Free Rose of Tralee by Katie Flynn Page A

ain’t no fun. Try an’ mek em play an’ they either stick their bleedin’ claws into you or stalks off wi’ their noses in the air, honest to God they do. But a dog, now ... if I could have a choice I’d go for a dog every time.’
    ‘Oh, well, perhaps you’re right,’ Rose said, standing up. She knew, really, that she was unlikely to get a dog or a cat just yet. She had assured her parents that if she had a dog she would take him walking after school each day, but her parents did not seem to believe that she would and, in her heart of hearts, Rose thought they might be right. She did so love playing out, and though a dog would be great fun, it might not think that games of Kick the Can and Relievio were as good as a nice, long walk. And Mam said that she didn’t intend to squander her precious housekeeping money on feeding a dog and if theyhad one Rose would have to use her pocket money to buy dog’s meat and biscuits. Rose had a number of uses already for her Saturday pennies and thought she might love the dog less if it meant no more Saturday flicks or bags of sweeties. ‘We’d best go back to me aunt’s, Ricky, or Mam will get going on another cuppa an’ we’ll never shift her.’
    ‘Right you is,’ Ricky said, standing up as well. He called out: ‘Thanks, missus, they’re grand kittens,’ and got an answering shout from the back kitchen before setting off for the jigger and Aunt Daisy’s house once more. ‘Your aunt’s not wearin’ no shoes!’
    He sounded shocked, as well he might, Rose thought crossly. She had heard her father calling Aunt a slut and saying he couldn’t make out why Lily didn’t have a word with her about her appearance, but Rose understood only too well. A sister who was older than you by ten years must be nearly like your mother, and you wouldn’t tell your mother to wash and put her shoes on, would you?
    ‘Me . . . me aunt’s a bit careless, like’ she said apologetically now. ‘Mam says when a woman loses her husband she sometimes gets a bit that way.’ She knew it was a mistake as soon as the words were out of her mouth because in a neighbourhood like theirs, everyone knew everyone else’s business, and several women living in their area had lost husbands one way and another and they hadn’t turned ‘careless like’. And Ricky was on it like a ton of bricks – he would be. Rose was beginning to regret asking him to come to the park – but she never would have done so had she realised that a visit to Aunt Daisy was part of the trip.
    ‘Mrs Johnson’s a widder – you do mean that your aunt’s a widder, don’t you, Rosie? – an’ she wearsshoes . . . she’s smart, is Mrs Johnson. Doesn’t your aunt work? You said she wasn’t short of a bob or two.’
    ‘She ain’t. Oh dear , Ricky, why must you ask so many bleedin’ questions?’ Rose said, deciding that honesty was the best policy. ‘Me da says me aunt’s a lazy slut, but she’s me mam’s sister, so I can’t say what ... ay-up, here comes me mam, better leave it.’
    ‘Right,’ said Ricky and began to talk enthusiastically about the kittens.
    ‘Nice, were they?’ Mam said as they made their way towards the park. ‘I wouldn’t mind a cat – less trouble than a dog.’
    ‘Ricky says they’re no fun once they’s growed, though,’ Rose pointed out, skipping along beside her mother. ‘What’ll we do first, Mam, when we get to the park? Go on the boats or have us sarnies?’
    ‘Have our sarnies, you mean,’ her mother said, then bit her lip. She tried not to correct Rose’s speech before other children, since she knew it was important to sound like them and not to be pointed out, jeeringly, as ’the posh one’, or ’the kid what purron airs’. Besides, she was well aware that Rose would not speak carelessly in her own home. ‘Which ’ud you rather, queen?’
    ‘Boats,’ both children replied in chorus and Ricky added, ‘We gets to eat sarnies every day, mostly, Miz Ryder,