Strolling With The One I Love

by Joan Jonker

  ‘Oh, it’s very kind of yer,’ Kate said. ‘We really appreciate that, and next time we need anything we’ll know where to come for it. Good value for money, and service with a smile.’

  ‘If yer friend wants to sit for a bit longer that’s all right with me, she’s welcome. And I won’t charge, even though it’s one of the best seats in the stalls.’

  ‘Oh, no, lad, I’ll be all right now,’ Winnie said, using the seat of the chair to push herself up. ‘That little rest did me the world of good, I’ll be fine until I get home now.’

  Feeling more than satisfied with their purchases, the three women bade the stallholder goodbye and set off on their second mission.

  ‘Are yer sure ye’re feeling up to it, sunshine?’ Kate asked. ‘Me and Monica want to look at a second-hand clothes stall, but we won’t be long. We got a few bargains there a couple of weeks ago, and we’re hoping to be lucky again today.’

  ‘I’ll be fine, queen, I’m sure I’ll last out until we get home. So you and Monica do what yer want to do and don’t worry about me. If I was feeling groggy I would tell yer. I wouldn’t just collapse at yer feet.’

  Monica pulled them to a halt. ‘This is the stall, girl, and there’s not many people around it. We’ll find yer a good speck and yer can lean on the stall. That should take some of the weight off yer legs.’

  ‘Here yer are, sunshine, yer’ve got a good space for yerself. You lean on there while me and Monica delve into those heaps of clothes. I know they look like rags, the way they’re all jumbled together, but we were surprised what we found last time. I’m keeping me fingers crossed we come up with something for the girls to wear on their birthday.’

  Kate left Winnie leaning on the stall while she rummaged through the first mound of clothes. She couldn’t see anything that took her eye, so moved to the next lot. Before long her sharp eyes spotted material that looked attractive. Of course it could be a pinny, or a blouse, but as she pulled at it she was hoping it was something worthwhile. Her hopes rose when she found it was a dress, and she fell for it right away. It was pink and white gingham and looked just the right size for Nancy. She held it up and could see no tears in it or signs of wear. ‘Ay, Monica, come and look at this! I’d say it looks about right for Nancy, and it’s in good nick. Washed and ironed, it would look lovely, just the job for wearing in this hot weather.’

  Monica eyed the dress with more than a touch of envy. ‘Ye’re not half bleeding lucky, girl, I’m sure ye’re in league with the devil.’ She examined the dress and could find no fault. ‘That’s just the ticket. Now yer can help me find one for our Dolly.’

  ‘Wait until I show this to Winnie first, then I’ll help yer.’ Kate turned, holding the dress aloft, and bumped into her neighbour. ‘Ooh, I was coming to yer, sunshine, yer should have waited for me. What d’yer think of this dress for Nancy?’

  ‘I was too nosy to wait, queen, because I could see the material of the dress but not the style. I’ve always loved gingham since me ma used to make me dresses of it when I was little. That just puts me in mind of it. I was only young, but I can remember she put a bit of starch in the water when she washed them because she said they ironed up lovely after they’d been starched.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought of that,’ Kate said, folding the dress over her arm. ‘But I’ll have a go and see how it turns out.’

  ‘How much is the dress?’ Winnie asked.

  ‘I haven’t got a clue, sunshine, and I won’t ask until I’ve helped Monica find one for Dolly. If we buy two, we’re likely to get them a bit cheaper.’

  The stallholder came towards them, her hands in the wide pocket of her apron. She looked to be about sixty, the same age as Winnie but carrying a lot more flesh. She had a black knitted shawl across her shoulders, which was the uniform of a Liverpool Mary Ellen. Her face was lined and weatherbeaten with being out in all weathers. She came from market stock, it was in the blood. Her mother had worked the stall before her, and her grandmother before that. Nodding to the dress on Kate’s arm, she said, ‘That will cost yer a tanner, queen, ’cos it hasn’t got a break in it. Came from a good clean house in one of the posh neighbourhoods.’

  Winnie’s eyes widened. ‘Ooh, that’s a bargain, queen! I don’t suppose yer’ve got anything for an old fogey like meself, have yer?’

  ‘Ay, less of the old, missus! I’d say yer were about my age, and I don’t consider meself an old fogey. My old ma is ninety, and believe me she’d still be down here every day if we let her. Rules the bleeding roost, she does, thinks me and me sisters are still kids and we still have to do as we’re told.’

  Monica could hear the conversation from where she was rooting for a likely dress for Dolly. It intrigued her and she joined her neighbours. ‘Ninety, did yer say? That’s a good age. I lost my mam, God bless her, when she was in the prime of life. Does yer ma still manage to get around and look after herself?’

  ‘There’s always one of me sisters with her to make sure she doesn’t try anything like standing on a bleeding ladder to clean the windows. But we let her do what she can because when the day comes when she’s not able to do anything, well, that will be the day me ma gives up on life.’

  ‘Those are my thoughts exactly.’ Winnie nodded knowingly. ‘That’s why I’m not going to sit with me feet up every day, just waiting for the Grim Reaper to pay me a visit. I hope I’m out enjoying meself the day he knocks on me door.’

  ‘This conversation is getting too cheerful for my liking,’ Kate said. ‘Come on, Monica, I’ll help yer look for a dress. And we can look for one for Winnie at the same time.’

  ‘I’ll tell yer what, you and yer mate go about yer business and I’ll give Winnie a hand.’ The stallholder jingled the coins in her apron pocket and raised her eyebrows enquiringly. ‘Yer don’t mind me calling yer Winnie, do yer?’ Without waiting for an answer she went on, ‘I’ve got no customers at the moment, it’s like a bleeding graveyard. I don’t know where everyone’s got to, they must all be skint. So I’ve time to look for something suitable for yer. I’ve got a sackful of ladies’ clothes under the trestle, I’ll empty it in front of yer and we can go through it together.’

  ‘That’s very kind of yer.’

  ‘Listen, queen, there’s one thing my old ma has always drummed into us. She says, “If yer can’t spread a little kindness as yer pass down the path of life, then don’t expect kindness at the end of it.” And I think she’s got it just about right.’

  Winnie was thinking how wise the old lady was as she watched the stallholder cross to a trestle table opposite and pick up a sack. It looked bulky, but it couldn’t have been heavy because the woman carried it with ease. ‘Here we are, queen, let’s see if we can find yer something to wear to the ball.’ She smiled, showing that two of her teeth were gold. ‘The name’s Sarah Jane, by the way.’

  The two women delved into the pile, picking out colours or patterns they thought suitable. And when Kate and Monica returned triumphant with a dress for Dolly, their pleasure was nothing compared to Winnie’s. Her face was aglow and her eyes shining with delight. ‘Just look what I’ve got, queen.’ She gave the skirt she was holding a good shake before putting it to her waist. It was a full tartan skirt, in squares of green, navy and black, and had heavy pleats all around. ‘Anyone game for an Irish jig?’

  The stallholder looked as pleased as her customer. She and Winnie had got on like a house on fire. ‘I think yer mean a Scottish reel, queen, those are the colours of a Scottish clan. It’s good heavy material, that is, the wind will never blow it up. But if yer intend doing a jig in it, make sure yer’ve clean bloomers on.’

  ‘That’s up to me legs, Sarah Jane. I’ll have to wait until they decide they’re strong enough for a knees-up, then I’ll show yer a nifty bit of footwork. And Sarah Jane has found me a navy blue blouse to go with it!’ Winnie was talking fifteen to the dozen now in her excitement. ‘I could wear them for the wedding, couldn’t I, queen? The skirt needs a wipe down with a wet cl
oth and then a good press with the iron. The blouse I’ll wash in the sink when I get home. And I bet they’ll both come up as good as new.’

  Her two friends and the stallholder laughed at her enthusiasm. Kate was quite touched, she’d never seen the little woman so happy. ‘All yer need is a Scottish piper to walk in front of yer, sunshine, and that would be a sight worth seeing.’

  It was then Winnie noticed the dress over Monica’s arm, and was instantly full of apologies. ‘Oh, I’m sorry for going on about meself, queen, I’ve been selfish. I haven’t even asked to see the dress yer got for Dolly.’

  ‘This is what I got, girl, and I’m tickled pink with it.’ Monica held up a cotton dress with a blue background covered in white spots. Like the gingham dress, it had a plain round neck, short sleeves and a full, flared skirt. ‘I can’t wait to see our Dolly’s face when she sets eyes on it. She’ll be that thrilled, I bet she’ll even offer to wash the dishes for me.’ She looked over to the stallholder. ‘Is this sixpence, like the one me mate’s got?’

  ‘Yes, queen, they’re both the same price. And I don’t think yer can argue over that, ’cos they’re worth the money.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of arguing with yer, girl, we’ve definitely got ourselves bargains.’

  Sarah Jane had told Winnie she’d only charge her ninepence for both the skirt and blouse. While they’d been sorting through the clothes, they’d been busy talking, and the stallholder had discovered the little woman was a widow like herself. But Sarah Jane was lucky because her mother was still alive and she had two sisters, a brother, and loads of nieces and nephews, whereas her customer had neither kith nor kin. But she couldn’t be generous with everybody as the stall didn’t make that much money, and there were times when she had to keep telling herself that charity begins at home.

  But Sarah Jane had grave misgivings about the tartan kilt. The woman was too old and small to wear a kilt, and apart from its being too heavy for her, she would look out of place in it. She didn’t have the heart to say anything, though, because Winnie had been so pleased. It wasn’t up to her to tell her customers what to wear, even if she did like them. So the stallholder was relieved when she heard one of the friends, the one with the face of an angel, speaking.

  ‘We saw a dress over there we thought yer’d like, sunshine. A cotton one in a deep blue, just the job for this weather. Yer’d be sweating cobs in that skirt, ’cos the material is wool and very heavy. Ideal for the winter, but far too heavy for this weather. I think so, anyway. But if that’s what yer want, then you go for it, sunshine, because if we talk yer into anything yer’d call us fit to burn when yer got home.’

  Winnie was beginning to look doubtful. She lifted the arm the kilt was draped over, and nodded. ‘I think ye’re right, queen, it is heavy. And I’d probably look a stupid nit in it, anyway, ’cos it nearly comes down to me ankles.’ Then she brightened up. ‘I could always cut a bit off and put a hem on, then I could wear it in the winter. What d’yer think, ladies?’ Her eyes swept over the three women. ‘And I don’t want yer to tell me what yer think I want to hear, I want the plain, unvarnished truth.’

  ‘You buy the skirt and blouse, girl, and do as yer say, alter it to fit yer for the winter.’ Monica turned to Kate, while Sarah Jane looked on with interest. ‘Will you tell her, or d’yer want me to?’

  ‘You tell her, sunshine, and see what she says.’

  ‘Well, it’s like this, yer see, Winnie, me and Kate were going to buy the cotton dress for yer. We thought it would look nice on yer for the wedding. But we didn’t bring it over with us, ’cos we wanted to ask yer first, in case yer were insulted.’

  Sarah Jane couldn’t let that go without chipping in. Her back straight and her head held high, she said, ‘Why would she be insulted? I wear clothes off me own stall, I’m not too proud, so why should yer friend be? Nah, she’s like meself, I bet she’d never look a gift horse in the mouth. Would yer, queen?’

  ‘I’m not proud not at all,’ Winnie said. ‘But I couldn’t let you two buy a dress for me, it wouldn’t be fair, ’cos yer’ve got to watch yer pennies with a family to look after. Besides, yer’ve done enough for me over the last week, waiting on me hand and foot.’ She was in a dilemma now, wondering whether she should just take the skirt and blouse and not bother even looking at the dress. Then again, her friends might be upset if she didn’t at least look at it. ‘I’ll tell yer what, if Sarah Jane doesn’t mind, I’ll have a look at the dress. And if I like it, I’ll buy it instead of the skirt.’

  ‘I’ll go and get it, I know where to put me hand on it.’ Monica was off like a shot and back within seconds, holding the blue dress in front of her. ‘There yer are, girl, and I bet yer’d look a treat in it.’

  ‘Hang on a minute, sunshine, just hold yer horses,’ Kate said. ‘There’s a catch to it, I’m afraid, Winnie. Yer only get the dress if yer let me and Monica pay for it. For heaven’s sake, it’s only coppers, we’re not talking shillings or pounds. And I’ll tell yer this, I wouldn’t refuse if someone wanted to buy me a dress.’

  ‘There yer are, queen.’ Sarah Jane folded her arms and nodded her head, sensing victory in the air. ‘Yer’ll only upset yer friends if yer refuse, and I’m sure yer don’t want to do that after they’ve been so good to yer.’

  Winnie felt as though she was floating on cloud nine. A skirt and blouse, a dress, and to top it all off, she’d made a new friend in Sarah Jane. The stallholder had told her to come down any time she had nothing to do. Never mind if she didn’t want to buy anything, they could have a good natter. ‘And if I’m busy, yer can keep yer eye on the customers. We get some right scallies down here, especially on a Saturday when we’re rushed off our feet. They’d nick the clothes off yer back if they could, the thieving swines. And I can’t be watching everyone, I’d need eyes in the back of me head and in me backside.’

  So Winnie, all smiles, promised she’d be down to help out. A promise she meant to keep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘I’ll fill the sink and put all the dresses in, save me dragging the dolly tub out.’ Kate sat back in her chair and breathed out. ‘God, but it’s hot. I feel as though I’ve done a day’s hard work instead of walking round a market enjoying meself.’

  ‘I could have gone straight home, yer know, queen,’ Winnie said, ‘instead of sitting here, drinking yer tea and getting waited on.’

  ‘Ay, don’t be saying that!’ Monica shook her head. ‘Ye’re making things bad for me by saying we’re putting on her! When I come in tomorrow for me morning cuppa, I bet she’ll give me cow eyes and start feeling sorry for herself.’

  ‘Oh, it’s different for you, queen, yer’ve been mates with Kate for donkey’s years. But I hope I haven’t been a nuisance to yer, or spoilt yer day out? I wouldn’t want to do that, and I did me best to keep up.’

  ‘Of course yer weren’t a nuisance, we enjoyed having yer with us.’ Kate started to collect the cups and saucers. ‘Besides, there was method in me madness, sunshine, I needed yer here to tell me how much starch to put in the rinsing water. Left on me own, I’d probably put too much in, and the dresses would come off the line as stiff as a board. They’d be able to stand up for themselves.’

  ‘Yer’ll not get the five dresses in the sink, girl,’ Monica said. ‘Yer’ll have to do them one at a time.’

  ‘Go and teach yer grandmother how to milk ducks, Monica Parry! The sinks are deep, as yer ruddy well know, and I’ll easy get the dresses in. They’re only ruddy cotton!’

  ‘Okay, girl, take it easy, I can see yer hair falling out from here! God, ye’re not half touchy, it doesn’t take much to make yer lose yer rag.’

  ‘Only scorching hot weather, sunshine, and a mate that thinks she always knows best.’ Kate reached the kitchen door with the cups and saucers, and turned her head to smile at her neighbour and best friend. ‘I must admit ye’re right most of the time, but not always.’

  Monica faced Winnie across the table, and jerked her head towards
Kate’s disappearing back. ‘She was on the point of praising me then, but thought better of it in case I got a big head. Now can yer imagine, even in yer wildest dreams, me with a big head? The very idea is preposterous.’

  Kate’s head quickly reappeared. She feigned surprise, with her eyes and mouth wide open. ‘What did yer say the idea was?’

  ‘Preposterous, girl!’ Monica winked at Winnie, and in an exaggerated whisper told her, ‘She might have the looks but she certainly hasn’t got the brains. Pig ignorant, she is.’

  Kate moved quickly to the sideboard. From a drawer she took a piece of paper and a pencil. ‘Write it down for me, clever clogs.’

  Monica’s nostrils widened and her lips narrowed as she shook her head slowly for several seconds. ‘The very idea of yer thinking I can’t spell preposterous is preposterous in itself, and I refuse to satisfy yer childishness.’

  Winnie was looking from one to the other. She was getting used to the friendly arguments between the two pals, but she wasn’t sure whether it was always in fun. She decided on this occasion it would be best to be diplomatic and stay neutral. So, while her head turned from one to the other, her face remained impassive.

  ‘Ye’re only saying that ’cos yer can’t spell it,’ Kate said. ‘I’ve got threepence left out of me money. It’s yours if yer spell preposterous for us.’

  Monica grinned. ‘Money for old rope, that is. Pass the pencil over.’ Convinced no one would be any the wiser she began to write. And as she wrote each letter down, she spoke it out aloud. ‘P-r-e-p-o-s-t-e-r-u-s.’ She handed the paper over to Kate, then turned her palm face up. ‘I’ll have the threepence now, girl, in case yer forget to give it to me later.’

  Kate didn’t look at the paper before asking, ‘I gather the bet goes both ways? That I get threepence off you if yer’ve spelt it wrong?’

  ‘Of course, girl, that goes without saying.’ Monica was very confident. She often pulled the same trick on her husband. She’d think of a big word, one which she didn’t know how to spell herself, and have a bet with him. And he was bloody hopeless at spelling, was Tom. ‘Go on, have a look at the paper and yer’ll see I’ve spelt it right.’