Chapters (76)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirty-Nine
- Chapter Forty
- Chapter Forty-One
- Chapter Forty-Two
- Chapter Forty-Three
- Chapter Forty-Four
- Chapter Forty-Five
- Chapter Forty-Six
- Chapter Forty-Seven
- Chapter Forty-Eight
- Chapter Forty-Nine
- Chapter Fifty
- Chapter Fifty-One
- Chapter Fifty-Two
- Chapter Fifty-Three
- Chapter Fifty-Four
- Chapter Fifty-Five
- Chapter Fifty-Six
- Chapter Fifty-Seven
- Chapter Fifty-Eight
- Acknowledgements
- Also by Rosie Goodwin
- About Rosie Goodwin
- Welcome to the world of Rosie Goodwin!
- A Letter from Rosie Goodwin
- Cissie’s Roast Chicken
- An extract from Rosie Goodwin’s next novel
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Love Rosie Goodwin?
- The Days of the Week collection
- Mothering Sunday
- Tales from Memory Lane
- Memory Lane Advert
She began to knead the flour and yeast to make some bread on the wooden draining board that was attached to the sink, which she had thoroughly scrubbed. Once it was ready, she wet a cloth to throw over the dough and put the dishes onto the hearth to prove. She’d discovered a pump over the sink that she assumed must lead to a well outside. At first the water it yielded had been brown and rusty looking, but now it was crystal clear, which meant she no longer had to rely on melting snow for their water supply – one blessing at least. She had also found the precious jar of homemade strawberry jam that she had made earlier in the summer, so they were assured of eating – for today at least.
Susie stirred at that moment and raising herself up onto one elbow she croaked, ‘Me throat is sore, Opal.’
It was so unlike the placid child to complain that Opal was instantly concerned. ‘I’ll make you a nice warm cup of tea, that’ll help it,’ she soothed, pushing the kettle into the heart of the fire again. Jack was stirring too, but one glance into his sunken eyes made Opal’s heart sink. His cheeks were rosy red and his clothes were plastered to his thin frame with sweat.
Charlie had also noticed and he chewed on his lip worriedly. ‘He’s burning up. What can we do for him?’
‘Get me a bowl of cool water, I’ll try sponging him down,’ Opal answered, and he shot away to do as he was asked.
For the next few hours they took turns dripping water into the children’s mouths and sponging their feverish brows, but as the afternoon began to darken it was soon clear that their efforts had been in vain. Opal herself was feeling unwell by then and, although she didn’t mention it, Charlie had noticed the tell-tale flush in her cheeks.
‘Why don’t you lie down and have a rest?’ he suggested kindly. ‘I can see to the children.’
He grew even more concerned when Opal agreed. Usually she would have just kept going, so he knew that she must be feeling ill. Curling up on the blankets next to the children, she drew herself into a ball, and seconds later she had slipped into an exhausted sleep.