Two things happened on Christmas Eve, both unusual in their own way. The first began with a call from Mrs Vidler. Fiona picked up the phone to hear the voice say, ‘That you, Fiona?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘Thank you for your help yesterday; it’s left me in a nice pickle.’
‘I told you I was unable to come round. I haven’t been well. I’m going into hospital on Thursday.’
‘Not well? What’s the matter with you?’
‘It’s the old tummy trouble…Are you settled in?’
‘Settled in, you say. I am stranded here with boxes and furniture all around me, and the furniture men refuse to come. They started their holidays last night, I’ve been informed, but the removal was booked for this morning. I’ve had to sell off half my things because they wouldn’t go into the bungalow. They took them on Thursday to the auction rooms and were to come back on Friday, but they didn’t arrive. And then their manager man said they would be here this morning, of all days in the year! And now he says they started their holiday on Saturday and the firm is closed until the New Year. Did you ever know anything like it? What am I to do?’
‘I don’t know, Mother.’
Fiona turned her head from one side to the other in rejection as the thought passed through her mind to ask her to come here until she was settled, when a loud, ‘No?’ brought her to the phone again. ‘Well, what can I do, Mother? I can’t make the company come and move you.’
‘No, but…but’—there was a pause—‘that man’s firm.’
‘Which man’s firm?’
‘You know who I’m talking about, girl. He’s got lorries and men and they’ll still be at work. They could come and do it.’
Fiona now put her head back, looked up at the ceiling and smiled broadly, before she said, ‘You mean you want to ask Bill to move you?’
‘I…I am not going to ask him, but you can ask him. You can tell him to send his men.’
‘I can tell my husband nothing, Mother. He isn’t the kind of man that you can order to do anything that he doesn’t want to do, and I don’t think he would be inclined to do anything for you after the way you treated him.’
‘Girl!’
‘I don’t have to remind you again, Mother, that I’m not a girl.’
There was a long pause; then the voice that came over was small: ‘Fiona.’
‘Yes, Mother?’
‘I’m at my wits’ end. Everything is packed up, every utensil, everything.’ The voice sounded tearful now. ‘It isn’t all that far away between the houses. Fiona, please.’
‘Mother, I cannot ask my husband to do this service for you, but you could ask him yourself. Anyway, I don’t suppose he has any men left on the site; they, too, will have started their holidays.’
‘Don’t make me, Fiona. Please don’t make me.’
‘I’m not making you, Mother, but he is more likely to accede to your request if you were to ask him, and put it politely, and tell him that you’re in a hole.’
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Fiona?’
Fiona was still smiling but her voice sounded serious as she said, ‘No, Mother, I am not enjoying this. I only know, after all that’s been said I couldn’t ask my husband to go and move you, and at this late stage too. Anyway, I’ll leave it to you. This is his number; he may still be at the works.’
She now repeated the number, then said, briefly, ‘It’s up to you, Mother; I can’t do anymore.’ And at this she put the phone down; but immediately picked it up again and rang Bill’s office.
‘Bill.’
‘Oh, hello, love. All right?’
‘Yes, yes, I’m all right. Listen.’ Then almost word for word she gave him the gist of the conversation that had just taken place, and he replied with one word, ‘Never!’
‘Yes, yes; you are her last resort. But I don’t know whether she’ll take it or not; she might prefer to sit on her boxes. In that case, dear, I would have to have her here for Christmas Day; I couldn’t leave her there.’
‘Oh, no! Oh no, you don’t. You’re not spoiling Christmas Day.’
‘Well, if she phones, will you do it?’
There was a pause before he answered; then on a laugh, he said, ‘Aye, lass, I’ll do it. Of course, they’re open lorries, but by the sound of it a couple of trips should be enough. But the few lads here are finished at twelve. What time is it now? Ten to ten. Oh, well, lass, if she phones I’ll get them goin’. But I’ll go with them.’
‘Oh! Bill, you needn’t.’
‘I wouldn’t miss it.’
‘Don’t be rough on her.’
‘You leave it to me. You remember me and me dinner jacket?’
‘Yes. But what has that got to do with it?’
‘Well, I’d like to give her a surprise. And it’s a pity there’s not a film producer goin’ along with me, ’cos after the act I’ll put on he might pick me for stardom; in fact, no might about it, a sure thing.’
‘Oh, Bill. Anyway, I must advise you, Mr Bailey, if you’re going to put on an act, watch your aitches and sound your g’s.’
‘Nark it, Mrs B. Bye, love.’
He hardly put the phone down when it rang again, and a voice said, ‘I’d like to speak to Mr Bailey.’
‘Mr Bailey speaking.’ The tone could have been attributed to Sir Charles Kingdom.
‘Mr Bailey, the builder?’
‘Yes. What can I do for you, madam?’
‘This…this is Mrs Vidler.’
‘Oh, Mrs Vidler.’
He said no more. And the voice said, ‘Are you there, Mr Bailey?’
‘Yes; yes, I am here, Mrs Vidler.’ His accent remained high-falutin but his tone slightly stiff. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I…I have been on to Fiona. I…I’ve explained to her about…about moving. They’ve disappointed me, let me down. My furniture and effects are all ready to be moved into the bungalow. There’s not a great deal of stuff, and…and as it is the holidays the removal firm has closed. I explained to Fiona and…and’—there was a pause—‘and Fiona suggested that you might be able to help me.’
‘She did?’ There was surprise in the tone now.
‘Well…well, she said as it was an emergency…’
‘What exactly are you asking me to do, Mrs Vidler?’
‘Well, I thought you might have emp…empty lorries and such, and your workmen and you might oblige by re…removing me today.’
He knew that this was the space where he should have put in, ‘I’d take great pleasure in removing you, Mrs Vidler, and as far away as you like,’ but what he said, was, ‘Well, well now. I just don’t know about this. Most of my men finished on Friday. It’s a holiday you know; I’ve only a few here who have come in to tidy up…Where are you moving to, Mrs Vidler?’
‘Oh, it isn’t very far, not a long journey, just to Primrose Crescent.’
‘Oh, Primrose Crescent. Yes, yes; I know those bungalows. Well now, under the circumstances, I will see what I can do.’
‘Thank you. When can I expect you?’
‘Oh, now, now, let me see.’ He paused for a full minute before adding, ‘Let’s say within the next hour.’
‘Thank you.’
Hearing the phone being put down, he replaced his own receiver, sat back in the chair, and let out a bellow of a laugh. But it stopped abruptly as he thought: If Fiona had only been all right we’d have made a thing of this. It would have given us a belly laugh for weeks.
Barney McGuire, and Bert Ormesby, and Jack Mowbray all knew of the situation between him and his mother-in-law. In fact, Jack Mowbray seemed to have her twin sister as his mother-in-law…and living with them. So when Bill said to them, ‘What about it? Will you do it?’ they said as one voice, ‘Anything you say, boss.’ And then he said, ‘Well now, I’ll tell you something. It’s like this. I intend to put on an act when I get there. You’ll see what I’m at when I open my mouth, an’ so I want you to fall in with it. Touch y
our forelocks, be sort of deferential like. You know what I mean. But don’t overdo it.’
And they fell in with it. When, for the first time, Bill entered the house in which his wife had been born he realised yet again the wide difference in their upbringing. And when Mrs Vidler, standing amid the ordered chaos in the hall, which was as large as the sitting room and dining room put together at home, and he saw that she had difficulty in speaking, he opened with, ‘Good morning, Mrs Vidler. Will you show me exactly what has to be removed?’
She stared at him. This wasn’t the broad Liverpudlian, the big, raw, wisecracking individual who had spurned her. She decided that he was either acting, or Fiona had been working on him. Perhaps she had sent him to one of those speech therapists.
‘Mr Bailey.’
Her tone immediately pointed out to Bill that his façade could be blown at any moment, and so, still keeping up the gentlemanly pose, he swung round, saying, ‘Oh, excuse me; I’ll tell my men to get on with it, because time is pressing. They are due to be finished at dinner time you see.’ And now he called, ‘McGuire!’
Barney actually bounced in, touched his forelock and said, ‘Yes? Yes, boss?’
‘Get the men to start moving. Look round and see what has to go on first.’
‘As you say, boss.’
Bill turned away now. He thought Barney was slightly overdoing it; and he was no actor. But Bert Ormesby apparently was, for, crossing the hall, he lifted his cap to Mrs Vidler and in a quiet voice he said, ‘Mornin’, ma’am.’
But Jack Mowbray coming in on Bert’s heels completely ignored her, likely thinking of his own mother-in-law; and addressing Bill, he said, ‘How long is this likely to take, boss?’
Bill thought for a moment; then looking at the perplexed lady, he said, ‘You said a lot of your big stuff had been disposed of?’
‘Yes, yes; it’s gone to a sale.’
Turning his head towards Jack, he said, ‘Oh then, about a couple of hours I should say. You might have to make two runs each.’ Again he was looking at the perplexed lady, saying now, ‘Of course, you know, Mrs Vidler, I have only lorries not pantechnicons.’
‘Yes, yes, I understand.’
‘But we have brought tarpaulin covers in case it should rain. Thankfully it’s dry.’
‘Yes, yes.’ Her head was nodding now as if it were on strings.
‘Boss.’ Jack Mowbray stopped as he was on the point of moving away and in a low voice which was very carrying he said, as he thumbed across the hall towards an open door, ‘Mr McGuire tells me you’ve got a committee meeting at twelve. You forgot?’
‘No. No, I haven’t forgotten, but that’s quite all right; I’ve already told them I might be a little late. They’ll wait.’
Now with a slight nod towards Mrs Vidler, he followed the man into the first room where the other two were already standing grinning widely, and when there was a slight splutter, he put up a warning finger to his nose; then quite loudly he said, ‘Yes, yes; I’d get this room cleared first.’
And so it went on until the two lorries were packed high with furniture. And Bill wondered himself how long he could keep up the farce after handing his mother-in-law into his car and leading two lorries on the journey to Primrose Crescent.
He purposely kept silent in the car, all the while thinking, Wait till I tell her. She won’t believe it.
The bungalow was well built, but with not half the accommodation of the house they had just left. And here the act became more difficult for he found that she was addressing him solely as to where the carpets and furniture should go. He then had to tell his men. Once or twice his natural tone came to the fore, but if she noticed it she showed no sign, although he knew, being Mrs Vidler, she would likely be thinking, What’s bred in the bone will come out in the flesh no matter how thick the veneer.
In order to make a temporary escape, when one lorry was emptied he left Barney and Jack to see to the unloading of the other while he himself went back with Bert Ormesby to get the remainder of the furniture. And it was evident that Bert saw himself as an actor, for no sooner had they been seated in the cab than he said, ‘How did I do, boss?’
‘You did so well, you could take it up; it’ll pay more than bricking.’
‘Eeh! I’ve never enjoyed meself so much for I couldn’t tell you how long. Is she as bad as all that?’
‘Worse. And I can tell you it must have cost her somethin’ to ask me to do this job. By, it must. Some women are the limit, you know.’
Bert’s voice had a serious note in it now as he said, ‘No, I wouldn’t know, boss; I’ve never been tangled up with them.’ He glanced at Bill now, saying, ‘Scared, and that’s the truth. I only have to sit next to one and I become like a deaf and dumb mute.’
‘You’ve talked to my wife.’
‘Yes, yes, but she’s different, she’s married.’
‘And you’ve talked to Nell. I saw you the other night when you helped to bring the tree in. You were chatting away when she gave you a cup of coffee.’
‘Yes, but she was easy. I mean…well she’s married an’ all.’
‘Not for long. Her divorce is coming through at any time now.’
‘Funny that: a man can have a woman like her and drop her. She seemed nice.’
‘She is nice.’ Now he nudged Bert. ‘There’s a chance for you. We’ll invite you round for the New Year.’
‘You’ll do no such thing, boss.’
‘But I will, that’s if—’ he drew in a short breath now before he said, ‘My wife’s for hospital, Thursday.’
‘No!’
‘Aye.’
‘Anything serious?’
‘That’s the point, we don’t know.’
‘She seemed so bright and lively.’
‘Oh, that’s just on the surface.’
‘Oh, boss, I’m sorry. But it’ll be all right, you’ll see. It’ll be all right. God looks after his own.’
‘Aye’—Bill’s voice was sharp now—‘and God takes them young and good and beautiful.’
‘Aye He does because He’s a jealous God.’
Bill stared at this tough-looking individual by his side in something like amazement. He had worked with him for ten years but he knew so little about him except as they all knew now, he neither drank, nor smoked, nor apparently went with women. But what was apparent, he believed in God.
It was a funny world…
It was close on one o’clock when Mrs Vidler stood at the door of her bungalow and, smiling at Barney, Jack and Bert in turn, she handed them a note, saying to each, ‘Thank you so much. I’ll always be in your debt.’
And each man touched his forelock and said, ‘Thank you, ma’am.’ And Bert, going one better, said, ‘Been a pleasure that doesn’t come our way every day, ma’am. It’s good to be of service.’
Her smile was wide when, a moment later, she turned back into the small hall where Bill was buttoning up his overcoat. And looking at him steadily for a moment, she said, ‘I must be frank, Mr Bailey: I never thought the day would come when I would change my opinion of you. I…I am always one to admit my faults and I can see that I’ve judged you harshly. We all live and learn and I can see that you have learned over the past months. And I am grateful to you for the service you have done me today. It all augurs more favourably for our future.’
Oh Gord! The words in his mind sounded like those issuing from a Cockney’s lips. And he asked himself what would happen should she visit the house and find she had been the butt of a joke, because there was one thing sure, he couldn’t keep this kind of patter up; it was too wearing. Another thing he had learned this morning: actors certainly worked for their money, whether it be in acquiring an accent or getting rid of one.
‘I’m having dinner with friends tomorrow. But will you tell Fiona that I will call round to see her on…‘
He interrupted her here by saying, ‘I thought she may have told you, but she’s going into hospital on Thursday.’
�
��Oh, yes, yes. Anyway, if I can’t call before I shall visit her in hospital.’
‘I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you.’
Holy Harry! Let him get out of this. He made hastily for the door now, and she followed him, saying, ‘I’m sorry you’ll be late for your committee.’
He had forgotten about the committee business. Then, making one last effort, he turned and smiled at her as he said, ‘Oh, they’ll wait. They’re used to it by now. Goodbye Mrs Vidler.’
He was halfway down the path when she called out, ‘Oh, you…you must send your bill in.’
‘Bill?’ He turned round, his face screwed up. ‘There needn’t be any talk of bills.’ His tone was pompous. He lifted his hand as if in final farewell, got into the car, started her up straightaway, and didn’t seem to draw a breath until he had rounded the corner of the crescent. Then he let out a long, ‘Whew!’
Wait till he got back home and told Fiona. She wouldn’t believe it.
As he entered the yard he saw Jack Mowbray and Bert Ormesby making for their cars, and Jack shouted, ‘She gave us a fiver each, boss. What did she give you?’
And when he answered, ‘Only the promise that she’s going to call,’ they roared laughing.
He stopped the car outside the office, and as he got out said to Barney who was standing there, ‘I’ll lock up, then I’m away.’ And Barney said, ‘You can’t go home yet, boss.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve got a visitor; the watchman put her in your office.’
‘Who is it?’
‘As far as I can gather, Mrs Brown.’
‘Mrs Brown!’
Why should that name disturb him? Whenever he heard it, it was as though his arm would go up as if warding off a blow. But her? What did she want?
He turned to Barney now, saying, ‘Well, get yourself away home. And thanks for this morning. Meself, if I was to speak the truth, I would say I enjoyed it, although it was a strain. My God! Yes, I’ll say it was a strain.’
‘I hope the missis comes through all right, boss. Can I give you a ring?’
‘Yes, do that, Barney. And thanks.’
Bill Bailey Page 22
