“Selflessly, Nell serves him her piece of smoked haddock on toast with a poached egg, and makes do with an egg herself. ‘He used to love this,’ Rodney says, tucking in. ‘Remember, Mum? They used to have it for Saturday tea, all round the fire. Rodney and Mum and Dad. Trays on their knees. Only time they were ever allowed to eat in front room.’ ‘I wish you wouldn’t sit at the table with your coat on,’ sniffs Nell. ‘Anyone would think was a transport café to look at you.’ ‘Sorry.’ Rodney stands up... and takes off his donkey jacket. Nell whisks it away and hangs it in the cellar head. There is a blast of cold musty air from the cellar before Nell closes the door. ‘It’s none too warm in here,’ Rodney remarks. ‘It’s quite sufficiently warm, Rodney. You have to expect a bit of a chill this time of year.’ ‘He had a bit of luck at dogs, last night.’ Nell sniffs. Rodney has a globule of egg-yolk on his chin. Remembering gentlemanly Jim, knowing her own background, it is hard to credit that this lout is really their child.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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