Christmas on Coronation Street

by Maggie Sullivan

  She was about to turn away when the door to number 9 opened and an old man’s voice could be heard yelling all manner of curses.

  ‘Don’t you come mithering us again, Mr Bloody Rent Collector!’ she heard the voice yell from inside the house at the same time as a large male figure appeared on the doorstep.

  ‘I’m only doing my job, Mr Todd,’ the figure called back.

  His hat brim was well pulled down and his chin and mouth were muffled by a scarf so she couldn’t see his face, but she would have recognized the huge frame of Arnold Tanner anywhere. His tone sounded threatening as he went on: ‘There’s people queueing up for houses like these and Mr Wormold won’t tolerate late payments, you know that.’

  A grunting laugh came from within. ‘Tell ’im ’e can come and whistle for it.’

  ‘You won’t be feeling quite so cocky when I show you that we mean business,’ Arnold yelled. ‘You’ve been given fair warning that if you don’t have the rent money together by the next time I come, you’ll be turfed out. We’ll soon see who’s whistling then. Remember, Todd, one week is all you’ve got.’ And with that he stepped out into the street. Arnold touched the edge of his hat and nodded towards the short stocky man who had followed him out on to the doorstep. Despite the cold, the old man’s collar was off his shirt and his sleeves were rolled up as if he were spoiling for a fight.

  At that point Elsie thought it best to slip away, but she stopped when she realized Arnold had seen her. He ignored Mr Todd, who was shaking his fist after him, and hurried over the road to where she stood shivering.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he said, but he didn’t sound angry.

  ‘Oh, I often have a wander down Coronation Street,’ she lied. ‘I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for the place. I learned to cycle here.’ She gave him her practised line, even though she knew he wasn’t in the least interested in cycling. In fact, when they had been together in the café he had told her he hankered after driving a car and had his eye on either an Austen 10 or a Ford 8. She could certainly see him driving rather than riding a bike, for she couldn’t imagine him cycling across the moors. Though she couldn’t help feeling that his wish for a car was as much to make the neighbours green with envy as it was about wanting to get behind the wheel.

  ‘What happened there?’ she asked, interested in learning more about the altercation she had just witnessed.

  ‘He’s a stubborn old bugger, but he’ll cough up – they always do. Either that or he’ll get chucked out on the street, and not gently either.’ Arnold flexed his arms, as if imagining the violent encounter. Then, to Elsie’s surprise, he put his arm across her shoulders. His overcoat felt thick and warm and she snuggled up as close as she dared.

  ‘Isn’t that the house you said you were after?’ she asked.

  ‘Number 9,’ he said. ‘That’s the one. And I’ll get it too, if the old fool doesn’t pay his rent. Mr Wormold has promised me. These people don’t seem to realize you don’t get owt for nowt.’

  ‘Has he got a family? Or does he live on his own?’ Elsie wanted to know.

  ‘I’ve no idea. Anyway, never mind him – you’re a sight for sore eyes.’ He sounded sincere, but it was hard to tell as his moods seemed to shift so quickly. ‘Here, you look half-starved with cold. Let’s be getting you out of this wind.’ He steered Elsie towards the Rovers Return and she knew any resistance would have been useless.

  The inside of the pub was as neat and tidy as the outside. The pub was split into three parts and Arnold directed her to one of the comfortable seats in the public bar. The woman behind the bar had the air of a landlady. Her hair was blonde, pinned up in the latest fashion, and her neat blouse and skirt looked like they had cost a bob or two. She gave Arnold a haughty look as he approached the bar.

  ‘Arnold, what can I get you and your …’ the woman pursed her lips and regarded Elsie disdainfully, ‘… lady friend?’

  Who the hell did she think she was? Elsie huffed. Bloody woman, looking down on her in that way. She raised her chin and eyed the landlady saucily.

  ‘That’s Elsie, Mrs Walker. She’s all right,’ he answered, nodding his head in Elsie’s direction.

  ‘That’s as maybe, Arnold Tanner, but I hope you won’t be harassing my customers for their rents while you’re in here?’ She gave him a cold stare.

  ‘Nay, don’t fret, I’m off duty.’

  ‘I sincerely hope so. And that young lady is too young to be drinking alcohol.’

  He bought a pint for himself and a lemonade for Elsie. He didn’t ask what she wanted, which was just as well for despite having worked in a pub she still didn’t have a favourite tipple and wasn’t sure she liked the taste of alcohol yet. He indicated he would bring them to one of the booths where he’d told Elsie to go and sit.

  ‘Sorry it took so long,’ he apologized when he finally carried the drinks through. ‘Annie Walker’s the landlady here – her and her husband Jack run the place. She’s a snooty cow, and they don’t like me coming in. But my money’s as good as anyone else’s. Better, in fact.’

  ‘Why don’t they like you?’

  He gave a laugh. ‘Come on, you know what I do, can’t you use your imagination?’

  Now she laughed. ‘I suppose you and I would make a good pair then,’ she said without thinking, ‘because it would make me want to dig my heels in too. No one would get rid of me that easily.’

  ‘Attagirl!’ he said. ‘That’s the kind of spirit I like to hear. They say redheads have lots of fire and go about them.’

  ‘Na, I don’t think it’s anything to do with that. One of my sisters has the same hair as me and when she found summat she really didn’t like, she ran away.’ Elsie sighed. She didn’t know what had made her think of Phyllis right now. No one had heard from her since the day that thieving Harry had moved in, and she’d long since given up any hope of finding her.

  ‘Shame. How long did she sulk before she came back?’

  ‘She hasn’t come back,’ said Elsie and she found herself telling him the story.

  ‘I bet I could find her for you, if you really wanted to know where she is,’ Arnold said unexpectedly.

  ‘What makes you think you could do that?’ Elsie was all agog.

  He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Because I’ve got lots of contacts in all sorts of secret places. They can find out anything you want to know.’

  Elsie stared at him, not sure whether to believe him. But he looked as if he meant what he was saying. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘You’re on.’

  ‘I’ll let you know next time I see you.’ Elsie’s stomach did a sort of somersault when he said that. Was there really going to be a next time?

  ‘How about you and me go to the Plex next week?’ Arnold said casually. ‘I could tell you then.’

  ‘What’s on?’ Elsie asked. It was unusual for her not to know, but his invitation had taken her so much by surprise all thoughts of what was showing at the pictures had gone clean out of her head.

  Arnold laughed. ‘I’ve no idea – ’appen, we won’t be doing much watching anyway. I’m hoping we might get to know each other a little better, if you know what I mean.’

  Elsie grinned. She knew exactly what he meant, and if he could help her find Phyllis, then she wouldn’t put up a struggle.

  Chapter 20

  When Arnold Tanner had come out of number 9 to find Elsie standing there, he couldn’t believe his luck. After doing battle over non-payment with ‘odd sod Todd’, as he called him, he’d worked himself up into a fair old lather. The sight of a pretty face had lifted his mood in an instant. And she looked familiar too. Wasn’t that the young lass he’d taken to the Milk Bar for a cup of tea the other day? Well, well, well, had she been chasing after him all this time? He had regretted letting her go without finding out where on Back Gas Street she lived, and he certainly hadn’t expected to see her again so soon. Yet here she was, turning up almost at his own front door.

  He’d never had a problem attract
ing young ladies and persuading them to do whatever he wanted. Most of them were afraid of him and he never minded that for when they got to the final post that seemed to help them enjoy it all the more. But this one was different. She didn’t look scared at all. Mind you, he was sure she was far too young for him, no matter what age she had claimed to be. But the fact that she had come to him on his home turf in Coronation Street was now making him think she might be easier pickings than he could have dreamed.

  He wasn’t sure he believed all that nonsense about bikes. It was him she was really after. And if that was what she wanted, then that was what she would have. Mind, he would have to be careful in case she wasn’t as streetwise as she might like to think. But with a bit of caution, things could turn out very well indeed. He would even put a bet on it. He would have a wager with his mate Joe tonight about how long it would take him to get her into his bed.

  But not looking like she did right now. It was one thing taking her to the pictures where it was dark and it didn’t matter much if he was seen. Besides, the back row of the flicks was always a good barometer of how far a girl was prepared to go. But he would have to do something about her appearance. Living on Back Gas Street, it was easy to understand why she looked the way she did, like a waif and stray, but if he started stepping out with her everyone would laugh at him. She was definitely not the sort of girl he usually had hanging on to his arm. When he’d first met her, that had been enough to make him think maybe she wasn’t worth the effort. Now he’d had a chance to look at her more closely, he was beginning to change his mind. It was the flame-red hair that clinched it. At the moment, it was about as attractive as an untidy doormat. But he’d caught glimpses of the pretty young thing hidden underneath, and she certainly had curves in all of the right places; seemed like she might have a bit of fire in her belly too which was always good when you were in the sack. It would require a bit of work, but he reckoned she might be worth it.

  He didn’t know any woman who would object to having her hair done and a bit of make-up slapped on. Girls would do anything for a pair of nylons and some new lippy; they were daft like that. And he did like his women to add a touch to nature on their lips and cheeks – he wanted his girls to make the effort for him. He was sure that, with a little help, Elsie could turn out to be quite something.

  Perhaps he should have a word with his mother. See if she had any suggestions. She usually had a good eye for that sort of thing.

  On Saturday night they met in front of the cinema by the box office entrance. Elsie knew where it was, though she had never been into the theatre that way before. Arnold was already standing in the queue for tickets. Elsie was amazed how many people were waiting patiently in an orderly line, all prepared to pay for their tickets. She joined him when he reached the till and was handing over the money, and she was thrilled to see he was buying the most expensive seats at the back. It was somewhere she had never sat before. She was walking on a cloud as they were shown into the large cinema. But then she felt too embarrassed to accept Arnold’s offer of orange juice and chocolate as the young usherette held up a small flashlight to point out where they might sit. Arnold wanted the two seats that were right in the middle of the back row and they had to interrupt several young couples as they made their way along.

  ‘At least we won’t be disturbed,’ Arnold muttered, grinning at Elsie as he held down her seat.

  She smiled back as she sank into it, amazed to find she couldn’t feel any springs or stuffing pushing their way through the plush red velvet.

  Arnold offered her a cigarette and they both puffed away until the end of the adverts. Then he put his arm round her and she felt his fingers drumming gently on her breast. She didn’t say anything but she settled her head back and turned her body so that she was snuggled up against him. The drumming changed to stroking as the B film began and she felt so warm and cosy she almost fell asleep. But when he began to rub her breast harder and to squeeze her already erect nipple she found it difficult to concentrate. She was barely aware of what was going on as an old detective in a bowler hat slowly unravelled the second-rate murder mystery. When the lights went up at the interval, Elsie hastily straightened her clothes. Arnold removed his arm and smiled at her, though neither said anything.

  The usherette wandered up and down the aisles with her tray as Elsie had watched her do many times before, but this time to her delight Arnold bought them a choc ice each. When they settled down again to watch the main feature – The Lady Vanishes, with Margaret Lockwood and Michael Redgrave – Arnold gave her a short but forceful kiss, using his tongue as the lights dimmed. She kissed him back, wondering how much of the film they might actually see. She loved watching the glamorous actresses in these kind of films and daydreaming that one day she might have a nice dress or fancy make-up like they did. The cast list had hardly finished rolling when she felt his hand grasping her knee and switching quickly to caressing the soft flesh of her inner thigh. They both slid down in their seats as his lips covered hers and his hands began to explore between her legs. As his fingers probed so she twisted and turned so many times she was glad there was no one behind them to complain. She wasn’t too upset to miss most of the action of the film, for she had had the pleasure of her own action. And she could always sneak in one evening with Fay to see the rest.

  They emerged into the chilly evening and Elsie fastened up her coat as quickly as she could. She had enjoyed herself more than she would have thought possible and she hoped they would be able to do it again soon.

  ‘I’ll walk you home,’ Arnold offered, ‘or maybe we can get the bus.’

  Elsie suddenly felt ashamed. She realized she didn’t want him to see where she lived and admitted truthfully that she didn’t know what buses might go there.

  ‘Why don’t you walk me as far as the Field,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to come out all the way.’

  Elsie stopped when they reached the Field to give him the opportunity to turn back. She looked across the empty waste ground and was surprised to see several mounds had appeared with corrugated sides and proper doors with locks.

  ‘Blimey,’ Arnold said, for he had seen them too. ‘There really is going to be a war. Those look like the Anderson shelters I was reading about.’

  Elsie shook her head. ‘God help us all,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t even want to think about it.’

  ‘That’s as maybe. But things are really hotting up,’ Arnold said. ‘C’mon, I’d better get you home,’ and he insisted on seeing her to the front door.

  As they rounded the corner into Back Gas Street, Elsie stopped, not wanting him to see the actual house.

  ‘Bit of a step down from Coronation Street, eh?’ She felt she had to make some comment.

  Arnold clasped her by the arms and lowered his head so he could look her in the face. ‘Makes no difference to me,’ he said. ‘It’s what you do next that counts.’ Then his tone changed and he laughed as he said, ‘I reckon it’s time you met my mother.’

  Elsie crinkled her forehead. ‘Any special reason?’ she asked, taken aback by the change of subject.

  Arnold nodded. ‘Yes, there is. But I’m going to keep that a secret. It won’t be owt bad. In fact, I think you’ll like it when you find out what it is. You’ll just have to wait and see …’

  Chapter 21

  Amy Tanner lived in a small village close to Weatherfield and Arnold said a trolley bus would drop them right outside her house. Elsie was nervous on the evening they’d arranged to go. She’d agreed to meet up with him at the Rovers Return first.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what this is all about?’ Elsie asked him as they sat together on the bus.

  ‘Yes, I will. But as I say, you’ll like me mam, so there’s no reason to get in a lather about it.’

  ‘What’s all the mystery then?’

  ‘No mystery. Not now. In fact, the whole world will know all about it very soon. For you, my dear, are going to have your hair done.’

  Elsie
’s hand flew up to her head. She felt along the edges of her uneven fringe and, as if to protect the curling strands that were straddling her shoulders, she began to wind them round her fingers. ‘What exactly do you mean by “done”?’

  ‘Don’t look so scared. I thought you’d be pleased. My mother is a hairdresser. It’s what she does for a living.’

  Elsie stared at him. ‘You mean she has a shop?’ She had never been in one in her life, though she had seen plenty of hairdressers’ shops in town.

  ‘No. She couldn’t afford to set up a shop close enough to home. So women come to the house. There’s a bathroom upstairs and that’s where she does their hair. She washes and sets and cuts and perms and whatever else women like to have done to their hair.’ He waved his arms vaguely in the air.

  Now Elsie giggled with relief. ‘And she wants to have a go at mine?’

  He nodded. ‘That’s the idea.’

  ‘You told her what it’s like?’

  ‘I did indeed.’

  ‘But I don’t want any of that …’ She was thinking of the dreadful smell and the humiliation whenever her mother had rubbed paraffin into her hair to kill off the lice. ‘Besides, I can’t afford it,’ she said, frowning. She’d heard all sorts of stories about trips to the hairdresser’s from the girls at the factory, and as a result she had a good idea what these things cost.

  ‘Oh, forget about paying,’ Arnold said. ‘It’s my treat.’

  ‘But you can’t …’ Elsie began.

  ‘I’m not just doing it for you. I like my girls to look good.’

  Elsie bristled. ‘What are you trying to say?’

  ‘Come off it. You’re a looker, Elsie, but you’re a bit shabby. Take what’s on offer and don’t grumble, that would be my advice.’