A Sister's War by Molly Green (the reading strategies book txt) 📕

– she swung her attention to her husband – ‘you go ’n’ fetch the bottle and we’ll give the lady a special Christmas drink.’

‘Oh, please, not for me,’ Ronnie protested, but Fred wouldn’t hear of it.

‘’Ow d’ya think I’ll get one if yer refuse?’ he said, twinkling down at her. ‘Ma won’t let me ’ave one on me own.’

‘I’ll be more’n happy to join yer, Fred,’ Dora said quickly.

Ronnie noticed him glance at Dora with a wink and Dora smiled back, looking almost coy.

If Dora got her teeth fixed she’d actually have quite a pretty face, Ronnie thought. Maman would soon cart her off to the dentist. She smiled at the image of Maman taking Dora firmly by the arm and dragging her to see Mr Chapman. Ronnie peered into the makeshift crib, which looked as though it had once been the bottom drawer of a chest. The baby stared up at her with round blue eyes.

‘Hello, little one, what’s your name?’

‘She’s Rosy. Like them rosies Pa did on the boat,’ Georgie piped up.

Ronnie wished she had a little soft toy for Rosy to play with. She stayed a minute or two with the baby’s hand locked around one of her fingers, then reluctantly and gently unhooked it and went back to her seat.

The children gathered round her, curious to see this stranger.

‘Why d’yer speak funny,’ the oldest boy of about thirteen challenged her, staring at her from his stool, his face only inches away from hers.

Ronnie hesitated, not wanting to say ‘at home’. ‘It’s how I learnt at school,’ she smiled.

‘Y’see, Ma,’ the boy said. ‘I keeps tellin’ yer I need ter get to school. They learn yer all sorta things.’

‘I’ll learn yer a clip over the ear, Dave, if yer don’t stop tormentin’ the nice lady,’ his mother warned him.

‘I’m happy to tell him anything he wants to know about school,’ Ronnie said.

‘That’s as maybe, but first orf I want yous to sit yonder and I’ll pour the tea I were makin’ ’fore yer came.’ She pointed to the seat plank.

Ronnie had no sooner sat down than the little girl climbed up on her lap.

‘That’s Liza. Shove ’er orf if she’s bein’ a nuisance,’ Fred said. ‘Yer gotta learn ’em at that age.’

‘I don’t know how you manage with five children and a new baby to look after,’ Ronnie said in an awed tone as she held Liza firmly and looked around. The cabin was as neat as a pin, positively sparkling in the light from the two oil lamps falling on the gleaming brassware. Wherever her eye took her she spotted picture frames with faded photographs, brasses by the stove – all gleaming and reflecting – making the cabin look larger than it really was. There were hand-embroidered coverings which she’d bet Dolly had made, pictures and decorative plates hung by string … really, how on earth did Dolly cope, Ronnie thought again, guessing the woman did the lion’s share of the work.

‘Oh, they in’t all mine,’ Dolly said, roaring with laughter as she handed Ronnie the tea. ‘Mine are them twins.’ She jerked her head towards a pair of ginger-haired, freckle-faced boys, one Ronnie had inadvertently trodden on. ‘They’re six,’ she said, a note of pride in her voice. ‘The other three are ’vacuees. But for easy sake I told ’em all to call me ma.’

Ronnie gave a sharp intake of breath. This family who had so little had extended their tiny cabin to three other children they’d never set eyes on and blended them in with their own family, not to mention caring for a brand-new baby. What generous-hearted people.

‘It’s doin’ our bit fer the war effort,’ Fred said. ‘And Doll likes ter be surrounded with kiddies. That’s when she’s most ’appy.’

‘Off you git from the lady’s knee, Liza.’ The little girl jumped off. ‘And like or not, I want yer ter drink this oop, so’s Fred can ’ave one and stop crazin’ me.’ She put a glass half filled with a golden liquid in Ronnie’s hand.

Ronnie took a sip, then wished she hadn’t. It burned the back of her throat making her cough. She felt the warmth spread inside her body.

Fred gave a rich chuckle. ‘All right for yer?’ he asked.

‘Yes, it’s lovely,’ she managed.

‘I made it meself,’ he said. ‘I used—’

‘Enough, Fred,’ Dolly interrupted, chuckling. ‘Ronnie don’t want to hear all the ins and outs of how yer made it. Why don’t yer play ’er a tune on yer squeeze-box. The kiddies like it, ’n’ all.’

‘I’ll do that, Doll.’ He picked up a battered-looking concertina, unclipped it and drew out a few scattered notes. ‘Let’s see. We’d better ’ave a Christmas carol.’

He played the introduction of ‘Away in a Manger’ and to Ronnie’s astonishment everyone, including little Liza, joined in.

‘And you, Ver-ron-eek,’ Dora said, looking at Ronnie with her terrifying grin.

‘You wouldn’t say that if you heard me sing, Miss Dummitt,’ Ronnie said, smiling, for once not irritated by Dora’s mocking pronunciation of her name.

‘Don’t matter if yer can hold a tune or not – it’s the joinin’ in what counts,’ Dora said.

Fred played several more carols and most of the children – or kiddies, as Ronnie now thought of them – sang with gusto. Ronnie found herself doing just what Dora had ordered – joining in with this amazing family.

‘It’s gettin’ late,’ Dora said after several of the children began to yawn. ‘The kiddies need to get ter bed.’

Ronnie raised her glass. ‘Thank you for making me so welcome,’ she said. ‘The tea and the special drink and singing the carols – and most of all meeting you and the kiddies. It’s made me feel more like Christmas than any Christmas I’ve ever had – and I mean it.’

‘Well, wot d’ya know,’ Fred said, looking Dora’s way. ‘This one’s growed up more’n I first seed.’ He turned to Ronnie. ‘This’ll be yous one day, miss,’ he said with a wink and a smile. ‘Kiddies needin’ yer attention all day long. But make