soldiers, or bowl of soapy water for blowing bubbles, and Lucy could keep an eye on him from out of the many windows as she rubbed them clean.
Yet she was aware, as Michael returned each dinner time from the haulage depot where he worked as foreman, of how he watched her with concern, often remarking that she worked too hard, that she’d lost weight and looked worn out.
One day when Lucy made a delicious mutton hot pot, he insisted she sit and share it with them. Minnie looked outraged but for once, wisely perhaps, kept her opinions to herself. Lucy was equally opposed to the idea but the more she protested, the more Michael insisted. Cushions were placed on a chair for Sean and, finally succumbing to the mouth-watering aroma of good meat, the like of which Polly could rarely afford since all her spare cash was being poured into restarting the business, Lucy urged the small boy to be on his best behaviour and seated herself beside him. She was aware, throughout the meal of Minnie Hopkins’s grim silence, apart from the clicking of her false teeth as she sucked on the mutton bones.
After the meal Michael walked the length of the street with her, while Sean skipped and hopped along in front, riding his imaginary cowboy horse. As they approached number 32 among the more tightly packed terraces where Lucy lived, Michael said, ‘You still look tired. What you need is a rest, a day off.’
Lucy laughed out loud at that. ‘What chance do I get for a rest? Today, I have to pick up our Sarah Jane on her way home from school, then make a bite of dinner for everyone. That’s my job, d’you see? Mam, or sometimes Charlie, usually cook supper. Then I’m off to Taylors this afternoon to do their weekly clean through. That’s after I’ve washed the dishes and dropped our Sean off next door and Sarah Jane back at school. Pick the kids up again at four. Then there’s only all the washing, ironing and mending to do, which never stops with two children, plus my share of the housework. After that my time is my own!’
‘You do too much,’ he said as she finished on another laugh, tucking her brown curls behind her ears.
‘When you come up with a way of earning brass without having to work for it, do let me know.’
Michael was thoughtful for a while as they walked, before returning to his argument. ‘I still think you need a day off, a day all to yourself, and by heck I’ll see you get one.’ He was gripping her arms now, swinging her round to face him and the heat of his touch was doing peculiar things to her insides. ‘You could have a day trip to Belle Vue, or Blackpool. I’ll take you myself, Lucy Shackleton.’
‘Belle Vue? Blackpool?” She stared at him in wonder, as if he had suggested a trip to the moon. ‘And who’d take care of the children, if I did?’
‘They’d come with us, of course.’
A day in Blackpool. A ride in a tramcar, a dance in the tower ballroom, sucking on a stick of rock and paddling her feet in the sea. Ooh, it sounded grand. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed such a day. Ah, yes, with Aunt Ida and Uncle Nobby just before the war. They were no more than courtesy titles, them being old friends of Charlie’s, but they’d always been good to Lucy. They’d stayed at a boarding house in York Street for a full week, in one of those tall terraced houses with stairs that seemed to reach all the way up to heaven. But she wouldn’t say no to another visit, nor to an afternoon at Belle Vue. Near as it was to her home, she’d rarely visited this magical place, as she’d scarcely had the money since the children were born. A few hours with nothing to do but gawp at exotic animals, lick candy floss like a big kid and whizz on a whirligig. Wouldn’t that be grand?
For a moment as his big broad hands gripped hers she felt dizzy at the prospect of such heady joys. The temptation was so great, happiness so nearly in her grasp that she almost flung her arms about his neck
Yet she was aware, as Michael returned each dinner time from the haulage depot where he worked as foreman, of how he watched her with concern, often remarking that she worked too hard, that she’d lost weight and looked worn out.
One day when Lucy made a delicious mutton hot pot, he insisted she sit and share it with them. Minnie looked outraged but for once, wisely perhaps, kept her opinions to herself. Lucy was equally opposed to the idea but the more she protested, the more Michael insisted. Cushions were placed on a chair for Sean and, finally succumbing to the mouth-watering aroma of good meat, the like of which Polly could rarely afford since all her spare cash was being poured into restarting the business, Lucy urged the small boy to be on his best behaviour and seated herself beside him. She was aware, throughout the meal of Minnie Hopkins’s grim silence, apart from the clicking of her false teeth as she sucked on the mutton bones.
After the meal Michael walked the length of the street with her, while Sean skipped and hopped along in front, riding his imaginary cowboy horse. As they approached number 32 among the more tightly packed terraces where Lucy lived, Michael said, ‘You still look tired. What you need is a rest, a day off.’
Lucy laughed out loud at that. ‘What chance do I get for a rest? Today, I have to pick up our Sarah Jane on her way home from school, then make a bite of dinner for everyone. That’s my job, d’you see? Mam, or sometimes Charlie, usually cook supper. Then I’m off to Taylors this afternoon to do their weekly clean through. That’s after I’ve washed the dishes and dropped our Sean off next door and Sarah Jane back at school. Pick the kids up again at four. Then there’s only all the washing, ironing and mending to do, which never stops with two children, plus my share of the housework. After that my time is my own!’
‘You do too much,’ he said as she finished on another laugh, tucking her brown curls behind her ears.
‘When you come up with a way of earning brass without having to work for it, do let me know.’
Michael was thoughtful for a while as they walked, before returning to his argument. ‘I still think you need a day off, a day all to yourself, and by heck I’ll see you get one.’ He was gripping her arms now, swinging her round to face him and the heat of his touch was doing peculiar things to her insides. ‘You could have a day trip to Belle Vue, or Blackpool. I’ll take you myself, Lucy Shackleton.’
‘Belle Vue? Blackpool?” She stared at him in wonder, as if he had suggested a trip to the moon. ‘And who’d take care of the children, if I did?’
‘They’d come with us, of course.’
A day in Blackpool. A ride in a tramcar, a dance in the tower ballroom, sucking on a stick of rock and paddling her feet in the sea. Ooh, it sounded grand. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed such a day. Ah, yes, with Aunt Ida and Uncle Nobby just before the war. They were no more than courtesy titles, them being old friends of Charlie’s, but they’d always been good to Lucy. They’d stayed at a boarding house in York Street for a full week, in one of those tall terraced houses with stairs that seemed to reach all the way up to heaven. But she wouldn’t say no to another visit, nor to an afternoon at Belle Vue. Near as it was to her home, she’d rarely visited this magical place, as she’d scarcely had the money since the children were born. A few hours with nothing to do but gawp at exotic animals, lick candy floss like a big kid and whizz on a whirligig. Wouldn’t that be grand?
For a moment as his big broad hands gripped hers she felt dizzy at the prospect of such heady joys. The temptation was so great, happiness so nearly in her grasp that she almost flung her arms about his neck
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