The House By Princes Park by Maureen Lee

Author:Maureen Lee [Lee, Maureen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orion Publishing Group
Published: 2010-09-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Greta Donovan couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been happy, but she’d never thought it possible to be as happy as she was now. Life couldn’t possibly be more perfect. Although Heather hadn’t said anything, every now and then they would look at each other and smile, and Greta would just know she felt the same. There was something about Heather’s face – and no doubt her own – a sort of glow, as if she was bubbling over inside, wanting to say things that couldn’t be said because words hadn’t been invented to describe how they felt.

Since she had become a married woman, Greta was convinced she’d grown taller, looked older, become a more responsible person. During the dinner break, she went with her sister to St John’s Market and bought food for their tea. Back at work, she would earnestly discuss what they were having that night with the other married women, who would in turn tell her what they had planned. It was far more interesting than talking about clothes, not that she’d lost all interest in clothes.

Larry and Rob always went to a football match on Saturday. If it was an away game, they went in the Volkswagen or on the train if it was very far. The girls took the opportunity to clean the flat from top to bottom, polishing everywhere, changing the beds, and doing the washing. Mam said it was daft, they were doing work for work’s sake, the bedding only needed to be changed every fortnight, and the furniture merely needed dusting, and then only if the dust could actually be seen. What Mam didn’t realise, was her daughters enjoyed doing these things. Nowadays, Greta preferred the smell of polish to June.

What they liked most of all was cooking. There wasn’t time to make anything lavish on weekdays, but the menu was varied so they didn’t have the same meal twice in a week. Greta had discovered she was good at making omelettes which she usually served with sautéed potatoes and salad. Heather could make wonderful puddings, especially trifle, though they only had trifle on Sundays after an ambitious main course of something like Chicken Marengo or Pork and Apple Casserole from Mam’s cookery book which she’d never used, preferring to stick to meals she’d learnt to make at the convent. The book had been given her by one of the lodgers, probably as a hint.

Often, Larry or Rob’s parents would join them, or Mam and Chris. There wasn’t room at the table for more then six people and even then it was a squeeze. Anyroad, they only had five chairs and a stool.

Sundays, Larry and Rob helped prepare the meal in the diminutive kitchen and washed up afterwards – they were the best husbands the world had ever known. Once a month, they all went out to dinner, but not anywhere expensive because they were saving up for a house.

With four wages coming in and such a tiny amount

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