Stormy Days On Mulberry Lane
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203 pages

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A problem shared, is always a problem halved on Mulberry Lane...LONDON 1950
Peggy Ronoscki is happily settling back into life running her guesthouse on Mulberry Lane, surrounded by close friends and family.
Life just seems too good…but then disaster strikes.
Pip, her beloved son is left in a coma following a devastating car crash and a young girl collapses in the market leaving Peggy no option but to nurse her back to health.
As things begin to go awry, Peggy worries she has brought trouble to her own doorstep?
Can her life ever return to normal? Or has Peggy’s good nature led her astray?

Praise for the Mulberry Lane series:

'When it comes to writing sagas, Rosie Clarke is up there with some of the best in the business' Bookish Jottings.

'Full of drama, romance and secrets ... A perfect example of its genre' That Thing She Reads.

'This is wonderful historical fiction that is so character-driven you'll wish these women lived on your street'

'Absolutely loved this latest instalment and revisiting the ladies of the Lane. Another great story of love and heartache'



Publié par
Date de parution 02 février 2021
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781800480933
Langue English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.


Stormy Days On Mulberry Lane

Rosie Clarke

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

More from Rosie Clarke

About the Author

About Boldwood Books

Peggy smiled as she felt her husband Able move carefully from their bed. It was early on Sunday morning, June 1950, and they’d been back in London nearly three months now. She understood immediately why her beloved husband was getting up and trying not to wake her. It was only five o’clock and she’d been up until nearly midnight the previous evening, serving and then clearing up in the pub to help her daughter-in-law Sheila, because Pip, her husband, was away on business. Rose Barton, who often helped out in the bar of the Pig & Whistle, hadn’t been feeling too well. Her doctor had advised her to take things easy for a couple of weeks because her blood pressure had been slightly raised.
‘I’d love to help Sheila more,’ Rose had told Peggy when she was asked, ‘but Tom is so excited about this baby and I daren’t risk anything.’ Tom Barton was the local builder, handyman and a good friend to them all. ‘He says I should sit at home and listen to the plays on the wireless.’
‘Did you listen to the play the other night?’ Peggy asked. ‘I missed it, but it was repeated the other night. It’s good…’
‘Yes, but I’d rather be in the pub with friends. I’m sure I’m fine to work…’
‘You probably are,’ Peggy had agreed, smiling at her. She was by her own reckoning just two or three weeks more advanced in her pregnancy than Sheila, who was around six months. ‘But why risk anything when this baby means so much to you both?’
‘That’s what Tom says,’ Rose had laughed and blushed. ‘He would smother me in cotton wool if he could, Peggy.’
‘That’s because he adores you,’ Peggy had reminded her and Rose agreed. ‘Just be glad he cares so much, Rose – and don’t worry about Sheila. I can help her, just as I always do when she needs it.’
Peggy smiled as she stretched and eased her limbs in bed, watching Able dress. She hadn’t minded doing her bit in the pub the previous evening, even though it meant leaving Able to sit in with the twins. She’d found him dozing in his chair when she got home, the wireless on and a book on the floor beside him. Waking, he’d smiled at her as she presented him with a cup of milky cocoa. Able never grumbled, because he knew that taking Fay to the ice rink was why they were back in London and Peggy was thriving on being at the heart of things again. Fortunately, despite her husband Pip’s fears, Sheila was carrying her second baby well, much better than she had her first. She’d had a couple of faints earlier on in the pregnancy, but since Peggy had been back to tell her to rest and not do too much, taking on some of her workload, Sheila’s health had picked up.
Reflecting on the way her daughter-in-law was blooming, Peggy felt it was simply because she felt reassured by their presence. Sheila got on very well with Able, who smiled at her in his soft casual way, and his gentle considerate manner towards her seemed to have rubbed off on Pip, who had become very attentive to his wife all of a sudden. In fact, it had been Pip who had asked his mother to keep an eye on Sheila that evening.
‘I wouldn’t leave her if it wasn’t really important, Mum, but it’s work and I can’t get out of it. In fact, I ought to – well, that doesn’t matter…’ he’d said, looking worried and concerned. ‘I know she’s perfectly well, but I can’t stop thinking about her. If you hadn’t been here, I couldn’t have attended this conference.’
‘You have to go, it’s your work,’ Peggy had assured him. ‘Being a pub landlord isn’t exactly your vocation, Pip. It’s not your fault your wife’s barman chose this particular fortnight to take his annual holiday. Besides, Sheila loves serving in the bar and so do I – so you don’t have to persuade me to help out. I really enjoy it.’
‘The pub ought to be yours,’ Pip had said, frowning. ‘I know you had the lease transferred to us in case I couldn’t earn a living after my sight was affected during the war – but it’s yours by right.’
‘No, I don’t want to run it full-time,’ Peggy had replied firmly. ‘I have my boarding house and that is starting to do very nicely – helping out when I’m needed is a pleasure and I’ll always do that, but Sheila is the landlady now…’
‘Yes, and she loves it,’ he’d agreed, smiling ruefully. ‘I mustn’t take that from her just because these days I could quite easily pay the bills without what she earns.’
‘But she can provide extras for the family and save some for the future,’ Peggy had pointed out. ‘One day your son might want to buy his own house or business and Sheila may have enough saved to help – money is always useful, Pip, and it’s a part of life to work. Sheila doesn’t come from the leisure classes and she would get bored if all she had to do was run a home.’
‘Just like you, Mum.’ Pip had pulled a wry face. ‘Do you think that’s why I fell in love with her – don’t they say men fall in love with younger versions of their mothers?’
Peggy had laughed at him. ‘Idiot! Sheila might like some things I do – such as cooking and running a pub – but in other ways, she’s very different. I think Chris got his musical talent from her. It certainly didn’t come from me or your father.’
Pip shook his head. These days he didn’t like to speak about his father at all. At first, he’d resented his mother’s second husband, Able, taking his father’s place in Peggy’s heart and bed, but since talking long distance on the phone to his sister Janet a few times more recently, he seemed to have become a bit resentful of his late father.
‘No, definitely from Sheila’s side,’ he’d agreed decisively. ‘Her Great Uncle Sam was a musician. Chris hasn’t inherited anything from my father, thank God.’
Their conversation had ended then, leaving Peggy to raise an eyebrow. Laurie Ashley had been far from the perfect husband, his infidelity frequent in the last years before his death, but he’d been a good father to Pip and she would rather he didn’t become bitter towards him; he should have good memories. He hadn’t treated Peggy well, but Pip had no reason to resent him.
Becoming aware that Able was looking at her, Peggy smiled.
‘I’m sorry if I woke you, hon,’ her lovely husband said with a smile that made her heart leap for joy. ‘I promised to take Fay in for an early skating session. It starts at six-thirty, but the traffic is less at this hour.’
‘It takes quite a while to get to the Empress Hall in Earl’s Court. That is where she’s booked today, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. She is practising there for the moment because they will be holding the amateur championships there and she needs to get used to the rink for when her turn comes to be entered, but it’s quite a way, so I like to book the early session for her whenever possible.’ Able was fully supporting his ten-year-old daughter’s ambitions to be a successful ice skater. Fay had a natural ability and with regular tuition was improving all the time.
‘Yes, I know,’ Peggy said and smiled. ‘I think I’m nearly ready to get up. I’ll get dressed and come down for a cup of tea.’
‘All right, I’ll put the kettle on.’
One of the first things Able had done when arriving at the boarding house was to install a splendid gas cooker. There was already a beautiful range that Peggy liked using for her cooking, but Able thought it was easier to heat a gas ring for the kettle – and when he cooked, he used the gas oven. Peggy didn’t mind that, in fact it suited her. If Able wanted to make pancakes, it didn’t interfere with anything she was making and she never felt he was invading her kitchen, which she might have, had he wanted to use her range.
Cooking was one of the vital things in Peggy’s life. She’d always done it and during the war it had become like a game of chess, the battle to find enough ingredients to make food taste good had been never ending. However, she’d always been lucky and some of her many friends had supplied her with lots of extras from their allotments.
Able wasn’t much of a vegetable gardener, but Peggy had many friends in the lanes around her home and the pub, which was the centre of the district, and most of them had allotments. So even during the war, she’d often had boxes of veg straight from a friend’s allotment. They still remembered the shortages during the war, though most food was readily available now; flour had been derationed a while ago, petrol had come out of rationing in May that year, also canned and dried fruit, syrup, treacle, jellies, mincemeat and some other things. Soap was still rationed, as was sugar and various other foodstuffs.
It still wasn’t easy to find some of the spices that made food that little bit special, but Peggy was adaptable and she often sought out small grocery shops run by people from different ethnic groups, like Indian, Greek, Italian and Jewish, which had begun to open up in

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