The Sunday Girls Read Free

gazed in dismay at my brown sun-tanned legs and arms. How I longed to look like Danny with his lovely clear skin, deep blue eyes and auburn hair. I was lumbered with a cap of black hair cut short in an Eton crop, which I hated, and my eyes were dark brown. His mother Hattie was Dad’s sister. Although he had inherited his good looks from his maternal side, his colouring was almost identical to that of Pat Ryan, his Irish father, now long dead.
    Just the very thought of him filled me with pleasure. Although only a few months older than me, he was already a good three inches taller – a fact that my parents had noticed. ‘Aye he’s going to be a good-looking six-footer one day,’ they had said barely a week ago.
    I closed my eyes, letting the warm sun shine over me as the multitude of voices merged in the background like the humming buzz from a swarm of bees.
    ‘Hello, Ann – so I’ve caught you sleeping,’ said a familiar voice rising above the hum.
    It was Danny and I watched as he effortlessly ran towards me, the sun shining on his hair, highlighting deep golden streaks that intertwined with the deep red. Looking at him through half opened eyes it seemed as if his hair was on fire. In spite of my worry, I laughed, thinking what a coincidence his appearance was. I had just finished reading a book about Aladdin and his magic lamp and, as he approached, I made a rubbing movement with my hands.
    ‘What are you doing?’ He had a puzzled frown on his boyish face.
    ‘I’m rubbing my magic lamp. I made a wish for you to be here and here you are. It must be the genie’s work.’
    ‘Who’s Jeannie? Is she a pal?’ His puzzled frown deepened.
    ‘No, Danny, it’s just a story I’ve been reading. I’ll tell you about it sometime.’ I moved over to make a space for him. ‘You’ve heard that Mum’s baby is coming? Mrs Grey and Granny Neill are with her now so we’re just waiting on news,’ I said as I pointed over to where Dad was still standing with his clutch of cronies. His apprehensive face never strayed from our close.
    Danny gave him a wave. ‘Aye, I’ve heard. Rosie was telling everybody at the Overgate.’
    Rosie’s mother was Alice, Granny’s next-door neighbour and adjoining window confidante. A year or two younger than my parents, Rosie was unmarried and a staunch member of the Salvation Army.
    ‘She was just back from the Citadel when I met her and she gave me the message.’
    He extricated a small bag of squashed-up, sticky sweets from his pocket and pushed it under my nose. Choosing one sweet from this gooey mass took all the expertise of a master demolition worker and the one I eventually picked was so large that it made speaking almost impossible.
    ‘It’s funny about your mum, Ann …’ He stopped when he saw my puzzled look but still chewed noisily on his sweet, wiping dribbles from his chin with a thin hand. ‘As I was saying, it’s funny about your mum having the baby early. Mrs Pringle – the woman Mum works for in the Perth Road – well, she was taken in to the Forthill nursing home this morning to have her baby and she’s early as well. In fact, the new nursery is not finished yet but Mum has been running around trying to put the finishing touches to it today.’
    He gave his sweet a final loud crunch and sat back with a sigh. ‘What a pity your mum doesn’t have a new nursery as well.’
    I nodded sadly as I visualised our tiny flat in my mind’s eye. My parents had the big double bed in the corner of the room while I had the tiny recessed bed in the closet with its flowery cotton curtained screen. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t imagine where the newcomer could possibly sleep.
    ‘Mrs Pringle has an older daughter – is that right?’ I asked, trying to block out the depressing image of our cramped living conditions.
    Danny nodded. ‘That’s right. Her name is Maddie and, although she’s the same age as us, she’s still at the school. She’s a pupil at the