him.’
‘Good... I mean, that’s good... for you!’ she stuttered, covering her blushes by pretending to inspect the tinned goods piled up on the stall. When she looked up, he’d raised one of those winged eyebrows and a smile was playing on his lips. She thought he’d got her meaning exactly.
They quickly bought their oil and moved on to the old clothes stall, where Mrs Colman found a replacement for Amy’s everyday dress. Amy had ripped it to shreds on some barbed wire the previous week.
‘That child’s getting like a little savage down here,’ she confided to Milly. ‘Still, the fresh air’s good for her, and at least she can let off steam without upsetting everyone the way she does at home.’
Milly privately thought Amy capable of upsetting everyone whatever her surroundings. She was the most wilful child she’d ever met. ‘Yeah, shame she can’t stay here.’
‘Milly! Don’t talk like that about your sister, one day you might be glad you’ve got her... and Elsie.’ Her mother nodded sagely as if she knew something Milly didn’t.
‘Sorry, Mum, but I reckon that day’ll be a long time coming.’
Seeing her mother’s hurt expression, Milly softened. ‘I am trying to be friends, Mum, but I wish you’d talk to them. They provoke me on purpose, you know!’
‘Mary, Mother of God, give me strength,’ Mrs Colman said, raising her eyes to heaven. ‘And another thing I was thinking,’ she went off at a tangent, barely pausing for breath, ‘I heard from Sid you was on the back of that lorry on the way down, knocking ’em back like a good ’un.’
‘It was only a bit of fun, we had a good old sing-song and I never got drunk at all!’
‘Don’t make no difference! Now you’re getting older, Milly, you’ve got to be careful. You can’t be drinking with men on your own, specially not on the back of a bleedin’ lorry... you’ll get a bad reputation, love, d’you know what I mean?’
Milly knew what she meant. But the accepted rules of behaviour of her mother’s generation sometimes mystified her. To be seen drinking with men was one of the things that set the women talking, but a group of women her mother’s age, sitting in the corner of the snug, singing the old songs and getting slowly sozzled, was perfectly acceptable.
‘And don’t let that Pat get too familiar either.’
Milly was startled, wanting nothing more than to wriggle out of her mother’s grasp. ‘Why not, he’s a nice feller, I thought you liked him.’ She blushed.
‘Nice enough as a friend of your brother’s, but he’s had a girl in the family way before now, and I don’t want you bringing no trouble home to my door!’
Her mother had never given her such a pointed warning before and as well as feeling deeply embarrassed, Milly resented the tone, which made her feel guilty without knowing why.
‘Mum! He offered me a lift in the lorry – he was being kind, that’s all!’
Her mother tucked in her chin and pursed her lips in such a way that Milly blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘I’m just warning you, that’s all,’ her mother went on. ‘Once the boys get down here, they think all the girls are easy, that’s why you get so many babies born in June – we don’t want no hopping babies! So if he asks you to walk up the field with him, you just say no!’
Milly sighed. ‘All right, Mum, I’ll say no,’ she said obediently, and then desperate to change the subject she pulled her mother off in the direction of the baker’s stall. But as bad luck would have it, the stall was pitched near the Gun Inn, outside which Pat and a group of men stood drinking.
‘Milly!’ Pat called and then the others joined in. ‘Here comes our drinking pal, come on, Mill, give us a song!’
Her mother’s grip tightened on her elbow. ‘See what I mean!’ she hissed, pulling Milly away, so that she barely had time to wave before being dragged to the other end of the green.
‘What d’you do that for!’ She
‘Good... I mean, that’s good... for you!’ she stuttered, covering her blushes by pretending to inspect the tinned goods piled up on the stall. When she looked up, he’d raised one of those winged eyebrows and a smile was playing on his lips. She thought he’d got her meaning exactly.
They quickly bought their oil and moved on to the old clothes stall, where Mrs Colman found a replacement for Amy’s everyday dress. Amy had ripped it to shreds on some barbed wire the previous week.
‘That child’s getting like a little savage down here,’ she confided to Milly. ‘Still, the fresh air’s good for her, and at least she can let off steam without upsetting everyone the way she does at home.’
Milly privately thought Amy capable of upsetting everyone whatever her surroundings. She was the most wilful child she’d ever met. ‘Yeah, shame she can’t stay here.’
‘Milly! Don’t talk like that about your sister, one day you might be glad you’ve got her... and Elsie.’ Her mother nodded sagely as if she knew something Milly didn’t.
‘Sorry, Mum, but I reckon that day’ll be a long time coming.’
Seeing her mother’s hurt expression, Milly softened. ‘I am trying to be friends, Mum, but I wish you’d talk to them. They provoke me on purpose, you know!’
‘Mary, Mother of God, give me strength,’ Mrs Colman said, raising her eyes to heaven. ‘And another thing I was thinking,’ she went off at a tangent, barely pausing for breath, ‘I heard from Sid you was on the back of that lorry on the way down, knocking ’em back like a good ’un.’
‘It was only a bit of fun, we had a good old sing-song and I never got drunk at all!’
‘Don’t make no difference! Now you’re getting older, Milly, you’ve got to be careful. You can’t be drinking with men on your own, specially not on the back of a bleedin’ lorry... you’ll get a bad reputation, love, d’you know what I mean?’
Milly knew what she meant. But the accepted rules of behaviour of her mother’s generation sometimes mystified her. To be seen drinking with men was one of the things that set the women talking, but a group of women her mother’s age, sitting in the corner of the snug, singing the old songs and getting slowly sozzled, was perfectly acceptable.
‘And don’t let that Pat get too familiar either.’
Milly was startled, wanting nothing more than to wriggle out of her mother’s grasp. ‘Why not, he’s a nice feller, I thought you liked him.’ She blushed.
‘Nice enough as a friend of your brother’s, but he’s had a girl in the family way before now, and I don’t want you bringing no trouble home to my door!’
Her mother had never given her such a pointed warning before and as well as feeling deeply embarrassed, Milly resented the tone, which made her feel guilty without knowing why.
‘Mum! He offered me a lift in the lorry – he was being kind, that’s all!’
Her mother tucked in her chin and pursed her lips in such a way that Milly blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘I’m just warning you, that’s all,’ her mother went on. ‘Once the boys get down here, they think all the girls are easy, that’s why you get so many babies born in June – we don’t want no hopping babies! So if he asks you to walk up the field with him, you just say no!’
Milly sighed. ‘All right, Mum, I’ll say no,’ she said obediently, and then desperate to change the subject she pulled her mother off in the direction of the baker’s stall. But as bad luck would have it, the stall was pitched near the Gun Inn, outside which Pat and a group of men stood drinking.
‘Milly!’ Pat called and then the others joined in. ‘Here comes our drinking pal, come on, Mill, give us a song!’
Her mother’s grip tightened on her elbow. ‘See what I mean!’ she hissed, pulling Milly away, so that she barely had time to wave before being dragged to the other end of the green.
‘What d’you do that for!’ She
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