brothers moved on. By that time Jenny had become more like a doting, grateful mother than an awkward mother-in-law to Sandra.
When Jenny’s dream of buying a house outright came to fruition she had immediately asked the landlord of her Ferrier Street home if he would allow her son to take over the tenancy.
Sandra had given Jenny what she yearned for and was never going to get from Kate – four grandchildren. Within a year of Sandra and Johnny’s wedding, Bobby had arrived, followed a year later by Jack. Ten months later the apple of Sandra’s eye appeared in the form of Kitty, but she was not to be last. No, three years later, just when Sandra thought that her pregnancy days – which she enjoyed – were over, darling David arrived. The family seemed complete. Then out of the blue, twelve years later …
Johnny realised that he should also be thinking of Rosebud as his child. Shaking his head, as if to signal that he would never get over losing Sandra, the love of his life, tears started to gush from his eyes. He felt unable to control the overwhelming grief that had overtaken him. He honestly felt he hated Rosebud because he considered her arrival into the world a poor swap for her mother leaving it. Wiping his dripping nose with the back of his hand he wondered what Robb’s foreman would think of him right now. Would he really still be wary of him? Or would he see that ‘Red Johnny’, the blight of his life, was in fact a man of straw? That he had only been able to appear to be the hard man, the skilled negotiator, because he’d had a woman behind him who gave him the confidence to fight for what he thought was the workers’ rightful due.
‘Dad,’ Kitty had said gently, bringing him back from his memories.
‘Yes, love,’ he sniffed.
‘What’s wrong?’
Johnny just shook his head as he thought, Oh, Kitty, do you have to ask? Your mum was my life and it is so, so hard to go on without her.
‘Please don’t cry. You see, Dad, I don’t think Connie was really making a pass at you. It was her way of cheering you up.’
‘She’s a …’
‘Rough diamond,’ suggested Kitty, who advanced over to hug her dad and tell him how badly she felt about losing her mother. She also wished to say that she thought they should move back to Ferrier Street. These thoughts came to an abrupt end, however, when they were interrupted by the hungry, demanding wails of the week-old Rosebud, the baby who had brought such turmoil and anguish into the lives of her father and sister.
Johnny shook his head, huffed and exhaled, because these still-fresh memories were all from a year ago. Now here he was, in 1940, still grieving for Sandra – a grief that was accentuated by the dreadful realisation that he was partly to blame for her demise. What was also swamping him right now was his belief that he was failing – not only as a father but also as chief shop steward.
2
APRIL 1941
‘Will you get a move on, Kitty? We’re going to be late, seriously late, for the beginning of the big picture, and believe me, the State Picture House isn’t going to hold off starting the film because of your dithering.’
Kitty snorted and huffed before replying to her old school pal. ‘Laura,’ she began, ‘unlike you I’ve not just got myself to think of. Don’t you realise it was so good of old Mrs Dickson to agree to come up here to babysit R-r-r-rosebud? It’s a struggle for the old buddy to get up here from the ground floor.’
‘That right? Well let me also say I am home on compassionate leave for only a week …’
‘Compassionate leave!’ Kitty gasped. ‘But there’s nothing amiss with your mum and dad.’
‘So my granny died again, so what? But back to what I was going to say … I came along here tonight to go out with you, and what do I find?’
Kitty shrugged.
‘That you have turned into old Mrs Dickson.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look at you. You’re seventeen and it is six o’clock at night. You’ve
When Jenny’s dream of buying a house outright came to fruition she had immediately asked the landlord of her Ferrier Street home if he would allow her son to take over the tenancy.
Sandra had given Jenny what she yearned for and was never going to get from Kate – four grandchildren. Within a year of Sandra and Johnny’s wedding, Bobby had arrived, followed a year later by Jack. Ten months later the apple of Sandra’s eye appeared in the form of Kitty, but she was not to be last. No, three years later, just when Sandra thought that her pregnancy days – which she enjoyed – were over, darling David arrived. The family seemed complete. Then out of the blue, twelve years later …
Johnny realised that he should also be thinking of Rosebud as his child. Shaking his head, as if to signal that he would never get over losing Sandra, the love of his life, tears started to gush from his eyes. He felt unable to control the overwhelming grief that had overtaken him. He honestly felt he hated Rosebud because he considered her arrival into the world a poor swap for her mother leaving it. Wiping his dripping nose with the back of his hand he wondered what Robb’s foreman would think of him right now. Would he really still be wary of him? Or would he see that ‘Red Johnny’, the blight of his life, was in fact a man of straw? That he had only been able to appear to be the hard man, the skilled negotiator, because he’d had a woman behind him who gave him the confidence to fight for what he thought was the workers’ rightful due.
‘Dad,’ Kitty had said gently, bringing him back from his memories.
‘Yes, love,’ he sniffed.
‘What’s wrong?’
Johnny just shook his head as he thought, Oh, Kitty, do you have to ask? Your mum was my life and it is so, so hard to go on without her.
‘Please don’t cry. You see, Dad, I don’t think Connie was really making a pass at you. It was her way of cheering you up.’
‘She’s a …’
‘Rough diamond,’ suggested Kitty, who advanced over to hug her dad and tell him how badly she felt about losing her mother. She also wished to say that she thought they should move back to Ferrier Street. These thoughts came to an abrupt end, however, when they were interrupted by the hungry, demanding wails of the week-old Rosebud, the baby who had brought such turmoil and anguish into the lives of her father and sister.
Johnny shook his head, huffed and exhaled, because these still-fresh memories were all from a year ago. Now here he was, in 1940, still grieving for Sandra – a grief that was accentuated by the dreadful realisation that he was partly to blame for her demise. What was also swamping him right now was his belief that he was failing – not only as a father but also as chief shop steward.
2
APRIL 1941
‘Will you get a move on, Kitty? We’re going to be late, seriously late, for the beginning of the big picture, and believe me, the State Picture House isn’t going to hold off starting the film because of your dithering.’
Kitty snorted and huffed before replying to her old school pal. ‘Laura,’ she began, ‘unlike you I’ve not just got myself to think of. Don’t you realise it was so good of old Mrs Dickson to agree to come up here to babysit R-r-r-rosebud? It’s a struggle for the old buddy to get up here from the ground floor.’
‘That right? Well let me also say I am home on compassionate leave for only a week …’
‘Compassionate leave!’ Kitty gasped. ‘But there’s nothing amiss with your mum and dad.’
‘So my granny died again, so what? But back to what I was going to say … I came along here tonight to go out with you, and what do I find?’
Kitty shrugged.
‘That you have turned into old Mrs Dickson.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look at you. You’re seventeen and it is six o’clock at night. You’ve
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