It Always Rains on Sundays Read Online Free PDF Page B

‘That’ll be nice mother’ I said. Another pause. ‘Too hot for me, that’s for sure. You watch, next thing they’ll be a shortage of water’ she told me in a whiny voice.
    This is what she’s like, I could just imagine it, fire banked up on the Yorkshire-range, the whole place red hot ready for baking. Mind you she’s right, if the sun’s out two days on the trot, it’s panic-stations – next thing you know they’re dipping the water supply.
    â€˜There’s more than you sweltered’ I said.
    She’d just reminded me – that gave me an ideal opportunity to tactfully mention not to knit me anymore woolly jumpers for work. Don’t get me wrong, I mean she’s got a heart of pure gold, no question about that. She will insist on always adding a row of bloody bells right across the front. Frankly, most people that work in Libraries are not that famous for wearing jazzy jumpers all that much. This is what I said, ‘Look, I know it’s all very clever mother. I’d be much obliged if you’d leave them plain in future.’
    There was a pause. ‘There supposed to be sheep’ she said tartly.
    â€˜It’s far too hot for jumpers.’
    She laughed that high-pitched cackling laugh of hers ‘Heh, heh, heh, heh. Well, take it off you simpleton – have you no sense?’
    She has no idea (simple she says). Isn’t it obvious I’m right in the middle of a domestic crisis. Only, now the latest is Cynthia’s even boycotted doing the ironing too. There’s no way I’m sitting at my counter in a non-ironed shirt. Anyway, that’s her department. She must’ve been reading my mind. ‘Oh, by the way, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of those grand-children of mine much lately.’ There was a pause ‘Nor that wife of yours either come to that’ she added not without scorn.
    It isn’t as if they get on that much anyway.
    Least said on that one I’m thinking. Just in time, I’d spotted old Docket making his way down the last flight of stairs. Though, if I’m truthful I was glad of the excuse.‘Look, I’d better go – I’ll call you later mother.’ I hung up.
    ***
    Oh, wait – this is news. Looks as if we’ve acquired a new assistant Librarian. Thelma Clegg (um, I know – another woman) – as if we aren’t outnumbered enough already. However, what is interesting (well it is in a way) she’s the same woman I met over in the park that time, her with the deaf dog – isn’t that strange? Turns out she’s the replacement for that Harper woman, her that’s just left, the one that finally got herself pregnant using I.V.F. (six years!) rumour has it she’s been holding on for a council house in a better catchment area nearer the school. Mind you, old Harper got away with murder if you ask me – most afternoons she had her feet up in the ladies rest room (that’s when she decided to turn in). Maybe it’s me – we are supposed to be a Library after all.
    This is my trouble, I’m too easy going – people soon take advantage. So, we’ll see, she’s on temporary loan from the main Calderford branch (mind you I’m a bit down on women in general I have to admit). Though in all fairness she seems competent enough, another attribute is she appears to be able to talk and get on with her work at the same time. So there’s a first I thought – as to whether or not she’s worth training-up. Maybe we’ll hold fire on that one for the time being at least.
    Then just when I’m in the middle of my afternoon tea-break my mother phoned me again (that’s twice nowin the same day), her excuse this time was to thank me for fetching her shopping from town. All that and there’s nobody home. I’d to leave everything outside on top of the coal-bunker (then you’re worried about the