The Rainbow Years by Rita Bradshaw Read Free Book Online

a few seconds, her cheek-bones standing out under her pasty skin which held the faintest tinge of yellow. ‘I’ll cope,’ she said shortly. ‘Same as I always do. Anyway, Mam and I are a good team, aren’t we, Mam?’ She smiled at her mother before resting her head on her arms again. ‘I’m cold, Mam. Can I take the stone bottle up with me?’
     
    ‘Course, lass, I’ll fill it now.’ Muriel flapped her hand at her son as she bustled over to the big black kettle standing on the range. ‘You go, lad,’ she said again. ‘There’s nowt you can do here and doubtless she’ll be as right as rain in a week or two.’
     
    Ronald cast a last glance at his sister before his gaze moved to little Amy who was happily engrossed in banging the saucepan lid. The child was bonny, there was no doubt about that, and where had those deep blue eyes come from? Had to be the father. For the first time since Amy had been born, he thought, Poor little mite. What a start in life she’s going to have. He walked over to his mother, touching the wrinkled cheek with his lips before he said, ‘Bye, Mam. I’ll see you on Friday then.’
     
    ‘All bein’ well, lad.’ Muriel inclined her head towards Bess. ‘We’ll see how things are.’ Once Bess was home from work on a Friday, she and Wilbur went to Ronald’s for a spot of dinner and a cup of tea most weeks. ‘I’ll let you know, shall I?’
     
    Ronald hesitated before walking into the scullery and through to the backyard. Here he stood still, gnawing at his bottom lip before thrusting his cap on his head and pulling his muffler tighter round his neck. It was only the first week of October but already they’d had a couple of white frosts and the air today was raw.
     
    Should he go back in there and make his peace with Bess? It was the perfect opportunity without his father about. He lifted his eyes to the sky which was low and heavy with dark clouds and seemed to be resting on the rooftops. His father wouldn’t thank him for it if he did; neither would May’s, for that matter. And May would take her cue from her da, same as she did on everything. Mr O’Leary had made it plain that a bastard in the family reflected on everyone, even the in-laws, and that he felt he ought to distance himself from his sister. But seeing Bess today, his heart had gone out to her.
     
    A gust of wind carrying raindrops in its wake settled the matter. He’d best get off home before he got caught in the storm which was forecast; he could always call in and see Bess in a week or two when she was feeling better. Likely she’d be more inclined to accept the olive branch he intended to extend then anyway. Aye, that’s what he’d do, he reaffirmed as he strode off down the lane. And if May and her da didn’t like it, they’d have to lump it.
     
     
    By the middle of October most of the schools in Britain had closed because of the influenza epidemic which was taking over two thousand lives a week in the capital alone. The disease was ruthless in its culling of a population already drained by years of war, and although there were now definite signs that the war would be over in a few weeks, no one was rejoicing, least of all Muriel. She stood now in Bess’s bedroom listening to her child’s laboured breathing. Dr Boyce was examining her for the third time in as many days and although he made a little joke which elicited a wan smile from Bess as he gently pulled the covers up over her chest, Muriel knew he was worried.
     
    Dr Boyce signalled for Muriel to follow him out of the room and down the stairs, and as she did so she was aware that the dull pounding ache in her head she had woken up with was getting worse, along with the leaden feeling in her limbs.
     
    Dr Boyce turned to face her in the hall. ‘Normally I’d want Bess taken into hospital the way this bronchitis has taken hold but with the wards overflowing and half the medical staff laid up with the flu she’s probably better off