They asked me to stay to eat. I was reluctant because if anyone came to our house in Pringle Street it was my food that was given to them. So I imagined either Brenda or Kathleen, George's sisters, or his brother, Jimmy, having to do without. They insisted I stayed, and much to my relief everyone had enough to eat.
The food was great, of a standard I was unused to. The meal was roast potatoes, veg, and best of all, meat. My first instinct was to cram as much as possible into my mouth, to finish the meal before someone else took a fancy to the food on my plate. But no one was hurrying me. I was very conscious of embarrassing George, so I then began to eat more slowly than I had ever eaten before. It was murder! When I had finished, it took all my self-control not to lick the gravy from the plate. In fact, I nearly cracked, and slyly took a fingerful to lick. I hated to waste any sort of food.
The whole family chatted throughout the meal. At home in Pringle Street we wolfed away in silence, looking up only to gauge if any of the others had any food left to grab.
After the meal at George’s, we were in a hurry to go to the pictures, but George’s mum insisted we stay for dessert. I wasn’t complaining. It was lovely.
When we left, George held my coat for me to put on. No one else had treated me so well in my life. I felt like hugging everyone to show my gratitude. Then when we left, little Jimmy shouted to me outside: “Are you our George’s girlfriend?” George and I both blushed, and I said: “Yeah, for now anyway,” but I was thinking: “until my brothers get hold of him!”
As it turned out, though, they did not bother him and I went on being his girlfriend.
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