Goodnight Lady Read Online Free PDF Page B

Eileen who didn’t want to go went, and me who wants to go, and for a pound a week more, can’t? You tell me that, Mum?’
    ‘You wouldn’t understand, Briony, because you take after him, your father. You’d sell your soul for what you wanted. Well, you can go, girl, but I tell you now - I don’t ever want you back under my roof!’
    Briony looked at her mother long and hard, then at the silent girls sitting around the table.
    ‘Well, that’s a funny thing, you know, Mum, because I’ll be paying for the roof I ain’t allowed under. I bet you won’t throw his three quid back in his face, will you?’
    Kissing her sisters in turn, she put on the brick red coat that she loved, pulled on her boots and, motioning to her father, went outside and sat on the steps to wait for him. Inside her chest was a ball of misery. She’d only wanted to help, but it had been thrown back in her face. Well, the three quid would soon soften the blow so far as her mother was concerned. But all the same, it galled Briony and hurt her too. Why was what she was doing wrong? When Eileen did it, when she didn’t even want to do it, it had been right. She swallowed back a sob.
    Still, she’d had her way, and she brightened herself up now by thinking of the hot bath, the lice-free hair and nice soft nightie that was to come. She closed her mind to the other. As Mrs Prosser Evans always said at Sunday school: ‘Sufficient to the time thereof.’ She’d worry about that bit when she came to it.
     
    Paddy stood in the hallway of the house in Ripple Road feeling depressed. The smell of cleanliness and the absolute quiet of the place gave him the heebie jeebies, as he expressed it. He always felt clumsy and dirty when he came to the house, and it shamed him. It shamed him that he had sold off his Eileen to Henry Dumas; it galled him now that his Briony, the only one of his daughters with a spark of real life, wanted to come here. Couldn’t wait to get here. It was all she had talked about on the way. And yet, as much as he’d hated listening, deep inside himself he didn’t blame the child. Not really.
    Briony had always had a bit more going for her than the other girls. She was quick-witted and quick-tempered and always seemed to be a bit ahead of her years, even as a tiny child. He could understand to an extent the need in her to better her way of life. Could sympathise with her absolute single-mindedness in wanting to come to this house.
    Molly had never had a lot of time for Briony, except as a helper with Rosalee. Only Briony could get her to go to bed, and stop the crying fits which at one time had been frequent. Molly was all for Eileen and Kerry - Kerry being her golden child, her gifted girl, her reason for wanting the house in Oxlow Lane. Kerry must have a good home to grow up in, never mind the rest of them. Bernadette was the odd one out of the five girls. Quiet, placid, but with a devil of a temper when roused, Bernie always looked as if she was sickening for something. As if she was just a guest who would soon leave the household. His own mother had said that the child would not make old bones, and even though she was not actually ill, there was an apathy about her that frightened Paddy at times.
    He put his hands in his pockets and stared down at his old boots. This was taking the devil of a long time and he was parched. His throat was on fire with the want of a whisky. A few whiskies would be better.
    He heard footsteps on the stairs and Briony rushed down to him, her face flushed and rosy.
    ‘Oh, Dad, I’m to have Eileen’s room! She’s nearly packed. Mr Dumas said she can keep all the clothes and things, wasn’t that nice of him?’
    Paddy licked his lips. ‘Aye, very kind. Tell our Eileen to hurry up, I haven’t got all night.’
    The morning-room door opened and Henry Dumas walked out to Paddy and gave him three pounds.
    ‘Eileen shouldn’t be long. Would you like a drink while you’re waiting?’
    Paddy