Alfie would copy
her, but all to no avail as her son remained stubbornly silent.
By the time they arrived home, the smell of mutton-and-onion stew was wafting from the back door. ‘Well?’ asked Vi expectantly, wiping her hands on her apron.
Alan raised his hands in the air. ‘Not a word out of him.’
Kay merely shook her head. It was as if the ten months of living in Hertfordshire with Doris and Len had wiped the island clear from his mind.
The day before Alan was to return to work, he and Alfie brought home a punctured football they found at the park. ‘One of these days you’ll be scolding your lad,
telling him to mind the window and play in the street,’ Vi chuckled as she and Kay prepared the dinner, every now and then glancing through the window to see how the game was going.
‘No, I won’t do that,’ Kay insisted as she ran a cloth around a wet dish. ‘Alfie can bring all his friends round to play. Although . . .’ Kay paused, her thoughts
racing back to the lovely garden in Little Gadelsby. ‘Our yard isn’t up to much at the moment. There’s still bricks and timbers piled up over there by the gate. And the soot and
dust – well, we ain’t ever going to get rid of that. But eventually the war’s got to end and we can live decently . . .’ Once again her voice trailed off along with her
thoughts.
‘What’s up, flower?’ Vi asked, crooking an eyebrow. ‘Not worried about the boy, are you?’
‘No,’ Kay shrugged. ‘Well, not really.’
‘He’s doin’ marvellous considering what he’s been through.’
Kay felt reluctant to express her thoughts –
if
she could express them. Her conversation with Doris had been going round in her head. Some of the things her sister-in-law had said
had made an impression. ‘I was wrong about life in the country,’ Kay admitted. ‘It wasn’t all muddy and rainy and cold like I remembered. When Len and Doris took Alfie I
thought he’d be going to somewhere he’d dislike as much as I did. Mum used to pack me off with the Country Holiday Fund and I soon got homesick. But that didn’t seem to happen to
Alfie.’
‘He was just a wee baby, Kay.’
‘And I thought Doris would be house-proud. But she wasn’t. The cottage was really lovely and cosy, not fussy.’
‘Well, ain’t that a good thing?’ asked Vi, pausing as she washed a dish. ‘It means your sister-in-law got her priorities right.’
‘Yes, but have I?’
‘Come again?’ Vi frowned.
‘It’s just that – well, I’ve always thought that me and Alan had a nice home – and we have. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not ungrateful – I love me
life here on the island.’ Kay gazed down at the cup she was drying, the one that replaced her nice tea set that had broken. The cup had a hairline fracture and the flowers had faded, a far
cry from the delicate china Kay had seen arranged on Doris’s dresser. ‘But Alfie had everything he wanted in those ten months: nice new clothes and quality shoes and a big and beautiful
garden to play in . . .’ Kay knew she was stumbling over her words. What did she mean? What was she trying to explain? ‘You should have seen their garden, Vi. It was beautiful. Len had
made Alfie a swing under the apple tree. There was a dog on wheels that Alfie sat on, with a rope tied to it, so Doris or Len could pull it over the grass.’ She trapped her bottom lip with
her teeth. ‘Real green grass it was, all shiny and thick with flowers round it.’ Pensively, Kay ran her finger round the rim of the cup. ‘I saw how happy Alfie was. And I never
expected that.’
‘Your boy will be just as happy here once he’s found his feet,’ Vi answered, wringing out the wet cloth.
‘He ain’t happy at the moment.’
‘Course he’s happy.’
‘Then why doesn’t he say something?’
‘He will. Be patient.’ Vi pointed to the yard. ‘He might not have a swing or a dog on wheels, but he’s got the Anderson.’
‘That’s just it.’ Kay
her, but all to no avail as her son remained stubbornly silent.
By the time they arrived home, the smell of mutton-and-onion stew was wafting from the back door. ‘Well?’ asked Vi expectantly, wiping her hands on her apron.
Alan raised his hands in the air. ‘Not a word out of him.’
Kay merely shook her head. It was as if the ten months of living in Hertfordshire with Doris and Len had wiped the island clear from his mind.
The day before Alan was to return to work, he and Alfie brought home a punctured football they found at the park. ‘One of these days you’ll be scolding your lad,
telling him to mind the window and play in the street,’ Vi chuckled as she and Kay prepared the dinner, every now and then glancing through the window to see how the game was going.
‘No, I won’t do that,’ Kay insisted as she ran a cloth around a wet dish. ‘Alfie can bring all his friends round to play. Although . . .’ Kay paused, her thoughts
racing back to the lovely garden in Little Gadelsby. ‘Our yard isn’t up to much at the moment. There’s still bricks and timbers piled up over there by the gate. And the soot and
dust – well, we ain’t ever going to get rid of that. But eventually the war’s got to end and we can live decently . . .’ Once again her voice trailed off along with her
thoughts.
‘What’s up, flower?’ Vi asked, crooking an eyebrow. ‘Not worried about the boy, are you?’
‘No,’ Kay shrugged. ‘Well, not really.’
‘He’s doin’ marvellous considering what he’s been through.’
Kay felt reluctant to express her thoughts –
if
she could express them. Her conversation with Doris had been going round in her head. Some of the things her sister-in-law had said
had made an impression. ‘I was wrong about life in the country,’ Kay admitted. ‘It wasn’t all muddy and rainy and cold like I remembered. When Len and Doris took Alfie I
thought he’d be going to somewhere he’d dislike as much as I did. Mum used to pack me off with the Country Holiday Fund and I soon got homesick. But that didn’t seem to happen to
Alfie.’
‘He was just a wee baby, Kay.’
‘And I thought Doris would be house-proud. But she wasn’t. The cottage was really lovely and cosy, not fussy.’
‘Well, ain’t that a good thing?’ asked Vi, pausing as she washed a dish. ‘It means your sister-in-law got her priorities right.’
‘Yes, but have I?’
‘Come again?’ Vi frowned.
‘It’s just that – well, I’ve always thought that me and Alan had a nice home – and we have. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not ungrateful – I love me
life here on the island.’ Kay gazed down at the cup she was drying, the one that replaced her nice tea set that had broken. The cup had a hairline fracture and the flowers had faded, a far
cry from the delicate china Kay had seen arranged on Doris’s dresser. ‘But Alfie had everything he wanted in those ten months: nice new clothes and quality shoes and a big and beautiful
garden to play in . . .’ Kay knew she was stumbling over her words. What did she mean? What was she trying to explain? ‘You should have seen their garden, Vi. It was beautiful. Len had
made Alfie a swing under the apple tree. There was a dog on wheels that Alfie sat on, with a rope tied to it, so Doris or Len could pull it over the grass.’ She trapped her bottom lip with
her teeth. ‘Real green grass it was, all shiny and thick with flowers round it.’ Pensively, Kay ran her finger round the rim of the cup. ‘I saw how happy Alfie was. And I never
expected that.’
‘Your boy will be just as happy here once he’s found his feet,’ Vi answered, wringing out the wet cloth.
‘He ain’t happy at the moment.’
‘Course he’s happy.’
‘Then why doesn’t he say something?’
‘He will. Be patient.’ Vi pointed to the yard. ‘He might not have a swing or a dog on wheels, but he’s got the Anderson.’
‘That’s just it.’ Kay
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