Having popped quite a few cherries in his past, Albie Butler was slightly bemused. Most women loved a bit of foreplay, but he wasn’t about to disagree with his wife. He eased his penis inside her.

Queenie gasped, through pain, not pleasure. Less than a minute or two later, Albie groaned, then his penis shrank and thankfully popped out of her.

‘I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?’ Albie asked worriedly.

‘No. I’m fine.’ Queenie breathed a sigh of relief. At least it was all over quickly.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

VE Day

May 1945

‘Land of Hope and Glory, Mother of the free,

How shall we extol thee, who are born of thee?

Wider still and wider shall thy bounds be set;

God, who made thee mighty,

Make thee mightier yet,

God, who made thee mighty,

Make thee mightier yet.’

Queenie had goosebumps as the song came to an end and ‘God Save the King’ was then sung. The atmosphere was electrifying. Winston Churchill’s announcement that the Germans had surrendered officially spelled the end of World War Two, in Europe at least.

As Queenie made her way through the masses celebrating victory in Europe, she was hugged by neighbours, strangers and flag-waving children. Motorists were beeping their horns, cyclists ringing their bells, the Union Jack flag hung proudly from the windows of homes and businesses. People were dancing amongst the rubble, relief, pride and jubilation in their voices and expressions. There were tears too; sadness for the many who’d lost their lives. A lone tear ran down Queenie’s cheek as she thought of Aunt Edna. Edna hated the Germans, she would’ve loved today and no doubt would have ended up the life and soul of the party.

‘So sorry I’m late, Dolores. I’ve never seen anything like it out there. The streets are mobbed,’ Queenie explained. Dolores was the pretty Irish girl who was Mrs O’Leary’s live-in carer. She was only eighteen, and Queenie liked her very much, but knew Mary much preferred it when she took over.

‘No worries. Mary’s eaten and is having a little nap. I shall be off out now. I might not be English, but I shall celebrate with the neighbours nevertheless,’ giggled Dolores.

Mary had never fully recovered. She was paralysed down her right-hand side. It was such a shame, everything moved on her left side, her arm, leg, facial expressions, mouth. But on her right, everything was still.

A proud woman, Mary hated going out these days. She loathed having to use a wheelchair and couldn’t stand people’s looks of pity. She hadn’t lost her sense of humour though. She might talk a lot slower, but what came out of her mouth was still as funny as ever.

‘There you are! I thought you were never coming,’ Mary said.

‘It’s mayhem out there. Good mayhem, mind. I thought you were asleep.’

Unable to get upstairs any more, Mary’s bed was downstairs in her best room. She sat herself up, clutching her precious rosary beads in one hand. ‘Pretended to be asleep. She don’t stop talking. Verbal diarrhoea, the girl’s got.’