BBJ I can't have you feeling left out so :14: I shall put up some of mine later, as I am now on my way out
However, here's a short excerpt from my as yet unfinished novel.
When Philomena arrived home later in the evening, she was irritated to learn that John had arrived up at the house again. She had assumed that he would get the hint by being stood up twice. Her temper was not improved by having to listen to her father's rebuke.
"You weren't brought up to be either discourteous or unreliable. So listen to me, my fine girl, I've invited that young man round tomorrow night. So you make sure you're here."
"Daddy, I'm going out with Sandra Hughes."
"Not tomorrow night, you're not. You'll be here or I'll know the reason why."
"Ah, Daddy, you're not fair."
"It's not very fair to leave a lad standing with both his arms the same length at the Broadway. You be here."
And that was the end of that particular discussion. Philomena turned on her heel and left the room, leaving no doubt with both her bearing and exaggeratedly heavy sighing that she wasn't very pleased. Ignoring her mother's demand that she apologise to her father for being so childish when he wasn't very well she tramped up the stairs and flung herself down on the inside of the double bed that she shared with her nine year-old sister, Mary, who was an extremely pretty child with long black hair and expressive, inquisitive eyes.
Mary was officially in bed for the night as it was past her usual time of eight o'clock and she was now sitting, propped up on the pillows, reading an Enid Blyton book. She now put her reading material to one side and nudged up beside Philomena.
"I heard my Da telling you off," she whispered excitedly. "What did you do now?"
"Nothing, you mind your own business, you wee bisom."
"I'll tell Mammy what you called me. Was it about that fellow that was here earlier? He was in singing to Daddy."
"Singing? What do you mean, singing?"
"When your man came up, saying you hadn't turned up at the pictures, Daddy called him into the wee room. He was in there ages and I heard him singing. Some oul mushy Irish song. Daddy and him were as thick as thieves."
"Oh, shite, that's all I need. Some fella I can't get rid off and my Da and him doing duets."
"You said a bad word, I'll tell Mammy."
"Tell away, I don't care. Shite, shite, shite, shite, shite. There!"
Mary tittered and went back to her book.
