A Time for Peace by Sylvia Broady

A Time for Peace by Sylvia Broady

Author:Sylvia Broady
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2019-05-15T00:00:00+00:00


For the first time since going out together, Rose was not looking forward to seeing Joe. Slowly, she made her way down Crowle Street to Joe’s lodgings. The sky was a navy blue, the night air smelt chilly and a sprinkling of frost sparkled on the pavements. She tossed words over in her mind, trying to think of the right ones to explain Elsa’s presence. The truth: what else could she say?

She arrived at the front door and knocked. Immediately it was opened by Peter, his voice excited as he asked, ‘Have you brought me my goodies?’

Her gloved hand felt the paper bag of boiled sweets in her pocket. Affected by his cheerful manner, she replied lightly, ‘As if I would forget a promise to you.’

Then Joe was there to admonish his son. ‘Now, Peter, that isn’t good manners to ask. You should wait.’ He kissed Rose on her cheek. ‘You are cold. Come and sit by the fire.’ Indoors, Joe took her coat and she handed the bag of sweets to Peter, saying, ‘These are a whole week’s coupons so make them last.’

He quickly popped one into his mouth and his young eyes lit up. ‘Thank you, Aunty Rose,’ he said as he hugged her. She felt the comforting warmth of his sturdy little body.

‘Guess what I got from school today,’ he chattered. He drew her into the kitchen and produced a big red apple. ‘It’s come all the way from Canada. Teacher’s going to draw a map so we know where Canada is. Do you know where Canada is?’ His warm brown eyes looked earnestly into her clouded blue ones.

She smiled at his enthusiasm. ‘It’s across the Atlantic Ocean so the cargo of apples would have come by ship.’ Another question began to form on his lips, but Joe intervened.

‘Come on, young man, it’s your bedtime,’ he said, ruffling Peter’s hair.

‘But, Daddy, I want …’

‘I want never gets. Bed, I said.’

Not a boy to give up, Peter asked, ‘Can Rose read me a story, please?’

Over the top of Peter’s head, Joe caught Rose’s eye and she smiled a yes.

‘Just one story.’

‘I’ve got Rupert the Bear.’ Before he could utter another word, Joe steered him away.

The room became quiet except for the clicking of Mrs Mitchell’s knitting needles. She was sitting by the fire and Rose turned to her, saying, ‘Hello, Mrs Mitchell. How are you?’

She laid her knitting down on her lap and flexed her fingers.

‘I’m all right, just a bit of arthritis. Joe tells me you are to marry. You make a lovely family. I wish my Maureen could meet a nice man to settle down with. That’s why I’m moving in with her, to look after the children so she can get a job, have a bit of money and then she can go out of a night.’

Rose sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and tried to make conversation, to keep her mind off the problem of telling Joe about Elsa.

‘That sounds a lovely idea.



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