Dancing in the Moonlight Read Free Page B

sulk, but Lucy hadn’t had time to cajole her sister round, with the hundred and one things she had to do that morning. Consequently
Ruby had left for Mrs Crawford’s with a face like thunder, and Lucy didn’t doubt the poor twins would feel the back of her sister’s hand more than once.
    ‘There, there, hinny. You’re doing fine.’ Enid had noticed the direction of Lucy’s gaze and her family would have been amazed at the tender note in her voice, accustomed
as they were to her sharp tongue. ‘Likely you’ll feel better once today is over and things get back to normal. I always say you’re in a kind of limbo till the funeral’s
done. Look, they’ll be back soon and then it’ll be bedlam. I’ll make a pot of tea, shall I?’
    Lucy nodded, struggling not to cry. She wanted her mam, how she wanted her mam. She felt very young and helpless and frightened. She’d promised her mother she would look after the bairns
and see to the house and her da and the lads, and she’d meant it. But could she? She didn’t know how she was going to feed the family over the next few days, let alone the next months,
now the menfolk were on short time. John had holes in his boots, so his feet were wet through and blue with cold, and Ruby couldn’t fasten the buttons of her winter coat, it had grown so
small. Mrs Crawford had said she’d feel better once things got back to normal, but they were never going to be normal again. That was the truth of it. Her mam was gone and she would never see
her again.
    Her breath caught in her throat in a great sob and the tears spurted from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks in an unstoppable flood. She felt Mrs Crawford put an arm round her and turned into
the comforting bulk in a paroxysm of weeping, as the grief she’d been holding in demanded release.
    It was a minute or two before she drew away and rubbed at her wet face with her pinny. Her eyes focused on Enid’s face, which was also wet, and she murmured, ‘I’m sorry, Mrs
Crawford.’
    ‘Don’t be silly, lass.’ Enid fetched out a none-too-clean handkerchief and blew her nose loudly. ‘I think we both needed that. Now I’m going to make some tea and
we’ll have a quiet minute before they arrive. An’, lass’ – she cradled Lucy’s flushed cheeks in her big rough hands – ‘I’m only next door any time
you want me, all right? You know where to come, hinny.’
    Lucy nodded, smiling shakily and, satisfied she had done what she could, Enid turned towards the range.
    Lucy watched her mother’s friend making the tea, her thoughts clearer than they had been in days. Mrs Crawford was kind and she was grateful, but she wouldn’t be running to her every
two minutes with this and that. She had to stand on her own two feet and do what she’d promised. It was up to her to keep the family together and she would do it, no matter what. Her mother
had taught her how to make a penny stretch to two; well, now it would have to stretch to three or four, it was as simple as that. They had a roof over their heads and she would see to it that she
put food on the table. They’d manage.
    Her small chin lifted and her shoulders straightened, and then, for an infinitesimal second, she thought she heard her mother whisper, ‘That’s it, hinny. That’s my
lass.’
    It was so real that she turned quickly and looked about her, but of course there was no one there. Shaking her head at her foolishness, she told herself she was imagining things, but
nevertheless the brief moment brought balm to her bruised soul and eased her grief, and the day she had been dreading no longer seemed such an ordeal.
    Tom Crawford stood leaning against the far wall of the kitchen, a glass of whisky in his hand and a faintly contemptuous expression on his ruggedly handsome face. The kitchen was full to
bursting with neighbours and friends and they were all eating their fill – like pigs at a trough, as he put it to himself. And the whisky and beer