duties.
She told him about Violet's disastrous experiments with rationed ingredients in her baking, which never had been too inspiring anyway, and about Martin's lost spectacles. Mentioning them reminded her that she would have to ask Polly to look for them.
All the time she was conscious of the blissful moments slipping away, and the knowledge that soon Earl would be gone again, and once more she would be terrified for his safety until he returned.
Rita Crumm glared at the women crammed together in her sparse front room. Not one of them was paying any attention to her. If there was one thing Rita could not abide,it was being ignored. Especially by that loudmouth, Marge Gunther, whose voice sounded like the foghorn at Sallishay Point on a foggy night.
Right now she was kissing up to Maisie Parsons, pretending to be sorry for her while all the time she was hoping Maisie would give her some of her gingerbread. Maisie was famous for her gingerbread. Even now, with a war on and everything on ration, somehow Maisie managed to make gingerbread that melted in your mouth, which frustrated Rita no end, particularly since Maisie steadfastly refused to divulge her secret.
They weren't talking about gingerbread right now, though. Marge's voice penetrated above the idle chatter going on among the rest of the members of the Housewives League. "You must feel so lonely without your granddaughter to help you out. What made her go back to London, then?"
"Boyfriend, I suppose." Maisie's wrinkled face looked rather like an aging apple with her fat red cheeks and little black eyes that were almost hidden by her overlapping eyelids. "You know how the young gals are. Think they know all about love, don't they. Just wait until she's married, that's what I say. She'll soon know what's what."
Marge joined in Maisie's laughter, drowning out everyone else. "So when did she leave, then?" Marge demanded. "I thought she had a boyfriend here. Wasn't she going out with a GI?"
Maisie shrugged. "She was going out with a few of them, wasn't she. Trying to forget the one she left behind in London. I told her she was a fool to go back there, with all them bombs dropping around her, but you can't tell the young ones nothing these days. Ever since her parents were killed in that raid, she's not been the same. Heavenknows what she's up to now. I never hear from her anymore. Never bothers to write. I don't even know where she's living right now. Can't tell them anything these days. It's like she's living every day as if it was her last."
"No one's going to live very long if you don't all start listening to me!"
To Rita's immense satisfaction, at the sound of her bellow, everyone stopped talking at once and stared in her direction.
"Now," Rita said, when she was quite sure she had their undivided attention, "we are supposed to be discussing the plans for the scavenger hunt. Remember that everything we collect will be going to our brave servicemen at the front, so I want some suggestions for the scavenger hunt list. Try to keep things simple but useful." She lifted a hand as a chorus of voices answered her. "One at a time,
pulleze
. And remember now, simple but useful." She rather liked that phrase. It would make a good slogan. The Housewives League—simple but useful. Quite catching.
"Magazines," Marge announced. "When they've finished reading them they can use them to wipe their bums."
Shrieks of laughter greeted this brilliant idea.
"Quiet!" Rita thundered. She waited for the din to die down before adding, "Actually, Marjorie, that is quite a good idea. I'm sure our sailors would appreciate something to read."
"Socks!" someone else called out.
"Comics!"
"Safety pins!"
"Sticking plasters!"
"Bootlaces!"
Rita nodded after each suggestion, scribbling like mad to keep up.
"Combinations!" Maisie blurted out, apparently determined not to be outdone.
Rita narrowed her eyes amid the howls of laughter. She kept a scowl on her face until the last snicker
She told him about Violet's disastrous experiments with rationed ingredients in her baking, which never had been too inspiring anyway, and about Martin's lost spectacles. Mentioning them reminded her that she would have to ask Polly to look for them.
All the time she was conscious of the blissful moments slipping away, and the knowledge that soon Earl would be gone again, and once more she would be terrified for his safety until he returned.
Rita Crumm glared at the women crammed together in her sparse front room. Not one of them was paying any attention to her. If there was one thing Rita could not abide,it was being ignored. Especially by that loudmouth, Marge Gunther, whose voice sounded like the foghorn at Sallishay Point on a foggy night.
Right now she was kissing up to Maisie Parsons, pretending to be sorry for her while all the time she was hoping Maisie would give her some of her gingerbread. Maisie was famous for her gingerbread. Even now, with a war on and everything on ration, somehow Maisie managed to make gingerbread that melted in your mouth, which frustrated Rita no end, particularly since Maisie steadfastly refused to divulge her secret.
They weren't talking about gingerbread right now, though. Marge's voice penetrated above the idle chatter going on among the rest of the members of the Housewives League. "You must feel so lonely without your granddaughter to help you out. What made her go back to London, then?"
"Boyfriend, I suppose." Maisie's wrinkled face looked rather like an aging apple with her fat red cheeks and little black eyes that were almost hidden by her overlapping eyelids. "You know how the young gals are. Think they know all about love, don't they. Just wait until she's married, that's what I say. She'll soon know what's what."
Marge joined in Maisie's laughter, drowning out everyone else. "So when did she leave, then?" Marge demanded. "I thought she had a boyfriend here. Wasn't she going out with a GI?"
Maisie shrugged. "She was going out with a few of them, wasn't she. Trying to forget the one she left behind in London. I told her she was a fool to go back there, with all them bombs dropping around her, but you can't tell the young ones nothing these days. Ever since her parents were killed in that raid, she's not been the same. Heavenknows what she's up to now. I never hear from her anymore. Never bothers to write. I don't even know where she's living right now. Can't tell them anything these days. It's like she's living every day as if it was her last."
"No one's going to live very long if you don't all start listening to me!"
To Rita's immense satisfaction, at the sound of her bellow, everyone stopped talking at once and stared in her direction.
"Now," Rita said, when she was quite sure she had their undivided attention, "we are supposed to be discussing the plans for the scavenger hunt. Remember that everything we collect will be going to our brave servicemen at the front, so I want some suggestions for the scavenger hunt list. Try to keep things simple but useful." She lifted a hand as a chorus of voices answered her. "One at a time,
pulleze
. And remember now, simple but useful." She rather liked that phrase. It would make a good slogan. The Housewives League—simple but useful. Quite catching.
"Magazines," Marge announced. "When they've finished reading them they can use them to wipe their bums."
Shrieks of laughter greeted this brilliant idea.
"Quiet!" Rita thundered. She waited for the din to die down before adding, "Actually, Marjorie, that is quite a good idea. I'm sure our sailors would appreciate something to read."
"Socks!" someone else called out.
"Comics!"
"Safety pins!"
"Sticking plasters!"
"Bootlaces!"
Rita nodded after each suggestion, scribbling like mad to keep up.
"Combinations!" Maisie blurted out, apparently determined not to be outdone.
Rita narrowed her eyes amid the howls of laughter. She kept a scowl on her face until the last snicker
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