Free Threads of Silk by Roberta Grieve Page B

the bundle of notes and reached for her handbag. When Bert held out his hand, she peeled a few notes off and gave them to him. He gave her a hard look but she ignored him and calmly tucked the rest of the money into her purse.
    ‘We’ll need to go up West for her clothes if Tommy wants her to “look the part”. Can’t have our girl letting the side down can we?’ Her voice had a sarcastic edge, but as she turned to Ellie, she smiled. ‘Looks like you and me are going on a shopping spree, love.’ But Ellie detected a false note behind the gay tone.
    Her own feelings were much the same. She should have been excited at the thought of choosing new clothes in the posh West End shops. Judith would have been green with envy but fashion and make-up had never really interested Ellie – only from the point of view of design. She’d often sketched out ideas for dresses and had even briefly considered going into the fashion business – after college of course. But her real interest was in textiles and soft furnishings.
    She sighed. No good thinking about that. She smiled at her mother and, like her, pretended enthusiasm for the proposed shopping trip.
    Bert gave a self-satisfied grin and put his arm round her. ‘I’m proud of yer, Angel. I told yer everything would work out all right if yer listened to yer dad. Tommy’ll see yer right, you’ll see.’ He kissed her cheek and gave her a squeeze, his hand brushing lightly against her breast. She tried not to flinch and instead stared hard at him, wishing she had the nerve to speak up and tell him that she’d do what he wanted if he agreed to leave her alone.
    But he seemed to get the message and he averted his eyes. ‘I’m off,’ he said to Mary. ‘Don’t bother saving my dinner. I’ll eat out.’

     
    When they’d finished their sausages and mash and washed the dishes afterwards, Ellie and her mother sat down on opposite sides of the range, enjoying the unaccustomed interlude of peace and quiet.
    ‘You’re a bit quiet, love,’ Mary said, as the sound of coals settling in the grate disturbed the silence. She had taken out her knitting, but the needles stilled and she leaned towards Ellie. ‘I know you’re disappointed – but you never really thought he’d let you go to college, did you?’
    ‘I suppose not. But I always hoped he’d change his mind once he saw how hard I’d worked.’ Ellie stood up with a defeated gesture. ‘I suppose I ought to write to Miss Evans – thank her for taking an interest in me. She’ll be so disappointed….’ Ellie almost started to cry, but she controlled herself. It was too late for tears. Hadn’t she always known it was just an impossible dream?
    ‘It’s no good crying, love. You’ve got to make the best of it,’ Mary said. Ellie wondered if the words were really intended for her – or if maybe her mother was thinking about her own life.
    ‘Did you have dreams and ambitions, Mum?’ she asked suddenly.
    ‘Of course – doesn’t everybody? But real life has a way of taking over – as you’ve just found out.’ Mary’s knitting was still idle in her lap and she stared into the fire.
    ‘What were your dreams, Mum?’ Ellie didn’t expect a reply.
    Mary gave a little laugh. ‘Oh, the usual silly romantic notions,’ she said. ‘And of course, I always wanted to be a nurse but I never got to be sister as I’d planned.’ She turned to Ellie, smiling. ‘But I didn’t mind, you see, because I married Jim and we had Sheila. I was so happy – then the war started….’ Her voice trailed away.
    ‘Gran told me about the bomb – and how you took Harry in after his mother was killed.’
    ‘Yes, well, Anne and me were close, like sisters. I couldn’t do anything else really. I’ve never regretted it. Harry’s been like a real son to me.’
    Ellie didn’t want to talk about Harry. The shock of his sudden marriage was still too painful. But she didn’t want her mother to stop. It was so rare for her to