They were two people who had been through exactly the same thing – widowed, young in Olive’s case, and not so old in Archie’s – and they each knew exactly what the other was going through. Their friendship was a comfort to Archie, Olive knew – and it seemed that Audrey had more or less given her permission to allow herself to think that way, and not feel ashamed about giving Archie a shoulder to cry on, as she would have done if she had listened to Nancy Black’s toxic criticism of anyone or anything that did not concern her. There was something about Audrey’s kind, calming manner that was wonderfully comforting, and Olive felt she could be herself with Audrey and take time off from being everybody else’s mainstay.
‘I heard the butcher is having some meat delivered this afternoon, if you fancy queuing up with me,’ Audrey said over the rim of her cup, and Olive’s face lit up.
‘Wouldn’t it be lovely if it was a nice bit of brisket for a pot roast?’ Both women closed their eyes, savouring the memories of the days when they could walk into the butcher’s and choose any piece of meat they wanted. ‘It’ll probably be liver,’ said Olive. ‘I can’t stand liver.’
‘Better than the meat bones some housewives say are for the dog.’ Audrey laughed. ‘You know quite well they are rushing home to make a pan of soup with them.’
‘And glad of it, too,’ Olive added, looking at Audrey from the other side of the table, and they both burst out laughing.
‘Look what this war has turned us into,’ Olive said, when they had calmed a little, ‘a pair of drooling dreamers just at the mention of a cheap cut of meat.’
‘This pie’s lovely, Olive,’ Archie said appreciatively, enjoying the steak and kidney that Olive had managed to bag at the butcher’s.
‘I was lucky, there wasn’t much left after I’d been served, and I’m sure Audrey was sorry she let me go before her in the queue.’
‘I’ve heard some farmers are substituting beef with horse,’ said Archie, who was in a position to know these things.
Barney suddenly looked up from his plate, his face a mixture of don’t-say-that distress and revulsion, his knife and fork hovering between his pie and his mouth, and Olive raised her eyebrows.
‘You’d eat it if you were starving, lad,’ Archie said, tucking in, ‘and if you don’t want your share, just push it over this way.’
‘Oh, you don’t get me that easily,’ Barney said, relaxing and cutting a wedge of pie. ‘I nearly fell for that then!’ He chuckled as he tucked into his pie, enjoying every mouthful now.
‘I can assure you that I would never buy horse to eat, and our butcher would never dare sell it,’ Olive said in a voice that brooked no argument.
‘How would you know?’ Archie asked conversationally. ‘Have you ever tasted horse?’
‘No,’ said Olive, then, after pondering for a moment, added, ‘at least, I don’t think so.’ She looked around the table, satisfied with what she saw. Sally wasn’t home from the hospital yet, and Agnes was on a late shift and would eat at work, so that just left her and Archie, Barney and baby Alice. And a wonderful family scene it made too, she thought – except none of them was related. But that didn’t detract from her feeling of contentment. And after securing Tilly’s present for her twenty-first birthday, she knew the day could not be more perfect.
‘Have you been waiting long?’ Rick panted as he hurried on to the platform where Tilly was still patiently waiting, his khaki greatcoat flying in his wake.
‘Only most of the afternoon.’ Tilly laughed. ‘I’ve had to fend off many an amorous advance while I’ve been waiting for my knight in rusty armour to turn up!’ She laughed as Rick gave her an enormous bear hug that almost squeezed the air right out of her body. Holding on to her khaki cap as he twirled her around, she felt herself grow dizzy, staggering a little when he let her go. Regaining her balance, she playfully pushed him away.
‘Who said you had no strength, Mr Simmonds?’
‘That will be Lance Corporal Simmonds to you, young lady,’ Rick laughed, pointing to the stripe on his arm, and Tilly squealed with delight, knowing he had regained his place in the British Eighth Army.
Then, after a moment of mutual admiration, Tilly pointed to the two stripes on her own arm, saying, ‘And it’s Corporal to you, young man, so don’t come the old soldier with me.’ Then, as another burst of laughter bubbled in her throat, Tilly revelled in the look of amazement on Rick’s face.
‘So that means I have to salute you?’
‘Behave yourself,’ Tilly roared, looking up at him. ‘At a good twelve inches taller, you’d have to lean over for me to see it – especially on a railway station platform!’ However, she knew that if they were on an army base he would be her subordinate; the thought gave her a frisson of delight. But Tilly’s elation was short-lived as their train pulled into the station and Rick made a human shield of himself to allow her easy access to an empty carriage.
‘How do you fancy doing a stint at the Red Cross shop with me this afternoon, Barney?’ Olive asked as she inserted a pin into the red hatband of her bottle-green WVS hat.
‘I’d love it, Aunty Olive, but I’ve just got to check for the eggs,’ Barney said, disappearing out of the back door. He had stayed with Olive and the girls at number 13 the night before, when Archie was working his night shift at the local police station.
Olive smiled. She would have been proud to have a son like Barney. He had grown into a kind, thoughtful boy and had changed so much since Archie and the late Mrs Dawson took him under their wing. He stayed regularly at number 13 now; in fact, he was here more than he was in Archie’s house further up the Row, and he was marvellous with Alice, which gave Olive peace of mind, as she didn’t like him hanging around with the rough crowd from the East End he used to see a lot, and with whom he had got into a few scrapes.
Even though Archie had gone through a lot of grief and heartache over the last years, he never gave up on the lad whose soldier father had never come looking for him. When Mrs Dawson died, Archie found comfort in looking after Barney; it gave him something to get up for in the morning when there seemed little else. Now the boy had developed the same wry sense of humour and thoughtfulness as Archie, bringing to mind a little saying Olive’s own father had used: ‘As the twig is bent so the tree will grow …’
‘They’ve been busy,’ Barney said, coming back in, unrolling the bottom of his sleeveless pullover that Olive had knitted with the navy-blue wool unravelled from an old cardigan. ‘There’s six here.’ His face was alight; he had never got over the excitement of going out to the chicken coop and finding the rare, delicious prizes provided by the hens each day, which were shared with neighbours and friends.
‘I’ll pass some over to Nancy. I’ve heard her little grandchildren in the garden; they must be staying for a while,’ said Olive as she went out to the back garden to hang up the galvanised bucket on a nail hammered into the wall.
‘Mrs Black collared me to ask how many eggs had been laid today,’ Barney told Olive, whom he now looked on as an additional parent. ‘I didn’t tell her, though; I pretended I didn’t hear her.’
‘Knowing Nancy, she’ll have heard every one of them being laid,’ Olive said, laughing and shaking her head in wonderment at how the older woman could move at lightning speed when she had a mind. Olive knew her covetous eyes would have devoured the precious eggs, even though she had a lot to say about Article Row turning into a farm-yard when Barney first brought the chicks home. But Nancy wasn’t slow off the mark when Olive shared