Two Penn'orth of Sky by Katie Flynn Read Free Book Online

vocabulary small. The older boys were aware of this and always kept an eye out for Becky, willingly helping her when she needed it, although they themselves were as self-willed and independent as they could possibly be, having decided to take after their father, Beryl concluded. Wally Fisher was nothing if not independent, and took it for granted that his kids could look after themselves, but he was the kindest man Beryl knew; it was the reason she had married him. Like Emmy’s husband, Wally had been at sea, but on his marriage to Beryl he had managed to get a job in Higson’s brewery in Stanhope Street. He did not earn the sort of money which would have enabled him to rent anything more expensive than No. 4 Nightingale Court, nor did it allow his wife to remain at home all day, looking after the children. Beryl cleaned in a big store three nights a week and took in washing for several establishments – restaurants, boarding houses and small cafés – who wanted linencheaply laundered. At twenty-nine she knew, without rancour, that she looked at least ten years older than Emmy, possibly even a little more. She loved and understood Wally, though marriage to him had had its difficult moments. Sober, he was a decent enough feller, but when he had a few bevvies inside him he could do a lot of damage, though always without meaning to do so. He had never touched a hair of her head in anger, would have been shocked at the mere thought of hurting a child. Even their scruffy mongrel, Bones, had never fled the house when Wally was drunk, though he did hide under the table as Wally lurched around, breaking anything he tripped over and setting fire to his own eyebrows in his attempts to light up a Woodbine. On one occasion, he had put his foot clean through the coke hod when trying to make up the fire, and had clumped round looking like a man in one iron boot, apparently oblivious of the strange appendage attached to his right leg. However, it had been several years since Wally had come home drunk. No man with four children could afford to drink more than a pint or two if he meant to see them decently fed.
    Wally and Beryl were both large but Wally was a good six inches taller than she, and at least five stone heavier, so it was a real blessing, Beryl often thought, that he was not a violent man. It was also a blessing, though Wally did not always agree, that Granny Pritchard, Beryl’s seventy-five-year-old mother, lived with them. She contributed her tiny pension to household expenses, only keeping back a few pennies for her own use, and without her to look after the children, Beryl did not know how the Fisher family would have managed. Neighbours were always kind but there was no doubt that the young Fishers werea bit of a handful. Even Granny Pritchard sometimes complained that they were more inventive than the devil himself, and they minded her more than they minded most since she had been a part of their lives for as long as any of them, even Charlie, could remember.
    Still, Granny Pritchard was having a rest today, Beryl thought, gazing dreamily to where her four and little Diana were building what they boastfully announced would be the biggest sandcastle in the world. And she and Emmy were having a rest too, leaning back in their comfortable deckchairs with nothing whatsoever to do until it was time to eat their carry-out, and even that had cost her no trouble today, since Emmy had provided all the food and intended to pay for the drinks they would fetch later.
    Beryl glanced sideways at her friend and saw that Emmy’s lids were drooping. Apparently, doing nothing all day could be almost as tiring as working every hour God sent, Beryl thought, without bitterness. Right from the moment that Mrs Dickens had asked the young Beryl to keep an eye on Emmy – had actually paid her a few coppers to do so – she had loved the younger girl, admiring her pretty looks, her beautiful clothing and her sweet, affectionate nature. Even