Sweet Memories of You (Beach View Boarding House) by Ellie Dean Page A

really.’ She pulled the worn rug out of the box and laid it on the floor.
    Daisy was immediately all smiles, and she pulled herself up Ron’s leg and beamed up at him before she lost her balance and bumped down on her bottom. Ron picked her up and she roared with laughter as she gave his wayward brows a hefty tug.
    ‘Ach, to be sure you’ve a fair grip,’ he muttered. ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that.’
    ‘It’s your own fault, Ron,’ said Cordelia. ‘If you trimmed those brows she wouldn’t be able to get hold of them.’
    Ron grimaced as he eased Daisy’s little fist open and then bounced her on his knee to distract her. ‘I’ll not be trimming anything,’ he grumbled.
    ‘That’s rather obvious,’ she retorted with a sniff.
    ‘To be sure, Cordelia Finch, ’tis too early to be at odds with anyone. Why don’t you turn off that hearing aid so a man can get a wee bit of peace?’
    ‘And to be sure, Ronan Reilly, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference,’ she replied waspishly. ‘I’d still have to look at you – and I have to say, it’s a particularly unattractive sight this morning after all the beer you obviously consumed last night.’
    Ron rolled his eyes and looked to the others for a bit of sympathy, but there was clearly none forthcoming. He put Daisy down to crawl about the small rug Peggy had laid on the floor. ‘’Tis a terrible shame to mock the afflicted,’ he grumbled. ‘What with me moving shrapnel and me medal for bravery, one would have thought I’d earned at least a little respect.’
    ‘Your headache is self-inflicted,’ said Cordelia, ‘so don’t come the old soldier with me.’
    Ron sighed deeply and then grinned at Daisy, who was looking up at him trustingly, and chucked her under the chin. ‘At least one member of this family thinks I’m the bee’s knees,’ he said.
    ‘Only because she’s too young to understand what a liability you can be.’ Cordelia’s glare of disapproval was rather marred by the twinkle in her eyes.
    Peggy and the others were used to these minor spats and took little notice of them, for they knew that for all their arguing, there was a deep affection between Ron and Cordelia. Peggy doled out the porridge and they all sat in their overcoats eating their breakfast as the sirens stopped wailing and the seagulls mewled and wailed overhead.
    Harvey stopped howling and wedged himself beneath the bench with a sigh of contentment. He didn’t mind the sound of the planes, or the thump and crump of bombs, he just hated that siren.
    Peggy eyed the pair of them with affection. Ron was looking decidedly the worse for wear after yet another night of celebratory drinking, and Harvey didn’t look much better. ‘Have you been giving him beer again?’ she asked as she fed Daisy.
    ‘Aye. He likes a drop now and again.’
    ‘It’s not good for him, you know.’
    ‘A little of what you fancy does no harm,’ he rumbled as he finished his porridge. ‘Are you going to put that kettle on, Peggy? A man could die of thirst, so he could.’
    Peggy filled the tin kettle from the canister of water, lit the gas ring and hunted out tea and milk from the emergency box. ‘I hope this doesn’t go on for too long,’ she muttered. ‘I have to get to the shops this morning and then I’ve got my shift with the WVS at the Town Hall.’
    ‘Bertie’s taking me to lunch at the Conservative Club again,’ said Cordelia for the umpteenth time that morning. ‘I wonder what they’ll be serving? Last time we had lamb cutlets.’
    Peggy’s mouth watered at the thought of lamb cutlets smothered in thick, rich gravy and lashings of buttery mash and mint sauce. Whoever was doing the catering at that club had to have connections with a black marketeer or a very obliging butcher, for she hadn’t seen such a thing in months. She finished feeding Daisy and then smeared a bit of the regulation margarine on a slice of wheatmeal bread for her. It was foul-tasting stuff, made from