Slowly now, she picked up the paper on which she had been writing from the dressing table. In the excitement of the moment she had forgotten about it. It was a wonder Corny hadn’t seen it. At one time he always picked up the pieces of paper lying around, knowing that she had been scribbling.
She heard the Rover start up and saw Corny driving into the lane. After the car had disappeared from view she looked at the sheet of paper in her hand. This would be a good opportunity to tackle Jimmy and see what he thought about the idea.
She was halfway across the room when she stopped. Would he think she was daft? Well, the only way to find out would be to show him what she had written, and she’d better do it now, for Corny wouldn’t be long away.
She ran down the back stairs, and when she reached the yard she saw, over the low wall, the children playing in the old car. She waved to them, but they were too engrossed to notice her. She went through the gate, down the path between the beans and potatoes, over a piece of rough ground, to the small door that led into the garage.
‘Jimmy!’
Jimmy was sitting on an upturned drum, stranding a length of wire. He raised his head and looked towards her, and said, ‘Aye, Mrs Boyle.’ Then he threw down the wire and came hurrying to her. He liked the boss’s wife, although at times when she had her dander up she scared him a bit, but they got on fine. That was until he started practising. Still, he understood, ’cos his mother was the same. She was good-hearted, was the boss’s wife, not stingy on the grub. He wished his mother cooked like she did. Cor, the stuff his mother hashed up …
‘Aye, Mrs Boyle, you want me?’ He smiled broadly at her.
Mary Ann smiled back at him, and she swallowed twice before she said, ‘I’d like your advice on something, Jimmy.’
‘…My advice, Mrs…’
‘Yes. Yes.’ She shook her head, and her smile widened. ‘And don’t look so surprised.’ They both laughed sheepishly now, and Mary Ann, taking the folded sheet of paper from her apron pocket, said, in a voice that held a warning, ‘Now, don’t you make game, Jimmy, at what I’m going to tell you, but…but I’ve written some words for a song.’
She watched Jimmy’s long face stretch to an even longer length, and, perhaps because of the tone of her voice, all he said was, ‘Aye.’ He knew she wrote things, the boss had told him, the boss said she was good at it, but a song. He never imagined her writing a song. He thought she was against pop. He said quickly now, ‘Pop? Pop, is it?’
‘Well, sort of. I wondered what you would think of it. Whether you would think it was worth setting to a tune. You know what I mean.’
‘Aye, aye.’ He nodded, then held out his hand, and she placed the sheet of paper in it.
‘She acts like a woman. Coo! ’Cos I said that?’ He dug his finger towards the paper. ‘’Cos I said that was a good title you’ve made this up?’ He sounded excited; he looked excited; his large mouth was showing all his uneven teeth.
‘Yes.’ She nodded at him. ‘Mr Boyle’—she always gave Corny his title when speaking to his employee—‘Mr Boyle thought it was a very good title.’
‘Aye, I think it is an’ all, but…but you know, it wasn’t me who said it in the first place, it was that American, and it just struck me like…’
Time was going on and she didn’t want Corny to come back while they were talking. ‘Read it,’ she said. She watched Jimmy’s eyebrows move upwards as his eyes flicked over the lines, and at one stage he flashed her a look and a wide grin.
When his eyes reached the bottom of the page he took them to the top again and said slowly, ‘She acts like a woman.’
‘Well, what do you think?’
‘Eeh! I think it’s great. It’s got it, you know, the kind they want. Could I take it and show it to Duke? He’s the one that got our group up. He’s good at tunes. He can read music an’ all; he learned the piano from when he was six. I’ll swear he’ll like this, ’cos it’s got the bull-itch.’
Mary Ann opened her mouth and closed it again before she repeated, ‘Bull-itch? What do you mean, bull-itch?’
‘Well, you know.’ Jimmy tossed his head. ‘A girl after a fellow.’
‘Oh, Jimmy.’
‘Well, that’s what they say, Mrs Boyle. When it’s t’other way round they call it the bitchy-itch, an’ this ’as really got both.’
‘Oh, Jimmy. And you think that the words give that impression?’
‘Oh aye. An’ they’re great. But I didn’t know you wrote this stuff, Mrs Boyle. I bet Duke’ll make somethin’ of it.’
‘Oh, if only he could, Jimmy. And then we’ll get together and see about getting it recorded and trying for the Top Twenty.’
She could have sworn that Jimmy’s face dropped half its length again. ‘Top Twenty?’ His voice was high in his head. ‘But, Mrs Boyle, you don’t get into the Top Twenty unless you’ve got a manager and things, like the Beatles, and we’re just startin’ so to speak. Well, I mean, I am; I’m the worst, among the players, that is.’ He lowered his head.
‘What do the others do?’ asked Mary Ann, flatly now.
‘Well, Duke can play most things a bit; Barny, he plays the drums; and Poodle, he’s best on the cornet. But he’s on the flute now, and Dave has the guitar.’
‘What do you call yourselves?’ asked Mary Ann.
‘Oh, nowt yet. We’ve been thinkin’ about it, but we’ve not come up with anythin’ yet, not anythin’ catchy. You want somethin’ different, you do, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Mary Ann. ‘I’ll think up something.’
‘Aw.’ Jimmy’s face was straight now. ‘Duke’ll want to see to that; he’s good on thinkin’ up titles and things.’
There was a pause; then Mary Ann said, ‘You’ll have to bring Duke along to see me.’
‘Aye, I will,’ said Jimmy. ‘He’ll be tickled, I think.’
‘Jimmy.’
‘Aye, Mrs Boyle.’
‘I don’t want you to say anything to Mr Boyle about this.’
‘No?’
‘No. It might come to nothing, you see.’
Jimmy looked puzzled, then said, ‘Well, even if it doesn’t, it’ll still be a bit of fun.’
Mary Ann wanted to say that at this stage she wasn’t out for fun, she was out for money, but she was afraid Jimmy wouldn’t understand, so all she said was, ‘Don’t speak of it to Mr Boyle till I tell you, will you not?’
‘Okay, Mrs Boyle, just as you say.’
‘And when you bring Duke along, tell him not to say anything either.’
‘Will do, Mrs Boyle, will do.’
‘Thanks, Jimmy.’ She smiled at him. And he smiled at her; then watched her go out through the little door.
Well, would you believe that, her writin’ things like that. He looked down at the paper and read under his breath ‘I’d given her my lot. I was finished, broke and then she spoke of love. She acts like a woman.’ He lifted his head and looked towards the door again. It was as Duke was always sayin’, you never could tell …
Chapter Six
Rose Mary, from her position on top of the car, saw her mother come out of the garage and go into their back yard, and she called to her ‘O-Ooh, Mam!’ but her mother didn’t turn round. Perhaps she hadn’t called loud enough.
Oh, it was hot. She clambered down from the roof, saying to David, ‘I’m going to lie in the grass, it’s too hot. Come on.’
When they were both lying in the grass, she said, ‘I wish we could go to the sands at Shields. If Great-gran McBride lived in Shields instead of Great-gran McMullen we would go more often. I don’t like Great-gran McMullen, do you?’ She turned her head and looked at David, and David, looking skywards, shook his head.
She wished it wasn’t so hot; she wished she had an ice cream. She wished they could go on a holiday. Peter had gone on a holiday. He was going to come and play with them when he came back, but that would be a long time, nearly three weeks. He had said the other day that he would rather stay here and play on
the car. He liked playing with them…Oh, it was hot. They had only broken up for the holidays three days ago and she wished she was back at school…No, she didn’t, ’cos last week had been awful. Miss Plum had been awful right from the Monday following the Sunday when she had taken their David to sit beside her. Nothing had gone right from then. And Father Carey had messed things up an’ all. She had gone to school on the Monday knowing that something would happen because Father Carey was a good pray-er. And things did happen, but not the way she wanted them to, because they had hardly got in the classroom before Miss Plum collared their David and put him in the front seat right under her nose, and David didn’t let a squeak out of him. He usually squawked when anybody took him away from her, but he didn’t squawk at Miss Plum. She waited all morning for him to squawk, or do something. It was nearly dinner time before she realised that Miss Plum had got at Father Carey before she had, and that he was doing it her way.
Oh, it was hot. Oh, it was. And she hated Miss Plum, oh, she did. And she didn’t like Father Carey very much either. Eeh! She would get wrong for thinking like that. Well, she couldn’t help it. She had thought it without thinkin’. And she hadn’t made her first confession yet, so she wouldn’t have to tell it, so that was all right.
Her mam said when she was a little girl she took all her troubles to Father Owen and he sorted them out for her. She wished she could go and see Father Owen, but he lived far away in Jarrow.
Aw, it was hot.
‘Come on.’ She pulled herself up and put out her hand. ‘I’m goin’ in for a drink.’
She was too hot to do any shouting on the back stairs, and she was in the kitchen before she opened her mouth. And then she closed it quickly because her ma and da were talking, dark talking. She knew she hadn’t to interrupt when they were dark talking. They dark talked at night-time when she was in bed, and if she tried hard enough she could hear what they said. Usually, it made her sad, or just sorry like. And now the tones of their voices told her they were dark talking again. Her ma looked sad and her da’s face was straight, and her da was saying, ‘Sort of winded me like, to see him sitting there talking to Riley and the car standing near the pumps. I thought he liked what I did to the car and I just charged him the minimum. I didn’t put a penny extra on because he was an American, and he seemed over the moon at the time. But that’s over a week ago; and when he didn’t show up this week I thought he had gone on. But there he was, at Riley’s garage.’
Rose Mary watched her mother look down towards her feet, and she wanted to say to her, ‘Can I have a drink, Mam?’ But she didn’t, ’cos her mam was taking no notice of her.
‘What’s he doing in these parts, anyway?’ said Mary Ann now.
‘I don’t know, I didn’t like to probe. And a funny thing, unless I’m vastly mistaken, the car he had today, although it was a cream one, wasn’t the same one as he brought here the other day.’
‘But he can’t have two cars like that?’
‘A fellow like him could have three, or half a dozen.’
‘But how could you tell the difference when you were just passing?’
‘Oh, you notice things quick when you’re dealing with cars. This one hadn’t so much chrome on, but it was as big. I noticed, too, that the boot was open a bit and the end of a long, narrow case was sticking out, like the end of a golf bag, only it couldn’t have been a golf bag ’cos that boot would take ten golf bags. Anyway, it looked chock-a-block, as if he was all packed up to go…so, that’s that.’
‘And you didn’t find out about the men in the field?’
‘No, I stopped before I got to Riley’s and tried to find a place over the hedge to look through, but it’s a tangled mess down there. But I did ask a scavenger, but he could tell me nothing. And well, after I passed the garage I didn’t bother, the wind seemed knocked out of me. It was a funny feeling. I mean about the American. I really thought as long as he was in these parts he would come here.’
The silence that fell on the kitchen was too much for Rose Mary, and besides she had that sorry feeling seeing her dad and her mam with their heads bent and she wanted to cry. She said softly, ‘We’re dry, Mam; can we have a fizzy drink? Lemon?’
‘What? Oh yes. Just a minute.’ Mary Ann turned away and went into the scullery, and Rose Mary went and stood close against her father’s leg, and, taking his limp fingers in hers, she looked up at him, and said, ‘I hate that American.’
‘Rose Mary!’ His voice was sharp now. ‘You’re not to say such things. Mr Blenkinsop was very kind to you.’
‘Well, I don’t want him to be kind, I hate him. An’ David hates him an’ all. Don’t you, David?’ She looked to where David was stretched out on the floor, and David turned his head lazily towards her and moved it downwards.
‘Stop it!’ Corny now bent down, and, his face close to hers, he said, ‘Now look, Rose Mary. You don’t have to hate everybody that doesn’t do what you want them to do, understand? And David doesn’t hate the…Mr Blenkinsop. Who bought you the ice cream and lollies last week? Mr Blenkinsop gave you that money, and don’t forget it.’
There came to them now a distant tinkling sound, and Mary Ann called from the scullery, ‘That’s the phone, I think.’ And when she came into the kitchen with the two glasses of fizzy lemon water, Corny was gone. As she handed one glass to Rose Mary and one to David, Rose Mary said, ‘I do hate that American.’
‘You heard what your father said to you, didn’t you?’
‘Well, he’s buying his petrol from Riley’s.’
‘He can buy his petrol anywhere he likes.’
‘Our petrol’s better than Riley’s.’
Mary Ann closed her eyes and turned away.
‘It is.’
‘Rose Mary!’
‘If I had that pound note I’d give it him back.’
‘Rose Mary!’
‘Mary Ann!’
Hearing Corny’s voice calling up the front stairs, Mary Ann hurried out of the room and onto the landing and, looking down at him, she said, ‘What is it?’
‘Prepare yourself.’
‘What’s happened? What’s the matter now?’
‘Michael’s just phoned. Your granny’s on her way here.’
‘Me granny coming here!’
‘So Michael thinks.’
‘But why? Is she at the farm?’
‘No, she was there on Sunday. But Michael was driving back from Jarrow and at the traffic lights he happened to glance up at the bus, and there she was sitting, and, as he said, you couldn’t mistake the old girl. Busby an’ all.’
‘But how does he know she’s coming here?’
‘Well, she was on the Gateshead bus, and she doesn’t get that one to go to the farm, so he put two and two together and got off at the first telephone box and broke the news. He thought you would like to be prepared.’
‘Oh no. I only wanted this…But why is she coming, and at this time in the day? It must be two years since she was here.’
‘Well, get the bairns changed.’ Corny’s voice was soft now, soothing. ‘And put your armour on, and smile.’
‘Aw, Corny.’ Mary Ann’s voice, too, was low, but it had a desperate sound. Her granny. The last person she wanted to see at any time. ‘Corny, look.’ Her voice was rapid. ‘What about me taking them out for the day? You could tell her we’ve gone to the sands.’
‘It’s no use. From the time Michael phoned, the bus could be at the bottom of the road by now, and you could just run into her, even if you were ready…Stick it out; you’re a match for her.’
‘Not any longer, I haven’t got the energy.’
‘Wait till you see her, it’ll inject you with new life.’ He smiled up at her, then turned away, and she stood for a moment looking down the stairs, before moving swiftly back in the room.
‘Hurry up and finish your drinks,’ she said, ‘and come on into the bathroom.’
‘We goin’ to have a bath again, Mam? We had one last—’
‘I only want you to wash your face and hands and put on your blue print, the one with the smocking.’
‘We going to the sands?’
‘No.’ Mary Ann called now from the landing. ‘Your great-gran’s coming.’
‘Me great-gran?’ Rose Mary was running out of the room onto the landing, and David was behind her now. ‘Which one?’
‘McMullen.’
‘Aw, not her, Mam.’
‘Yes, her. Come on now.’ Mary Ann pulled them both into the bathroom. ‘Get your things off and you wash your face and hands, I’ll see to David.’
David had never been washed and changed so rapidly in his life. When he was attired in clean pants and tee-shirt he stood watching his mother jumping out of one dress into another, and then, with Rose Mary, he was hustled back into the living room and ordered to sit. He sat, and Rose Mary sat, and while they waited they watched their mother flying round the room, pushing their toys into the bottom of the cupboard, tidying up the magazines, putting a bit of polish on the table, even rubbing a wash-leather over the lower panes of the window, and she had only cleaned the window yesterday. At last Rose Mary was forced to volunteer, ‘Perhaps she’s fallen down, Mam?’
Oh, if only she had. Mary Ann groaned inside. If only she had fallen into the ditch and broken her leg. How gladly she would call the ambulance and see her whisked away. But her granny wouldn’t fall into a ditch and break her leg. Nothing adverse would happen to her granny; her granny would live to torment her family until she was a hundred, perhaps a hundred and ten. She could never see her granny dying. Her granny was like all the evil in the world. As long as there were people there would be evil. As long as there was a Shaughnessy left there would be Granny McMullen to torment them.
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