A.L. Mottley

FLO
In the year of our Lord, 1930ish. A young Sheffield lass by the name of Florence - Flo for short, arrived in the leafy Well there were trees in the cemetery suburb of Moston, Manchester, to work in service for a local doctor.
Moston was mainly a community of smart terraced houses, donkey-stoned steps, and immaculate back entries. The main thoroughfare, Moston Lane had an immense variety of shops. Shoes could be cobbled, Knitting wool obtained, and Iced fingers bought. Without any need for 'going into Town'
It was a world away from her rural upbringing, but the Sheffield lass soon settled into her job, and became a familiar face around and about.
Moston would be where she met her future husband Bob. A widower, thirty years older than her, who lived next door with his teenage daughter. In the years to come, the Sheffield lass would give him a second daughter. her beloved 'only child' Joyce.
The courtship of Bob and Flo began slowly. And if truth be told, unintentionally. In those days a single dad was a rarity and her initial feelings toward him, were of sympathy. He was, after all, a grown man in his 40's, whilst she was barely 18. I guess you could say proximity played a big part in their blossoming romance. Hardly a day passed when she didn't see him walking past the surgery or on the 'Lane' heading home from work. Head up, hat on. Probably mindful of the fact he was the subject of gossip by the local women gathered on street corners, shop queues, or bus-stops.
"Aw look at him. He's a widower you know...Fought in the trenches...Not a scratch on him...Comes home and his missus dies of consumption. She was only 20 odd.Int life a buggar"
"Ooh the poor sod...I bet his house is a hovel"
"Speak for your bloody own house!...I've never been in but his window sills and step are spotless. He's raising his child an' all"
"On his OWN?"
"I think his sister pops in now and again. But in the main..Yeah"
"What the bleedin' ell does he feed her? My Jack would die of starvation if I popped my clogs...Name me a man who can cook and I'll show you a 'fairy'"
"You're not wrong Ada"

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Flo, by now firmly ensconced in the community, listened to these conservations quietly. She was yet to find her own inner gossip and hadn't met her best mate and big gob extraordinaire, Alice known behind her back, as 'The malice' yet...But more of her later
She was an excellent cook and food was bountiful in her employer's house. One day, after months of head nodding and "Looks like rain" comments, between her and Bob. She plucked up the courage to 'knock on' with some leftover Shepherd's pie. Which one can only presume, was gratefully received, as the following days and months saw the regular occurrence of meals being passed over the back wall.
Years later, when reminiscing, Flo would re-iterate that her initial feelings towards him were sympathetic but soon she noticed the little things; His lovely head of hair, the twinkle in his eye...Bob was a 'looker' and quite obviously the feeling was mutual because shortly after she'd given him a cottage pie, with a side of beetroot, a romance of Romeo and Juliet epicness began...The only differences being, only one of them was young. The families got on...sort of. And neither died for ages.
And thus began a marriage that was to last through the middle and latter years of the 20th century... Through war and austerity to the 'never had it so good' years and beyond.
They were to be blessed with a much-loved child Joyce. Who was to carry on the family tradition started by the dyed in the wool Lancashire lad, when he wed his Yorkshire lass, of marrying a foreigner!...A proper foreigner an' all. Oh, it caused all manner of kerfuffles when she brought a 'coloured lad' home but time and grandchildren are great healers.
They stood up to Hitler - Single handedly according to the tales they told the grandkids! and lived in a world devoid of washing machines, vacuum cleaners and TELLY. To only be parted by Bob's death a good 35 years later...Which is a bleedin miracle when you bring Alice into the mix...

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ALICE
There's no actual proof that Alice was ever born. Some say she arrived on earth as a middle-aged whinging old battle axe. Some say she came from Hell. But they would say that, wouldn't they? because 99% of people round Moston way had fallen out with her at some point!
Her mam was an ambitious woman. Eager to live the middle-class life. Dad had his own window cleaning round and a good life insurance policy.She grew up at the top end of Moston lane. Where the 'posh' houses were. In a semi-detached house, with bay windows. Although she was to spend all her adult life in a terraced, albeit with an inside loo!, she still maintained a 'semi' state of mind. Which made the lion statues in her back yard, look a bit daft.
She was born with a 'gift' for causing offence . A gift that came so naturally to her, she permanently had a 'what did I say?' look on her face. Coupled with her penchant for a tight curly perm- from her late teens onwards. It made for a frightening sight.
Alice was an enigma...An 'idiot' who didn't suffer fools gladly. A two-faced cow, who'd lay down her life for her best friend...First to your door in times of trouble. First to the bus stop to share your business with random strangers.
Married for 'minutes' to a man she couldn't stand but blessed with his early death and a works pension for life.
No kids - Thank god, for the kids...Oh, she wouldn't have harmed them but imagine a world full of little Alice's. Shudder!
The first meeting between her and Flo was to be a 'Comedy of errors' inside the doctor's surgery where Flo worked. And was to set the tone for their lifelong friendship...