Free The Pearly Queen by Mary Jane Staples Page A

A framed photograph on the mantelshelf was familiar to him. It was of the young man to whom she’d been engaged. Jimmy could never help feeling sorry for him, he’d really missed out. Aunt Edie would have made him a happy bloke.
    She did not take long to pack a case, she could be brisk and quick. His mum had got to the stage of being a bit vague about everything except the Lord.
    â€˜â€™Ere we are, Jimmy.’
    â€˜I’ll take the case,’ said Jimmy.
    â€˜And me the shoppin’ bag?’ she smiled.
    â€˜Good idea,’ he said. ‘What made you ask me to come with you?’
    â€˜What a question,’ said Aunt Edie.
    â€˜I thought I’d ask.’
    â€˜Well, you ’appen to be me fav’rite young man, and I like ’aving a young man like you as an escort.’
    â€˜I think I’ll come to that concert Joe Gosling mentioned,’ said Jimmy, ‘you’re bound to help out and it might give me a chance to see you doin’ a knees-up.’
    â€˜You saucebox,’ said Aunt Edie. ‘I suppose you realize I’m old enough to be your mother?’
    â€˜Can’t help that, Aunt Edie, I still think you’ve got good legs.’
    â€˜Cheeky monkey,’ said Aunt Edie, but laughed.
    â€˜I expect Dad’ll want to come as well,’ said Jimmy, ‘you’re not old enough to be his mother.’
    Aunt Edie actually turned a little pink. ‘Well, I don’t know,’ she said, ‘I’ll ’ave to watch you, young man. Out you go before you get your ears boxed.’ But she was laughing again as she went down the stairs with him.
    By the time they got back, Dad and the girls had made their own contribution to the day. The kitchen and scullery had been swept and tidied up, and all the beds made. And Dad had cleaned the kitchen windows. The oil-cloth that covered the kitchen table shone like new, except for cracked corners. The sandwiches were ready, and Dad put the kettle on to make a pot of tea. Aunt Edie, who had bought sausages from the butcher, said she’d do bangers and mash for supper, with fried tomatoes and fried onions, and a banana custard to follow. And for tomorrow’s Sunday dinner, she was going to roast a leg of mutton and bake an apple pie.
    â€˜Crikey, apple pie wiv custard?’ asked Betsy, eyes shining.
    â€˜Auntie, you really goin’ to do all that?’ asked Patsy.
    â€˜All that isn’t much, lovey,’ said Aunt Edie, ‘and we’ve got to eat. Now let’s all sit down and ’ave these sandwiches with the pot of tea your dad’s makin’. I don’t suppose ’e’ll take all day.’
    From the scullery, where he was pouring boiling water into the teapot, Dad made his response. ‘Any moment now, Edie.’
    â€˜That’s a clever boy,’ said Aunt Edie, which made Dad grin. ‘Pass the sandwiches round, Jimmy.’ Aunt Edie had already decided on how she would approach these weekends. A little authority combined with fuss and affection. But no gushing. She didn’t want Dad to think this was just a whim of hers, or Betsy and Patsy to feel it was only Dad who cared for them. Girls their age needed a mum as well as a dad. Or someone who could be a mum.
    Dad brought the pot of tea in and sat down. He helped himself to a sandwich.
    â€˜Did I ’ear there’s goin’ to be bangers and mash, banana custard, roast leg of mutton and apple pie?’ he asked. ‘We’ll all get fat.’
    â€˜You will if you eat all that lot at once,’ said Aunt Edie. ‘Shall I be mum? Yes, I might as well.’ She poured the tea.
    â€˜Patsy’s gettin’ a bit fat,’ said Betsy.
    â€˜Me?’ said Patsy indignantly.
    â€˜I don’t see she is, Betsy,’ said Aunt Edie.
    â€˜Well, she is a little bit,’ said Betsy, ‘only I best not say where, ’ad I, Dad?’
    â€˜Oh, you little