Tuesday, 23 April 2013

Rose Ulett

She was just like any other mother in the street. Her education was small, but she was generous to a fault. The Great War was over 10 years past, but still there were wounded ex-soldiers begging in the streets. Every Saturday Rose went to the shop in Green Lane. There, leaning against the wall, propped up on one solitary crutch was a man playing an accordion. He wore a tattered uniform, his cap was on the ground. Rose had half-a-crown to her name, this was to feed the kids until payday. She always gave him sixpence. It never occurred to her that if he could change her half-crown, he had at least as much money as she, but as I said, ‘she was generous to a fault’. She handed him the half-crown and he handed her two shillings and sixpence in change; he never gave her copper. She in turn gave him back sixpence, the smallest coin she had.

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