Liverpool Angels Read Free Page B

shop. She rarely had jam; usually Eddie only got dripping on his bread and sometimes not even that.
    ‘Sit down, girl, you look terrible,’ Edith instructed, reaching for the kettle.
    ‘I feel terrible,’ Maggie agreed, ‘although everyone was very kind and considerate.’
    ‘So everything is all arranged?’ Agnes asked, taking the cups from the dresser and wiping the excess of jam from Harry’s face with a damp cloth at the same time.
    Maggie nodded. ‘I . . . I didn’t think it would be right for her to be . . . buried before our John gets home.’
    ‘When is he expected?’ Edith asked.
    ‘Tuesday – late afternoon I think, according to the Journal of Commerce .’
    Agnes and her mother exchanged glances. It was going to be hard on Maggie having poor Beth in the house for another three, possibly four more days; it wouldn’t be healthy either, Edith thought. Especially not with those young children. She handed the girl a cup of tea. ‘Did Mr Thompson make any . . . suggestions?’ she asked.
    Maggie sipped her tea gratefully. ‘He did. He said that that being the case it would be better if he moved Beth to his Chapel of Rest later on today. It would be better for John to . . . see her there, rather than in the room they shared. Less painful, less upsetting. And then the funeral could take place on Thursday, the vicar being amenable, and he is.’
    Agnes placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘That will all be for the best, luv.’
    ‘He’s due to sail again on Friday, Agnes, you know they only have two days in port,’ Maggie reminded her. ‘It’s not very long to . . . to try to come to terms with it all, if he ever does.’
    ‘Will he go back, Maggie, do you think? Or will he want to stay at home longer?’ Mrs Webster asked.
    Maggie shrugged. She really hadn’t thought about that; how she would break the news to him had been her only concern.
    ‘Drink your tea, luv, while I wipe the hands and faces of these other two and then we’d better open up or they’ll be hammering on the shop door,’ Agnes’s mam stated.
    ‘At least you’ve got all the arrangements sorted out, that’s something to be grateful for,’ Agnes reminded her friend. She only hoped Billy had been to the register office and would be at home when Mr Thompson arrived with the hearse. She didn’t want her friend to have to cope with that all alone.
    Nick MacNally had waited for Billy and they’d had a few drinks and a great chat – in fact he’d have stayed longer but they’d both spent up and the landlord had a strict ‘no tick’ policy. On the way home Billy greeted the women gossiping on their doorsteps cheerfully and joked with those kids still playing in the street about being ‘mucky bairns’ and so was in a far better mood when he arrived. However, it didn’t last long. Both the baby and Eddie were fractious and Maggie was tired, harassed and tearful as she took his meal from the oven.
    ‘It’s dried up: I’ve been trying to keep it warm for an hour, we’ve had ours,’ she informed him as she put it on the table in front of him. ‘And I wanted to get the meal over with before Mr Thompson comes. He thinks it best if he takes Beth to his Chapel of Rest. The funeral is arranged for next Thursday.’
    Billy looked disdainfully at the dried gravy, fatty brisket and shrivelled potatoes before pushing the plate away. ‘I’ve lost me appetite. Can’t you keep those two quiet? I can’t hear meself think. What time is this Thompson feller coming?’ He’d expected to come home to a hot meal and a comfortable evening sitting reading his newspaper and dozing; instead of that his dinner looked disgusting, the kids were whining, Maggie was in a temper and the undertaker and his cronies would shortly be arriving and tramping up and down the stairs.
    Maggie snatched the plate away, her nerves stretched to breaking point. ‘Well, there’s nothing else!’ she snapped. ‘And Mr Thompson will be here any