Free Such Sweet Sorrow by Catrin Collier

unsteadily to her feet, and for the first time Diana realised just how frail her mother had become.
    William dropped his hat on to the table and scooped Megan into his arms.
    ‘I had no idea you’d filled out so much.’ Megan began to cry, seeing a mirror image of her long-dead husband in her son, even down to the fate that was leading him to war.
    ‘Don’t cry, Mam,’ William consoled clumsily, knowing exactly what his mother was thinking. ‘You can’t keep a bad penny from turning up. I’ll be back,’ he promised recklessly. ‘I promise you, Mam, unlike Dad, I’ll be back.’

Chapter Four
    William reached out for the alarm clock that was shrilling and rattling in the biscuit tin next to his bed. He squinted through one eye as he silenced it; it was no use, he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face, let alone the clock. The blackout curtains with which Phyllis had covered every inch of window in the house cut out even the faintest glimmer of light but … as the alarm had only just sounded there was no harm in stealing five more minutes.
    Pulling the bedclothes over his head, he snuggled into the pillow and closed his eyes. Friday morning! It wasn’t as bad as the outdoor market mornings of Wednesday and Saturday when the population of every surrounding valley poured into Pontypridd, but the butcher’s stall he ran for Charlie in the indoor market still had to be opened. He didn’t like Friday’s customers as much as his Saturday regulars. The only people who could afford to patronise the market twenty-four hours ahead of the Saturday-night knockdown bargain auction, when the remaining perishable goods were sold off by the traders for whatever they could get, were the crache. And serving the crache meant being careful. No calling any woman ‘love’ or man ‘mate’, not that there’d be many men shopping. It would be ‘sir’ and ‘madam’ and bowing and scraping, and he’d have to man the stall by himself because the shop would command all of Charlie and Alma’s time and attention. He’d be lucky if one of them would be able to spare ten minutes to bring across his midday dinner of meat-filled baps and tea.
    He hadn’t realised how much he’d miss Eddie, especially in the shop, until after his cousin had gone. Butchering was hard, physical work, but when he had asked Charlie in the recruiting office how he expected Alma to manage both businesses without them, the Russian had muttered something about giving the market stallholder notice. Surely Charlie didn’t expect Alma to keep the shop going by herself with no help at all? Just humping the bins of kidneys, liver, tripe and offal Charlie had taken to buying from the slaughterhouse since meat rationing had been enforced, would be too much for her. And that was without the cooking, pressing and slicing.
    Perhaps it might be as well if the army did turn Charlie down. It wasn’t as though he was desperately needed. There were enough single blokes to fight the war without dragging in the married men. But then how could he really regard himself as single, when there was Tina to consider?
    ‘Letter for you, Will,’ Evan shouted up the stairs.
    Clutching his pyjamas close to his shivering body, William slid out of bed, hopping in a mockery of an Indian war dance as his bare feet hit the freezing linoleum. He opened his door, grateful for the warmth of the strip of jute carpeting on the landing and stairs.
    ‘It’s Ministry of War.’ Evan handed it over.
    The door to the downstairs front room that had remained empty since Haydn had left, opened, and Megan stood in the doorway, wearing the old brown dressing gown William remembered from his childhood. He glanced at her as he slit the top of the envelope with his thumb.
    ‘Well?’ Megan demanded tensely.
    ‘They want me to report to training camp on Monday.’
    ‘This coming Monday?’
    William nodded, avoiding his mother’s eye. ‘As I’ve only two working days left, I’d better let