Nightingales at War Read Free

peered into the box. A twitching nose and a pair of black eyes stared back up at her. ‘Blimey, a rabbit. Where did that come from?’
    ‘I caught him on Hackney Marshes. His name’s Octavius and he’s my pet, but Nanna says he’s going in the pot.’
    He pulled a face. All the family called him Little Alfie, but at eight years old he was a sturdy boy who nearly came up to Dora’s shoulder.
    She crouched beside him and put her hand out to stroke the rabbit’s soft brown fur. ‘You don’t want to take any notice of Nanna. You know she’s all talk.’ She nodded towards the leaf in his hand. ‘All the same, you’d best not go feeding it too much, or she might change her mind.’
    She left her brother, ducked past the drooping washing line and let herself in the back door.
    Her mum Rose was in the scullery, making tea.
    ‘Hello, love.’ She smiled at Dora over her shoulder. ‘You must have heard the kettle boiling.’ She turned, wiping her hands on her pinny. ‘How did you get on at the hospital?’
    ‘Matron says I can start next week.’
    Her mother beamed. ‘There, what did I tell you? I said they’d give you your job back, didn’t I?’
    But Dora wasn’t listening. Her attention was fixed on the thin curtain that separated the scullery from the back kitchen. The gurgling sound of her children’s laughter lifted her heart, and it was all she could do not to run to them. ‘How were the kids?’
    ‘As good as gold.’ Rose Doyle gave her a knowing look. ‘You go in and see them, and I’ll bring you a cup of tea. You look as if you could do with one.’
    ‘Ta, Mum.’ Dora gave her a quick, grateful smile and pushed through the curtain.
    The little kitchen had always been the heart of the house, the place where the whole family gathered to talk, laugh, cry and fight. Nanna Winnie was in her usual place in her rocking chair by the hearth, mending socks. It gave Dora a pang to see how close she held the darning to her face these days, squinting over her spectacles. Her eyesight was failing, although she would never admit it.
    ‘All right, Nanna?’ Dora greeted her cheerily, but her gaze was already fixed on little Walter and Winnie, propped side by side on the rug at Nanna’s feet. Nick’s brother Danny was with them, patiently building up towers of wooden bricks for them to knock down with their chubby, flailing hands.
    Walter caught sight of her first, and promptly burst into tears. Winnie joined in, and soon they were both wailing.
    ‘Typical! They haven’t cried all day until you walked in,’ Nanna grumbled.
    ‘They’re just excited, that’s all. Hello, darlings.’ Dora scooped them both up, one in each arm, and kissed their fat little cheeks. They looked so like their father it was heartbreaking, with their dark curls and intense blue eyes.
    Dora buried her face in Winnie’s neck, breathing in her achingly familiar baby smell. ‘Are you sure they’ve been all right?’ she asked.
    ‘I told you, they’ve been little angels,’ her mother said, coming in with the tea tray. ‘I’ve hardly had to look after them, as a matter of fact. Danny’s been doing it all, ain’t that right, Dan?’ Rose looked affectionately at the young man kneeling on the rug, tidying up the bricks. Danny gave her a shy, lopsided smile in return.
    ‘He’s devoted to them, all right,’ Nanna agreed.
    ‘I should think so,’ Dora said. ‘They’re your niece and nephew, ain’t they, Danny?’
    He nodded earnestly. ‘They’re my f-family,’ he said. ‘N-Nick said I had to look after them while h-he was gone.’
    ‘Quite right, too.’ Dora smiled indulgently at him. Danny Riley was a curious-looking young man, with his mop of pale hair and vacant eyes. He was in his early twenties, but he had the mind of a child. His mother told everyone he’d had a terrible accident, but Nick had confessed to Dora that it was a beating by their brutal father that had left his brother so broken and damaged. Nick had