CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The house was filled with an abundance of festivity and jubilance. The children’s laughter was a cacophony of noise that ricocheted off the walls. The smell of turkey and potatoes wafted through the house like a comforting blanket of happy memories. It rained down memories of Christmases past, before the war. There was to be no ‘murkey’ in Peter’s house. He had money, and he had connections, so today they would be eating like royalty. Not a scrap of hardship in sight. Not a crumb of poverty to be seen. Not in this house. The wireless was on louder than normal, and everyone bopped around each other whilst getting the house prepared for a feast to be remembered. A day that would go down in history. The first Christmas after the war. Bing Crosby, Billie Holiday, and songs
