attacked his cooked breakfast.
    ‘Shut up and eat up, you saucy sod,’ Gran replied gamely.
    He would have preferred to see her eat a good breakfast once in a while. But she wouldn’t hear of it, no matter how hard he nagged. Relishing the feel of the perfectly cooked hot food
sliding down into his empty stomach, he had to admit the sustenance made him a whole man again.
    Vic thought, as he did every day, that he couldn’t have had a happier life. He was grateful to Gran for the gift of it. If it hadn’t been for her, he’d be an orphanage kid and
so would Pat. None of their relatives had stepped forward when their parents had died. Had it not been for Gran, they wouldn’t have known what life or love was about. Vic worshipped the old
woman who sat beside him now. And he knew the feeling was returned.
    They talked for a while, discussing the raid last night and how Pat and her husband Laurie had converted the cellar of their house in Manchester Road into a nice little sitting room. And how
even Dorrie was getting used to the explosions and how Gran slept on the put-u-up next to Dorrie’s camp bed and caught a draught down her neck. Vic related some of the events of his
warden’s rounds but not all. Though he could see by her eyes roving his face that his Gran was well aware of the horrors that had passed.
    ‘Now,’ said Gran as she scooped the last puddle in her bowl to her dry, wrinkled lips, ‘where are you taking your girl today?’
    Vic almost dropped his knife. One thing about Gran that he wasn’t too struck on was her second sight, as she termed it. She’d had the knack all her life, coming out with things that
even he or Pat didn’t know were about to happen. She read the tealeaves and could give an answer to a problem or foretell the future. And she didn’t ask you whether you wanted to know
it or not. Out it came, like this morning, when he hadn’t even finished his tea, and he knew that once the tealeaves were strewn out before him he’d be hot at the back of his neck,
wondering what she was about to say.
    ‘What are you on about?’ he demanded, playing for time.
    ‘You’re meeting a lady, aren’t you?’
    Vic blushed as he tried to swallow his bacon. ‘You’re an old witch you are.’
    ‘No, that was deduction, boy,’ she clarified swiftly. ‘You washed and shaved and put on a clean shirt without an argument. You’ve got a smile on your mug as wide as
Greenwich Reach, and that means only one thing.’
    Vic relaxed a little, though not for long.
    Gran bent forward. ‘But I can tell you something more, lad, and this isn’t guesswork. She’s special, this one. She’s got good lights. The only problem being there’s
other lights around her I don’t like. Mucky stuff.’
    This time Vic did drop his knife. It clattered on his plate and he almost choked. He took a long swig of tea.