A Cuppa Tea and an Aspirin by Helen Forrester Page A

going to pull down the wall of our court, so we’re open to the street.’
    â€˜Humph, and where are they going to put the rubbish bins? They’re fixed in the wall.’
    â€˜Don’t ask me. Maybe the council will give us a bin or two. They must reckon that if there’s no wall, we can run into the shelter real quick.’
    It did not strike either of them that the Public Health Department had viewed the statistics of the recent influenza epidemic with anxiety. Unable to bulldoze the remaining unhealthy courts until more City housing was built, they were using a cheap remedy, the removal of the enclosing wall, to get some cleaner air to circulate in the crowded court.
    Martha gave a little laugh of relief as her fear of being moved receded. ‘They must be expecting that this court won’t be moved for a while, if they’re building us a shelter.’ She chuckled. ‘We’d have a right job all of us getting through the entry at the same time, that’s for sure – Alice Flynn upstairs is that fat she has to edge through it sideways already. Why aren’t they moving us to Norris Green?’
    â€˜Dunno. I suppose they haven’t built the houses yet.’
    â€˜It’s real funny that they’ve found a way to make room for an air-raid shelter, but they can’t build new houses for us right here.’
    â€˜Maybe they’ve stopped building houses everywhere and are doing air-raid shelters instead?’ suggested Patrick.
    Martha leaned forward to put her empty mug on top of the oven. ‘Is there really going to be a war, Pat?’
    â€˜Oh, aye. I believe so.’
    â€˜But Thomas said as Mr Chamberlain was talking with Adolf Hitler, and thought Germany was being reasonable.’
    Patrick shrugged, and then said shrewdly, ‘Na. All he’s doing is get us a bit of time to build tanks and guns. He’ll sell the Czechs down the river to do it, you’ll see.’
    â€˜Will you have to go for a soldier, Pat?’
    Pat laughed. ‘Me? Na, I’m too old.’
    â€˜Well, praise all the saints for that. And our Brian is too young?’
    â€˜Oh, aye.’ He glanced round the dark room. ‘Where is the lad?’
    â€˜He’s working late – it’s Thursday. And Tommy’s gone down to see his pal. They’ll be back just now.’
    Their father heaved himself up from the chair. ‘Well, I’m going to turn in. I’ll be working tomorrow.’
    He knelt down and moved little Joseph furtheracross the mattress. He winced as he laid himself down, turned on his side and closed his eyes. He was asleep in seconds.
    Martha sighed, got up, took an old coat from a hook on the front door and laid it over him. She then rearranged Number Nine’s blanket to cover his sister Ellie as well. She would not lie down herself until she had decided what to do about breakfast – she would have to go out again into the cold, that was for sure.
    She stood uncertainly, her toothless mouth tightly clenched as she looked down on the sleeping children and her snoring husband. She had not a crumb left to give them for breakfast, and, as she had sat patiently waiting for Patrick, this fact had been gnawing at her, almost outweighing her fear of being whisked off to Norris Green.
    After the children’s fighting that afternoon she had not wanted to leave home until Patrick returned. She reckoned that Mary Margaret alone could not reasonably be expected to watch them all tonight; she really was not well, and this knowledge added to the painful ache of Martha’s own hunger and to her other worries – Kathleen, for example. She’d have to give the girl a good talking to: she must be taught to take care of the kids better.
    She turned, and quietly padded up the stairs andthrough Sheila and Phoebe’s room to reach Mary Margaret.
    Her friend was asleep on her narrow camp bed in the far corner, her head pillowed on