After the Storm by Margaret Graham Page A

her throat. Betsy poured it for her and passed it across before she could reach the sink. She doesn’t want me to see her booze, she thought. They must be daft if the pair of them don’t know I can see how much they tipple, and all day at that.
    Georgie was at the door. She smiled at him.
    ‘It’s a right good day for mating,’ Georgie said as he stood in the doorway. ‘Let’s go up the beck.’
    Annie gawped, then spilt her water. It splashed on to her dress and she brushed at it with her hand, Betsy’s jaw had dropped.
    ‘What the bloody hell are you talking about?’ Don gasped, looking back over his shoulder to see if the others had heard.
    Annie smirked at him. We did and all, she thought.
    Georgie laughed. ‘Get the kids, Don. I promised Tom I’d take him to the hives and it’s a real scorcher today. The queen might just take it into her head to be mated.’ He called in, over Don’s shoulder, to Betsy, ‘I’ve never seen that, Mrs Manon, you know, and it might just happen today. It’s bright enough.’ He was swinging his da’s bait-bag backwards and forwards in his hand.
    Betsy nodded, suppressing a smile. ‘Well, I can think of worse ways for a load of bairns to spend a summer day.’ She looked at Annie and cocked an eyebrow. ‘Worth a picnic anyway, lass.’
    Annie looked from her to the sun which streamed in through the door. It was warmer out than in on a day like this and yes, to be out, away from the smell of boiling dishcloths and dust that puffed up into your mouth and nostrils, yes, that would be a belter. She looked at Don who was pulling Georgie towards him, speaking quietly in his ear. She knew he was about to get his ball and pile down to the end of the street with Georgie for a game. She held her breath but Georgie shook his head.
    ‘Just call the bairns, Don. I promised Tom and we’re meeting Grace at the end by Monkton’s.’ he turned as Don shrugged and slouched into the passage to call Tom.
    ‘You’ve got some butties then, have you?’ called Betsy after Georgie.
    ‘Aye, Mrs Manon,’ he called and settled himself on the edge of Beauty’s water-trough to wait. He always looks comfortable thought Annie, even on that.
    Annie held Beauty’s reins loosely as they strolled along the street behind Georgie and Don. Chairs were set up outside front doors for the women to sit on later, whilst they did their mending and gossiping. The leather of the reins was hot and she wanted the air to get between it and her, to stop it going soggy. Tom rode and held their bread and dripping tied up in an old tea-towel and it didn’t look that clean, thought Annie, but who cares. She looked up over her shoulder at Tom who beamed down at her.
    ‘Ain’t she grand, Annie. It’s only taken her a few weeks to settle down, hasn’t it?’ He patted the pony’s neck.
    Grace looked over Beauty’s head at Annie. She had been late and had run to catch them up. She was still panting slightly in the heat and her freckled cheeks were tinged with red, her auburn curls were damp.
    ‘It’s not as though she was a bundle of fire when she came though, is it, Annie? If she settled down any more I reckon she’d be asleep.’
    Annie chuckled and ran her hand down Beauty’s face to her nostrils which puffed and snuffled in her palm. ‘Later you can have your apple because you’re a right little cracker.’ She crooned into her ear which twitched in response. ‘Don’t you take any notice of your nasty Aunty Grace. Just wants a ride, she does and it’s too hot for us big ’uns on you little ’uns.’ She heard the giggles of the other two. ‘We’ll just get one of Georgie Porgie’s little bees to sting her backside, shall we, darling, then she really won’t be able to sit on you.’
    ‘Did you hear that, Georgie?’ Tom shouted. ‘Annie wants one of your bees to do a nasty on our Grace and there’s no way I’ll be putting bicarb on that sting!’
    They were passing the last of the terraced