[CW: reference to racism and xenophobia]
Extravagant. Such a big word. Alice sometimes used big words like that. Well, she would love to see that extravagant room and pretend she was a wealthy lady staying there on a seaside holiday. Maybe Mable would play along, and they could pretend to be best friends from wealthy families, traveling together. The room wouldn't even need to be in Whitby. It could be in France or Italy!
It seemed weird to call oneself charming. It wasn't modest. But when Mable referred to them as good friends, Anne couldn't help feeling warm with happiness. "I don't think we should ask 'im now," she said as they walked down the Cragg. "'e'll 'ave a lot on 'is mind and 'e might be in a mood."
They turned and walked some steps down to the road by the river and followed it. "'E can be a bit... uhm..." she turned red. She did not normally talk much about what her father was like, and having to reflect on it made her feel embarrassed in a way she wished she wasn't, and that in turn raised concerns she'd rather bury. "'E doesn't like me hangin' around people 'e thinks are a bad influence. So please..." What could she even advice? "... please be very polite and uhm, don't say owt that might make 'im think yer uhm... not proper company." She hoped that didn't insult her friend. "Not that I think you would be!" she quickly added.
Would her father frown upon the colour of her friend's skin. He had never said anything negative about people of a different race, but she could never know what he might find fault with. Or would he deem Mable unsuitable company because she was foreign and homeless, and more exposed to the world than Anne? As they passed the bridge and took the steps down to the docks, she felt rather nervous
Extravagant. Such a big word. Alice sometimes used big words like that. Well, she would love to see that extravagant room and pretend she was a wealthy lady staying there on a seaside holiday. Maybe Mable would play along, and they could pretend to be best friends from wealthy families, traveling together. The room wouldn't even need to be in Whitby. It could be in France or Italy!
It seemed weird to call oneself charming. It wasn't modest. But when Mable referred to them as good friends, Anne couldn't help feeling warm with happiness. "I don't think we should ask 'im now," she said as they walked down the Cragg. "'e'll 'ave a lot on 'is mind and 'e might be in a mood."
They turned and walked some steps down to the road by the river and followed it. "'E can be a bit... uhm..." she turned red. She did not normally talk much about what her father was like, and having to reflect on it made her feel embarrassed in a way she wished she wasn't, and that in turn raised concerns she'd rather bury. "'E doesn't like me hangin' around people 'e thinks are a bad influence. So please..." What could she even advice? "... please be very polite and uhm, don't say owt that might make 'im think yer uhm... not proper company." She hoped that didn't insult her friend. "Not that I think you would be!" she quickly added.
Would her father frown upon the colour of her friend's skin. He had never said anything negative about people of a different race, but she could never know what he might find fault with. Or would he deem Mable unsuitable company because she was foreign and homeless, and more exposed to the world than Anne? As they passed the bridge and took the steps down to the docks, she felt rather nervous