A Sister's War Molly Green (e book reader pdf .txt) 📖

Birmingham and back again on the Grand Union Canal. They work together in threes, from all walks of life. Here’s one group in charge of a seventy-foot canal boat with a second boat being towed behind, both of them carrying the cargo. It’s a hard, dirty, backbreaking job but these girls are putting their backs into it and look fit and healthy working outside all day …’

Ronnie sat bolt upright, staring hard at the screen. She couldn’t hear what they were saying but they were tying two boats together, working as a team. One of them, a pretty girl with a cap perched on her blonde curls, looked up and smiled and waved at the camera. The good thing was that they didn’t appear to be wearing any kind of uniform, Ronnie noticed, although they all wore trousers. How sensible.

She was barely aware of the other news. And when the film, Above Suspicion – a wartime drama that hadn’t really appealed, but Lois had gone on and on about it until she’d finally agreed to go with her – eventually came on, Ronnie scarcely paid any attention. Watching a far-fetched story about a honeymooning couple in Europe being asked to spy on the Nazis for the British intelligence, and Joan Crawford, the bride, looking ever more glamorous in every scene, didn’t ring true. It all looked so artificial against the horrors she’d seen so many times on Pathé News of the brave boys, many whose lives were being snuffed out before they’d even properly begun to live, or so horribly injured and disfigured they’d never lead a normal life again. Co-star, heartthrob Fred MacMurray, didn’t accelerate Ronnie’s heartbeat one scrap. No, what was making her heart thump so hard she felt it might burst through her chest was the thought of doing something worthwhile – something she’d be good at.

She’d never been on a boat, but what did that matter? She knew as sure as Lois was sitting next to her that working on the canals would not only be exciting but would be her contribution. She grew more and more convinced as she continued to let the sound of the film roll over her. If she was being grand, she’d say it was her destiny.

But how would she talk Maman round to giving her permission?

Chapter Two

‘I wanted to see the Joan Crawford film,’ were Maman’s first words to greet Ronnie when she arrived home. ‘I would have come with you if it was not for this cold.’ She sniffed and blew her nose. ‘Will you make your maman a cup of cocoa, chérie, and then you must tell me all about it. I want to hear the clothes she wore.’ She gave a violent sneeze.

Ronnie inwardly groaned. She busied herself in the kitchen, spooning out the cocoa in two cups, waiting for the milk to boil, all the while wondering how to approach her mother about working on the canals. Maman would think it even worse than joining the Land Army. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she couldn’t stop the milk from suddenly bubbling up and frothing over the side of the saucepan.

‘Damn,’ she said aloud, turning off the gas and grabbing a dishcloth to wipe up the liquid. She’d used up all the milk and half of it had spilled over. Thank goodness they could rely on the milkman doing his early morning rounds. No matter how much her mother grumbled about the English insisting on tea first thing, she would be most upset if Ronnie didn’t bring her a cup. Sighing, she boiled the kettle, then poured the remains of the milk over the two cups and topped them up with boiling water. She stirred half a teaspoon of sugar into her mother’s cup, then found two mismatching saucers. The cups didn’t quite fit into the shallow indents but they would have to do.

‘Véronique, where is my cocoa?’

Her mother’s plaintive voice floated along the hallway, as Ronnie took the hot drinks into the front room.

‘What has taken you so long?’ Simone demanded, taking the cup and saucer from her. The cup wobbled and overturned, spilling the contents over her dressing gown. She screamed and shot up, letting both the cup and saucer fall to the rug.

‘Oh, Maman, I’m sorry. I’ll get a cloth,’ Ronnie said and rushed to the kitchen for a towel and a bowl of cold water, all the time swearing under her breath, as she doubled back.

‘Here, Maman, let me mop it up. Did it burn your legs?’

‘Of course it did, child. It was boiling hot.’

‘Let me soak them with cold water. That’s what we were told in St John’s Ambulance. It will stop it blistering.’

‘I will bathe myself upstairs,’ her mother said. ‘You know, Véronique, I worry about you. This would not have happened if you took the trouble to keep to the standard I have always set.’ She stooped to pick up the offending cup and saucer. ‘Look’ – she tapped the saucer – ‘this is not the correct one for this cup so it did not fit securely. That is why there was an accident. As if my cold is not enough to cope with—’

‘Maman, I’m truly sorry,’ Ronnie cut in. ‘Please go and soak the tops of your legs with cold water.’

Simone shook her head at Ronnie and pursed her lips. She walked out without another word, leaving Ronnie feeling guilty that she couldn’t match up to her mother’s high expectations. But then, Raine, her eldest sister, never had, either. And look what she was doing now – a ferry pilot in the Air Transport Auxiliary, delivering the planes to the boys in combat. And Suzy had been abroad and was now touring the country with ENSA. Ronnie couldn’t remember what the letters stood for, but it was some sort of entertainment organisation that Vera Lynn belonged to, and Suzy was singing to the troops. Both her sisters had defied Maman, and that seemed to