A Reunion at Mulberry Lane. Rosie Clarke

promised. ‘I shall keep you to that – a kiss under the mistletoe…’

      ‘Thanks,’ Maureen had laughed. ‘Seriously, do make her come to you. I’m sure she works far too hard down there…’

      ‘I was quite serious,’ he’d said and grinned. ‘I’ll get her here by hook or crook…’

      Maureen had been thoughtful afterwards. When Pip had lost some of his sight in one eye and been told his career as a pilot was finished towards the end of the war, he’d felt his life was over and it had taken Sheila’s illness during her pregnancy to bring him out of himself. For a while he’d kept his drawings to himself as if fearing his designs wouldn’t be good enough, but then he’d finally shown them to someone and been given a job with De Havilland, starting out as a junior and progressing to become one of their senior men.

      It was an important job, because although the war with Germany was over, the troubles abroad continued. Konrad Adenauer had won the German elections and the blockade was over so that food could be taken into cities that had been on the brink of starving, but in other countries there was still unrest – as in China with Shanghai falling in May to Mao Tse-tung’s People’s Liberation Army. Maureen knew nothing of politics in the Middle East, but she knew the unrest made for unease in the world and the fear of another terrible war. No one wanted that after the years of conflict with Germany. What with that and the hysteria in America over the communists, it didn’t exactly inspire confidence in a lasting peace.

      Maureen’s thoughts returned to Pip. She knew that he was now earning enough not to bother with the takings of the pub and he seldom, if ever, worked behind the bar. Sheila ran it with a full-time barman, a couple of part-time girls, and Rose gave a hand when she could. Maureen didn’t offer these days. She had her hands full with the tea shop, her children and husband.

      Shirley, her stepdaughter, was a wonderful help, with both the younger children and housework. Maureen often thought what a good wife she would make, but Gordon’s daughter by his first wife was set on becoming a doctor. At sixteen years of age, she was a lovely girl and almost ready to take her final exams before she went off to college at the end of the next year, when she would be nearly eighteen.

      Maureen reflected that she would miss her daughter very much when she left for medical school. Shirley was the one who often looked after her half-brothers to give Maureen time for a little relaxation; they’d never needed to look for a babysitter if they wanted to go to the pictures or a special meal out, because Shirley was always at home studying. Her boyfriend was already away at medical school, close now to taking his third-year exams, and Shirley couldn’t wait to join him. Richard Kent had been Shirley’s special friend for years now – since the terrible time when Robin and Richard’s little sister had both died from a severe case of chicken pox. Maureen wasn’t sure whether they were committed to each other as more than friends and she didn’t ask. Shirley wrote to him regularly and his letters came twice a week like clockwork. Shirley was always pleased to get them, but she’d never mentioned the words marriage or love and talked endlessly of when she went to medical school and became a GP.

      ‘I’m going to look for a job near you, Mum,’ she’d told Maureen. ‘I want to be based in London and visit my family all the time – I might even be able to live with you and Dad and Gordy and darling Matty for a while…’

      ‘One day you might get married,’ Maureen had suggested.

      Shirley had looked serious and then nodded. ‘Yes, I might,’ she’d agreed, ‘but not for ages, Mum. I want to qualify and then I have to make it worthwhile – to pay everyone back for their faith in me…’

      ‘Of course, you want to do your job, but it isn’t always necessary to give up your job when you marry.’

      Shirley had given her a considering glance. ‘I know you’ve always managed it, Mum, but a lot of women don’t – their husbands think they should be at home looking after the house and family…’

      ‘Yes, I know,’ Maureen had agreed. ‘But if a man loves you, he’ll see that you need to do what you want. Marriage, children and a husband are something we all want if we’re honest – but why shouldn’t we work as well? We’ve proved we can do it. Life has moved on since the turn of the century and women are a necessary part of the workplace these days. We’d have gone under in the war in Britain, if the women hadn’t rolled up their sleeves and done their bit.’

      ‘I know you think so,’ Shirley had agreed, ‘but not everyone does. I hear what some folk say about you working – and I think sometimes Dad thinks it too…’

      ‘Your father has never mentioned it to me…’ Maureen had frowned. She hadn’t consulted her husband when she took a half-share in Sheila’s business in the café. She hadn’t thought he would mind. After all, it brought extra money in and didn’t interfere with Maureen’s care of her home and children. She took Gordy to school and then went to help Sheila with the cooking, her youngest son playing in the playpen Peggy’s twins had once used. Sheila only had one child, because the doctors had advised her not to have more for her health’s sake. Her son was at junior school, collected and delivered by Rose Barton when she took her two to school. After that, Maureen took Matty home with her and did her own housework before preparing a light lunch for Gordon and the children. In the afternoons, she did two hours in the café serving delicious cakes and cups of tea and was home in time to prepare their evening meal. Shirley brought Gordy home from school and gave him his tea; ironing was often done in the evenings.

      It was a full day, but Maureen made certain she took holidays, usually when one of the kids had something special on. Quite a few of the local kids went to the same school and played in the lanes afterwards. Maureen never worried if Gordy was a bit late in for his tea, because she knew he had lots of friends to play with. Sheila’s son was only a year or so younger and Rose’s daughter was not much different and so they teamed up with others from the lanes and there was a youth club they went to sometimes for an hour or so, and the school held sports and games on Saturday mornings. Maureen always managed to have Saturday afternoon off and she took her children to various sporting events or to a matinee at the pictures if the film was suitable, and sometimes in the summer on a trip to Southend. They went with her when she visited Peggy, of course, but that was a long journey and they’d visited Southend in their father’s car on several Sundays the previous summer. They loved playing the slot machines on the pier, building sandcastles on the beach and eating fish and chips from a newspaper packet.

      Shirley liked visiting museums and Gordon had taken her to visit some that stayed open on Sundays. Maureen never bothered with such visits, staying home to look after her other children or cook a delicious roast for when Shirley and Gordon got back.

      Gordon had settled down to read the evening paper and listen to music on the wireless so Maureen decided she would write to Peggy that evening and ask her if she was coming to visit Sheila and Pip at Christmas. It would be lovely if Peggy had several days at the pub over the festive season – almost like old times…

      She did her usual chores that evening, noting that Shirley was looking a little quiet, but not feeling concerned enough to ask her what was wrong. Her daughter usually came to her with any problems, so this was probably just a school thing.

      Sighing, she drew her pad of lined notepaper to her and used the special fountain pen Gordon had bought her on her birthday.

      ‘You’re always writing letters,’ he’d told her. ‘You might as well have a good pen…’

      Maureen thought carefully before she began. Peggy always had lots of excuses for putting her daughter first, but it was a bit unfair. Sheila and Pip could do with a family visit and Peggy needed a little prodding in that direction…

      Finishing her letter, she saw it was nearly time for their evening cocoa. Shirley normally offered to make it if Maureen was busy, but she seemed absorbed in the latest letter to be delivered from Eastbourne, which was near where Richard was doing his final two years of study…