LITMIR.BIZ

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had been through this all before with dear Tillie.

      ‘What? Stay with you?’ Bridget was horrified. ‘She’ll do no such thing! I need her back at the house, I do. While she’s been gone, I’ve had to take on some useless woman from the other side of Liverpool.’ She gave a long, agonising groan. ‘I won’t even tell you what a pain she is.’ Rolling the palm of her hand across her forehead, she gave a trembling sigh. ‘Sometimes I think I was born to be a martyr.’

      ‘Oh Bridget, don’t be so dramatic.’ Wisely changing the subject, Lucy enquired, ‘So tell me, what else is happening?’

      Fast recovered, Bridget launched into the next snippet of news. ‘I’m having a new bathroom fitted upstairs – all black marble and best cream carpet. Going posh, I am.’ She gave that naughty wink again. ‘That’ll cost the clients a few bob more for their pleasure, I can tell ye.’

      ‘And what else?’

      ‘New curtains in the sitting room, o’ course. And I’m considering whether to have the old Victorian fireplace out and get a new one fitted …’

      Lucy listened patiently while Bridget outlined all the changes she was having made to the house. ‘Like I say, it’ll cost a bob or two, but no matter. It’ll be the clients that pay, I’ll make sure o’ that.’

      ‘And what news of the girls?’

      Bridget took a long gulp of her gin. ‘That’s what I meant to tell you,’ she said. ‘Mandy’s only gone and got herself pregnant …’ Drawing breath she launched into the lecture. ‘Time and again I’ve told them, “You must never let yourself get with child,” but will they listen?’ She gave a long, shivering shake of the head. ‘Not at all! Now I know you wouldn’t be without your Jamie for all the tea in China, the darlin’, but you’ve got to admit, it’s not the easiest thing in the world, is it, having a bairn without a ring on your finger? Anyway, our Mandy has decided to marry the fella in question, and now she’s gone off to meet his family, would ye believe? Of course she won’t tell them about her job, nor will her fiancé, who is a nice young man, I’ll give him that. Nor will she let on that she’s already with child or they’ll immediately think she’s a trollop, and she’s not.’

      She drew another, longer breath. ‘Mandy’s a good girl, always has been. To tell you the truth, her heart’s never been in her work, so it might be as well that she’s gone.’

      Lucy was pleased. ‘I hope she remembers to write.’

      ‘I’m sure she will,’ Bridget answered. ‘But I don’t really expect we’ll see much of her again, because the fella is French, and that’s where she’s been whisked off to – a place called Montpellier.’ She sighed. ‘And there’s me, left in the lurch, so I am.’

      Lucy chuckled. ‘You’ll have to get your fella to comfort you then, won’t you?’ She had wanted to ask after the ‘gent’, and this was her chance.

      ‘I’m sure he’ll comfort me if I ask him,’ came the confident answer. ‘He’s a real gentleman, bless his kind heart.’ Bridget dredged her glass and held it up. ‘Just a wee drop more?’ she suggested. ‘Be a friend. Send me on my way with a smile.’

      Shaking her head and thinking how Bridget would never change, Lucy poured her another drink.

      ‘Ah, but aren’t you the lovely woman!’ Bridget said, gulping down the gin.

      When she again held out her glass, Lucy was adamant. ‘No. I won’t be responsible for spoiling your date. If you want another drink, you’ll have to get it yourself.’

      ‘I wish you’d stop jumping to conclusions.’ Bridget was suitably indignant. ‘I’m only handing the glass back.’

      It was just as well, because when she left half an hour later, her hat was tipsy on her head and her legs just the slightest bit wobbly. ‘I’ll see youse again,’ she told Lucy. Then she lifted her skirt and clambered into the open-topped car.

      Falling into the passenger seat, she plonked a smacker of a kiss on the man beside her; a ‘gent’ indeed, with his tailored moustache and cream-coloured blazer, he looked a right dapper. He also had red blood in his veins because having caught a glimpse of her knickers when she cocked a fine leg to climb into the car, he took the liberty of stroking his hand along her stockinged thigh, all the way up to the suspender, quickly removing it when he saw Lucy looking on with amusement.

      She nodded a greeting to him and he nodded back. ‘Hold onto your hat, my sweetie,’ he told the blushing Bridget. ‘We could get up to thirty miles an hour if I set my mind to it.’

      He set off with a roar and a squeal, with Bridget laughing and screeching like a silly schoolgirl beside him.

      Lucy held back the laughter until they were out of sight, then she collapsed in hysterics, mimicking Bridget as she was wont to do. Oh, how she hoped her friend could hold onto this one. He was an absolute treasure. Priceless!

      Going inside, she wiped the tears from her eyes and made herself another cup of tea. Thirty miles an hour indeed! she thought, then said aloud, ‘I don’t know about holding onto your hat. If you ask me, it’s not the hat you’re in danger of losing so much as your pretty silk knickers!’

      The laughter bubbled up again; the sight of well-upholstered Bridget in her wonky hat, flashing her lingerie, and the dandy-man goggle-eyed at this vision of heaven, was all too much for Lucy. She laughed so much that Jamie woke up!

      But if Bridget was happy, she thought, picking her son up and hugging him, then so was she, because if it hadn’t been for Bridget, she would have been lost, long since.

       Chapter 10

      THE FOLLOWING DAY, Lucy’s week started all over again.

      Rising early, she had her wash and got dressed; then she made her bed and collected the child from his cot.

      With that done she sat him in his chair at the table, made his porridge and while he plastered his hands and face with that, she burned herself a piece of toast which she covered in Vicky’s homemade strawberry jam. ‘Your Auntie Vicky makes the best jam in the world,’ she told the child, who was far too busy licking his chubby fingers to pay attention.

      ‘I need you to be on your best behaviour,’ she coaxed. ‘There’s work to be done in Long Field, harvesting the spuds, and it’s a case of all hands to the deck. The crop is ready to be taken in, Barney says. The plants have died off and the soil is good and dry.’

      This would be her first close experience of working on the land, and she was really looking forward to it.

      She glanced at the mantelpiece clock. ‘We need to be away from here by seven,’ she took a great bite of her toast, ‘so eat up, little fella, then I’ll give you a drink and get you washed, and we’ll be on our way.’ Reaching over the table she tickled him under the chin, and the little boy giggled. ‘Vicky said she would make up a picnic for when we stop to eat. We’ll have it down by the river, that’s what she said – and won’t that be lovely, eh?’

      In fact, life itself was so wonderful these days, she could hardly believe her good fortune.

      During the next half-hour, Lucy went about her chores; she cleared and washed the breakfast things while Jamie played, then took her son and washed him, made sure she had everything they needed, then strapped him into his pram and parked him outside on the path while she secured the cottage behind her.

      Taking the bridle path up to Overhill Farm, she found the going hard; one minute she was pushing the pram and the next she was pulling it, until her arms ached from shoulder to wrist. But it was such a beautiful day, she didn’t mind a bit. Besides, little Jamie was in his element, laughing and chuckling, until he eventually fell asleep and all she could hear were the birds singing and

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