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her about anything. She would have liked to tell her about Dennis, but she’d never felt she could talk to Ruby. Ruby had always had too many problems of her own, and whenever they talked they always seemed to get on the wrong side of each other.
    ‘It’ll be nice having a little baby here at Christmas, won’t it?’ Greta said, trying to please.
    ‘Ooh yes – lovely.’ Ruby laughed at the sight of Mary Lou, her cheeks bulging with food. ‘Seems a long time since you two were this size.’
    Greta tried to continue this positive wave of communication by adding, ‘It’s a shame we won’t be with Nanna and Lionel. But it’ll be cosy, won’t it, just the four of us here.’
    There was a pause, before Ruby slowly turned her head.
    ‘There won’t just be us four,’ she said carefully. ‘I’ve said to Herbert that he can come and spend the day with us.’ Seeing the look on Greta’s face she defended herself quickly. ‘It’s no good looking at me like that. He’s coming and that’s that – I don’t want any argy-bargy from you, my girl. Herbert’s a single man with no family to speak of and he’ll pass a lonely Christmas without an invitation. Now it’s up to you to show some Christmas spirit and make him welcome!’
    Greta went to the sink and finished washing up the cups. She had barely begun to come to terms with Marleen coming home and what that might mean, and now Herbert Small-Balls would be sitting at the Christmas dinner table with them. Not that anyone ever asked her what she might want, she thought, slamming one of the teacups down hard on the wooden drainer. In this house, she might just as well not exist!

 
    Chapter Seven
    It certainly was going to be a white Christmas. There was no let-up in the bone-achingly low temperatures at night. Greta found herself tossing and turning trying to keep warm. In the morning the bedroom windows were frozen on the inside, white patterns like ice flowers. Beautiful, but not much of an encouragement to get out of bed.
    ‘I never thought I was coming home to this,’ Marleen moaned. ‘It’s as bad as America!’
    ‘Oh, so there are some bad things about America are there?’ Greta said. Marleen was ‘America this, America that,’ all the time, until she wanted to say, ‘Well, if it’s so blooming fantastic, why didn’t you stay there?’
    Marleen sat up, grimacing. She looked very pale, and with a groan she got out of bed and dragged herself to the bathroom.
    Greta got up to mash some tea. She crept out, not wanting to wake Mary Lou, who was still asleep, little mouth half-open. As soon as she woke she always started bawling. Greta got a bottle of milk ready just in case. The child’s constant crying grated on everyone’s nerves.
    It’s enough to put you off having any kids, Greta thought, huddled up close to the stove. The kettle seemed to take an age to boil, in the cold.
    All she could think of was seeing Dennis later that day. They’d arranged to meet up in town, see the lights and have a bit of a walk round and a drink somewhere before getting back to their families for the evening. And she had a little present for him. She’d asked him what she could give him and to her surprise he’d asked for a book.
    ‘What d’you mean, a book?’ She hadn’t expected him to say that.
    ‘You know – one of those things with pages with print on them,’ Dennis teased.
    She felt a sudden longing. She had been clever at school, so the teachers said, and she’d been complimented on her abilities at the Continuation School at Cadbury’s where they were released from work for a day of lessons every week until they were eighteen. She’d loved it there and had been sad to leave. But as soon as they had been launched fully into the world of work and the factory, it felt as if things like reading had to stop. She never saw her Mom reading a book. Of course, people round her when she was little read things. When they stayed with Frances Hatton, Janet,