Mothers and Daughters Read Online Free PDF Page B

for her daughter? Permission is withheld for your own good and let’s hear no more about it. Do you understand?’
    Rosa nodded, feeling sick in the pit of her stomach. A nun’s word was second only to the priest’s but she just had to go. There was nothing for it but to ignore the order and lie, for Mamma would never argue with a nun. She was on sticky ground already, being in mortal sin. Disobedience was unthinkable for someone who was in disgrace with her own Church. It was only one measly afternoon’s leave. But how could she lie to her own mother?
    She was glad that Joy and Connie were waiting in Santini’s after school. They always met up there on Fridays. Connie was sitting in her red uniform looking like a stick of striped rock, and poor Joy, in her heavynavy-blue coat and felt hat, was sipping an ice-cream soda. They were already comparing their homework.
    ‘When’s the audition?’ they asked, for the whole dancing school was thrilled that someone had got through to the last selection day. It was a good job they were her oldest friends and she could trust them with the truth.
    ‘That cow Gilberte won’t let me off school,’ Rosa whispered ‘But I have to go. What shall I do?’ she asked as she tucked into a huge bowl of vanilla, raspberry sauce staining her tongue.
    ‘Say nothing and just go,’ said Connie, trying to be helpful. But she was so clever Rosa knew she would never miss school. She was destined for certificates and prizes, and her pockets were always stuffed with library books.
    ‘Pretend to be sick,’ whispered Joy, who often stayed off school. She said it was to help Auntie Susan with the lodgers at Waverley House. She hardly ever came to dancing class now, but preferred to meet them in the café afterwards.
    Joy didn’t seem to have her own gang of friends at Moor Bank and was always hanging around the girls from the Girls’ Division with Connie. None of them bothered with her much, which was a shame, for Joy was kind and good at window-shopping and choosing materials on the market stalls. She was pretty even if she was plump. Rosa felt sorry for Joy.
    On the morning before the audition, she double-checked everything in her ballet box, a round case with a handle that was her pride and joy. She decided to skip school altogether. If she brought a sick note no one could say anything the next day.
    She deliberately missed the bus and walked into town as if she was going to the dentist, dawdling back home slowly and checking her bag once more.
    Sylvio offered to take them all in his van so he could call in at the warehouse for his salon supplies. It was half-day, and Mamma wanted a trip into Manchester herself. It would have been better if just the two of them had gone on the bus but Sylvio couldn’t be expected to look after babies.
    Rosa’s selection class was at two thirty: barre work, dance, interview and medical examination. She was so excited she was shaking. It was hard to hurry everyone along into the van for the fifteen-mile journey into the city centre.
    They were almost at Salford when they got a puncture and everyone had to get out. That was when Sylvio discovered he had forgotten to put the spare tyre back and Rosa felt a wave of panic as she looked at her wristwatch. None of them knew the right bus route but Mamma was not going to let a little matter of a lift get in the way of her daughter’s future so she flagged down the first car that passed as if it was a national emergency, checking to see if there was a woman in the passenger seat.
    It was a couple on their way to Cheetham Hill and, hearing her story, offered to drop Rosa off at the foot of Deansgate so she could walk up to the studio halfway along the street. Mamma promised to join her there as soon as she could organise Sylvio with a new tyre. She kissed her and shoved a little crucifix into her palm.
    ‘Put it in your bra for good luck,’ she smiled. ‘I will be praying for you.’
    By the time she got to