Some Sunny Day by Annie Groves Page A

pride. The parlour was cold, as though the sun never warmed it, the back door closed, unlike the door of the adjoining house, which Rosie could see through the window was propped open, as though in invitation to anyone who might want to call.
    ‘I can’t offer you a cup of tea, I’m afraid, not with this rationing.’
    Rosie saw her father smile and reach into his pocket. ‘You get that kettle on, Maudie,’ he insisted, giving her a wink. ‘I’ve brought you a bit o’ summat you can put in your teapot.’
    ‘I hope this isn’t off that black market, Gerry.You know I don’t approve of that kind of thing, not like some I could name,’ Maude answered disagreeably. But Rosie saw that she still took the packet of tea and the small bag of sugar her father was handing her.
    ‘It’s not black market. I bought the sugar in New York and traded the tea with another sailor.
    ‘So how’ve you bin keeping, Maude?’ he asked when she had filled the kettle and lit the gas.
    ‘Well enough, I suppose, seeing as there’s a war on, and I’m living on me own with no one to care what happens to me. A poor frail widow, that’s what I am now, without my Henry. It takes all me strength some days just to get meself out of bed and dressed.’
    Her aunt certainly didn’t look or sound the slightest bit like a frail widow, Rosie reflected. She was a well-built woman, with a slightly florid complexion and a steely expression that made her look rather formidable. When war had first been announced Rosie had heard her mother saying to her father, ‘Well, we won’t need no tanks to defend Liverpool, not when we’ve got your Maude, what with her being built like one.’ Rosie could see just what she meant.
    ‘It was nice to see the young ’uns out in the street having a bit of fun when we walked up,’ Rosie’s father commented. ‘This war is hard on them.’
    ‘I’ll thank you to remember that this is an avenue, not a street, if you please, Gerry, and if you ask me these modern youngsters have far too much fun. They make far too much noise as well. Of course,I blame the mothers. It’s not like it was in our day. I was saying as much to one of me neighbours the other day. Widowed like me, she is. Only she’s got a son. Mind you, he’s not going to be much comfort to her now he’s gone and got himself married. She was telling me about all the trouble she’s bin having with her daughter-in-law and now there’s a baby coming. No sense of responsibility, some people haven’t. You’d think the girl would know that a widow needs her son to look after her, especially now.
    ‘Put me in mind of how Christine persuaded you into getting married before you’d known her five minutes. Which reminds me, there’s a house just come up for rent at the other end of the street. You should go and have a word with the landlord, Gerry. It’s a pity you didn’t move up here years ago like I wanted you to, especially now that there’s bin all that trouble with them Italians. Of course, it was bound to happen. Foreigners. Fascists. I’ve never understood how you could go on living down there instead of wanting to better yourself a bit.’
    ‘Christine likes it…’
    Rosie saw the way her aunt’s whole face tightened, and her own stomach did the same as she anticipated what was going to come next.
    ‘Well, you know my opinion, Gerry. You’ve let Christine have far too much of her own way. It’s the man who earns the wages, and pays the bills, and if Christine hasn’t got the sense in her head to know that you’d all be better off living up here,then you should put your foot down and make her see sense.’
    ‘It doesn’t seem fair for me to be telling Christine where she should live when I’m away at sea so much. Besides, Gerard Street’s handy for the docks.’
    ‘Yes, and it will be handy for Hitler’s bombers when they come over as well, but I don’t suppose she’s thought of that. I don’t suppose she thinks of anything