The Haunting of the Saracen's Head (The Ghosts of Rose Radcliffe Book 5) by Amy Cross

Author:Amy Cross [Cross, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackwych Books Ltd
Published: 2024-12-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

“It's victory,” Ernest Townsend said four years later as he stood in the bar of The Saracen's Head and admired the pint of beer he'd just sampled. “That's what it tastes like. It tastes like ruddy victory.”

Cheers erupted as the V.E. Day celebrations continued. All day the atmosphere in the pub had been filled with jubilation as customers had flocked out of their homes to celebrate the news that Germany had surrendered. Impromptu street parties had been set up across the country as people pooled their meager rations and tried to find a way to celebrate, and the mood in the town was one of indefatigable defiance. Many men from the area had died in the war and everyone knew that life was never going to be the same again, yet all the suffering – all the air raids and rationing – had eventually led to an outpouring of relief.

Over in the corner, a dozen men were crowding around an older fellow who'd managed to obtain a copy of a newspaper. Everyone was eagerly trying to find out as much as possible about what might happen next.

“We fought for it,” Ernest continued, before looking over at the landlady. “Eh, Katty, old bird? There were those who said we should surrender and try to make peace, but we fought and now look at us.”

Having barely heard those words, Katrina was merely staring into space as she tried to think of yet another spell variation that might help her plans. She'd been trying for years now to bring her dead son back to life, working for hours every night in the pub's cellar, yet the opposite had happened; rather than stirring and becoming a living child, the corpse had begun to rot away to nothing. Now, realizing that her sleeve had slipped up to expose the many scars on her arm, she quickly pushed the sleeve back down and told herself that she had to attend to business.

“I get it, you know,” Ernest said as more cheers rang out in the street. “They're all celebrating, as well they might, but for some of us things are different. I know you lost your Stephen early on in the war, and nothing will ever bring back our loves ones who're gone. This can be a lonely old world.”

“Mustn't complain,” she replied, adopting the phrase she'd used so often during the war years. “There's them that's got it worse than us.”

“Aye, that's true,” Ernest acknowledged, nodding sagely. “Grumbling won't get anyone anywhere, either. Now we've got to rebuild, and that's not exactly going to be an easy process.” He paused for a moment, watching Katrina's face as he saw that she seemed to be lost in her thoughts. “Are you going to be staying on here?” he asked. “I wouldn't ordinarily stick my nose in, only there's some around who heard you might be moving on.”

“Moving on to where, exactly?” she asked. “I've nowhere else to go. I'll be behind this bar until my dying day, Ernie.

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