Put Out the Fires Read Online Free PDF Page B

from enemy attack!
    The front door closed and in the ensuing silence she could actually hear the sound of Francis snoring. She put her hands over her ears to shut out the noise. Never, in her wildest dreams, she thought dejectedly, had she visualised living under the same roof as her husband again.
    The music in the street had changed. Now it was Paddy O’Hara playing Danny Boy on his mouth organ. When Eileen peeped through the parlour window, it was virtually dark and nearly everyone had gone in. One or two remained outside, sitting on their steps, and Harry and Owen were still dancing. As she watched, Phoebe called and they went indoors. Then another door closed, and Paddy began to wander along the street towards the King’s Arms, his dog, Rover, faithfully at his heels. Paddy hadn’t known whether it was light or dark since 1917, when he’d lost his sight fighting for his country in the trenches of the Somme.
    Eileen sighed as she drew the black-lined curtains, making sure the edges touched completely before she turned the light on, otherwise she’d have an ARP Warden banging on the door, demanding, “Switch that light out? which was all they’d had to do until the raids started a few weeks ago.
    The parlour mantelpiece looked very bare. The ornaments and photos were already in the cottage, along with quite a few other personal possessions which she’d been taking along for weeks. She wrestled with the problem of getting them back. She had a key and could collect them in a few weeks’ time, when she was sure Nick had gone.
    Or should she leave them?
    She went into the living room and took Nick’s card out of her handbag. He’d bought it at Exchange Station and given it to Tony to bring back; a sepia photo of St George’s Hall with just a few words written on the other side in his untidy black scrawl.
    We’ll meet again, Nick.
    Would they?
    You never know, she thought with an unexpected surge of tingling optimism, after a decent interval and once Francis had settled in, she could bring up the subject of divorce again—he’d already had a letter from her solicitor.
    Just because he’d been injured didn’t alter the fact he’d done those terrible things in the past. She remembered the way he found fault with every single little thing she did, found dust in places she’d only dusted that morning, and no matter what she cooked for tea, it was either underdone or overdone or something he didn’t like. If in a particularly bad mood, he’d squeeze her shoulder or pinch her arm until she felt like screaming and the marks would stay for days, red and angry and painful.
    When you thought about it, really thought about it, things weren’t quite as hopeless as she’d first thought. In fact, she felt slightly ashamed of the way she had overreacted.
    She’d behaved as if her life had ended the minute Francis stepped out of the ambulance, whereas perhaps she should have looked upon it more as a delay. It would merely take longer for her and Nick to be together, that was all.
    Eileen put the card back in her bag and was beginning to wonder where Tony was when the air-raid siren went. She immediately felt goosepimples rise on her upper arms - it always happened at the sound of the menacing up-and down wail - and hurried to the front door. To her relief, Tony came running out of Sheila’s. She noticed the white shirt which had been bought specially for Annie’s wedding was stained with grease and tomato sauce, and his knees -were filthy. His wire-rimmed glasses were, as usual, perched,on the end of his little snub nose, and his hair, as fine and blond as her own, looked as if it hadn’t been combed in days. She felt a rush of love that almost choked her as she stretched out welcoming arms, realising with a pang of guilt how much she’d neglected her son that day.
    “Come on, luv. Let’s get under the stairs.” She shepherded him into the narrow cupboard which had recently been completely cleared and an old