CHAPTER THREE

      Rita stood back and looked at the table, resplendent with a new white tablecloth and five cotton napkins, each folded into a bishop’s mitre.

      She had worked hard getting the food ready for her and Charlie’s anniversary. She had cooked Charlie’s favourite, steak and kidney pudding, which always put him in a good mood. The suet pastry cases filled with meat in rich gravy had been steaming all afternoon. Rita had had to leave the shop frequently to check the pan had not boiled dry. Much to her mother-in-law’s annoyance, in the end she’d asked if she could take the rest of the afternoon off. Mrs Kennedy was not keen on her cutting her hours short, complaining about her arthritic leg, which she did frequently. Nevertheless, Rita pointed out that it was only the second time and the first was when she’d gone into labour with Megan. It was a bonus to her little holiday that she’d popped in to see her mam and had seen Nancy’s wedding cake.

      Rita wanted to make the tea special for the children too, especially after the news on the wireless that the Germans were about to cross the Polish border and England, promising to stand by Poland, was now on heightened alert. Rita felt a fizz of terror run through her. How many more teas would they have together? Every one of them would be special now and she must keep her chin up for the children’s sake.

      You’ll do, Rita thought, checking her appearance one more time. She was slimmer than the day she had married Charlie. But she’d been pregnant then.

      Dressed in her best, a pale blue crêpe de Chine frock with a sweetheart neckline and short puffed sleeves, she felt wonderful. Earlier she had sent Michael to get the accumulator filled for the wireless and was humming along to the lively tune now playing. Everything was perfect.

      ‘Is that dress new?’ Charlie asked when he came in. The children were in the kitchen washing their hands and making a right song-and-dance about it, too. Rita laughed and told Charlie the dress was over five years old. ‘I don’t remember it,’ he said, walking over to her and giving her a perfunctory peck on the cheek. Rita took this as an opportunity to pin her husband down, and put her arms around his neck. ‘Aren’t you going to wish me Happy Anniversary?’

      Charlie was so hard to read these days and Rita wasn’t really sure what reception she’d get, but she was thrilled when he placed his hand on the small of her back and ran his fingers through her hair. Rita thrilled at this rare moment of intimacy as she leaned against him.

      However, the moment was short-lived when the door between the shop and the sitting room opened, and Charlie’s mother entered the room like a ship in full sail. Charlie immediately pushed Rita away none too gently, as if she were contaminated in some way.

      She could only imagine how it might feel if her husband were to kiss her cheek in front of his mother. Charlie never showed any emotion when she was around.

      ‘Oh, the table looks lovely, Mam!’ Megan said, her face alight with a beaming smile. ‘Doesn’t it look lovely, Dad?’ Charlie looked at the table as if seeing it for the first time and muttered something unintelligible while Mrs Kennedy went straight to her chair at the side of the fire.

      ‘I’ve been stuck in the shop having to do the evening papers on my own. We don’t all have the luxury of swanning off for the afternoon.’ She pursed her lips and looked pointedly at Rita.

      Rita chose to ignore this dig and gently ruffled her daughter’s hair, accepting the understanding smile from Megan. Where would she be without her children, she wondered.

      ‘I’ll do the morning papers and Saturday’s,’ Rita said, determined not to have her good mood spoiled.

      ‘What about the wedding?’ Mrs Kennedy’s tone was sharp, almost accusing.

      ‘It’s not until three o’clock. I’ll work in the morning and Veronica will be in to do the afternoon and the evening papers.’ Veronica lived next door to Vera Delaney, worked in the shop part time, and had a soft spot for Eddy Feeny.

      Mrs Kennedy did not give the table a second glance, let alone comment on it, as they all sat down to eat Rita’s delicious celebratory tea …

      ‘More trifle, Charlie?’ Rita lifted the heavy cut-glass bowl, her mother’s pride and joy, which was on loan for the occasion. ‘I said to Kitty when she took round Nancy’s cake—’

      ‘I can’t believe that Kitty Callaghan has been entrusted with making that wedding cake. She’ll have pilfered the money for it and substituted cheap ingredients. It’ll be inedible.’

      Rita silently counted to ten before answering. ‘Kitty made that cake out of the goodness of her heart and never expected to be paid for it. Mum only gave her some money after she’d brought the finished cake round. Kitty’s a great cook, the cake will be delicious.’

      Mrs Kennedy stuck her nose in the air and wrinkled it. ‘That Callaghan family are a bunch of layabouts and you should have nothing to do with any of them. That father of hers practically lives in the Sailor’s Rest, and as for that Danny Callaghan, he’ll get his collar felt one of these days, you mark my words.

      Rita sighed. Ma Kennedy could suck the pleasure out of just about anything, but it was a special occasion so she let it go. She looked to her children and smiled. They were good kids and her love for them had kept her from walking out many a time.

      ‘Does she have to do that?’ Mrs Kennedy asked Rita, and nodded to Megan, who was scraping her bowl clean of delicious trifle. Michael, in support of his sister, it seemed, began to scrape his bowl, too. Mrs Kennedy smiled indulgently and Rita felt her good mood slipping away. It made no sense to Rita why her mother-in-law favoured her son. She had a strong hold over her own son, for some reason, but Rita did not want her to have a hold over Michael, too, nor would she be beholden to the woman who could so easily make her life miserable.

      ‘I hope Michael will have something new to wear on Saturday. Those best trousers are way too small for him,’ Mrs Kennedy said.

      ‘There’s no money spare; his best suit will have to do for a while longer, I’m afraid. I can still let the trousers down a bit.’

      ‘There’s no way you can let him go to a wedding in those!’ Rita braced herself for one her mother-in-law’s rants. ‘And there’s no way I’m letting the street see my only grandson going round in shoddy clothes.’

      Rita looked to her husband. ‘I don’t think we can afford to buy new clothes for the children, can we, Charlie?’

      ‘Megan doesn’t need anything new, she’s going to be a bridesmaid,’ interrupted Mrs Kennedy.

      Was it her imagination or could Rita feel the walls of the sitting room closing in on her? The heat was stifling. Mrs Kennedy had insisted on keeping the windows shut to keep the bluebottles out but all Rita wanted to do right now was throw the windows open and take in a big gulp of air. She felt defeated.

      Looking