November fog crawled round the window pane waiting to choke any who ventured out into the damp acrid streets. Inside Rambert terrace the walls wept as nappies hung like defeated flags on the fireguard.
Maggie, sat with her first born son on her knee. The door opened and voice called,
"It's only me."
Mrs Tribble stood quite still on the almost empty pavement, addressing the indifferent world about her, while the cars swished past throwing up cascades from the gutters and late shoppers hurried by.
Meg had been with her sister since the early hours, watching her sweat and strain. Mamma arrived with Mrs Brown the local midwife, nurse and layer out of the dead and sent Meg downstairs. She paced the living room holding her hands over her ears to shut out her sister's screams until Mrs Brown came down the stairs carrying a bundle of blood stained rags.
Majorie had no intention of celebrating her Golden Wedding. They were too old for such nonsense. She couldn't remember the last time George kissed her. By mutual consent they weren't buying each other presents but sharing the cost of a bigger pump for the garden pool.
Janice straightened the greetings cards again. She knew John Matthews, her boss, was watching her. He believed the staff at the gift shop should be busy every minute of the day whether there were any customers or not.
Rebecca scanned the airport lounge. Aunt Pat had sprained her ankle otherwise she would have been at the airport to greet Rebecca.
Rachael wasn't the only one to seek refuge in 'The Pantry' there was only one unoccupied table. Next week the small coffee shop would close. Like many other businesses it had suffered from the awful summer.
"May I join you?"
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