Past Remembering Read Free Page B

off the ration books.
    ‘One of the advantages of Madam getting us up at the crack of dawn.’ He wheeled the pram across the road to the block that housed their two-roomed flat. When he had first arrived in London it had seemed comfortable. Even Jane had thought so before Anne had put in an appearance. Now he could only marvel that such a small scrap of humanity could commandeer such a vast expanse of living and storage space.
    Leaning on the handle, Haydn lifted the front wheels and manoeuvred the coach pram into the hallway. Distrusting the lift, Jane took the baby from the pram while he dragged it up the stairs to the first floor.
    ‘You have time for tea?’ she asked as they walked into the room that did duty as hall, living room and kitchen rolled into one.
    ‘Tea is about all I do have time for. I’ll make it while you see to Madam.’
    ‘I’m amazed you can even think of anything else after the breakfast you ate this morning.’ Jane carried Anne over to a Rexine-covered sofa, so firmly stuffed with horsehair its surface was as solid as the sideboard. She changed the baby while Haydn disappeared behind the curtain that hid the sink and cooker.
    The flat was blessed with a small bathroom. The sink was cracked and the bath had lost its enamel in places, but after Jane’s upbringing in orphanages and workhouses, she considered it the height of luxury. But with Anne already grizzling there wasn’t time to linger. She plunged the nappy into the bucket, washed her hands, unbuttoned her blouse, and was lifting Anne to her breast when Haydn reappeared with a tray loaded with cups, saucers, plates and the last two slices of an eggless sponge she had made two days ago.
    ‘Mock duck all right for supper?’ Jane pulled Anne back slightly to stop her from choking on the initial glut of milk.
    ‘I’d rather you ate early and went to bed in the cellar. You look exhausted.’
    ‘It’s only this heat. After the winter it’s come as a shock.’ She gently caressed the small body pressed against her own, wiping away the froth of milk that spilled out of Anne’s mouth with a clean handkerchief. ‘Besides, cooking makes the time pass more quickly. I think I have enough dripping left to make some Welsh cakes.’
    ‘I’m not even going to ask what goes into mock duck, but please leave the carrots out of the Welsh cakes this time.’ Haydn walked over to Jane, unable to resist the temptation to stroke the baby’s soft, downy cheek with his little finger. Anne opened one deep blue eye and squinted at him sideways.
    ‘How can anyone say babies can’t see properly?’ he asked. Anne’s mouth relaxed; she loosened her hold on Jane’s nipple as she continued to stare at him. ‘If ever there’s a knowing look it’s that one.’
    ‘Don’t distract her. She won’t take her full feed, then she’ll get cross, wake again in half an hour and there’ll be no supper for either of us.’
    ‘Sorry.’ He returned to the table. ‘But you promise, no carrots, or any other peculiar ingredients in my Welsh cakes?’
    Jane stared at him, a tantalising smile curving the corners of her generous, full-lipped mouth, her eyes enormous dark pools in her sun-flushed face, reminding him exactly why he had fallen in love with her. ‘I have a recipe for pea puree pancakes.’
    ‘Now I know why the Germans are biding their time before invading. They’ve heard of Lord Woolton and they’re waiting until we all die from malnutrition or food poisoning.’
    ‘The kettle,’ she reminded.
    He dived behind the curtain and made the tea. When he turned around, Jane was lifting their daughter from her breast. Head lolling, milk bubbling on her lips, Anne was already asleep.
    ‘Can I put her down?’
    ‘If you don’t wake her.’
    Carrying Anne to the pram, he folded back the blankets and gently laid the baby on her side, tucking the covers securely around her small figure. ‘Shall I pour your tea?’
    ‘I’d better wash first.’ Jane