#douglas keen

[fuzzysparrow]

The Wonderful World of the Ladybird Book Artists

This year, the fascinating tale of the skilled artists who brought Ladybird books to life for over three decades was explored at The Wonderful World of the Ladybird Book Artists exhibition at the Victoria Art Gallery in Bath. The exhibition featured rare books, original artworks, and artefacts, demonstrating the role of the illustrators for Ladybird. The exhibition also looked into the…

[scurviesdisneyblog]

The Art of Tangled by Lisa Keene, Andy Harkness, Andy Gaskill, and Douglas Rogers

[poetsmanips]

katie douglas & mimi keene manip

[im-not-a-l0ser]

I'm finally watching Witch In A Web, and omg Duke an Ms Holloway are so cuteee

[willstafford]

Moor is Less

OTHELLO Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford upon Avon, Thursday 24th October 2024 The first thing I want to say about this new production is that it’s a good-looking show.  The costumes, designed by Judith Bowden, are exquisite, transporting us to Venice and Cyprus in 1605.  Bowden’s set is a different story.  It’s all abstract and sparse.  We could be anywhere and anywhen.  Director Tim…

[thefisherqueen]

Douglas was a remarkable man, both in character and in person. In age he may have been about fifty, with a strong-jawed, rugged face, a grizzling moustache, peculiarly keen gray eyes, and a wiry, vigorous figure which had lost nothing of the strength and activity of youth.

Watson: it is so important I tell you how attractive this murdered man was

[neil-gaiman]

Good morning mr Gaiman, i just wanted to ask: the couple of references to Doctor Who in Good Omens s1 (Newton’s license plate spelling TARDIS backwards, and Gallifrey being on one of the flying papers Crowley consults), were those suggested by David Tennant or was it a personal decision? (or maybe someone else’s) We all know Tennant is a keen fan of dr who so i’d say our suspicions are valid :)

No, that's all me and Douglas. Not that David Tennant minds.

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 11 - Fauna

Dilly the Duck Goes Missing:

Of all the various animals on the Island of Sodor, none was more famous than Dilly the Duck. Originally, the duck had been used as a prank, and hidden in Donald’s tender by Duck – but now she was a permanent fixture at Haultraugh Station, where she assists the stationmaster. The stationmaster loves working with Dilly – she’s very good with children, and has harassed several horrid passengers and fare evaders until they were much nicer!

However, one day Dilly didn’t come to the station. The stationmaster waited for her until he was needed elsewhere, and then Duck waited for her as long as his drink break would allow on his first passenger run. Dilly didn’t show her beak for either of them! More worryingly, she didn’t make an appearance when Donald blew his whistle and called for her. Instead, a male duck flapped angrily at him for a couple seconds before continuing out to sea.

“Ah hope she's alricht,” worried Donald as he gazed out over the tidepools. “It's no like Dilly no tae come bi the station.” All day, the engines waited and watched, but even as Douglas clanked through with the last of the empty ballast trucks, there was still no sign of the duck.

Duck and Donald were the most worried that night in the sheds. “It’s not like her,” sighed Duck. “Normally Dilly likes to stay nice and close to the station and bum food off the passengers.” “Maybe she’s hibernating?” suggested Oliver brightly. “Driver told me lots of animals hibernate, like bears!” “Bears don’t hibernate!” snorted Duck, “or else we’d be down a mainline engine for half the year – and besides, Dilly’s a duck, not a bird. If anything, she’d migrate.” “An Dilly's niver migratit before, sae thare's na point suggestin it either,” Donald finished firmly. Oliver pouted. “I was only trying to help,” he grumbled.

The engines talked about it for several more hours, but try as they might, none of them could think of a reason why Dilly had seemingly vanished.

Over the next few days, the engines kept a keen eye out, but still they couldn’t find Dilly. Instead, they were randomly hounded from above by a very irate male duck. Douglas blew steam at it, Oliver swore at it, and Duck and Donald just wished that that duck was actually Dilly. The male duck managed to get into just about everything and cause a fuss – be it getting stuck in the rafters, locked in the waiting room or even trapped inside the water tower! Everyone was just about fed up with the male duck and its dim-witted antics. Until one day, the male duck physically grabbed Donald’s driver’s hat.

“Oi!” shouted Donald’s driver, and he leapt down from his engine in hot pursuit. The male duck took Donald’s driver on a wild duck chase across the tidepools that dotted the coastline before suddenly dropping the hat. Donald’s driver skidded to a stop and stared!

“Dilly?!”

Donald’s driver returned to the station looking very amused indeed. “No wonder we couldn’t find Dilly,” he chortled. “She’s laid eggs!” “Like Duck did once,” grinned Donald, just to watch his old friend snort indignantly. It turned out that Dilly and the male duck had had a clutch of eggs together, and had made a nest overlooking the line by the edge of one of the tidepools. The male duck – who everyone unanimously agreed to name Ditzy – had wanted someone to help Dilly look after the eggs so she could go find herself some food.

It didn’t take long for Dilly, her nest and her eggs to all be moved to a new, specially-built bird house by the edge of the station where the stationmaster could care for the eggs while she got right back to terrorising rude passengers and begging for bread. As for Ditzy? He’s now also a permanent face around the station, though he spends most of his time being an absolute ditz and getting stuck in the water tower. Worse yet, Ditzy recently figured out doors, and once managed to hitch a ride all the way to Tidmouth before anyone realised!

And when the little ducklings were born, they instantly became the single most doted-upon animals on all of Sodor!

Back to the Master Post

[thunderxleafart]

Donald and Douglas, affectionately known as "The Scottish Twins", are rational, peppery and proud!

I had a lot of fun with the previous drawing of Duck, and y'all seemed to really like it too, so here's another human AU doodle for y'all! <3 This time of my oh-so-beloved Scottish twins!! I absolutely adore designs where they have freckles so ofc I had to give them freckles!! <3 Plus they get pretty blue-hazel eyes cuz they deserve it Some notes for funsies ~

-They were born in a small village in Scotland, with Donald being the older of the two - Both are Cis Men (He/Him) - They're roughly 6'0 tall

-They squabbled a lot more when they were younger, but are pretty much inseparable now and love each other very much.

-They moved to Sodor together, though Donald was the only one who was supposed to go and Douglas ended up tagging along. (Neither really wanted to leave the other) With encouragement from Edward, and slightly out of pity, Sir Charles did eventually give both twins a job.

-They currently live in Arlesbrugh, alongside Duck, Oliver and Toad.

-Both know some Scottish Gaelic (Douglas is slightly more fluent then Donald) and may occassionally slip into it. Donald

- He's incredibly witty and charming; very much a smooth-talker

-Has a short fuse and will absolutely throw hands

- He's always been pretty openly Bi and a huge flirt; turns into a flustered mess the second anyone he likes flirts back though lol

-Always appreciates a well-thought out joke, but he'll still laugh at stupid shit (even if he tries not to)

-Loves a good prank every now and again

-Very protective of Douglas, but will still tease him to no end (lovingly)

-Has a "Pet" Duck named Dilly, who he calls his "Lil' Quackeroo" (She's not really his pet, she's a wild duck, but he adores her and visits her to give her food and cuddles frequently. It's one of his favourite things to do. <3)

-Has a thing for Duck for a loooong time, basically since the Dilly incident, and goes on to date him. :) Douglas

-Keen and witty, though surprisingly level-headed and calm too.

-He considered himself the "Straight Twin", and was in denial about his sexuality for years

He's since come out as Bi, started dating Oliver and is very happy :)

-Laughs at the stupidiest shit

-The only people who can call him "Douggie" are Donald and Oliver; he prefers his full name otherwise.

-Doesn't take any of Donald's shit (affectionate), but will still always have his brother's back

-Always happy to help and quick to act

-Had a bit of a crush on Emily at one point

~~~~~~~~~~~~ Aaaand there ya have it! :D Just like before, the designs and HCs aren't fully set in stone yet, but I'm pretty happy with how they're coming along so far! <3 I also finished a doodle of Oliver and Toad which I'll either post later today or tomorrow. So stay tuned! <3 And thanks for looking!~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Donald & Douglas (c) TTTE Art (c) Me <3

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

Lit Hub: How Oscar Wilde Created a Queer, Mysterious Symbol in Green Carnations

In London in 1892, everybody—or, at least, everybody who was anybody—was talking about one thing: green carnations. Nobody was sure, exactly, what wearing a green carnation meant, or why it had suddenly become such a deliciously scandalous, dazzlingly fashionable sartorial statement. All anybody knew was that one day, at a London theater, someone important (stories differed as to who exactly it was) wore a green carnation, or maybe it had been a blue one (stories differed about that too).

Green carnations may have had something to do with sexual deviance. They may also have had something to do with the worship of art. And the whole thing somehow had to do with Oscar Wilde, the flamboyant playwright, novelist, and fame-courting dandy who—as he never tired of telling the press—put his talent into his work but put his genius into his life. Wilde lived his life as a work of art (or let people think he did). The affair of the green carnation gives us a little glimpse into how.

One story about what exactly happened comes from the painter Cecil Robertson, who recounts his version in his memoirs. According to Robertson, Wilde was keen to drum up publicity for his latest play, Lady Windermere’s Fan. A character in the play, Cecil Graham—an elegant and witty dandy figure who rather resembled Wilde himself—was ostensibly going to wear a carnation onstage as part of his costume. And Wilde wanted life to resemble art.

“I want a good many men to wear them tomorrow,” Wilde allegedly told Robertson. “People will stare…and wonder. Then they will look round the house [theater] and see every here and there more and more little specks of mystic green”—a new and inexplicable fashion statement. And then, Wilde gleefully insisted, they would start to ask themselves that most vital of questions: “What on earth can it mean?”

Robertson evidently ventured to ask Wilde what, exactly, the green carnation did mean.

Wilde’s response? “Nothing whatsoever. But that is just what nobody will guess.”

Within days, carnations were everywhere. Just two weeks later, a newspaper covering the premiere of another play, this one by Théodore de Banville, reported a bizarre phenomenon: Wilde in the audience, surrounded by a “suite of young gentlemen all wearing the vivid dyed carnation which has superseded the lily and the sunflower,” two flowers that had previously been associated with Wilde and with fashionable, flamboyant, and sexually ambiguous young men more generally.

A little over a week after that, a London periodical published another piece on this mysterious carnation. It is a dialogue between Isabel, a young woman, and Billy, an even younger dandy—heavily implied to be gay—about the flower, which Billy has received as a gage d’amour (the French is tactfully untranslated) from a much older man. Billy shows off his flower to the curious Isabel with the attitude of studied nonchalance: “Oh, haven’t you seen them?…. Newest thing out. They water them with arsenic, you know, and it turns them green.”

The green carnation is something desperately exciting, understood not by ordinary society women but by Brummell-style dandies, shimmering with hauteur. It’s deliciously dangerous, perhaps even a tad wicked; the carnations are colored with poison, after all. It’s also, in every sense of the word, a little bit queer.

The green carnation’s appeal as a symbol of something esoteric persisted. Two years after the premiere of Lady Windermere’s Fan, an anonymous author—later revealed to be the London music critic Robert Hichens—published The Green Carnation, a novel that appears to be very obviously based on Oscar Wilde’s real-life homosexual relationship with the much younger Lord Alfred “Bosie” Douglas.

The Green Carnation, though it is certainly a satirical exaggeration, can tell us much about this strange, new class of young men cropping up not only in London but also in Paris, Copenhagen, and so many other European capitals during the nineteenth century: the dandy. Inheritors of the mantle of Beau Brummell but far more flamboyant in their affect—John Bull would certainly have turned around to look at them in the street—these modern dandies didn’t just live their lives artistically.

These dandies believed—or at least made out that they believed—that the highest calling a person could have was a careful cultivation of the self: of clothing, sure, and of hairstyle, but also of gesture, of personality. And behind that belief lay a kind of bitter nihilism, as poisonous as arsenic itself. Nothing meant anything, unless you decided it did. A green carnation could signify homosexual desire, or aesthetic dandyism, or “nothing whatsoever,” depending on your mood and what you felt like conveying to the world that morning.

(Full article)

[scotianostra]

On 14th December 1542, James V died at Falkland Palace.

When James IV was killed at Flodden, yet another royal minority ensued, for his son James V was only one year old when he became the kKing.

The Scots were reluctant to accept his English mother Margaret Tudor as Regent, and after her remarriage in 1514 they replaced her with James IV's half-French cousin, the Duke of Albany.

Queen Margaret's tempestuous private life complicated her son's childhood, and after she divorced her second husband, Archibald Douglas 6th Earl of Angus, the Earl kidnapped young James.

For two years he held him captive, showering him with gifts and introducing him to a round of unsuitable pleasures. James loathed his former stepfather, and finally managed to escape in 1528, to rule by himself, he was around 16 at the time.+

James' personal rule began by savagely pursuing his opponents and he hounded the Earl of Angus out of Scotland. James combined suspicion of nobles with a popular touch, travelling anonymously among Scottish people as the 'Gudeman o'Ballengeich', The Gudeman of Ballengeich.

John Knox described him thus: 'he was called of some, a good poor man's king; of others he was termed a murderer of the nobility, and one that had decreed their whole destruction'.

In 1536 he decided to marry. A highly strung, intelligent man who alternated between black depression and bouts of feverish energy, he had already fathered at least nine illegitimate children by a series of mistresses.

He chose as his wife Princess Madeleine of France, for he was eager to strengthen 'the Auld Alliance' against England. The Princess was a frail wee lassie, her father was not keen on sending her to Scotland and it’s harsher climate, she died in his arms on 7th July 1537, seven weeks after her arrival in Edinburgh, she was only 16.

In 1538 he married another French lady, the widowed Mary of Guise, tall, well-built and already the mother of two sons. She had two more sons by James but they both died in infancy within hours of each other in 1541.

James V's uncle, Henry VIII, who had by now broken with the Roman Catholic Church and dissolved the monasteries, was urging him to do the same. He refused to listen to his uncle's persuasions and in 1542 failed to go to an arranged meeting with Henry at York.

Furious, Henry launched an invasion of Scotland. Already ill, James marched his army south with his army, to defeat at the Battle of Solway Moss on the Scottish/English Border, on 24th November 1542.

Although he himself had not been present at the battle, James suffered a complete nervous collapse. Retiring to Falkland Palace in Fife he took to his bed with a high fever and, when a messenger came to tell him that his pregnant queen had given birth to a daughter instead of the hoped-for son, he believed that the Stewart dynasty was at an end.

'It cam wi' a lass and it will gang wi' a lass', he said, remembering how the crown had come to his family through Marjorie Bruce and fearing that no woman could ever rule his troubled nation. Six days later, he was dead.

James V King of Scots was buried at Holyrood Abbey beside his first wife Queen Madeleine. His tomb. like many other Scottish kings was destroyed during the reformation was rediscovered and reported as such by John Lauder, Lord Fountainhall, one of Scotland’s leading jurists and historians of the era, you can read an account of this event at the link below. The second pic is a statue at Stirling Castle showing James as The Gudeman of Ballengeichhttps://marieguiselorraine2015.com/2015/02/23/1683-rediscovery-of-the-tombs-of-james-v-stuart-and-his-two-sons-by-mary-of-guise/

[eretzyisrael]

by Douglas Murray

By early 1948, when Israel was on the cusp of becoming a state, she was known for being a powerful orator—someone who could articulate clearly and plainly why Jewish self-determination was so important. But she was not well-known in America.

In January of that year, Meir, who was then the head of the Jewish Agency, traveled to the United States to raise money in preparation for Israel’s war of independence. (The Jews knew the UN might give them the green light, but the Arabs would not.)

She had not planned to go to Chicago, but while in New York City, her sister Clara persuaded her to go—to speak to the annual conference of the Council of Jewish Federations and Welfare Funds.

Meir arrived in Chicago in the middle of a freezing cold winter “without a dime in her pocketbook even to take a taxi.” Wealthy and influential Jews in Chicago were not especially keen on meeting with her. As Henry Montor, the executive vice president of the United Jewish Appeal, a Zionist organization, recalled, Meir was, to his mind, “an impecunious, unimportant representative, a schnorrer—Yiddish for beggar or layabout.

Meir, for her part, was terrified. On the one hand, she knew that war in the Middle East was imminent, and she had no choice but to bring home money for much-needed weapons—or there wouldn’t be any Israel. On the other hand, she understood all too well that there was, among some upper-crust American Jews, a wariness of the idea of a Jewish state—a desire, often unstated, not to appear too Jewish.

In any event, Montor managed to carve out a little time for Meir to speak at the Council’s luncheon on January 25, 1948, at the Sheraton.

She later recalled: “I was terribly afraid of going to these people who didn’t know me from Adam. I admit I was shaking. I had no idea what was going to happen.”

But providence, or something like it, called her that day. And the effect was historic. The audience was on its feet immediately after she finished. Her goal had been to raise $25 million in America. She came away with $50 million—aid that would prove critical in the months ahead.

According to those present, Meir went to the stage with her hair severely parted, absolutely no makeup, and with no notes to speak from—her preferred habit. The pauses in her speech seem to have been as important as the words themselves. She seemed to be feeling the words, weighing up the words, and judging, by the second, their effect on her audience.

She spoke for some 35 minutes. 

Friends was the term she chose to address her audience. 

“The mufti and his people have declared war upon us,” she said. “We have no alternative but. . . to fight for our lives.” 

She told the audience about the thirty-five Jews who “fought to the very end” on the road to Kfar Etzion and of the last one killed. He had run out of ammunition but died with a stone in his hand, prepared to continue fighting.

And she paraphrased the famous words of Winston Churchill: “We will fight in the Negev and will fight in Galilee and will fight on the outskirts of Jerusalem until the very end.”

She added: “I want you to believe me when I say that I came on this special mission to the United States today not to save 700,000 Jews. During the last few years the Jewish people lost six million Jews, and it would be audacity on our part to worry the Jewish people throughout the world because a few hundred thousand more Jews were in danger. That is not the issue.”

The issue, she explained, “is that if these 700,000 Jews in Palestine can remain alive, then the Jewish people, as such, is alive and Jewish independence is assured. If these 700,000 people are killed off, then for many centuries, we are through with this dream of a Jewish people and a Jewish homeland.”

This was the spirit—the moral vision—that compelled Golda Meir, like so many Israelis after her, to do what other people thought could not be done. 

[dabiconcordia]

Common Dust And who shall separate the dust What later we shall be: Whose keen discerning eye will scan And solve the mystery?

The high, the low, the rich, the poor, The black, the white, the red, And all the chromatique between, Of whom shall it be said: Here lies the dust of Africa; Here are the sons of Rome; Here lies the one unlabelled, The world at large his home!

Can one then separate the dust? Will mankind lie apart, When life has settled back again The same as from the start? By Georgia Douglas Johnson

[tabl3]

ways the rats' neurodivergencies manifest

chase: autism, OCD, insomnia

autism: chase is intrinsically one of the kindest characters in the series. he deeply cares for his family and friends. however one of the manifestations of his autism is low empathy. he's very intelligent, and can tell when one of his loved ones is upset, but isn't great at approaching them in a more emotionally intelligent way. on top of that he struggles to show his own emotions, as well as deeply understand others (also a result of living in a basement for 14-odd years) his siblings are good at understanding him nowadays though, and gets when he is trying to help or express affection :) (mostly because tasha taught them how) this is one of the ways that having a partner like kaz is a double-edged sword. on the one hand, he's more comfortable expressing himself and has more of an ability to as well from spending time with kaz, who is the most passionate person he's ever met. on the other he struggles sometimes to understand how kaz feels and can unintentionally be insensitive. kaz is also pretty patient though :) he also has severe sensory issues and can go nonverbal at times. douglas has been working on ways to help the sensory things, like calibrating his nose against pet allergies

OCD: chase has a very specific way of doing things and specific expectations for how other things get done. he likes having certain things under his control and having protocol be followed, because without it he struggles to function (just like me fr) his thumbnail biting habit is a result of this and his anxiety

insomnia: chase has a hard time sleeping because of the rate that thoughts travel through his mind, his touch, sight, and hearing being intense, and his physical back pain. he also frequently has nightmares (due to both trauma and intrusive thoughts) and knows he doesn't need as much sleep as regular humans, making him not too keen on trying that hard to sleep. he does sleep well when he's with kaz though <3

extras - stims: flappy hands/the little jumping giggle thing show chase does when he's happy, lip biting/arm folding whenever, rocking when he's overwhelmed/upset. special interests: science, inventing, space, bugs

bree: ADHD (hyperactive), arrhythmia

ADHD: bree's bionics mixes with her ADHD. she is always moving in some way: touching her hair, tapping her foot, messing with her fingers. she chews gum to keep herself busy when she wants to be still. she also "glitches" a lot, jumping, twitching, etc. this is why skylar is a good partner for her, both because she's a very calm individual and can't be hurt if bree accidentally hits her from glitching. it was worse when she was younger, and she was jealous of her brothers: chase because he could peacefully put puzzles together without glitching and tossing the whole thing to the floor, and adam because he seemed carefree like his brain wasn't producing thoughts a million miles an hour. she can also be forgetful (not as much as adam) donald figured this was all linked to her bionics, but as soon as tasha met her she got her fidget toys to help her stay busy during school. this also has to do with bree being an artist. she likes the constant of moving her hand.

arrhythmia: this one is linked to her bionics and is a side effect of them: her heart sometimes beats too fast, especially when her overactive metabolism is out of fuel (which is why chase keeps snacks on hand for her)

extra - special interests: bree's fluctuate a lot. she likes one thing for a little, then another. but she's always hyperfixated on something

adam: ADHD (inattentive), dyslexia

ADHD: adam seems on the outside to lack intelligence. he isn't as book or street smart as his siblings, but he certainly isn't stupid by any means. he has great emotional intelligence (despite the emotional repression donald somewhat forced on him and the other two) and actually notices a lot. the reason he seemed dumb when he was younger is due to the spacey nature his ADHD gives him. he's often lost in his own thoughts and is very forgetful of short-term things. he doesn't ever pay much attention to anything unless it's something the specifically interests him, because he knows that chase and bree paid enough attention for all three of them. he also often asked for things to be repeated, which took another shot at his perceived intelligence. even though he's emotionally intelligent he also misses a lot of social cues (also a symptom of basement)

dyslexia: aside from struggling to pay attention in class, his dyslexia made doing schoolwork a huge difficulty. so he stopped caring because he wasn't interested in it anyway, dropping his grades, adding to the fuel of everyone thinking he was stupid. he could've asked chase for help, but he didn't want to be made fun of. now that they've both grown up, matured, and mended their relationship, he often calls chase to tutor him through his college courses, which chase does (as patiently as he can, though he does get frustrated sometimes bc autism lol)

extra - special interests: animals (esp dogs), cars (lesser), flowers, sports (he's in school to be a P.E. teacher) tasha gifted him a stim necklace to bite on when he started college because it helps him focus

[assortedseaglass]

The Seamstress & The Sailor

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Little bit of language.

Word Count: 1.8K

Note: This is really just to introduce the characters and the tone of the piece. I hope you like this little group as much as I do!

May, 1939

“Will you three get out of the way?” Cora Vaughn nudged her youngest sister, Dot, with her shoe as the cake in her hands slid on its plate. Dot was the first to jump up from the doorstep. Giggling, she grabbed the hands of Lois Bennett and hauled her to her feet. She, in turn, took the cake from Cora’s hands and went to place it on the table assembled in the street. Bunting was strung from a few of the lampposts, and newly laundered white tablecloths fluttered a little in the spring breeze. A few of the neighbours’ children ran by, chasing a leather football down the cobbles. The last to move was the middle of the Vaughn girls. Cigarette between her lips, she leant against the door frame, staring steely eyed across the street. Suddenly, she ran forward.

“Careful!”

The old piano her father and Douglas Bennet were wheeling through the front door teetered. Just as her hands found the piano, another pair did the same. She looked up to see grey eyes twinkling back at her.

“Alright, Bess?”

Tom Bennett braced the piano against his shoulder.

“Alright, Tom.”

“You finished the dress then,” he nodded to her.

“Yeah, though I’m not sure on the red. Think it clashes with my hair.”

“I like it, nice to see you wearing dresses outside the dance hall,” he teased.

“Can you two stop your whispering and help?” Fergal Vaughn was going red in the face. Douglas Bennett looked ready to faint. Together the four of them manoeuvred the old upright through the door, and no sooner had it come to rest was Tom jogging to play football with the little ones. After inspecting the strings, Bess joined Cora and Lois once more on the doorstep of the Bennett’s home. Dot was bouncing around in front of them, her freshly curled hair shining in the sun.

“Yes, Dot, we know you’ve got tongs.” Cora said, clicking her teeth.

“Well it’s better than sleeping in rollers every night.” Dot retorted.

“I’d rather sleep in rollers than get up at the crack of dawn to curl my hair.”

“What time is Albie gonna be here?” Lois asked Bess, keen to stop the burgeoning argument.

“In a few minutes, I should say. Queenie Warren’s taken him for a walk around the houses.” Bess replied, watching Tom pick up one of the little boys to stop him reaching the ball. She smiled.

“Not the first time Queenie Warren’s been round the houses!” Dot laughed. Cora smacked her arm with a shush.

“Shit.” Bess threw her cigarette to the curb and ran to the piano. She played the first few chords of Happy Birthday, and the street stilled their activities to join in the song. Albie Vaughn rounded the corner, an overdressed young woman hanging off his arm. He beamed at the sight of them; his family and neighbours assembled around the table as they sang to him, and laughed brightly when Bess began a chorus of For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow. Dot swung her arm around her brother’s neck, causing Queenie Warren to stumble out of the way. Cora placed a hand on her back apologetically before kissing her brother’s cheek. Fergal hugged his son, while Douglas shook his hand and Tom clapped him on the back. Bess was the last to greet her younger brother, kissing his hand and smiling.

“My boy is twenty-one!” Fergal shouted proudly to the street. A cheer rang through the afternoon air and people settled at the table, tucking into the sandwiches and cakes that the Vaughn girls had prepared with Lois’ help. Bess lit another cigarette and resumed her place at the piano. Occasionally, while her fingers worked through ragtime and foxtrot, she glanced over the party.

Cora and Lois were laughing together about something, and it joyed Bess to see them leave their worries behind for a few hours. They had both given so much to look after their families. Fergal and Douglas, too, were laughing. A bottle of beer in each hand, their eyes crinkled in the corners as Fergal gesticulated wildly while telling some story about his life back in Cork. Albie and Dot were walking around, chatting to party guests. At the table, Queenie Warren was applying more lipstick. She leaned towards Tom and looked up at him through her lashes. To Bess’ great delight he ignored her, and instead stood to fill a plate with more food. Bess snorted. Greedy guts. She focussed her attention back on the piano, before something was placed atop it. She looked up.

Tom was leaning on the upright, eyes towards the party. When Bess didn’t speak, he looked round.

“I think we can manage without a few songs while you eat your lunch.” The plate he had placed on the piano was piled with sandwiches and a slice of Albie’s birthday cake. Bess reached for out for a sandwich and popped it in her mouth.

“Thanks,” she said through her mouthful. Tom simply smirked and sauntered back to his seat.

The afternoon carried on with much merriment. One of the old Irish dears from down the road brought out a wireless and a bottle of sherry to share with the Vaughn girls. Despite the warmth of the day, and the sherry, a chill descended with the start of the evening. Albie and Tom were sent to the pub while the girls packed away the party. They sniggered as Queenie Warren struggled to keep up with them in her heels.

*

By nine o’clock that evening, the Vaughns and the Bennetts were sat around the fire in the former’s kitchen. Albie had stumbled home not half an hour before and was currently asleep in the rocking chair by the hearth. Cora, Bess and Lois were washing up, while Dot looked through one of Bess’ fashion magazines. Tom was still at the pub. From the kitchen table, Fergal and Douglas watched their daughters.

Fergal was so reminded of his late wife each time he looked at his girls. Their dark, copper hair looked aflame in the firelight, and with each glimmer of their eye and hush of their voice he felt as though she were back there with them. Cora and her gentleness, Bess’ steely confidence, Dot with her joy. Thank God for his girls. He turned to Albie and pride swelled in his chest. With his dark curls and eyes, he was the image of his father. But just like his daughters, he too took after their mother.

“Twenty-one,” he said softly, causing Douglas to look up. “And Dot not long off eighteen.”

“Never thought I’d have a family after the war, let alone see them grown,” Douglas said.

“We were the lucky ones.” Fergal said sadly. They both drank to that and fell silent. After a moment, Fergal spoke again. “It does worry me, him being twenty-one.” He gestured to Albie, now snoring gently. “You know, with all this stuff going on in Poland. Sounds just like it was before.”

Douglas merely hummed. Fergal knew he was thinking of Tom.

“You want me to help you get him to bed?” Douglas asked.  

“No, me and the girls will manage.” Bess turned and rolled her eyes good naturedly.

By the time the Bennetts had said their goodbyes, and the Vaughns had collectively hauled Albie to bed, it was half past ten. Bess always liked this time of day. She loved her family, adored them, but living in a tiny house with five people left her craving solitude. She was just settling in the rocking chair with a small glass of whiskey when the door to the yard clicked open. Hair ruffled, hands in his pockets, gentle smile directed at Bess was Tom Bennett.

“Wrong house.”

He tutted. “I know,” he drew out the last word teasingly. Bess looked him over.

“Where’s Queenie?”

“How should I know?”

Bess shrugged. “She seemed pretty keen on you,”

“She’s keen on anything with a pulse,”

“You’re well suited then.” Bess slouched in the rocking chair and rested her head against its back. She heard Tom sit at the piano stool and pick a few notes at random to play. “Well, where were you?”

“Who put the pennies in you?” Tom laughed. Bess raised her eyebrows at him in question and he sighed. “Met a man down the pub who said he could get me some car parts.” Tom was used to her silence and accustomed to reading her mind. “For me to flog.”

Bess’ eyes never left his as she took a sip of her whiskey. Tom huffed. He knew she didn’t approve, but sometimes he wished she’d tell him this. Just behave like a normal girl and speak, rather than communicate with him telepathically. He didn’t realise how long their silence had lasted until Bess spoke again.

“Are you ok?”

He considered her before speaking. Tom often found himself at the Vaughn’s late in the evening with just Bess for company while the others slept. He found her quiet confidence calming. Tom imagined Lois and Cora knew that he snuck out to talk to her, but they never said anything. Tonight, though, he wasn’t sure why he was here and so simply nodded.

Bess stood and made her way to the piano and lightly played a melody. Tom copied. She did another four bars, and once again Tom followed. When she nudged his shoulder he looked up to find her warm smile.

“I think you’re the only person who understands me sometimes Bess,”

“Get yourself off to bed. Night Tom,” she rubbed his shoulder and made her way up the stairs. He watched her go, grabbed his jacket from the table and left through the front door, tucking his spare key into his trousers. Just as he went to open the door to his own home across the street, he heard the clicking of shoes on the cobbles.

“Here,” Bess thrust something into his hands as he turned around. “We’ve got plenty. Too much. Goodnight.”

Tom opened the tissue paper and found a few slices of Albie’s birthday cake. He watched Bess disappear back into their house. She didn’t look back.

Note: Things will start to pick up in the next few chapters, I promise! Expect unlikely friendships, angst, gossip, letters, maybe a little sauciness…

The Vaughn girls ages are 24 (Cora), 22 (Bess) and 17 (Dot). I’ve put Lois at the same age as Cora, and Tom at the same age as Bess.

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