A Reunion at Mulberry Lane
199 pages
English

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199 pages
English
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Description

A heartwarming read from Rosie Clarke's bestselling Mulberry Lane series.

LONDON 1949
Peggy is once more torn two ways and can only hope that a reunion with her Mulberry Lane family and friends at Christmas can help resolve her problems.
Her eldest daughter Janet is desperately unhappy and fears her husband is having an affair, whilst her youngest daughter Fay has been talent-spotted to train as a figure skater back in London.
Peggy is faced with the dilemma of moving her family back to London to pursue her daughter’s destiny.
But will everyone be happy with this?

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'


What readers are saying about A Reunion at Mulberry Lane:

’I just adore this book series and was delighted to read this one.’

’What I loved about this book was the emotional sense of comfort, good people facing sometimes-difficult challenges and trying to do the right and kind thing with positive results.’

’Another wonderful book in this lovely series.’

’This is another definite five star read for me, I absolutely adore this author's work. This is a great read and quite possibly one of my favourites.’

’Another fantastic book in this series, just like checking in with old friends’


Sujets

Informations

Publié par
Date de parution 27 août 2020
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781838899219
Langue English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,1650€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

A Reunion at Mulberry Lane


Rosie Clarke
Contents



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

Chapter 37


More from Rosie Clarke

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
1
November 1949

Peggy Ronoscki finished washing up the pile of dirty coffee cups, used plates and dishes, sighing as she glanced at the clock on the wall of the café kitchen. It was gone six-thirty at night and she’d been on her feet since six that morning. The work at the little seaside café, situated approximately midway on the coast between Lyme Bay and Torquay, which she ran with her husband, Able, was hard and relentless, especially when her hired help, Masie Bennett, didn’t turn up to wash the dishes and she had to do them as well as the clearing up after the café closed at a quarter to six in the evening.
‘Tired?’ Peggy turned at the sound of her husband’s voice and smiled. However, weary she felt, her spirits lifted when Able walked into the room. ‘I told you not to do it all, Peggy. I would have helped you when I finished wiping the tables and counter.’
‘You work hard enough as it is,’ Peggy said, her eyes caressing him with the deep love she felt for this man. Able had been a serviceman in the American forces during the last war and he’d lost his left arm just below the elbow. After several attempts to wear the prosthetic arm the hospital had fitted, which rubbed his flesh and gave him pain, Able had given up and managed very well with one arm and his stump. She was always amazed at what he could do but tried to avoid asking him to do things that were difficult for him. ‘It’s that girl, Able. I think I’m going to have to find someone else.’
‘Yes, you must, because I don’t want you doing the work of three people,’ Able said and moved towards her. His right arm went around her waist and he bent his head to kiss her on the lips. ‘You should have been home with the twins two hours ago…’
‘It’s all right,’ Peggy reassured him. ‘It’s their youth club night and Sandra took them there. I said I’d be back in time to fetch them and I’ll drive you home first. Then I’ll go around to the club and collect them. I’ve got nearly an hour before they’ll be ready to leave…’
Sandra Brooks was their nearest neighbour to the cottage and had turned out to be a good friend for Peggy and the children since their move to the cottage in Devon. She really didn’t know how she would have managed without her.
Peggy did her early-morning cooking at home, leaving her husband to transport it in tins to the café; Able opened up and she joined him after giving the twins their breakfast and dropping them at school. Sandra had quickly realised it was difficult for Peggy to fetch her children after school and had offered to fetch them with her own two if Peggy was delayed. The two women drank coffee in each other’s houses and exchanged recipes, inviting one another to lunch or dinner whenever they had time, which wasn’t often because they were all busy. Sandra worked a few hours as her husband’s secretary when not looking after her children or cleaning house, but she still had more free time than Peggy.
‘At least you don’t have to cook for us when we get back,’ Able said. ‘The twins love coming here for their tea even though they often eat the same things as you make them at home…’
‘That’s kids,’ Peggy said fondly, thinking of Fay and Freddie, two very different characters although born only minutes apart.
Now it was November 1949 and they were a few months away from their ninth birthdays, they were eagerly looking forward to Christmas, full of life and fun and often into mischief. Peggy’s non-working life mostly consisted of taking her twins to various clubs and events to keep them occupied, but she adored her life. Working every day with Able in their busy café, some twenty-odd miles from the busy seaside town of Torquay, and leaving at about a quarter to four to meet the children and take them home for tea kept her busy and happy, though sometimes she felt the work was a little too much.
‘They can choose what they want from the menu and you always let them have an extra slice of apple pie or pancake if they want…’
Sandra often brought her own sons into the café too and gave them their tea. Peggy either refused payment or charged half price if Sandra insisted on paying. It worked for both families and all four children thought it was great, clamouring for Able’s pancakes and Peggy’s delicious apple pie with cream.
‘How can I refuse when I always have double helpings?’ Able said with a wicked gleam in his eyes. ‘I’ve always loved your pies, Peggy, especially the apple ones with cream or custard.’
‘During the war you were lucky to get either cream or custard,’ Peggy said and a shadow passed over her pretty face. Now into her late forties, she still looked youthful – Able told her she didn’t seem a day older than when he’d first walked into the pub in Mulberry Lane and fallen head over heels for her. ‘At least now we don’t go short of most things… apart from sugar. That’s still rationed and the Government don’t hold out any hope of it coming off just yet, though it’s better than it was…’
Harold Wilson had announced the end to clothes rationing to the nation earlier that year and only a few things were now in short supply. Britain was recovering slowly, though the national debt caused by the long war, when the country had been forced to borrow from the Americans to keep going, was crippling.
‘You’ve found ways round it,’ Able said, smiling easily. ‘You always did, even in the war…’
‘You and your friends helped,’ Peggy replied fondly, because Able had brought her coffee from his base when it was impossible to buy any in London, also tinned fruit, salmon and sometimes sugar. He had a sweet tooth and liked a couple of spoonsful in his coffee.
‘We tried to help in a lot of ways,’ Able said and a shadow passed over his face, because a couple of customers had recently cast aspersions on the help given by the Americans, calling it too little too late in loud voices, which made him seethe, even though he swallowed his anger and wouldn’t let himself be drawn on the subject. ‘Though some folk don’t seem to think so…’
Peggy knew more than most just how much help the American people had given them, because Able had been a General’s aide much of the time and knew about all the secret deals they’d done to keep Britain going through her darkest hours. Some British people even tended to forget that they’d had help from Canada, Australia, New Zealand and many other commonwealth countries, but many more seemed to blame the Americans, though for what she wasn’t sure. Except, that if questioned, they thought that if America had stood with Britain at the start, Hitler would never have dared to do half what he had; perhaps that was right… and yet the help given once committed was invaluable and decisive, bringing the tyrant to his knees.
‘They were just ignorant people,’ Peggy said now, because she knew Able had been hurt by the rudeness of those particular customers, who weren’t regulars but merely touring the coast of Devon. She’d been glad they only visited once. ‘You wouldn’t get that back home in Mulberry Lane. Our customers were friends there and wouldn’t dream of insulting you. We just have to ignore people who don’t understand.’
‘I know, hon,’ Able said, his smile reappearing. ‘We’ve had a good day – clearing three hundred pounds this week so far and we’ve still got Saturday to come…’
Saturday was one of their busiest days. Peggy had two women to help her in the kitchen with the cooking from six until ten in the morning, after which she went home to be with the twins. They usually played with Sandra’s two boys in the garden until Peggy got home, when she took them to the local indoor swimming baths or, if it was too cold for that, they often went to the roller-skating park. It too was an indoor venue and both children were good at it, though Fay was best. She loved skating and wanted to progress to ice-skating, but there were no rinks close enough for Peggy to be able to take her daily and even once a month would be difficult, because they would have to travel into Torquay or Exeter.
Fay had sulked over it on her last birthday when Peggy bought h

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