Wartime Sweethearts Read Online Free PDF

said, patting her shoulder, his voice kind and gentle. ‘You’re a diamond, Ruby Sweet. Better than that, you’re a ruby,’ he added with a chuckle.
    Ruby stopped scrubbing at a sponge tin but didn’t meet her father’s gaze. Much as she loved him, she didn’t want his opinion just now. She didn’t want anyone’s opinion.
    ‘Dad. I know what you’re saying. I know you don’t like Gareth.’
    She glanced at him. He wasn’t quick enough to hide an expression of outright distaste.
    In Stan’s opinion, there was no point in beating about the bush, so he didn’t. ‘He’s second hand, Ruby. He’s too old for you and he’s been married before.’
    ‘He’s a widower. Not all widowers are unworthy.’
    She fancied her father winced. He himself was a widower.
    ‘That may be,’ he said slowly. ‘All the same, I think you can do better.’
    Monday morning, and the smell of freshly made bread was warm and inviting.
    Each time the door opened, the smell seeped out into the street. It rose with the steam from the chimney serving the bread oven. Anyone passing had no real need to read the sign above the door of the shop. All they had to do was follow the delicious aroma that enveloped the bakery like a scented veil.
    Seeing as Ruby no longer had her few hours’ work at the pub, there was nothing for it but to do some housework, get the laundry on the go and help Mary in the shop, though only if needed. For the moment she wanted to be alone, to lick her wounds and not have anybody feel sorry for her.
    Frances had gone to school and their father was putting in bread and setting timers for each batch of loaves.
    Ruby took Mary a cup of tea and brought one for herself, placing everything on a tray, including some coconut biscuits she’d made the day before.
    Mary thanked her. Ruby pretended she didn’t hear, but Mary called to her before she could retreat into the family’s living accommodation at the rear of the shop and to the side of the baking room.
    ‘Ruby, I’ve something I need to talk to you about.’
    ‘I expect you do,’ snapped Ruby assuming that Mary would challenge her about Gareth.
    Mary had no intention of doing so. There wasn’t really enough work in the bakery for the two of them, and Mary had intended voicing the subject when the door leading to the shop suddenly burst open.
    Their brother Charlie bolted in, looking as though the hounds of hell were after him. ‘Hide me!’
    The twins exchanged wry glances. Despite herself Ruby had to smile.
    Mary barred his way to the back of the shop. ‘Miriam?’
    Their agitated brother nodded. He looked pink-cheeked and it wasn’t from tending the ovens. Miriam was after him.
    ‘Can one of you go serve her and tell her that I’ve been requisitioned by the army or navy, or even kidnapped by Hitler?’ he pleaded.
    ‘I’ve got apples to peel.’ Ruby looked tellingly at her sister and giggled. ‘Your turn.’
    Mary pulled a face and sighed. ‘I’ll deal with her,’ she said grimly.
    Miriam Powell had a freckled face and reddish hair. Twenty-eight years old, she was a spinster who, up until fairly recently, had spent her time caring for her elderly parents. While her father had been alive, she was not allowed to even be alone with a man. ‘For fear the closeness of a masculine thigh heats her blood to the point of no return,’ her father had sermonised.
    Her father, Godfrey Powell, had been a lay preacher who used to run the grocery shop, a place of piled-up tins, a bacon slicer, and a truckle of Cheddar cheese, ripe, pungent and bright yellow.
    Poor Miriam. During her father’s lifetime he had resolutely kept his daughter indoors, never allowing her out unaccompanied. Following his death, she now had more freedom than she used to have. Her mother was not nearly so demanding, mainly because it was not in her nature to order anyone around; all her life she’d been ordered around by others, including her husband. Her one sticking point was insisting