Free Daughter of the Winds by Jo Bunt Page A

held the hem of her dress, revealing her underskirts. On the window ledge there was a pomander in the shape of a pink, heeled boot. There were no signs at all that she was in Cyprus. There had been no attempt to embrace the local style.
    A cold cup of tea from the night before lay untouched on the bedside table and she took a sip to wet her lips. The familiar presence of a full bladder suddenly made its mark on Pru’s consciousness and she eased herself from the bed to search for the bathroom. Her attempt to open the door quietly was floored as she opened it directly into her protruding belly and then swore loudly.
    “ There’s a lav just through the kitchen there, pet. I’ll get the kettle on.”
    Pru jumped and took a moment to spot the originator of the soft Geordie accent.
    “Thank you Mrs....?”
    “ Betty.” And then each one of those lines on her face creased in a warm smile as she walked ahead of Pru into the kitchen.
    Pru followed as quickly as she could but it always took a while for her hips to wake up in the morning and the aches were something else today. Once, quite early on in her pregnancy, she had vowed never to walk like a pregnant woman. She was sure that the pregnancy duck-waddle wasn’t a necessary part of the process. Now, nearing the end of her pregnancy, she realised that the choice wasn’t hers to make.
    When she emerged from the bathroom, Betty was at the cooker melting a huge lump of lard in the frying pan.
    “Not for me, thank you. I don’t eat breakfast,” Pru said as she tried to slip away, embarrassed at the state of her un-combed hair.
    “ Ya do now. Sit down, I’ll make you a brew.” Betty laid three rashers of bacon side by side in the misshapen and grease-coated pan and reached for the white-shelled eggs. Uncharacteristically, Pru didn’t even consider arguing with her and instead sat at the kitchen table to watch Betty at work. She was exhausted and spent.
    “ How ya feeling, pet?”
    Pru thought carefully before answering the question.
    “ I’m fine, thank you. I think it’s normal to be tired this late on in the pregnancy.”
    “ I wasn’t talking about that. I was meaning about your–”
    “ I know” interrupted Pru, effectively closing that line of conversation.
    After a few moments of silence in which Betty studied Pru, the older woman shouted over the sizzle and hiss of the bacon, “Eddie looked in on you this morning. He didn’t want to wake you but said he’ll be back for dinner, mind. Poor bairn looks tired. Did you manage much sleep? Get all the rest you can now because as sure as eggs is eggs, that wee bairn will be keeping you on your toes when it’s born. They don’t care if you’ve had a bad day or a late night.”
    Reliev ed that the conversation had moved on to a topic she didn’t mind talking about, Pru asked, “How old are your children?”
    “ Mine? Oh no hinny, I don’t have any.”
    After a momentary pause while Betty poured an amber stream of hot liquid into another rosebud cup , she said, “Turns out that it wasn’t in the plan for us, no matter how much we wanted it.” She looked over her shoulder at Pru’s uncomfortable expression and handed her the tea. “Now if I don’t feel bad about it, pet, you certainly shouldn’t! You’ll never hear me complain about it. I’ve got the best life I could hope for, thank you very much. And it means I get to keep my hourglass figure too.” And she laughed while turning her ample hips from side to side in an exaggerated figure of eight.
    “ Nah, I was a bit past my best when me and Bern married. He’s a bit younger than me, see? Got meself a toy boy! By the looks of it you can only have a few weeks to go. Not the best time for war, eh? It’ll be over before we hear any shots fired, though, you’ll see.”
    “ What happened though?” asked Pru. “I don’t understand. The Greeks and Turks are friends, right? They work side by side, they live side by side...”
    “ Do they?”