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Authors: Mary Jane Staples
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evening.’
On the table in the parlour were glasses, a bottle of beer and a bottle of port. They sat down around the table, and Sammy poured port for Emma and Susie, and beer for Jonathan and himself. The beer frothed to a fine white head on which bubbles sparkled and popped.
‘Now,’ said Sammy, ‘here’s to you two young people, well and truly married, which my dear old Ma is all in favour of and said so on the happy occasion when your Aunt Susie had the good sense to marry me. Or was it the other way round?’
‘Well, I think the world of you, Uncle Sammy,’ said Emma, ‘but I also think it was the other way round.’
‘Granted,’ said Sammy. ‘My lucky day that was, and I won’t deny it.’
‘Granted,’ said Susie.
‘I weren’t there myself,’ said Jonathan, ‘but durned if I don’t believe you, Aunt Susie. No offence, Uncle Sammy.’
‘None taken,’ said Sammy genially. ‘You two have been looking for your kind of dream castle today, right?’
‘Oh, a kind of wander into the realms of wishful thinking,’ said Emma, ‘to give ourselves lovely ideas of what we’d like for our post-war home, even if we know we’d have to start with something modest. Jonathan’s saving as much as he can out of his sergeant’s pay, and I’m saving as much as I can out of my farm pay.’
‘Well, it’s a fact you’ll need somewhere to live,’ said Sammy.
‘It’s the usual thing, Uncle Sammy,’ said Jonathan, enjoying his light ale, which an off-licence keeper had produced from under his counter for Sammy, along with another bottle. Sammy had his way of getting various shopkeepers to forage about under their counters for consumables and other items in short supply. ‘We go along with having a roof and a front door.’
‘Well, Jonathan, we don’t want you to be like Flanagan and Allen, living underneath the arches,’ smiled Susie.
‘Too draughty, Aunt Susie,’ said Jonathan, returning her smile, and Emma thought what a nice face her country chap had, firm and manly, with good humour written all over it. That didn’t mean he was a soft-speaking sergeant, an easy touch for recruits. She’d met some of his fellow NCOs, and they’d told her that when Jonathan was delivering reprimands to a squad of trainee gunners, the shock waves cracked teacups in the camp Naafi. ‘Yes, we’d prefer a roof and a tidy old amount of bricks and mortar,’ he said.
‘With a garden,’ said Emma.
‘Emma,’ said Sammy, ‘d’you happen to know the firm’s in the property business?’
‘Oh, I know,’ said Emma, sipping her port. ‘Grandma keeps us all informed of everything.’
‘Ought to be Minister of Information,’ said Sammy, lively blue eyes conveying a hint that an interesting announcement was about to come forth. ‘Now it so happens that our property company has just acquired a house in Ferndene Road off Denmark Hill.’
‘For you and Aunt Susie to rent from the firm?’ said Emma.
‘Rent’s money down the drain,’ said Sammy, looking pained.
‘In any case,’ said Susie, ‘Sammy and me are going to have a new house built on the site of our bombed one, just as soon as the war is over.’
‘Incorporating some of your own ideas?’ said Jonathan. ‘I’d call that exciting.’
‘Mentally, Susie’s already built the kitchen,’ said Sammy, ‘a bit on the lines of Buckingham Palace. She’s well known to me and our kids for being mental.’
‘You’ll be well known for having a large hole in your head in a minute,’ said Susie.
‘Noted,’ said Sammy. ‘Where was I? I got it, yes. In regard to this lately acquired desirable residence in Ferndene Road, we thought we’d hold it for you two, Jonathan, and to let you buy it from the firm on an instalment basis if you’d like to move in after the war. Of course, there’d be a bit of reasonable interest chargeable. When I say reasonable, I mean it won’t give you and Emma heartburn or fainting fits, unlike the arm-twisting
On the table in the parlour were glasses, a bottle of beer and a bottle of port. They sat down around the table, and Sammy poured port for Emma and Susie, and beer for Jonathan and himself. The beer frothed to a fine white head on which bubbles sparkled and popped.
‘Now,’ said Sammy, ‘here’s to you two young people, well and truly married, which my dear old Ma is all in favour of and said so on the happy occasion when your Aunt Susie had the good sense to marry me. Or was it the other way round?’
‘Well, I think the world of you, Uncle Sammy,’ said Emma, ‘but I also think it was the other way round.’
‘Granted,’ said Sammy. ‘My lucky day that was, and I won’t deny it.’
‘Granted,’ said Susie.
‘I weren’t there myself,’ said Jonathan, ‘but durned if I don’t believe you, Aunt Susie. No offence, Uncle Sammy.’
‘None taken,’ said Sammy genially. ‘You two have been looking for your kind of dream castle today, right?’
‘Oh, a kind of wander into the realms of wishful thinking,’ said Emma, ‘to give ourselves lovely ideas of what we’d like for our post-war home, even if we know we’d have to start with something modest. Jonathan’s saving as much as he can out of his sergeant’s pay, and I’m saving as much as I can out of my farm pay.’
‘Well, it’s a fact you’ll need somewhere to live,’ said Sammy.
‘It’s the usual thing, Uncle Sammy,’ said Jonathan, enjoying his light ale, which an off-licence keeper had produced from under his counter for Sammy, along with another bottle. Sammy had his way of getting various shopkeepers to forage about under their counters for consumables and other items in short supply. ‘We go along with having a roof and a front door.’
‘Well, Jonathan, we don’t want you to be like Flanagan and Allen, living underneath the arches,’ smiled Susie.
‘Too draughty, Aunt Susie,’ said Jonathan, returning her smile, and Emma thought what a nice face her country chap had, firm and manly, with good humour written all over it. That didn’t mean he was a soft-speaking sergeant, an easy touch for recruits. She’d met some of his fellow NCOs, and they’d told her that when Jonathan was delivering reprimands to a squad of trainee gunners, the shock waves cracked teacups in the camp Naafi. ‘Yes, we’d prefer a roof and a tidy old amount of bricks and mortar,’ he said.
‘With a garden,’ said Emma.
‘Emma,’ said Sammy, ‘d’you happen to know the firm’s in the property business?’
‘Oh, I know,’ said Emma, sipping her port. ‘Grandma keeps us all informed of everything.’
‘Ought to be Minister of Information,’ said Sammy, lively blue eyes conveying a hint that an interesting announcement was about to come forth. ‘Now it so happens that our property company has just acquired a house in Ferndene Road off Denmark Hill.’
‘For you and Aunt Susie to rent from the firm?’ said Emma.
‘Rent’s money down the drain,’ said Sammy, looking pained.
‘In any case,’ said Susie, ‘Sammy and me are going to have a new house built on the site of our bombed one, just as soon as the war is over.’
‘Incorporating some of your own ideas?’ said Jonathan. ‘I’d call that exciting.’
‘Mentally, Susie’s already built the kitchen,’ said Sammy, ‘a bit on the lines of Buckingham Palace. She’s well known to me and our kids for being mental.’
‘You’ll be well known for having a large hole in your head in a minute,’ said Susie.
‘Noted,’ said Sammy. ‘Where was I? I got it, yes. In regard to this lately acquired desirable residence in Ferndene Road, we thought we’d hold it for you two, Jonathan, and to let you buy it from the firm on an instalment basis if you’d like to move in after the war. Of course, there’d be a bit of reasonable interest chargeable. When I say reasonable, I mean it won’t give you and Emma heartburn or fainting fits, unlike the arm-twisting
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