Coming Home to the Four Streets by Nadine Dorries (books that read to you .txt) 📗

admired her ladder-free sheer stockings. Cindy’s boots were made of red leather, with grey fur dotted with black leopard spots folded over the top. Maggie’s heart ached. She would love just to try them on and then thought to herself for the very first time, look what you have been missing out on for so long. The warmth of the laughter in the room worked its magic as well as the heat from the huge fire. Maggie let her shoulders relax and gave a deep sigh. Cindy leant forward and placed her elbows on the table. ‘So, when was the last time you actually went out, then? And, I don’t mean to the bingo.’

Maggie didn’t need to think. ‘I’ve not been out anywhere since the war,’ she said. ‘Well, except to the odd christening or wedding, and there was a party in the street, remember, the night before the Dohertys left for Ireland? But since then and you know, the war, well…’

‘I know, I know,’ said Cindy as she placed her hand over Maggie’s. ‘The war was tough, queen, but it was years ago and there’s no reward in heaven for being a martyr, you know, it’s a load of old guff. We all only have one life, it’s here and now and oh, before you say anything back to me, because I know you are going to, you can spend this life cherishing the memories of the man you loved and lost, God love him and rest his soul…’ Cindy blessed herself with the cross and then put her hand over Maggie’s. ‘You can live every day, honouring your vows – but you do know one of those vows was “till death do us part”? And that’s just it, Maggie: death did part you.’

Cindy’s words pierced Maggie, but they worked; death had parted them. Realisation of how stupid she had been washed over her with such a force that she gasped.

‘I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?’ She looked Cindy in the eye. ‘People didn’t think well of me for living like a hermit, did they? I did it in honour of him, but if he died for us, then the least I could do was be true to him.’ Even as she spoke the words out loud, she knew that after all this time, they sounded ridiculous. ‘They all think I’m pathetic, don’t they, think I need their sympathy? Is that what the women around here say when they sit in your chair?’

‘No, love, they don’t.’ Cindy’s voice was gentle, her eyes tender. She could sense she had got through. ‘That’s not what they say at all. Some are jealous that you have no kids to run around after, but honestly, everyone just worries about you. Do you know what I think?’ Cindy didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I think you became a war widow and you used it as a safety blanket. You don’t have to try, do you, so it’s an easy path to take. I think you dug yourself a trench that deep you didn’t know how get back out – which is why I’m that glad you’ve come out tonight.’

Why had no one else ever said what Cindy just had? Maggie wondered. And then she remembered a conversation with Maura Doherty. ‘Do you want to stay in that house every day and night, or do you need a lift out?’ she had said once and Maggie had thought at the time she’d been joking. But now Maggie knew what she’d been getting at and the answer drifted into her thoughts almost as soon as she had finished asking herself the question.

‘I should have walked out of the door myself,’ she said to Cindy. ‘Should have got myself a job and lived a life. It was just that with his mam and dad’s bit of money, it was always easier not to try.’

Cindy removed her hand and sat upright. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter any more, you’re here now.’

‘Ah, it’s Eric the milky,’ shouted Babs over the heads of the men drinking at the bar. ‘Has your Gladys fallen asleep, or what?’

‘Eric? Good God, man, I never thought we would see you in here. Is it a man’s drink you’re after now?’ asked Reg who’d got caught by another customer and had only just reached the bar.

Eric laughed. ‘I am – Babs, a pint of mild, if you would.’

‘It’s my pleasure, Eric. I take it you’ve escaped? The police won’t be coming in, will they? We don’t want no trouble with your Gladys.’

Eric looked shocked and stuttered, ‘Oh, n-no, not at all…’

Babs chuckled. ‘I’m kidding, Eric. Oh, it’s good to see you. Now Reg, two port and lemons and your usual, is it?’

Eric peered towards the table where the ladies were sitting. ‘I’ll get those for you, Reg,’ he said.

‘Eric, it’s a gentleman you are, thank you.’

A voice called out, ‘Reg, would you and Cindy play some arrows? We have Denny’s wife who wants to play a game and she can’t if the other team doesn’t have a woman to make it equal.’

Reg turned to Eric and behind his hand said, ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about Denny’s wife, that she’s a woman. She can down a pint faster than any docker in here and she plays better arrows too! I can’t,’ he called back, ‘we have a visitor with us.’

Eric who had spotted Maggie as soon as he had walked into the Anchor, did not let his moment pass. ‘I’ll keep your visitor company for you, Reg, if you and Cindy fancy a game?’

‘Would you mind?’

Eric felt his heart lighten. ‘No, not at all. She’s one of my best customers is Maggie Trott, I wouldn’t mind at all.’

Babs, listening, grinned and took a packet of arrows from the shelf next to the till and held them out to Reg who took them willingly. ‘Right, I know my place, I’ll take these drinks over and then we’ll go and find the dart board.’ Reg