A Step Too Far Read Online Free PDF

straight from the pages of one of those woman’s magazines she herself only ever glanced at in the newsagent’s shop, Alice felt the hot rise of envy. Why? Why did Kate Hawley have so much while she had so little? How come her clothes even now were ultra smart? They were certainly not bought from Peacocks or Appleyard’s draper shop.
         Alice’s covetous glance ran over the smartly tailored camel coloured coat, the brown leather bag slung across one shoulder, a gloved hand grasping the box containing a gas mask. She felt bitterness join with envy. Young ’uns! Why have as many kids as her mother had borne, as most women in these parts seemed to have? Kids older brothers and sisters had to work to help feed and clothe. She loved every one of her family, of course she did, but that didn’t mean she ought to have to finance it quite so heavily.
         ‘About time!’ An exasperated voice heralded sight of another bus. ‘My feet be singin’ and it don’t be no Vera Lynn toon.’
         ‘What do they be singin’ then Edie . . . “Underneath the Arches”?’
         Edie shook her head over the ripple of laughter. ‘Don’t know about “Underneath the Arches”, Bert,’ she answered, ‘but I’ll ’ave fallen arches if I be standin’ ’ere much longer.’
         Caught by the shuffle of bodies pressing forward as the double-decked vehicle approached the stop Alice stumbled slightly. Murmuring an apology to the person she had knocked against she saw the fully laden bus sail past once again. ‘Lord, we ain’t never gonna get home!’
         ‘We ain’t if we depends on them there buses!’ The woman who moments before had complained of aching feet shook a fist in the wake of the bus. ‘What do the government be doin’? It be damned sure they ain’t standin’ in no bus queue after a ten hour day sloggin’ away like a Trojan. It be one thing bein’ called up, conscripted into factories and the like doin’ the work of a man; doin’ our bit they tells we and God knows we all be happy to, but the least them lot sittin’ along of the House of Commons could do is mek sure there be buses enough to get women home o’ nights.’
         ‘Well I’m not standing here any longer.’
         ‘Me neither.’ Making to follow Alice, Becky Turner cast a glance at the girl behind. ‘What about you Kate? Could be half a dozen more will pass before you get one with space enough for a fly; you far better walk with Alice and me.’
         This was the last thing she wanted, to be seen walking home with girls who worked in a factory, girls dressed in clothes the rag man might well refuse, girls with scarves tied turban fashion over curling pins. Katrin Hawley gauged her situation. Refusal would no doubt offend, not that offending either Alice Butler or Becky Turner would worry her unduly, but for a while she needed to remain on speaking terms with both.
         ‘Seems you may be right Becky.’ Smiling, Katrin too vacated her place in the line of hopeful travellers.
         ‘Edie Jones was only saying what everybody else is thinking; folk shouldn’t have to walk long distances after a hard day lifting bars of steel and mauling heavy machinery.’ Alice seethed.
         ‘I don’t dispute that.’ Becky answered. ‘But a long walk home is better than a short walk back into a prison cell and that is the only walk Freda Evans will be taking for many a night yet . . . I know which I’d rather have.’
         ‘It was a shame what happened to Freda.’ Katrin’s reply broke the short silence Becky’s words had induced.
         ‘It’s a shame all right,’ Alice said, vehemence emphasising every syllable, ‘a shame the real culprit weren’t sent down.’
         ‘Real culprit?’ Katrin looked perplexed.
         ‘Ar, real culprit. But that one got away with it, he kept quiet letting Freda carry the can for what was his doin’.’
         ‘I don’t understand. Are you