Down Daisy Street by Katie Flynn Read Free Book Online

home-baked bread and a smear of margarine. Kathy was never hungry, though she often yearned for a particular food which no longer graced their table. Pickles were one small luxury which had disappeared, though mainly because her mother had no time now to skin and prepare onions and cabbage for pickling. ‘When I’ve got meself sorted, I’ll make pickles again, and cook cakes and puddings for the three of us,’ she had promised her daughter only the previous week. ‘But now I’m workin’ full time in the café, it means I’m so tired it’s all I can do to cook ordinary stuff. But you’re a good girl, Kathy. I’ve never once heard a grumble from you.’
    Kathy tried very hard not to grumble, but she did miss her school dinners. For what had once seemed a small sum, she had had a proper cooked meal followed by a pudding every day, enjoyed in the company of friends. Now, she was one of the small number of girls who brought in a packed lunch to eat in an empty classroom, the girls – all from different years – demolishing their food as quickly as they could in order to get into the playground before the dining room emptied. Kathy’s lunch was almost always bread and jam and an apple, and she was often dissatisfied by this repast, largely because of the tantalising smells of cooking coming from the school kitchen but also because her lunches rarely varied. Her mother continually urged her to take cheese in her sandwiches or to buy herself an orange, but she was far too conscious of the speed with which her mother’s wages disappeared to take advantage of the offer. Kathy had noticed her mother getting thinner and paler as the days passed and had told her, only that morning, that she really must begin to take better care of herself.
    ‘Where would Billy and I be without you?’ she had scolded, eyeing her mother’s plate upon which lay only bread and margarine. ‘Porridge isn’t expensive, Mam, and you make Billy and me eat it each morning. I’m sure it would be better for you than bread and marge – it’s hot for a start.’
    Mrs Kelling had been hurrying round the kitchen, getting herself ready for work. She had changed her job at the corner shop for a better paid one as manageress of Dorothy’s Tearooms on the Stanley Road but, because it was full-time and she worked from eight in the morning until eight at night, she was often hard pressed. She had smiled affectionately at Kathy’s words and paused to take a drink from the mug of tea standing beside her plate. ‘I know it’s hot and nourishing, but I can’t eat porridge as I rush around getting ready for work and I can eat bread and marge,’ she said cheerfully. ‘The truth is, Kathy luv, that I’m not used to such a long working day and that’s why I’m losing a bit of weight. In the corner shop I sat around a lot, but when you’re in catering you scarcely get the chance to stand still for a moment, lerralone sit down. Don’t forget, I get two good hot meals a day at the café, only because I’m new and keen to make a good impression I jump to me feet every time a customer comes in instead of letting the waitresses deal with them. Once Christmas is over, and we’re not so hectic, I’ll take advantage of the good food and begin to get on top of the job.’
    ‘I’m sure you will, Mam,’ Kathy had said warmly. ‘I’m real proud of you and I think you look lovely in the uniform, honest to God I do.’
    Mrs Kelling had laughed again. ‘I feel rare foolish in it,’ she owned. ‘A black wool dress and a frilly white pinny makes me think of the maids in one of them French farces, but I’m glad you like it, queen. And now I’d best be off or I won’t have a uniform or a job either!’
    The conversation had eased Kathy’s worry about her mother’s condition, particularly when Jane had pointed out that she, Kathy, was also a good deal paler and thinner than she had been before her father’s death. ‘You’ve had your whole life turned