All I Have to Give by Mary Wood Read Free Book Online

awfulness of her thoughts hit Ada when she reached her home. Taking her coat off, she slumped onto a chair and rested her arms on the table, putting her head down onto
them. Unable to stop the tears, she let them flow. How could she even have considered Beryl and Paddy together.’ Beryl wouldn’t do such a thing to her. Oh, aye, Paddy would. She’d
caught him out many a time and, though he denied it, she knew he was putting himself about. Why did it hurt so much, after all these years? She wasn’t even sure she loved him any more. But he
was hers. Her man. They were good together and, despite everything, she didn’t want to lose that. The passion they shared was all she had left. It was something to look forward to. Why did he
need to do it with others?
    Though these thoughts caused her pain, she knew they were not all she was crying about. She needed a release from the thoughts and feelings about her sons, which she kept cooped up inside
her.
    Each tick of the clock on the mantel shelf filled the silent space she sat in, marking the time since she’d arrived home from Beryl’s. Now the seven chimes it gave
out reverberated around the room like a bell-ringer tolling the death-knell. Paddy still hadn’t returned home.
    He’d gone out that morning saying that he was going to see if there was a chance of a morning’s work, and had then sent her a message to say he’d been given an
afternoon’s tatting with Mick Smith, the rag-and-bone man. Mick often took Paddy on his rounds looking for scrap metal. He reckoned Paddy could charm anything out of those who would hoard it
forever, rather than part with it: old iron bedsteads and bicycle frames, that sort of thing. Come to think of it, it was usually a Thursday when Paddy went with Mick, and Paddy always came in late
and smelling of beer, saying he’d had to wash the muck of the job from his throat. While she was thinking about it, he always tipped up a couple of bob to her. Not that it was every Thursday,
but every couple of weeks or so. And Thursday was Beryl’s half-day! But if he
did
spend his Thursdays visiting Beryl, why did he come in covered in muck?
Oh, stop it!
It was
as if she had no control of where her mind went these days. Paddy would be down the Black Horse, she was sure of it.
    Despite these thoughts, her body rose up in defiance. Standing still for a moment, she fought with herself:
Don’t do this, lass, you’ll make a fool of yourself.
But the
voice inside her wasn’t listened to, and once more she donned her coat and put on her felt, cloche-style hat, tugging on the brim to make sure it sat securely on her head before leaving her
cottage.
    Passing the Black Horse, she stood on tiptoe to look over the frosted glass bottom-half of the window. She could see a few heads of men she recognized, and knew others would be sitting down and
out of sight, but she couldn’t see Paddy. She couldn’t go in. Women didn’t go into pubs. Well, not nice women. Whores did. And if any woman decided to – even just to get her
man – she was classed as one of them.
    The door opening caused the smell of beer and tobacco to waft over towards her. She quickened her step and scurried on past the pub, hoping that whoever it was hadn’t seen her peeping
through the window. ‘Ada? Is that your Are you alreet, lass?’
    Mick Smith! ‘Aye, I am. I’m short of a bit of sugar and Lucy Freeman owes me a cup, so I’m just going to see if she has any. I need to get back before Paddy comes in. Is he
still in the bar?’
    ‘I’ve not seen him all day, lass. He’s not in there. Happen he’s gone up to the Black Dog. He plays cards up there sometimes.’
    Her heart sank with these words, but she held herself together. ‘No matter. I’m not looking for him – he’ll come home when he’s ready. Night, Mick.’
    ‘See you around. Oh, and tell Paddy I might have a day for him on Monday.’
    Keeping her footsteps steady, Ada walked in the direction of Lucy