28
WHEN MAISIE came down for breakfast the following morning, she couldn’t remember who’d driven her home, or how she’d got upstairs to her room.
‘I put you to bed,’ said her mother as she poured her a cup of tea. ‘A nice young corporal drove you home. He even helped me get you up the stairs.’
Maisie sank into a chair, before taking her mother slowly through the evening, leaving her in no doubt how much she’d enjoyed Mike’s company.
‘And you’re sure he’s not married?’ asked her mother.
‘Hold your horses, Mum, it was only our first date.’
‘Did he seem keen?’
‘I think he asked me to the theatre next week, but I’m not sure which day, or which theatre,’ she said as her brother Stan came into the room.
Stan plonked himself down at the end of the table and waited for a bowl of porridge to be placed in front of him, before gulping down the contents like a dog drinking water on a hot day. When he’d finished, he flicked off the top of a bottle of Bass and drank it in one draught. ‘I’ll have another,’ he said. ‘As it’s Sunday,’ he added, burping loudly.
Maisie never spoke during Stan’s morning ritual, and she usually slipped off to work before he had time to air his opinions on anything that crossed his mind. She rose from her place and was just about to leave for the morning service at St Mary’s, when he bellowed, ‘Sit down, woman! I want a word with you before you go to church.’
Maisie would have liked to walk out without responding, but Stan wasn’t beyond dragging her back and giving her a black eye if the mood took him. She sat back down.
‘So what are you doin’ about that two hundred nicker you’re in line for?’ he demanded.
‘How did you find out?’
‘Mum told me all about it last night when you were out on the town getting laid by your American fancy man.’
Maisie frowned at her mother, who looked embarrassed, but said nothing. ‘For your information, Stan, Major Mulholland is a gentleman, and what I do in my spare time is none of your business.’
‘If he’s an American, you stupid bitch, let me warn you – they don’t wait to be asked, they think everythin’s theirs by right.’
‘You speak with your usual first-hand knowledge on the subject, no doubt,’ said Maisie, trying to remain calm.
‘Yanks are all the same,’ said Stan. ‘They only want one thing, and once they’ve got it, they bugger off back home and leave us to finish the job, just like they did in the first war.’
Maisie realized there was no point in continuing the conversation, so she just sat there, hoping this particular storm would blow over quickly.
‘You still haven’t told me what you’re doin’ about the two hundred quid,’ said Stan.
‘I haven’t made up my mind yet,’ said Maisie. ‘In any case, how I spend my money has got nothing to do with you.’
‘It’s got everything to do with me,’ said Stan, ‘because half of it’s mine.’
‘And how do you work that out?’ asked Maisie.
‘On account of the fact that you’re livin’ in my house for a start, so I’m entitled. And let me warn you, girl, in case you’re thinkin’ of double-crossin’ me, if I don’t get my fair share, I’ll beat you so black and blue, even an American negro won’t give you a second look.’
‘You make me sick, Stan,’ said Maisie.
‘Not half as sick as I’ll make you if you don’t cough up, because then I’ll—’
Maisie stood up, marched out of the kitchen, ran down the hall, grabbed her coat and was out of the front door before Stan had come to the end of his tirade.