‘Just as you say, miss, just as you say.’
‘Hello, there!’
They stopped and Sammy called back, ‘Hello, Jimmy.’
When the tall young man came abreast of them, he looked from one to the other; then the smile moving from his face, he addressed Sammy, saying, ‘What d’you mean, coming up our street?’
‘Oh, I just wanted to show them the slums, Jimmy.’
‘Watch it!’ The grin was back again. And now Sammy said, ‘This is Mr…no, not Mr, it’s Jimmy, Jimmy Redding. Now if either of you decide to take up fencing, he’ll show you where to put your feet.’
They were walking on now and the young man, looking at Katie, said, ‘You’re making for the Centre?’
‘Well, where else would she be making for, coming through this dump?’
‘You on your high horse again? Mind, I’ve warned you. You know where I’ll put one of those feet of mine.’
‘Like to see you try. By the way, I’ve only got half my introductions in. This is Katie and’—he turned—‘this is Willie, both Baileys.’
When the young man stopped, they all stopped, and he held out his hand to Katie, saying, ‘Pleased to meet you,’ and then to Willie, ‘Same to you, Willie.’ And when they walked on again the young man said to Sammy, ‘Something tickling you?’
And yes, there was something tickling Sammy. It was the look on Katie’s and Willie’s faces when Jimmy had stopped them for the introduction and had insisted on shaking hands. He liked Jimmy, he was a fine fella. He had been a friend to him. He must tell Katie about him some time. There was a story she wouldn’t believe.
The handshaking had tickled Katie, too. But it had also left an impression on Willie, for strangely he was feeling now more like his old self than he had done for days, sort of relaxed, friendly-like. It had been funny that young fella stopping and shaking hands like that in the street, and with such vigour as if he had known them before and was glad to see them again.
The council estate ended abruptly at a crossroads and it was also as if the crossroads gave onto a gateway into a different world, at least a different kind of living. For there on the far side was what looked like a park, its high iron gates wide open, and running at right angles to it on the further side of the crossroads was a terrace of high, well-built houses with small iron-grid gardens in front of them.
They were just about to obey the green light when Jimmy pulled them to a halt by whistling. It was a high, shrill whistle and it stopped a young girl as she was about to go through the park gate. And now looking down on Sammy, he said, ‘It’s Daisy.’
Sammy merely smiled in return, for he could have said, oh yes, it’s Daisy. Daisy’s never hard to spot. A blind man could pick out Daisy.
The green light gave them way again and then they were all hurrying to where the girl was waiting just beyond the gate. She was wearing a mini-miniskirt: the fashion in skirts was, you could wear them down to your ankles or up to your hips, take your choice. Daisy had definitely pointed out her choice. The skirt was a saxe-blue colour and it had the privilege of being edged with an inch-deep, red fringe which went a little way towards shading her buttocks. She was wearing a skin-tight red jumper. Around the highish neck were hanging at least three strings of beads, and from her ears dangled a pair of earrings with loops on the ends, studded with pieces of coloured glass.
What the original colour of her hair was she must have long forgotten, for that which now reached her shoulders was of a pink hue. However, nearer the scalp it turned into a dark blue and her parting was indicated by a brown streak. Her face was heavily and badly made up. Whilst awaiting them she had been looking into a small mirror, the while aiming to wipe off excessive lipstick from her lower lip in order to make a clean line. She did not take her eyes from the glass to look at the three people standing watching her, until she lowered it to return it and the handkerchief to her shoulder bag. And then nonchalantly, she said, ‘Had to come out in a hurry.’
Jimmy stared at her for a moment before he said, ‘These are Sammy’s friends, Katie and Willie Bailey.’
Her form of acknowledgement was to look first at Willie, then at Katie, a long-drawn look at Katie. Then she walked on, and they accompanied her.
It was after some minutes of silence Jimmy said, ‘What was your hurry?’ And for answer he got, ‘Dad’s playing hell, going mad. Our Lucy, and that’s a right name for her an’ all, second one in three years. As me ma said, the Archangel Gabriel wasn’t near her this last time. Me granny says she wants some tape in her knickers.’ She looked sideways at Jimmy now and laughed. ‘She, me granny, thinks that lasses still wear bloomers. Me da was for taking his belt to her, our Lucy. And he would have, he was as mad as three hatters. It was only the fact that me ma slapped him in the gob with a plateful of his own dinner and sent him flying that saved her. Then she had to fly an’ all, me ma. The lot of them skedaddled.’
‘Where did you go?’ Jimmy was asking quietly now, but there was a quiver in his voice, and his eyes were bright, although he wasn’t smiling.
‘Where we always go, the Browns next door.’
‘They must get fed up with your lot. Were the lads in?’
‘Not so much of…your lot, Jimmy Redding. No, they weren’t in. If they had been they would have had more sense than to stay in as they know what me da’s like when he’s playing Father Hankin and God rolled up together. Anyway’—her head wagged now and she was yelling at the top of her voice—‘just look at your lot. You’ve got no room to talk. Look at your lot.’
They had stopped: Jimmy had gripped her by the shoulders and was shaking her as he said, ‘I do, Daisy, I do; but stop that yelling. You don’t want the whole park to know’—his voice dropped and there was a touch of laughter in it again as he said—‘that we’re both as common as muck.’
When a chuckling sound came from Katie, Daisy, turning on her, snapped, ‘And you, po-faced. Wipe that grin off else I’ll wipe it off for you.’
‘Shut your big and crude mouth, girl.’
Jimmy’s words were still low, but Katie was amazed to see the effect they had on this pink-haired, common-looking firebrand.
They were through the park now, and no-one had spoken; nor, after turning sharp right, did the first sight of the Fickleworth Sport and Leisure Centre bring forth any audible feeling from either Katie or Willie.
It was a very imposing building, or to be more correct a series of buildings, stretching away on either side from the central high point, the entrance to which was a pillared portico. Then they were passing through two electrically controlled doors into a large hall.
Motioning Katie and Willie to stay, Sammy approached what looked like an hotel reception desk; Jimmy and Daisy, having decided to wait for him, sidled about the hall.
After speaking to the young man behind the desk, Sammy pointed back to Katie and Willie, and Willie said softly, ‘You all right, Katie?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m all right. She’s a rude piece, isn’t she?’
‘I’m glad you took it as you did.’
She said nothing to this. But after a moment, she said, ‘Willie.’ And his voice still soft, he said, ‘Yes?’ Then he was surprised to hear the next words, ‘We’ve been lucky, haven’t we? I mean, being brought up as we have.’
To this he could say nothing because Sammy was beckoning them towards the counter. And there the young man said, ‘You…you want to join? And you can pay the fee?’ Before either of them could answer, he smiled as he said, ‘That’s good. I always like to book new members in who can pay the fee. But still, it doesn’t matter one way or the other.’ He looked at Katie now, saying, ‘What are you going in for, miss?’
‘I…I think it might be ju-jitsu.’
‘Oh, defence. Well, that’s fine. And you?’ He was addressing Willie and Willie wetted his lips, swallowed and said, ‘Well, I…I only came for a look round; but I think it’s going to be…well, very interesting. I…I might…may I leave it?’
&nb
sp; ‘Leave it? Of course you can leave it. There’s plenty time to make up your mind, isn’t there, Sammy?’ He pouted his lips in Sammy’s direction, then went on, ‘Six days a week. Take your choice, from nine in the morning, swimming, till ten at night when they finish boxing. There’s a lot in between. Oh, yes, I’d say. And we’re open on Sunday. Well, now, Sunday’s a different kettle of fish. There’s talks and discussions and lots of things go on on a Sunday. Anyway, here’s a pamphlet. That’ll tell you what you’ve got a choice of.’ He now looked to the side towards where Jimmy was talking to Daisy. Her gaze was directed towards the floor, and the young man behind the counter remarked, ‘Those two been at it again? Daisy’s a pickle, isn’t she? No harm in her though. No harm in her. They’re a family, the Gallaghers, the whole lot of them. But there they are,’ he shook his head, ‘Sunday after Sunday the whole family filling the back row of the church.’ He now nodded towards Katie, saying, ‘Catholics?’
‘No. No, we’re not Catholics.’
‘Well, that’ll even things up a bit. Half of them that come in here are, you know. Father Hankin unloads them all on us.’
‘You talk too much, Sandy.’ Sammy’s tone was curt, and he motioned Katie and Willie towards where Jimmy and Daisy were standing, saying, ‘Well, come along; we’ll do the rounds else we’ll have no time for practice.’ …
As Katie was to say to Fiona later that night, she didn’t know about Willie, but she was amazed at what she saw there. And she went on to describe the fencing room, the boxing ring that was set in a kind of small amphitheatre, the badminton rooms, the table-tennis rooms, the restaurant and what Jimmy had proudly called their common room, where you could go and write a letter or sit quietly. Then there was the swimming pool, and the private baths behind; seaweed bath, salt bath. And all this was only on the ground floor. On the second floor was a marvellous roller-skating rink, and on this floor, too, was a large café where you could purchase all kinds of snacks and, twice a week, fish and chips. It being Tuesday night, and presumably a fish and chip night, the place had been crowded.
And of Daisy, she said again, ‘Oh Mam, you should see Jimmy’s girlfriend. No magazine could do her justice. And yet,’ she had added after a thoughtful moment, ‘there’s something about her; I could imagine, given the chance, she would have made something of herself, because she’s far from stupid. And I must tell you about the family some time. Oh, yes, when Dad’s here I must tell you about the family; at least how Daisy herself describes them.’
But before this, back at the Centre, Willie was being instructed into the art of fencing by the said Daisy, who apparently had been fencing for the past two years, and twice a week at that, and was no mean hand with a foil. In fact, as she was now bragging, ‘I’m goin’ on to sabres, no matter what Mr Davies says.’ She now went into a Welsh accent, ‘“Sabres are not for ladies, not even young lasses, sabres are menswear, so to speak. Stick to the foil and it won’t let you down; but you pick up a sabre and you can do nothing with it but show yourself up.”’ She had added that she was glad that Jimmy wasn’t of the same mind as ‘Look you’ Davies.
They were in the small room where all the fencing gear was kept and she was saying to him in no small voice, ‘Bend your knees, further. Now put your right heel towards your left instep.’
When he got slightly fuddled keeping his knee bent and obeying the last order, she said, ‘You know where your heel is, don’t you? It’s much smaller, but it’s the next thing that sticks out after your backside.’
Willie straightened his twisted body so quickly that it almost knocked Daisy on her back. Then he leant against a rack where there were stacked a number of thick, white, padded coats and, placing two hands over his mouth, he tried to still his laughter, the while she hissed at him, ‘Cool it! Else they’ll hear you next door, and Jimmy’s in the middle of a bout. He hates noise and such ’cos he can’t hear himself instructing. Ah, come on.’ She was smiling now, and in a very low voice, she said, ‘You looked so funny; just me rawness as Jimmy would say. He’s always on about me rawness.’
Willie straightened up from the rack and sat on a form on the opposite side of the room, and as he wiped his eyes, he said, ‘How old are you?’
‘On sixteen.’
‘You’re not, are you?’
‘Yes. Yes, I am.’ Her tone was definite.
‘Good gracious! I wouldn’t have thought it.’
‘Well, how old did you think I was?’
‘Oh, fourteen.’
She drew up her small frame now and her head wagged as she said, ‘Let me tell you I’m often taken for nineteen.’
‘No, no,’ he said now, ‘unless it would be in the dark.’
‘What d’you mean?’ She was on the defensive again.
‘Well, if people heard you they might think you were nineteen, but never to look at.’ He started to laugh again. ‘Yes, if they heard you in the dark, definitely they would think you were nineteen.’
‘You think you’re funny?’
His face straight now, he said, ‘No. No. I was only, well…well, I saw the humour of it.’
‘Well, all I can say is your sense of humour’s a very private thing, if only you can see what there is to laugh at in it.’
‘Oh,’ he was on his feet now. ‘I’m saying all the wrong things. You see, I’ve never met anybody like you. Oh, there I go again.’ He shook his head. ‘Well, I mean, the only person like you I know is…Sammy, and we’ve been great friends for years.’
‘You and Sammy friends?’
‘Oh yes.’
Her eyes widened now and then she wagged her finger slowly at him as she said, ‘His father died just recently, and he went to live with…is it you and her…your sister he lives with?’
‘Yes.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. The whole family like him, in fact, more than like him.’
‘Did you know his da?’
‘Oh yes. Mr Love was a wonderful man.’
‘Mr Love was a wonderful man? You say that?’
‘Yes. Yes, I say that.’
‘D’you know where they used to live? Well, they did until Sammy saved some bloke. Oh’—her head was bobbing now—‘it was your da that he saved?’
‘Yes.’
‘And…and so you took him in to live with you?’
‘Yes, but he had stayed at our house a lot before that.’
‘And you knew Mr Love?’ she said again.
And again he said, ‘Yes. Yes, I knew Mr Love. We all knew Mr Love, and like the name, we loved him. And we were terribly, terribly sorry when he died. We looked after him for quite some time before he died.’
‘In your house?’
‘Yes, in our house.’
‘He was a Catholic, a wooden one, but, nevertheless, he was a Catholic, like Sammy.’
‘I know.’
‘And he had been along the line and he was always punching people up.’
Willie smiled broadly at her now, saying, ‘Yes, I know. It wasn’t really his fault.’
‘No?’ It was a very large question mark to this syllable, and he repeated, ‘No. It was because of circumstances in his life and the fact that he had a quick temper.’ He almost added, ‘As you have.’ So far though, to his knowledge she had used only her tongue, but he wouldn’t put it past her. On this thought he wondered what she did here besides fencing, and he said, ‘Do you only fence, I mean…?’
‘No, I don’t only fence. I do ju-jitsu.’
‘No!’
‘Yes.’ The word was drawn out and her voice was quiet and she was smiling. Then she added, ‘So…you…look…out.’
‘I will. Thank you for warning me.’ Then he added, ‘Do you think Katie will take to it?’
‘Well, it’s up to her, on how she feels. I took to it because I wanted not only to protect myself, but also to get at those who got at me for no reason whatever. Oh, you wouldn’t understand.’ She shook her head. And when he said, ‘No, I don’t su
ppose I would, not yet anyway,’ she became silent, the while looking at him, and then she rubbed her finger round her painted lips before she asked, ‘What…what kind of a house have you got? Is it a big ’un?’
‘Yes, biggish.’
‘Has it got a garden?’
‘Yes, a very big garden.’
Her neck seemed to stretch out now from her beaded collar as she said, ‘And, I suppose, you’ve got a swimming pool, and everything that goes with it?’
He didn’t answer her, but when she said, ‘Well?’ he said quietly, ‘Would it matter to you if we had, because it doesn’t matter to me, or anybody else in the house. And we have a games room, too, with all kinds of gymnastic appliances. In a small way, of course. Not like here, but it’s very handy. It’s only a pity that I’ve never felt that way inclined. I’m not athletic at all. I play a little cricket, and I have to play rugger, as everybody else does, at school.’
‘Which school d’you go to?’ The question was quiet.
He seemed reluctant to say it, but he had to, ‘Dame Allan’s in Newcastle.’
She turned away from him now and, taking a coat from a peg, she handed it to him, saying, ‘I have five brothers. I used to have six, but John went to Australia. He could have gone to a good school, but me da wouldn’t let him. Even when his teacher came and explained that he was very good with maths and science and he could do better, because he had a head on him. But me da wouldn’t hear of it because he was the eldest then, and there were eight of us below him; he said he had to go to work and help to bring the others up.’ She now turned her head away as she ended, ‘He said it was his duty to help to bring us all up.’ Her voice now sounding as if she were talking to herself bitterly, she said, ‘Folks must get some fun in some way out of having you in the first place, but what do they do? They expect the result to pay for it all their lives.’ She turned and looked at him again. ‘Parents ruin people’s lives, you know. They do. I have proof of it. We all have proof of it in our bolt-hole, the Browns next door. There were three sisters to begin with; there are only two now because Janet died last year. Annie is the elder, she’s in her sixties, and then there’s Bella, and they both could have been married, I understand, if it hadn’t been for a deathbed promise they gave their mother to see to their father. And he lived until he was nearly ninety, next door. But as rowdy as our lot are, we’ve become a family. I’m positive they love it when we’re having a bust-up and when my da is on the rampage, because then they know we’ll all swarm in there. And they bed us down, and have done over the years. And, you know, me ma’s reasoning is funny, because she says they had to give their mam the deathbed promise about looking after their dad for the simple reason it was all written; God cuts the pattern and then He fits it in in pieces, and if they had married they would have gone away and there would have been no Browns for us to go round to, especially when we were younger and…and me da was running riot with the poker. Yet it was funny, he never came into the Misses Browns’, and when he met them in the street he would always touch his cap to them. Very funny. And yet not funny, because in the house he would say the most terrible things about them, and their spinsterhood, and how they could get rid of it if they would only give him a chance.’
The Bondage of Love Page 4
