by Joan Jonker
‘Me too, sunshine, me too.’ Molly’s smile held affection and tenderness. ‘With a mate like you, what more could I ask for?’
‘My sentiments exactly, girl. A good husband and family, and a good mate with her family.’ Nellie pushed herself to the edge of the couch. ‘I’d better go and let yer get on with the dinner.’
‘I’ll see you out, sunshine, then get our dresses on the line before starting the dinner. And I’ll see yer in the morning.’
‘Ay, girl, if yer hear anything from Corker, yer will let me know, won’t yer?’
‘Of course I will. But I’m not going to ask him. Corker will do things his way, and I have every faith in him. He’ll do his best, and that’s good enough for me. And if he does find anything out, yer can rest assured that we’ll be the first to know.’
Nellie was always reluctant to leave, for she didn’t like going home to an empty house, with only the wallpaper to talk to. ‘And yer are coming into town with me tomorrow, aren’t yer? After we’ve done our shopping and calls, like.’
Molly nodded. ‘If we can be finished with our housework by ten, then we’ll have plenty of time for what we want to do.’
‘See yer in the morning, then, girl. Ta-ra for now.’
‘Ta-ra, sunshine.’
Chapter Nineteen
The evening meal in the Corkhill house was always noisy with chatter and laughter. Corker and Ellen sat at each end of the table, Phoebe and younger sister Dorothy sat next to each other at one side, and brothers Gordon and Peter sat facing. It was the one time of the day when all the family were together, and there were always tales to tell of incidents at work, for all six had a job. The two boys were apprentices and on low wages, but the man they were proud to call their father was generous and they were allowed to keep half of what they earned. This also applied to Dorothy, who was nineteen and courting. Phoebe, the eldest, was courting Paul McDonough, and they were saving up to get married. At least, Phoebe was; no one was sure about Paul, who loved to go dancing, or to the odd night at the pictures when Phoebe insisted because she wasn’t as mad about dancing as he was. She was crazy about him, but was wise enough not to run after him. They’d had a few fallings out, but it was always Paul who came cap in hand to make up.
‘Is everyone going out tonight?’ Ellen asked. ‘Or is anyone staying in to keep me company?’
‘Me and Peter were going to the church dance, Mam,’ Gordon said, ‘but I’m not that fussy if yer want a game of cards.’
‘I’m not fussy, either,’ Peter said. ‘I wouldn’t mind a game of cards as long as ye’re not playing for money. Me and Gordon are saving up to buy birthday presents for Bella and Ruthie.’
‘I’ll help yer out with that,’ Corker told them. ‘Yer need to buy them something nice, for the number of times ye’re allowed in their houses for playing cards, and parties.’
‘We don’t know what to get them, Dad, so d’yer think we should ask Auntie Molly?’
‘I’ll ask Molly for yer,’ Ellen volunteered. ‘Her and Nellie will be in the shop tomorrow, so I’ll have a quiet word with Molly. Can yer tell me how much yer want to spend on a present? It would help if yer could. I wouldn’t tell Auntie Molly, it’s just so I can help with a few suggestions if I know what money yer can run to.’
Peter looked bashful. ‘I’ve got two bob. I know it’s not much, but I don’t earn much. I’ll have sixpence to add to it next week, so that’s two and six.’
‘I should have four shillings,’ Gordon said, feeling quite proud. ‘It will buy something decent, I hope.’
Corker raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘I’ll make the money up to five shillings each. That makes yer even.’
That brought smiles as the brothers nudged each other. ‘Thanks, Dad, that’s brilliant. Five bob will buy a really good present.’
‘I don’t know them very well,’ Dorothy said, ‘I haven’t had much to do with them. So would a box of chocolates and a birthday card do?’
Ellen nodded. The dreadful years she and the children had suffered at the hands of her violent first husband were long gone. But she never let herself forget that it was with the help of Molly and Nellie that she was able to survive those years and learn to have pride in herself. And looking round the table now at the happy faces of her children, she thanked God most of all for bringing Corker back into her life. She loved him dearly, and the children adored him. ‘The girls will be made up with chocolates and a card. They won’t be expecting so many presents.’
Corker pushed his empty plate away and smiled at Ellen. ‘That was very tasty, sweetheart. I really enjoyed it.’
‘Yes, it was lovely, Mam.’ Phoebe stretched her arms to collect the empty plates. ‘Me and Dorothy will wash up, you rest yer feet. Put them up on the couch.’
Ellen could hear the two girls chatting as they washed the dishes, and she listened for a while to the boys talking about the blokes they worked with. They were deep in conversation, so she took a chance on asking Corker, ‘Are yer still set on going out tonight?’
Corker nodded. ‘I won’t be out long, love. I’ll be back home by nine o’clock.’
‘I wish yer wouldn’t go on yer own. Why don’t yer ask Jack, or Steve, to go with yer?’ Ellen was speaking in a low voice. ‘Yer don’t know what sort of people ye’re dealing with, and I’ll be worried sick the whole time ye’re out.’
His huge hand covered hers. ‘I’ll not come to any harm, I promise you. The one thing I’m sure of is, there won’t be any fighting. I’m trying to find out what the lad did with Mrs Parker’s fob watch. If I can get it out of him, there is a chance I’ll get it back. If he’s pawned it, the pawnbroker won’t try to sell it so soon, it would be too risky. Of course he could have sold it to a customer in the pub, and if that is the case, it would be easy to make whoever it was return it. I’d only have to mention the police and it would be handed over.’
Ellen still wasn’t convinced. She knew her husband could look after himself, for it would be a very brave man who took him on. But anyone who would break into a house, knowing there was only an elderly lady living there, had no scruples and would stop at nothing. And this thief was very daring to have walked out of Mrs Parker’s in broad daylight. ‘I still think you should go to the police, Corker, and let them deal with it. Tell them all you’ve found out, then leave it in their hands.’
‘I’m sorry, love, but this is something I have to do. I’m not saying I’m better than the police, but in this case I believe I can sort it out quicker and Mrs Parker won’t have the upset of policemen calling on her.’
‘Oh, I never thought of that,’ Ellen admitted. ‘It would bring it all back to her, just when Molly said she’s getting better.’ She smiled into Corker’s face and pulled playfully at his beard. ‘You’re a good man, James Corkhill, and I’m so lucky to be married to yer. Except there’s only that one drawback.’
The big man looked surprised. ‘What is that, love? Ye’re always telling me I’m the perfect husband and father, so what have I done to change that view?’
‘You haven’t done anything, love, and I still think you’re the perfect husband and father. And the drawback I mentioned isn’t your fault; there’s nothing you can do about it.’
Corker glanced at the clock. ‘It’s time I was making tracks, love. I want to be on the lookout for them going into the pub. I could stand on watch for two hours, then at closing time find they haven’t been in and I’ve wasted me time. So be quick and tell me what fault I’ve got. It’ll give me something to think about while I’m standing doing nothing. Whatever it is, I’ll remedy it.’
Ellen chuckled softly. ‘Oh, there’s nothing yer could do to remedy it, love, I’m afraid. And I wouldn’t want yer to, either.’
‘Is it me beard and moustache? I hope not, for I’m very fond of them. I’d feel naked without them.’ Once again he glanced at the clock. ‘Come on, love, I’ve got to move.’
‘It’s a joke, really, love, and I don’t suppose yer’ll f
ind it funny when I’m holding yer back. But if I ever wanted to clock yer one, or hit yer over the head with the rolling pin, I’d have to stand on a chair.’
Corker’s head went back and his guffaw filled the room. The boys’ heads turned towards them and the girls came in from the kitchen. ‘What’s the joke, Dad?’ Gordon asked. ‘It must have been a good one.’
‘Your mam has a complaint. I’m too tall for her. She can’t reach up to clock me one, and she’d have to stand on a chair to hit me on the head with the rolling pin. So if yer have any suggestions, yer can pass them on to her. I’ve got to scoot now ’cos I’m meeting someone, but I’ll be interested in any ideas yer’ve got when I get back.’ Corker stood up and stretched his arms above his head. Then he bent and kissed Ellen’s cheek. ‘Half nine to ten at the latest, love.’ His eyes went from his two sons to his daughters. ‘There’ll be a shilling for the brainiest suggestion.’ He was closing the door behind him when he heard Gordon saying, ‘I’ve thought of a good one.’
Then Phoebe’s soft voice. ‘I’ve got one that’ll knock yours into a cocked hat.’
Corker’s heart swelled with pride. He was lucky to have a wonderful wife and four children. And he couldn’t leave out the mother he idolized.
The Blakesley family came out of their house at seven thirty on the dot, and were as boisterous as usual. They didn’t worry if the woman next door was trying to get her baby to sleep, or the neighbours the other side were listening to a play on the wireless. The Blakesleys thought of no one but themselves. The state of the house didn’t interest them because they didn’t know any different. A bone-idle man had married a bone-idle woman, and they were happy to live in filth. They lived on their wits, stealing from shops or from shopping baskets. Ted Blakesley’s sleight of hand kept them from starving, and there was always enough money for a few drinks every night. They ran up bills in shops a few streets away, never too near home. And they never paid back the money they owed for goods they’d got on tick. Neither Ted nor Flo worried about anything. They were disliked by neighbours, and didn’t have, or want, any friends. They paid their rent for a few weeks, than ran up arrears before doing a moonlight flit. They’d lived in four houses when the baby was born, and it was Ted who gave him the name of Sid. And it was Ted who taught the child, from when he was old enough to understand, that you didn’t need to go without anything you wanted, as long as you had a pair of hands. And the young boy was a fast learner. He’d steal from his classmates when he started school, and from the teachers if he had the opportunity. He’d been expelled from two schools by the time he was ten, and had lived in five different houses so the school boards couldn’t catch up with him. And he became a full time thief. He would go out each day with his father, and split up in a shop or market, so if one got into trouble, the other was there to cause an uproar and prevent the culprit being caught.
At the age of fourteen, when other children were leaving school and looking for jobs, Sid Blakesley was a full time crook. If anyone had suggested he should be working, he would have laughed in their face, for he was earning far more as a thief than he would earn as an apprentice. Plus he didn’t have to get out of bed until he felt like it, and he didn’t have anyone telling him what to do. His mother and father encouraged his thieving, for they lived a good life on his ill-gotten gains. They praised his expertise, even kept an eye out for easy targets. He paid the rent on the house they’d lived in longer than any other, and Ted and Flo were wily enough to know which side their bread was buttered on. Like tonight, they were going to the pub and would have as much to drink as they wanted. All courtesy of the son who had been brought up to believe there was nothing wrong with stealing. If somebody had what you wanted, then you took it, by fair means or foul.
‘Anything on tonight, son?’ Ted Blakesley asked, slapping Sid on the back. ‘Anything lined up?’
The boy turned his head to make sure there was no one behind them. ‘I wish yer’d keep yer voice down, Dad. There’s no need to tell the world.’
‘Your dad’s not soft, son; he knows there’s no one to hear. Got eyes in the back of his head has your father. He’s only asking out of interest, in case yer might want him to go with yer. Keep watch, if yer know what I mean.’ Flo Blakesley tapped the side of her nose. ‘He’s not behind the bleeding door, he knows a few tricks.’
‘I’m better on me own, Mam, with only meself to worry about.’
His father let out a silent sigh. What was the wife thinking of? His days of house breaking were long gone. He wasn’t as fast on his feet as he used to be and the silly mare should keep her bleeding mouth shut. ‘I agree with yer, son. The less baggage yer have, the easier to make a hasty getaway. What time are yer leaving the pub?’
‘Not too early, ’cos there’s always people around. About nine o’clock I’d say. The streets are quiet around then in this cold weather.’
‘It’s bitter tonight right enough.’ Ted moved closer to his son. ‘Any chance of a drop of Scotch tonight, to warm up these old bones?’
‘To hear you talk, anyone would think yer were an old man.’ Sid’s grunt was one of impatience. ‘Ye’re forty-six years of age, Dad, well able to get yerself a job. I’m sure yer could get part time work if yer tried.’
‘But yer dad’s not a well man, son.’ Flo linked the boy’s arm. ‘He keeps getting these pains from an ulcer he’s had in his stomach for years. He should see the doctor and go in hospital for an operation, but he’s too frightened. He hates the thought of hospitals, and having his tummy cut open.’
‘What did yer bring that up for?’ Ted said. ‘I was feeling all right until you stuck yer two pennyworth in. Yer’ve got a mouth on yer as big as the bleeding Mersey tunnel.’
They’d reached the main road by this time, and waited until a car and a tram had gone past before they crossed the road. Sid sauntered along the pavement, his shoulders moving in rhythm. A young man very sure of himself. ‘Yer can have a small whisky, Dad, that’s all. Then ye’re back on bitter.’
‘I’ll have a small whisky, too, lad,’ Flo said. ‘It’ll warm the cockles of me heart.’
‘It’s ale for you, Ma, I’m not rolling in dough. And don’t make it look obvious when I leave the pub. Not a word out of yer. I’ll go to the lavatory, then slip out unnoticed.’
Corker had arrived just in time to see the Blakesley family enter the pub. A few minutes later and he’d have missed them. It wasn’t the family he was interested in, they weren’t worthy of interest. It was the lad he was after, and he was hoping the pattern would be the same tonight as it was last night. That the lad would leave the pub on his own. If Corker was to accost him when he was with his parents, they were the type to start a noisy slanging match that would attract the attention of passers-by, even the pub customers and landlord. That was the last thing Corker wanted, for if it turned out the landlord knew about the break-in, and the fob watch, then the police would deal with him.
Instead of standing in a shop doorway on the opposite side of the road, Corker decided to stand at the side of the pub, and wait until the lad came out. Then the task he had set himself would be set in motion.
Corker waited for half an hour, a few yards from the pub so he would have enough time to make sure that whoever came out of the saloon door was the person he wanted to have words with. And when the lad came out, whistling softly, Corker bent down and pretended his shoelace had come loose. He timed himself perfectly. As Sid Blakesley was about to pass him, the big man began to straighten up, and as if by accident he bumped into the lad.
‘What the bleeding hell do yer …’ The words petered out as Sid Blakesley watched the man he was swearing at grow into a giant. He was speechless for a matter of seconds, then, cocky as ever, he said, ‘Yer want to watch yerself, mate. I could have knocked yer flying.’ He would have walked on, but the hand restraining him was the size of a shovel. He felt a flicker of fear and knew it would be unwise to argue with someone who could pick him up with one hand. So he t
ried to sound pally, and hail-fellow-well-met. ‘I’m in a bit of a hurry, mate. Got a heavy date, yer see, and she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’
‘Then she’s going to be really mad when yer don’t turn up at all. Yer see, I want to talk to yer about something far more important than letting a girl down. Not that I believe there is such a girl. What I would believe is if yer told me yer had a date with a certain house yer’ve probably been watching for a while, and which you intend to break into. But whether it’s a girl or a house, it makes no difference, for you’re not going anywhere until yer’ve answered the questions I intend asking yer.’
Corker was keeping a vice-like grip on the lad’s arm as he turned him to face up the street. ‘You and me are going to walk and talk. I’ll ask the questions and you give me the answers. And a word of warning – they’d better be the answers I’m expecting.’
Sid tried to bluff his way out. ‘I don’t know what ye’re talking about, mister. I’ve never seen yer in me life before. Yer’ve made a mistake; it’s not me yer want.’
‘Oh, I know it’s not you I want, lad. I wouldn’t touch yer with a barge pole if I could help it. It’s something you know, some information, and I intend to get it out of yer tonight. So yer either tell me what I want to know, or I’ll march yer down to the police station and they can deal with yer.’
The mention of the police was enough to put fear into the boy. ‘How can I tell yer what yer want to know, when yer haven’t told me what it is?’
‘I’m going to ask you about a house you broke into recently.’ Corker heard a sharp intake of breath and knew the lad was scared enough now to co-operate. ‘The house of a very old lady who you robbed and left penniless and terrified.’
‘I haven’t broke into no old lady’s house. Yer’ve got the wrong person. So let go of me or I’ll get me dad to sort yer out. He’s as big as you, me dad is, and he’s handy with his fists.’
