Leggings - bad mornings - bootleggings ?

“I have been busy, one thing after another. This morning quite early a shipment arrived, I'm not sure who for, there was plenty of people out there waiting for their share. It appeared to be spirits perhaps bootlegging – I don't like the stuff myself. Scotch is the worst, a nasty taste! Sorry scotch makers.

Someone shouted out, that he knew they weren't the right ones – that whoever the woman was she was asleep upstairs – perhaps the Irish Queen again. He wasn't coming anymore, it was the last one she was entitled too. So they put the stuff out for the thieves which he said they were and left.

The noise sounded like a helicopter or a large farm tractor take your pick. I stayed inside...”

Kitty divulged quickly as she and Phyllis started to plan a new design together. The summer designs had gone so well, that we were up to the limit on the numbers of each sold.

I could hear Phyllis tell her to stay put in the house some of the stuff she'd been doing must now work, and then she could move on with her own life. “Things'll get sorted out now,” I heard her say, a trifle too brightly. “I mean you did confide in your MP too, so surely something will happen. I mean he will pass it on to the relevant departments.”

“No longer sure he isn't nobbled!” said Kitty bitterly, “Perhaps I ought to write to the F.O., myself.”

“Remember May Belle? I now remember more, she was involved with the collapse of the Norton Factory, and she is the voice on the radio, as the last child out of Auschwitz, and it might be her collection from that...” I said as they came back into the shop. “Sorry I overheard... It was interesting...|”

“Where was she from?” asked Kitty.

“She came from Dachau, another concentration camp, with her parents, near to Poland. I think. She and I were sat together in class, she was okay, only the family wasn't liked. I think that's when she got sent away. She was asked to do that as a job. We didn't discriminate between the victims of the Holocaust. Not here. Anyway I kept losing my voice, through hurt, and when I got it back I suffered a terrible stammer. I had elocution lessons in Scotland in the end. Even then... I lost the power of speech at school after I passed the 11+... as I told you before.”

“Did you like her?” asked Kitty anxiously.

“Yes,” I said, “I'd worked out by then, that if they didn't like you, you were treated badly.”

“It's a strange world...” said Kitty grimly. “I heard the Overdyes celebrating... He really loves it all.”