Read Online Wives at War by Jessica Stirling - Free Book Online Page A

chair in the living room, stood April on the dining table and began to undo the layers of wool and flannel in which the little girl was wrapped.
    â€˜Let me do that,’ Lizzie offered.
    â€˜It’s okay,’ said Babs brusquely. ‘I’ve got it.’
    â€˜Mum’s got it,’ April said.
    Leaning placidly on her mother’s shoulders, she gave Granny a careful scrutiny that may, or may not, have ended with a smile.
    â€˜Have you had your dinner?’ Lizzie asked.
    â€˜Nope,’ said Babs. ‘I’ve brought stuff. It’s in the brown bag, that one.’
    â€˜You don’t have to bring food,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ve enough to go round.’
    April said, ‘We never went to see Angus an’ the pig today.’
    â€˜Did you not, darlin’?’ said Lizzie.
    â€˜We comed here instead.’
    â€˜Hold still, honey.’ Babs avoided her mother’s eye. ‘You’re gettin’ too big for this old coat. Arms up, please.’
    Stripped of her scarf, balaclava and overcoat, April allowed herself to be lifted from the table and placed in one of the fireside armchairs. She sat back against the cushions, legs sticking out. She wore long stockings, crimped with elasticised garters, and patent leather shoes. When she was April’s age, Lizzie thought, Babs would have killed for a pair of shoes like that.
    â€˜Where’s Grandpa?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Babs said, ‘where is Bernard?’
    â€˜Out.’
    â€˜I can see that, Mammy, but where?’
    Lizzie shrugged.
    Bernard had pitched himself into the war effort with energy and enthusiasm. He was some years younger than Lizzie. He had fought in the last war and was irked at not being able to fight in this one. Lizzie couldn’t shake off the conviction that if the war lasted long enough, however, she would lose Bernard on the battlefield as she had ‘lost’ her first husband, Frank Conway. Frank hadn’t died for king and country, though; he had deserted the army, abandoned her and the children without a qualm, and fled to America to work for Carlo Manone’s outfit in Philadelphia.
    â€˜He’s gone to church,’ Lizzie said.
    â€˜Shouldn’t he be back by now?’ said Babs.
    â€˜Red Cross meeting.’
    â€˜Bernard isn’t in the Red Cross, is he?’
    â€˜Ambulance class, I mean,’ said Lizzie.
    She really had no idea which of her husband’s activities had delayed him after morning service. Between his job as a billeting officer for Breslin town council and his volunteer work she saw very little of him these days.
    â€˜He is a busy bee, our Bernie,’ said Babs.
    â€˜Busy bee, busy bee,’ April repeated, and giggled.
    It was good to have a child in the house again, Lizzie thought. She missed Stuart and Ishbel, Polly’s children, missed May and June too, and Angus most of all. She hadn’t been invited to visit Blackstone Farm; Babs had somehow never got around to taking her, not even in summer when the days were long.
    She was on the point of picking up her granddaughter and carrying her off into the kitchen to ‘help’ make lunch when the front door opened and Rosie stuck her head into the living room.
    â€˜Uh-anyone at home?’
    April was out of the chair and across the room like a shot. She threw herself against her aunt and hugged her.
    Rosie firmly disengaged herself and in a voice too loud for the small room, shouted, ‘Oh, you’re here, are you?’
    â€˜Why shouldn’t I be here?’ said Babs.
    â€˜I wanted to talk to Mammy.’
    April tried again, hugging Rosie’s arm.
    Rosie shook her off.
    â€˜Oi,’ said Babs, ‘take it easy on the kid, okay?’
    â€˜She didn’t hear you,’ Lizzie said.
    â€˜She did an’ all.’ Babs faced her sister. ‘What the heck’s wrong with you, Rosie? If you want to talk privately to Mammy then go into