Christmas on Coronation Street

by Maggie Sullivan

  As she cautiously descended the stairs, however, she felt as if the day was already less than perfect. It might be her birthday, but she still had to do her early morning chores. Collect the water from the pump in the courtyard. Set up the cauldron. Rake out the ashes and get a new fire going in the grate. She needed to get through as much as she could and be gone from the house before anyone else was awake.

  As she got dressed, she wished she could have worn something different. But that of course was impossible. She was by far the tallest in the family so she couldn’t even pinch anything from one of her siblings. At least today she didn’t have to cover up her dress with her work overalls or wear a wretched headscarf. The flowered print of her cotton dress had once been quite pretty, she thought as she smoothed her hands over the tight-fitting bodice and gathered skirt, but that was before all the flowers had faded. The only thing she could find to wear that made her feel different was a pair of fine lawn knickers that she pinched from her mother’s drawer. Alice had shown them to her once and said she’d only worn them on very special occasions. What kind of occasions her mother would have needed such pretty delicate underwear for, Elsie really couldn’t imagine. Not that Alice could fit into them at the moment, so Elsie was sure her mother wouldn’t miss them. They felt really light and special as she ran her hands over the fine gauze material. The knickers were still pretty even though they were no longer white. Just the thing to comfort her aching sit-upon.

  The chill of the early morning was likely to remain throughout the day, so Elsie would need to wrap up warm. But when she had worn her coat last night for the trial run on the bike, it had flapped annoyingly around the chain, getting in the way, so today she put her cardigan on instead. She fastened all the buttons against the wind, but even so she found herself wishing she had darned some of the larger holes.

  Elsie was still excited by the fact that she had learned to ride a bike last night. It hadn’t been easy, but she had conquered her fear and maintained her balance and by the time Stan had said they should call it a day, she’d been riding up and down the street in triumph. She’d never have believed it could be so exhilarating, riding the length and breadth of Coronation Street without anyone holding on to the saddle, and when she wobbled off a couple of times it had cost her nothing more than her dignity. But now she realized she was paying the full price for Stan’s tuition, for this morning her legs ached when she tried to walk, and sitting down was so painful she didn’t know how she was going to get back on to the bike.

  They had taken a chance and hidden Charlie’s bike overnight under some old rags in the courtyard, and when she went out to use the privy she was relieved to find the bike was still there. She wheeled it to the factory gates where she was to meet Stan, hoping that by walking slowly alongside it she would be conserving her energy for today’s ride. She had no idea how far they would be going, Stan was keeping that a secret, but it was bound to be a fair way.

  He was already at the factory and was leaning on his bike as it stood propped up against the iron gates. He was wearing his cap as usual, but today he had tied the bottom of each of his wide trouser legs with a band of string. Elsie thought he looked very dapper and dashing, smoking a cigarette while leaning casually on the gates, and she had to pinch herself it was so hard to believe that a man was taking her out specially for her birthday.

  As always, Stan doffed his cap when he caught sight of her. ‘At your service, madam,’ he said as she drew near, giving a slight bow and making Elsie giggle. ‘And some little bird has told me it’s your birthday today,’ he said. From behind his back he whipped out a small package covered in pretty paper.

  Elsie turned away to brush her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘No one’s ever given me a present on me birthday before. Is this really for me?’ she asked, overwhelmed at the gesture.

  ‘Really.’ He laughed as she began feeling the package, trying to guess what might be inside. ‘You’d better open it or you won’t be able to see what it is.’

  It was just like one of the packages under the newsagent’s Christmas tree. She unwrapped the paper carefully, so as not to tear it. Inside, as she had suspected, was a bar of dark brown Bournville chocolate. A lump rose in her throat. ‘Thank you – thank you very much, Stan. I shall treasure it.’ She wanted to hang on to her precious present but realized she had no pockets to put it into.

  At that Stan laughed again. ‘I was rather hoping you’d eat it. And you can give me a bit an’ all. But for now you can put it in me saddlebag.’ He indicated the small leather pouch on the back of his bike. She handed the chocolate over reluctantly. It did make more sense to put it away for the time being. And afterwards she would keep the paper he had wrapped it in. This was her first-ever present, and that was something she would never forget.

  ‘We can have it when we gets to the moors,’ he said.

  ‘The moors?’

  ‘Aye, I thought it would be nice to get out into the country. It’s not far, not now that you can ride.’

  She nodded. She couldn’t tell him she was too sore to get on a bike today. Not when he’d gone to so much trouble. And after all the effort he’d put into teaching her to ride last night. She remembered how pleased he had been and knew she really couldn’t let him down.

  ‘Look, I brought this too.’ He brandished another package, this time in a brown paper bag. ‘It’s a sandwich, in case we get hungry at dinner time.’ He leaned towards her and kissed her lightly but tenderly on the lips.

  A bar of chocolate and a sandwich! Elsie’s stomach fizzed with excitement; she felt really special now.

  ‘So, let’s go,’ Stan said, turning his bike. ‘You can follow me, I know the way. I’ve been up on to the moors loads of times.’

  Elsie was afraid that he would see how difficult it was for her to lift her leg over the crossbar of Charlie’s bike, but as it turned out it she didn’t need to worry. He wasn’t watching; in fact, he was already halfway down the street. She wobbled along behind him for a short way then gripped the handlebars tightly while she tried to shut her mind to the pain.

  ‘I’m going to have a lovely time,’ she repeated over and over, trying madly to convince herself. ‘I’m not in pain and I’m going to have a very nice day.’ She lifted her head and felt the breeze in her hair. She thought of the sandwich and the chocolate bar in Stan’s saddlebag and like a miracle the pain seemed to drift away.

  They were well out into the country and seemed to have been pedalling for ages when Stan signalled for her to stop. Elsie was some way behind him and it took a few minutes for her to catch up. But as there was no one else on the narrow ribbon of road, apart from the occasional car, she had never actually lost sight of him. When they stopped, the view was amazing. The choking fog and grime of the city were still within sight, yet she had never been here before. High up here on the moors she had a bird’s-eye view of Weatherfield; the rows and rows of brick terraces looked like one of those paintings you could see in the library and it seemed hardly possible that the houses were teeming with noisy and chaotic life, so peaceful and calm did it seem from this distance. And up here, amongst the soft, springy turf and the heather, was another world. There was so much space, almost no people, with only the occasional sheep. Stan had laid his bike down in the short stubby grass and was crouching beside it when Elsie eventually came to a halt. At that moment she wished she had been riding a girl’s bike. But somehow she managed to swing her leg back over the crossbar. She flopped on to the grass next to him and lay for a moment, spread-eagled, enjoying the silence, mesmerized by the hugeness of the sky. It was mostly grey with clouds that looked low enough to touch and only occasional pockets of blue. She’d never really looked at the sky before. At home it was difficult to see any of it between the buildings.

  ‘Not sure you should do that. It’ll be wet down there.’ Stan was watching her. ‘You’ll get yourself all muddy, if you’re not careful. People come up here with their dogs.’

  Elsie sat up.
Her dress was already mucky so it didn’t matter much. But she didn’t want to be the one to say that. Thankfully, she had just avoided a puddle.

  ‘You’re doing well for a beginner,’ he said, and smiled. ‘You OK?’

  Elsie nodded but didn’t say anything.

  ‘I thought we’d go on just a bit further.’ He pointed ahead. ‘Over that next hill there’s a terrific view of the Pennines.’

  She wasn’t sure how much further she could go, even if the view was better from the other side. It was all uphill from here, as far as she could see. In the far distance there was snow on the higher peaks. She trusted they weren’t headed there. The only thought she could console herself with was that there must be some bit where it was all downhill.

  When they set off again, she slowed down considerably and at times lost sight of Stan altogether. But she kept doggedly at it and gritted her teeth until eventually she rounded a rocky outcrop and found him lying on an old newspaper in a grassy hollow. He was smoking, looking very relaxed.

  ‘What kept you?’ he said, his face creased into a grin. He patted a big sheet of newspaper that he’d placed beside him. Elsie was panting from the spurt she’d had to put in for the final hill and didn’t answer right away. But then she dismounted and sat down beside him to catch her breath. She nudged her elbow into his ribs.

  ‘You’re a cheeky sod. Do you know that?’ she said. ‘Pretending you’re so much better than me. Here, give us a puff of that.’ She grabbed the cigarette from between his fingers and took a long drag. But she dropped it as quickly as she had picked it up when she began to cough and choke. Stan rescued the remains of his home-rolled fag from the heathery stubble. ‘What did you do that for, you daft cow. Trying to be clever? I bet you’ve never smoked before, have you?’

  Elsie shook her head, unable to speak. She got up and ran away as quickly as she could from where they were sitting. She needed to throw up.

  Stan tutted. ‘I can see I’ll have to teach you a lot more than just how to ride a bike,’ he said.

  The coughing fit slowly subsided and Elsie came and sat down beside him.

  ‘’Ere, let me make it better,’ he said, pulling her towards him. He put his arm round her and she let herself be comforted as he stroked her back.

  Now that her breathing was almost back to normal, she could feel the cold striking up from the sodden grass.

  ‘Damn!’ she said. The back of her dress was wet. The wind had also picked up and it didn’t take long before she was chilled to the bone. But it felt so nice being there, just the two of them, that she didn’t want to spoil the moment.

  It was Stan who jumped up, realizing he too had been getting his backside wet. ‘Fancy a sarnie?’ he said.

  ‘Oo, that sounds good.’

  ‘You’ve got a choice. Jam or jam?’ he laughed as he proffered the bag. Elsie stood up too. She realized when she peered into the packet that she was hungry and didn’t wait before she sank her teeth into two of the thickest chunks of bread she’d ever seen. There was a thin smear of red jam in between and it tasted good. Stan demolished his half of the sandwich equally quickly.

  ‘What’s for afters?’ he said.

  Elsie raised her eyebrows.

  ‘As if I didn’t know,’ Stan said. He pulled out her present, still in its gift wrap, and handed it to her. Elsie broke it up into squares. She took a large one before passing the rest to Stan. She put the whole piece into her mouth and sucked on it. It tasted delicious. It didn’t take long before they’d finished the entire bar. She had eaten so quickly that for a moment she thought she might be sick again, but she was determined not to let her birthday present go to waste. She took a deep breath and neatly folded the coloured paper. I’m going to keep this, she thought, and tucked it into her cardigan sleeve.

  ‘We can go for a walk,’ Stan suggested. ‘Might help to warm us up a bit.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Elsie said. She was trying not to think of the long journey home, however much of it would be downhill. ‘I wonder who lives over there?’ she said, pointing to what looked more like an unlived-in old cottage than somebody’s current home.

  ‘Let’s go see,’ Stan said. ‘I’m sure our bikes will be all right here for a bit.’ And he reached out to take her hand.

  As they had thought, the cottage was abandoned. Inside, the roof sagged ominously, but they crept through the door into the shelter of the ruin. As soon as they were hidden from view, Stan pulled Elsie towards him and kissed her. His breath was warm and sweet, and as his tongue probed her own gently, she felt a ripple of desire shoot through her. She responded eagerly, but at the sound of masonry dislodging itself above them, they pulled apart. It looked as if the roof might collapse at any moment.

  ‘We’d best get out of here before there’s an accident,’ Stan said, taking her hand as they picked their way out of the ramshackle building and down the path into what might have once been the garden. In the centre there were the remains of some small trees, and where flowers may once have grown there were now tall upright stones and boulders. At the end of the garden was a signpost but the names on the two arms had long since worn away.

  ‘Here.’ Stan’s voice was thick as he pointed to a clump of several rocks. They formed a dry platform with a back wall that would shelter them from the wind.

  Elsie followed him out and they sat down together against the largest of the rocks. It was warm and dry, and as she made herself comfortable Elsie was aware of him looking at her with raw desire. Next thing she knew, they were wrapped around each other in a passionate clinch. This was even better than the last time. There’s something different about Stan, she thought as his hand worked its way up the back of her dress to unclasp her bra. There was something that set him apart from the boys who hung around the courtyard. Clearly he was older than she was. Not so much a boy, more of a young man. She could feel her nipples standing erect as his assured touch lingered over them and she knew that this time it really was special, for her body clearly wanted more. Shocked at her own reaction, she made no attempt to stop his hand when it slid effortlessly under her skirt. His fingers dipped inside her soft cotton knickers and she was glad that she had put them on. She almost wished she could display them. Suddenly it was as if Stan had read her thoughts, for he pulled them off – tearing them in the process.

  ‘Hey! What do you think you’re doing?’ she gasped. She was about to add that he should take care as they weren’t hers, but fortunately she stopped herself in time, realizing how stupid it would sound.

  ‘Well, we’ve got them out of the way,’ he said, his voice husky. ‘Now it’s back to the serious business.’ His beaming smile made him look anything but serious. But when she felt his hand between her legs again she realized what he had meant. Elsie had let some of the local boys have a grope and feel before, but for the first time in her life she was transported, carried on a rush of longing that flooded her whole body. Elsie wasn’t sure what to expect but when Stan pulled down his own trousers and she felt him enter her, she gasped in surprise as the pain and the pleasure entwined deliciously around each other inside her body.

  Afterwards he took off his jacket and wrapped it round her as they sat together on the boulder. But then she remembered something.

  ‘Where’s me drawers?’ They looked around them, and saw that the wind had caught the flimsy strips of cotton and carried them as far as the nearest small tree, where they’d caught on one of the branches and now hung flapping precariously. Elsie could only laugh. And she could see that Stan was laughing too.

  Once her knickers were reinstated, Stan offered her a cigarette. When she hesitated, he showed her how to hold it between her fingers and to breathe in gently. She remembered how Deanna Durbin had done it on the screen and did the same. She felt very grown-up and sophisticated. And so she should. For hadn’t she now got her first boyfriend. A special someone who bought her presents and made her feel like a real woman and not just young Elsie Grimshaw from Back Gas Street.


  Chapter 8

  Elsie spent the next few days almost dancing, feeling as if her feet were not touching the ground. I have a proper boyfriend, she kept saying to herself over and over, and no one can take him away. She was fifteen years old and she had at last found the kind of boyfriend who bought her presents. The kind who would stick around for a very long time. Stan had proved that, hadn’t he, when he’d asked her to go out with him again the following week. And hadn’t they been seeing each other whenever they could ever since. He must like her. And she certainly liked him.

  After that first time they went back to the moors on Sunday afternoons whenever the weather held. Sometimes they rode together over to the other side of Weatherfield, up and down some of the hillier streets, to help her improve her skills. Elsie was quite proud of herself. Not only was she able to ride more smoothly as time wore on, but it wasn’t long before she was able to negotiate the narrow, unevenly cobbled streets and alleyways on the outskirts of the town without falling off. And she was no longer feeling sore whenever she mounted the saddle. She loved the freedom of getting out into the country, the feel of the wind in her hair, and she was happy to take any opportunity to get away from the foul air and grimy streets of her home town. Stan taught her how to control the bike properly and how to use the brakes to stop instead of dragging her feet along the ground.

  ‘Keep doing that and you’ll soon have no shoes left at all,’ he warned. Elsie tucked her feet away behind the pedals when he said that, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that there wasn’t much left of her shoes as it was, without them having to act as bicycle brakes.