A Sister's War by Molly Green (best books to read for self improvement TXT) 📗

you that behind your back and I think you’ll find that Ronnie started it off.’

‘Yes, you can go red, miss.’ Dora stared at Ronnie, who put her hands to her burning cheeks. Then to her amazement, Dora threw her head back and roared with laughter. ‘I rather like it. Shows I mean business.’ Her laughter stopped abruptly as she squinted at Angela. ‘What’re you doin’ with my shoes, miss? I don’t ’ppreciate my belongin’s bein’ looked over and discussed.’

‘Oh, they’d been thrown on the floor so I was just picking them up. Ronnie was laughing about them, saying you lent them to her, and she couldn’t believe they were yours. Too glamorous for you, she said.’

There was a stunned silence.

Ronnie found her voice. ‘Miss Dummitt, please believe me but I didn’t say anything of the kind. Those words were Angela’s.’

‘Ronnie’s speaking the truth,’ Jessica said. ‘And thank goodness I was here to witness that little scene.’

Dora threw Angela a glare. ‘The brasses need cleanin’ on the motor, Angela. You’ll find the brass cleaner in the cupboard. And the engine room’s in a bit of a mess, so you’d better get over there now and get crackin’ with that.’

‘Why aren’t the girls who live there doing it?’ Angela demanded.

‘They’re occupied with other things,’ Dora said. ‘And seein’ that I’m in charge here – and as I’m known as “Deadly Dora” – I don’t need to be explainin’. So off yer go, miss.’

If looks could kill, Ronnie thought, stifling a giggle, Dora would have dropped dead right on the spot from Angela’s furious gaze. Then without another word Angela slid open the hatch and vanished.

‘I’m beginnin’ not to be too pleased with that one,’ Dora said, jerking her head towards the hatch.

‘Now you know how we feel,’ Jess put in.

‘That’s as maybe,’ Dora grunted. ‘What I’m interested in – did the shoes do the trick?’

And when Ronnie told Dora honestly the whole story about what happened, Dora slapped her leg and doubled up laughing until she said her side was ‘hurtin’ bad’.

‘But if it’s done one good thing, miss, it’s taken yer mind off Will Drake and fixed it more firmly onter Constable Scott,’ she roared again. ‘And he’s a darn sight better for yer than that young tyke!’

‘I expect yous’ll be goin’ to the pub this evenin’, bein’ as it’s Christmas Eve,’ Dora said as everyone squashed into Penelope after an early supper.

‘We thought we’d sing some carols,’ May said. She looked at Dora. ‘You don’t sound like you’re coming with us, Miss Dummitt.’

‘No, I’m not,’ Dora said, to Ronnie’s surprise, knowing how Dora loved calling in at the pubs along the cut most evenings, sleeping there overnight. ‘I don’t go much for Christmas, not bein’ religious-like. No, I’ve got me own plans.’

She didn’t mention what they were and Ronnie couldn’t help being curious, but Dora didn’t say a further word.

Lapworth, the village where Dora had decided to tie up the boats, was only twelve miles distant, but they had to proceed in a painstakingly slow way because parts of the canal had borne the brunt of the blizzard. Branches had come down in the wind and often made it difficult to negotiate the steering, although Ronnie had to admit Angela came into her own on the tiller. Best place for her, Ronnie thought, knowing Angela was out of everyone’s way and they didn’t have to put up with her barbed comments.

When the girls finally tied up the pair of boats, May eagerly looked across the cut for a pub, but no one could make out any building looking remotely like one. The mist and gloom didn’t help. It was only three o’clock but already becoming dark.

‘I’m not bothered about going to the pub either,’ Ronnie said, smothering yet another yawn when she and Jessica and Angela were in the butty having a welcome cup of tea and the treat of a couple of biscuits each.

‘No, I don’t suppose you are,’ Angela said. ‘Long as you’ve enjoyed yourself, doesn’t matter a hang about the rest of us.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘How late you were last night coming home … with your boyfriend.’

‘With my friend,’ Ronnie quickly corrected. ‘What were you doing, Angela? Spying on us?’

Angela snorted. ‘As if I’m interested,’ she said. ‘I was making a cup of cocoa and I heard voices. I wondered who it was. I might have known it was you.’

‘You’re not a teensy-weensy bit jealous, are you, Angela?’ Jessica said.

‘Certainly not.’ Angela’s lip curled. ‘I’d hate a man nuzzling round me.’

Ronnie bit back a retort. But it sounded as though Angela had witnessed Michael’s kiss. For some reason that bothered her more than anything.

When Jessica and Angela had left for the pub, Ronnie pulled down the double bed. She sat on top of it and opened her novel, The Water Gipsies, reminding her of the interview with Mrs Hunter that she and Raine had attended. She shut her eyes, trying to picture her sister’s life. She couldn’t help thinking Maman was right and that Raine’s job was probably far more risky than she let on. A shiver ran across Ronnie’s shoulders. Keep safe, darling Raine. She wondered if Raine had been given a couple of days off from flying but thought probably not. The boys would want to surprise Jerry, if possible. But how dreadful to be forced to kill people at Christmas. But then how dreadful at any time of the year.

Ronnie swallowed hard and tried to concentrate on her book. But when she’d read the same paragraph three times over, she snapped it shut, wishing she had a portable wireless and could listen to some music. Maybe a jazz programme to remind her of dearest Suzy, singing her heart out to the troops, perhaps not even that far away. What she would give to see her sisters’ smiling faces.

She recalled her mother’s last letter.

Véronique, ma chérie,

You cannot know how disappointed I am to receive your letter you are not coming home for Christmas. It