Free Better Days Will Come by Pam Weaver

That would be plenty for her and Rita. Bonnie was the one with the big appetite. She sighed and bit back her tears. This was almost as bad as the feeling she’d had when Michael was killed. Almost but not quite.
    The loss of her husband was final, she’d known as soon as she’d got the telegram that she would never see him again, but the ‘loss’ of her daughter was cloaked in hope, the hope that one day she would walk through that door again. She sighed. She didn’t want to think of Bonnie ill or, worse still, lying in a ditch somewhere, but sometimes the darker thoughts crept in uninvited. She cleared her throat and swallowed the aching lump that had formed. Be rational, she told herself. There was no reason to think that any harm had befallen her. She had to accept that Bonnie had run away, that was all.
    Seeing Norris had unsettled her again. Whatever women saw in the man now she couldn’t think, but when they were young, he had been a lot better looking and he could charm the birds from the trees with that silver tongue of his. He’d made no secret of his desire for her when they were youngsters but why now? Why did he still want her when he could have the pick of any girl in Worthing? The years hadn’t been kind to him. These days he was a thickset man with large jowls and a paunch. The richer he became the less attractive he became but he didn’t seem all that bothered. He really thought money could buy him anything and he was ruthless. The business with the rent had been going on for years and because people were reluctant to talk about money it had taken ages for them to realise that they were all paying different amounts. There was no doubt that if he cut Grace’s rent, it would make life a lot easier, especially now that Bonnie’s wage wasn’t coming into the house, but she wasn’t going to succumb to him – even if she had to wear frayed jumpers and eat half a potato for her dinner for the rest of her life. She still had her pride and her good name, for God’s sake.
    As well as the potato shortage, there was a paper shortage and the butcher had said there was little hope of poultry being on the menu for Christmas, unless, of course, she wanted to use the black market. Grace had never done that. She didn’t want to do it on principle and besides, they charged such high prices.
    Rita burst through the door in a state of high excitement and, hardly stopping to draw breath, she blurted out that she’d been to Hubbard’s.
    ‘Whatever for?’ Grace wanted to know.
    ‘I thought someone might be able to tell me something about Bonnie, Mum.’
    Grace stiffened. ‘And did they?’
    ‘Not exactly,’ said Rita. ‘When I got there, the girl in the office thought I had come for an interview.’
    Grace lowered herself onto a chair. ‘We always said you would leave school at Easter.’
    ‘I know, Mum, but hear me out, will you? This woman – she had tightly permed hair and a big tummy like you wouldn’t believe – she rattled off so many questions, I could hardly think straight. She looked such a sight, Mum.’ Rita waved her arms and strutted about, mimicking the woman and making her mother smile, in spite of herself.
    ‘What sort of questions?’
    ‘Was I punctual, did I have a clean bill of health, did I have clean habits, was I teachable and how would I treat a difficult customer. By the time I cottoned on to what was happening, Mum, I felt too embarrassed to say anything. So I ended up being marched up to the ladies’ fashion department.’
    By this time, Grace was laughing.
    ‘It’s so different now,’ Rita went on. ‘There’s no trace of the fire and it looks really classy.’
    The whole town had been stunned by the fire which ripped through Hubbard’s in the early hours of Wednesday 22nd August. The upper floors had been totally gutted and the damage below was extensive. The fire itself was put out in less than an hour but it took no less than twenty fire crews to do the job, some