"Yoo hoo!" yelled the stout Rose Grant; furiously waving a lace trimmed handkerchief above her head. Failing to have the desired effect of attracting the attention of the likewise middle aged shopper across the street, she stepped blindly into the line of passing vehicles. She manoeuvred her way precariously through the traffic, ignoring the irate drivers hurling obscene language at her as their vehicles ground to a screeching halt.

"Mary!" she called with more ferocity.

Unable to avoid a direct confrontation, Mary Jones greeted her acquaintance with a forced smile, "I'm sorry Mrs. Grant I didn't see you," she said averting her eyes.

Peering over the top of her horn rimmed glasses with suspicion, Rose wheezed, "Oh my aching bones are playing me up something chronic today!" Leaning back heavily against a shop window to catch her breath she tightened the chiffon headscarf she was wearing - in a vain attempt to conceal the unmistakable green rollers prominent against the corn dry blonde hair. "I'm glad I caught you," she puffed, "have you heard about Old Tom?"

"Yes" nodded Mary reflecting a complete lack of interest.

"Oh who told you?" quizzed Rose looking vexed. Giving the disconcerted Mary little chance to offer an explanation she continued, "Never mind that then I'm sure you haven't heard the news about Alice Bunting!" Still refusing Mary the opportunity to answer she continued, "She's done a moonlight flit 'cos her 'Old Man's' turned up again. Right out of the blue it was. You know he beat the livin' daylights out of her last time?"

"Oh really," sighed Mary, the tedium evident as she edged her way backwards. "I can't stop my Bert's probably waiting for his tea at this very minute."

Disregarding the fact that Mary had been walking in the opposite direction to her home, Rose had a desperate need to part with more juicy information so suggested, "Well I'm going that way. I'll walk with you."

Her escape unsuccessful Mary huffed with annoyance. Rose Grant had skin so thick the sharpest of tongues couldn't penetrate it and she just knew this would be a long session when Rose produced a cigarette butt from a half-empty packet. The unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of Rose's scarlet mouth as she relayed her information; "Annie Simpson's got another man." She spaced the words out to accentuate the magnitude of her statement.

"I wouldn't know," interrupted Mary with indifference. She began walking quite briskly in an effort to outpace the limping lady at her side. This action proved fruitless, for Rose, endeavouring to adopt a rate of progression suitable to herself, linked arms with the indignant Mary, thus slowing the pace to accommodate her arthritic hip.

"As I was saying," continued Rose "he's a great big burly plumber. I recognise his van. She's got a right nerve she has, half past three on the dot he arrives - every day mind you - he stays for exactly one hour and fifteen minutes." Her breathing was becoming laboured once more. " In his tea break I expect," she chuckled "Does she think people are stupid or what?"

Mary Jones threw a very embarrassed smile at two passers by who had greeted her with a slight nod of heads. She couldn't mistake the snickers as their whispered voices trailed away.

Hardly pausing to inhale, the verbal flow continued from Rose "You know Mary I'm not someone to gossip…," being engrossed in what she was about to divulge, Rose failed to notice the sharp intake of breath from the weary Mary "but there's trouble at number eight. They had a visit from 'Old Bill' yesterday. It's that lad of theirs again."

Rose's grip on Mary's arm tightened as she surveyed the surroundings in the pretence that she didn't want to be overheard. "You know I'm not someone that pries, but they had those handcuff things on him, kicking and squealing he was, in a right state. I saw it with my own two eyes."

Realising they had reached their destination Rose released her grip on Mary's arm. She cleared her throat, and as if to protect her previously untarnished character she looked coyly away before blurting out "I don't know if I should tell you this, but it's about your Bert..." she stared intensely into Mary's face awaiting the confirmation to go ahead. When it wasn't forthcoming she proceeded regardless "My Fred tells me that when your Bert says he's working late her really suppin' in the Lamb and Flag."

Mary puffed herself up to her full height in order to let go of the building emotions but thought better of it and exhaled in exasperation and meekly said, "I know he sometimes calls in for a quick one on the way home from work," she quickly added "And how does your Fred know anyway?" It was unlike Mary to indulge in sarcasm, but feeling provoked the remark just popped out unexpectedly.

Rose seemed oblivious to the contempt Mary had for her -but was too polite to demonstrate it - for something else had caught her eye. Gleefully she said "I've got to dash there's Mr. Owens . A little birdie told me that his daughter's in the club."

Mary shrugged her shoulders, relieved at the distraction but at the same time feeling immense empathy for the poor gent about to be verbally accosted. She turned to make her way up the garden path, but before she could make a clean get away Rose had a grip on her arm again "You know Mary I always knock whenever I'm passing, but you're never in." Mary bit her lip to camouflage a grin. Rose's nature had become more pleading "Now you know where I live," Mary eased her arm away recognising instantly what was coming next and started to retreat down the garden path as Rose called after her.

"You know Mary I'm baffled why nobody ever wants to call on me!"