The Pearl Locket. Kathleen McGurl
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thought she’d seen someone come in with an armful of mops and buckets earlier.
Inside, Pete was shifting boxes around in the newly fitted kitchen to make way for those yet to be unloaded from the van. ‘Who’d have thought we had this much stuff?’ he said. ‘The rented house was half the size of this one, but I’m wondering where on earth we’re going to put everything.’
‘It’ll be OK when we unpack. Seen the broom?’
‘Downstairs loo.’
‘What’s it doing in there?’
‘Removal bloke thought it was an under-stairs cupboard and just dumped it and a pile of other stuff in there. We’ll sort it later, I thought.’
Ali shrugged and went to collect the broom. Passing the bottom of the stairs she came across seventeen-year-old Kelly, who was sitting on the third step, phone in hand, composing a text.
‘Kelly, love, you’ll be in the way there. Can’t you go up and start organising your bedroom?’
‘Yeah, Mum. Will do. Just updating Matt on progress. Is it cool if he comes round tomorrow? He said he’d help sort out my new room.’
Ali nodded. She liked her daughter’s boyfriend. He was a pleasant, steady lad and a good influence on Kelly. ‘Of course he can come. But you’ll have to do some of the sorting out tonight, or you’ll be sleeping among piles of boxes.’
Two men pushed past carrying a chest of drawers destined for thirteen-year-old Ryan’s room. Ali grimaced as she saw how the rain had caused the veneer to lift off around the front edge. Well, it was only a cheap thing. They’d probably have to buy some better furniture more in keeping with the house. She turned back to Kelly. ‘Come on. Out of the way. Go up and make a start.’
Kelly stood up and slipped her phone into her jeans pocket. ‘OK. It’s such a nightmare up there, though. I don’t know where to start.’
‘You and me both, love,’ Ali said. It was exciting moving into a house they owned, but daunting as well. And she still had occasional misgivings about whether it had been the right thing to do. She shooed the thoughts out of her mind and went back outside into the rain with the broom.
***
Eventually, after hours of chaos, the removal men left, and the family were sitting in the living room on a jumble of sofas, chairs and boxes, eating take-away pizza. Ali had managed to find the box containing the wine glasses, and was opening the only unbroken bottle of wine.
‘Can I have some, Mum?’ Kelly asked.
‘Why not? We’re celebrating,’ Ali said, smiling, as she poured out three glasses.
Ryan made a face. ‘Ugh, wine’s disgusting.’
‘None for you, anyway,’ said Pete. ‘You stick to your lemonade.’
‘Well, cheers, family,’ said Ali, raising her glass. ‘Here’s to our new home. I hope we’re going to be really happy here. It’s twice the size of our old house, close to the beach, nearer Ryan’s school, nearer the station for Kelly to get to college, and renovating it will give your dad something to do until he finds a new job. Everyone’s a winner!’
‘Cheers!’ said Pete, clinking his glass against the others. ‘Which room shall I decorate next?’
‘Sitting room,’ said Ali. ‘So we have somewhere nice to bring guests into. I can’t bear this worn out, stained carpet.’
‘Mine,’ said Ryan. ‘I love how big my room is, but I hate that flowery wallpaper.’
‘Well my wallpaper is already peeling off, around the sink in the corner,’ said Kelly. ‘Also I’ll be moving out in another year and a half when I go to uni. So it makes sense to do mine first so I get a chance to enjoy it.’
Pete laughed. ‘Looks like I’m going to be a busy boy, doesn’t it? Well, you can all chip in and help me get it all done.’
Ali smiled. She wouldn’t be chipping in to help. She was the breadwinner in the family at the moment, and the chief cook. It would be exciting as Pete worked his way through the house, renovating each room. He’d done a great job on the kitchen, though it wasn’t completely finished yet. He’d also managed to get an electrician to do most of the rewiring before they moved in, but they needed a new central heating system and a new bathroom as well as all the general decorating. They’d done the figures and it looked as though the remains of the redundancy money would just about cover the work. It’d be tight, but if they budgeted carefully, and if Pete got a new job quickly after the work on the house was done, they’d manage.
After everyone had finished their pizzas and the boxes had been put out in the recycling bin, Kelly and Ryan went upstairs to sort out their rooms or—more likely, Ali thought—text their mates. She and Pete stayed in the living room, finishing the bottle of wine. Pete was on the sofa in the middle of the room, and Ali went to join him, curling up beside him. Outside the rain was still lashing down.
‘Once we’re sorted, we’ll have to get that chimney swept so we can have a real fire in the winter,’ Pete said.
‘Mmm, that’d be nice,’ Ali replied. She could picture the room, decorated, with new curtains and a blazing fire in the grate. It was a big room but well proportioned and she was sure she could make it look cosy. ‘The kids seem happy with the move. I’m glad about that. You never quite know how they’ll react.’
‘What’s not to like, here? It’s not as though we’ve taken them away from their friends or schools or anything. And with the beach just down the end of the road, they’ll have a fabulous time all summer. You’ll be forever sweeping up sand and washing beach towels, I bet.’
Ali laughed. ‘They can sweep up their own sand. Anyway, tomorrow shall we call on our new neighbours and introduce ourselves?’
‘Good idea.’ Pete kissed the top of her head. ‘And when do you want to bring your gran round? It’ll be quite a surprise for her that we’ve moved here, after you’d told her we were going to sell it.’
‘Next weekend, I think, once we’ve got everything straightened out. I think she’ll be delighted we’ve moved in and are bringing the house back to life again. It’s been empty so long. This is where she grew up, of course.’
‘She must have such happy memories of living here,’ Pete said. ‘Shame Margaret didn’t get on with Betty in her later years.’
‘I’m not sure she ever got on very well with her,’ Ali replied.
There was no jam for tea. No cake, either. Just plain bread and margarine, and one rich tea biscuit each. Joan craved something sweet, anything sweet. She poured herself a cup of tea, dipped her teaspoon in the sugar bowl and tried to heap it up as much as possible without being noticed.
‘Put that sugar back at once! No more than a quarter teaspoon per cup of tea. You know the family rules.’ Father glared at her from the other end of the table. Joan shook the spoon so that most of the sugar fell back into the bowl, and meekly stirred in the remaining quarter. She tasted her tea and grimaced. Her sister Mags, who was sitting next to her, winked in sympathy, and whispered, ‘You’re sweet enough already.’ They were sitting in the dining room, the second-best lace tablecloth spread over the table. War or no war, Father insisted on sticking to traditions and doing things ‘properly’, as he put it. They were firmly in the middle class, and he refused to let standards slip. Joan thought it all a complete waste of time and effort. Why couldn’t they just eat their tea at the kitchen table? So much less fuss and work!
‘Mother, when do you think rationing will end?’ she asked. Her