Magnolia Square Read Online Free Page B

curvaceously heavy-bosomed and broad-hipped, far too much so for
her own liking. Mavis was narrow-waisted and buxom, and happily emphasized the fact. Christina was small-boned, and there was an air of fragility about her that brought out fierce protectiveness in
some people and irritation in others. In Mavis, well aware that beneath Christina’s apparently wand-like fragility lay true steel, it brought out irritation. It brought it out in
bucket-loads.
    Christina’s true steel was blazingly apparent now. It flamed out of her eyes, turning their beautiful amethyst colour near black. ‘Nellie says my husband has written to you, telling
you he’s coming home on leave and hopes to be demobbed soon. Is that true?’ She faced Mavis full square, not putting her hands on her hips in confrontational south-London fashion, but
with her hands clenched at her sides, every nerve and muscle as taut as a coiled spring.
    Mavis sighed. For all her noisy exuberance, she didn’t like scenes and she had no particular desire to spoil Magnolia Square’s street party by pitching into a full-scale brawl with
the Jewish refugee it had collectively taken under its wing. ‘Yes,’ she said, keeping her voice as pleasant as her patience would allow. ‘It was a general sort of letter. A letter
to the family. If you haven’t heard from him yet it must mean his letter to you is snarled up somewhere. You can’t expect Forces post to be normal these days, can you?’
    ‘No,’ Carrie said, hurriedly agreeing with her and trying to defuse the situation. ‘Whenever Danny wrote to me and his mum he always posted the letters off together and they
never arrived together. That’s true, isn’t it, Danny?’ She looked towards him for support.
    Danny dutifully nodded, his freckled face struggling for an effect of earnest sincerity. ‘Absolutely. Carrie would receive her letter weeks before Mum did, or Mum would get ’ers and
Carrie’s wouldn’t even arrive!’
    Christina was not remotely interested in the vagaries of Danny’s mail. ‘I would like to see the letter,’ she said tautly to Mavis, her lips nearly as white as her face.
‘I would like to read Jack’s comments for myself.’
    The conga procession had begun making its way back up the Square, with Albert Jennings spiritedly leading it. His two daughters and Kate and Christina were oblivious of him.
    Mavis eyed Christina thoughtfully, the tension almost unbearable. ‘I don’t think I can ’elp you out there,’ she said at last as Leon cleared his throat uncomfortably and
Danny shifted his feet. ‘Letters are private things. Sorry, Christina.’
    Christina sucked in her breath, furious with herself for having asked anything of Mavis; furious with Mavis for so laconically refusing her request; furious with Jack for having written the
letter to Mavis in the first place.
    ‘Aiya, aiya . . .
conga
,’ Albert bellowed, kicking his left leg out at a jaunty angle as he led his tipsy conga line towards them. ‘Come on, Mavis! Show a leg there!
Aiya, aiya
conga
! Churchill is a
hero
. . . !’
    Mavis grinned and accepted her dad’s invitation with relief. The local young scoutmaster, who had long wanted to get his arms around her, seized his opportunity and latched on behind her
and away they all went, conga-ing rumbustiously towards the Blackheath end of the Square.
    Carrie looked across at Christina unhappily. Christina was trembling, though what the emotion was that was causing her to tremble, Carrie wasn’t sure. It could have been distress or it
could have been anger. She tried to imagine how she would feel if Danny had written to a young married woman telling her when he expected to be home, and she hadn’t received a letter with
such news herself. She couldn’t. Firstly, because Danny hated putting pen to paper to such an extent that even if Betty Grable asked him to be her pen-friend he’d refuse on the grounds
that the task was too arduous. And secondly,