To The Grave Read Online Free
her how pretty they were - much like her grandmother’s, only paler, more slate-blue, so she considered herself lucky there.
Some of her friends were washing their legs with black tea or smearing gravy browning on them because no one was manufacturing silk stockings any more; they needed the silk and the production looms to make parachutes. She’d tried gravy browning once, but Xavier - or Manfred, she couldn’t remember which of the Great Danes it was - had spoilt the already poor effect by licking her legs under the table. And besides, she had no eyeliner pencil to draw the seams with anyway. Ankle socks would have to do.
Chapter Three
B y the time Mena was ready to make her appearance to the rest of the household, she could already hear the hubbub of what promised to be a very special Christmas morning. For at least half an hour she’d been listening to the clatter of pans and the tramping of ten-year-old feet as the twins from London chased one another about the place; their incessant energy bolstered by the occasion and their own expectations of what new things Christmas would bring. She could hear her mother shouting at them to settle down or there would be no presents this year. Then it would go quiet for no more than two minutes before the pandemonium started up again. Occasionally, beneath all this, she heard Pop’s voice. She could only hear the soothing tone of it - words without distinction - but longer periods of calm always followed and it was during one such calm period that she heard another voice, conjoined with the hum of her father’s. It was another man - a much younger man.
Mena smiled at the Hollywood star in the mirror and thought that the woman who winked back at her would do very well.
“Philomena!”
Her mother’s voice was shrill. It rose to such a high pitch that Mena jolted as if being startled from a daydream, knowing that that was the sound of her mother’s final call. She slipped her socked feet into a pair of white-and-black saddle shoes and hurriedly tied the laces. Then she ran to the door and only paused to straighten her dress when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She took a moment to compose herself in the hall mirror and thought the coat-stand to the right of the front door looked a little heavier than usual and those were definitely not her father’s boots beneath the parlour palm at the base of the jardinière. Pop’s voice drew her across the parquet floor to the sitting room door where she waited and listened. She could make out his words perfectly now.
“Oh, I’m kept busy,” Pop said in response to a question Mena had been too late to hear. “I make most of my house calls in the villages now. There was a nasty bout of flu doing the rounds not so long ago, but the extra petrol coupons keep the old Morris running so I get about well enough. Now what about you? 1st Airborne treating you well, are they?”
“As well as any man might expect under the circumstances,” the other man said.
“Yes, well perhaps it will all be over by next Christmas, eh? Did you hear Churchill’s announcement on the wireless last night?”
“No, sir. I’m sorry to say I missed it. We arrived quite late.”
“Of course. Still, it’s not like we weren’t expecting it, there’s been enough speculation these past months. I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you to hear that Eisenhower’s been appointed Supreme Commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force.”
“I’d sooner see one of our boys in the role.”
“Quite,” Pop said. “But I believe the decision was largely based on the nationality of the country with the highest commitment of troops.”
“And the usual politics, no doubt.”
“Oh, no doubt at all. Although politically the decision carries with it certain guarantees. If the coming operations in the ETO are to be led by the Yanks, then any failure will ultimately be
Some of her friends were washing their legs with black tea or smearing gravy browning on them because no one was manufacturing silk stockings any more; they needed the silk and the production looms to make parachutes. She’d tried gravy browning once, but Xavier - or Manfred, she couldn’t remember which of the Great Danes it was - had spoilt the already poor effect by licking her legs under the table. And besides, she had no eyeliner pencil to draw the seams with anyway. Ankle socks would have to do.
Chapter Three
B y the time Mena was ready to make her appearance to the rest of the household, she could already hear the hubbub of what promised to be a very special Christmas morning. For at least half an hour she’d been listening to the clatter of pans and the tramping of ten-year-old feet as the twins from London chased one another about the place; their incessant energy bolstered by the occasion and their own expectations of what new things Christmas would bring. She could hear her mother shouting at them to settle down or there would be no presents this year. Then it would go quiet for no more than two minutes before the pandemonium started up again. Occasionally, beneath all this, she heard Pop’s voice. She could only hear the soothing tone of it - words without distinction - but longer periods of calm always followed and it was during one such calm period that she heard another voice, conjoined with the hum of her father’s. It was another man - a much younger man.
Mena smiled at the Hollywood star in the mirror and thought that the woman who winked back at her would do very well.
“Philomena!”
Her mother’s voice was shrill. It rose to such a high pitch that Mena jolted as if being startled from a daydream, knowing that that was the sound of her mother’s final call. She slipped her socked feet into a pair of white-and-black saddle shoes and hurriedly tied the laces. Then she ran to the door and only paused to straighten her dress when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She took a moment to compose herself in the hall mirror and thought the coat-stand to the right of the front door looked a little heavier than usual and those were definitely not her father’s boots beneath the parlour palm at the base of the jardinière. Pop’s voice drew her across the parquet floor to the sitting room door where she waited and listened. She could make out his words perfectly now.
“Oh, I’m kept busy,” Pop said in response to a question Mena had been too late to hear. “I make most of my house calls in the villages now. There was a nasty bout of flu doing the rounds not so long ago, but the extra petrol coupons keep the old Morris running so I get about well enough. Now what about you? 1st Airborne treating you well, are they?”
“As well as any man might expect under the circumstances,” the other man said.
“Yes, well perhaps it will all be over by next Christmas, eh? Did you hear Churchill’s announcement on the wireless last night?”
“No, sir. I’m sorry to say I missed it. We arrived quite late.”
“Of course. Still, it’s not like we weren’t expecting it, there’s been enough speculation these past months. I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you to hear that Eisenhower’s been appointed Supreme Commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force.”
“I’d sooner see one of our boys in the role.”
“Quite,” Pop said. “But I believe the decision was largely based on the nationality of the country with the highest commitment of troops.”
“And the usual politics, no doubt.”
“Oh, no doubt at all. Although politically the decision carries with it certain guarantees. If the coming operations in the ETO are to be led by the Yanks, then any failure will ultimately be
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