On Mother Brown's Doorstep

by Mary Jane Staples

  ‘’Ere, ’ave yer fired yer rifle a lot?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘Now and again,’ said Will.

  ‘Christmas,’ breathed Charlie, ‘ow many blokes ’ave yer shot dead?’

  ‘I hit an Indian elephant once,’ said Will.

  ‘Crikey,’ said Cassie, ‘did it fall down?’

  ‘No, it hit me back,’ said Will.

  ‘Oh, did it squash yer flat?’ asked Cassie in awe.

  ‘’Fraid so,’ said Will, ‘but I’m gradually fillin’ out.’

  Nellie let out a yell of laughter. Annie smiled.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she asked.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Will.

  Nellie brought a cup and saucer.

  ‘What’s in yer parcel?’ asked Cassie of Will.

  ‘Cassie, don’t be nosy,’ said Annie, pouring the tea.

  ‘But it might be the Crown Jewels,’ said Nellie, ‘’e might be mindin’ them.’

  ‘Cor, talk about bein’ up the pole,’ said Charlie.

  ‘You can sit down,’ said Annie to Will, ‘if you’d be so kind.’

  ‘Yes, Annie’s honoured you’ve come and asked after ’er,’ said Nellie.

  ‘Let’s see,’ said Will, ‘who’s got a vase?’

  ‘Oh, the Queen’s got lots,’ said Cassie.

  ‘Well, can you ask her to lend us one?’ said Will, unwrapping the daffodils and offering them to Annie. The golden blooms were a bright splash of colour against her dress. Annie stared.

  ‘Oh,’ she said.

  ‘Just to make up for dumpin’ you in the pushcart,’ said Will.

  ‘They’re for me?’ she gasped.

  ‘They just need a vase and some water,’ said Will, and Annie took the bunch and blinked at them. Will thought she looked very appealing in her surprise and uncertainty.

  ‘Oh, ain’t they lovely?’ said Nellie, and dashed to the parlour. She came back with a tall vase and half-filled it with water from the scullery tap. She put the vase on the mantelpiece and took the long-stemmed daffodils from Annie, who for once looked as if she didn’t quite know where she was. Nellie placed the blooms in the vase and spread them out. ‘Look, Annie, ain’t they a picture?’

  ‘Yes, they’re lovely,’ said Annie, feeling all funny. Funny nice, of course.

  Noting that Annie, vigorous in chastising him for some of his antics, didn’t seem all there, Charlie said, ‘I ain’t keen on flowers meself, I think I’ll go an’ bash a hole in a wall with Georgie Simmonds’ ’ead.’ And he vanished before Annie knew he was even on his feet.

  Will, drinking his tea, said, ‘You girls managin’? Is there anything I can do? Old soldiers like me can be useful.’

  ‘Old?’ Annie came out of not being quite herself. ‘Old?’ she said. ‘How can you be old?’

  ‘The Army puts years on blokes.’

  ‘Well, it’s not put any on you,’ said Annie.

  ‘Don’t you believe it,’ said Will, ‘I’m nearly a hundred in a way.’

  ‘What way?’ asked Annie.

  ‘Mrs Potter’s nearly an ’undred,’ said Cassie.

  ‘There you are, then,’ said Will, ‘some people do get to be that old.’

  ‘You’re not makin’ sense,’ said Annie.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Will, ‘you’re managin’ to limp around and get on with things? No help needed?’

  ‘Thanks ever so much, but no, I’m managin’ fine,’ said Annie, and took a little rest then by sitting down in the fireside chair. Her short dress let her knees show. Will looked. Annie pulled on her dress and covered her knees. ‘Excuse me,’ she said haughtily.

  ‘Just havin’ a look at your bruised knee,’ said Will. ‘Well, nice to know it’s improvin’. I’ll get movin’ now. So long, girls.’ Tabby the cat darted in then, made straight for Annie and leapt on to her lap. Annie gave a little yell and her knees showed again. Will grinned. ‘I’m not lookin’,’ he said, ‘I’m off.’

  Nellie went after him to see him out.

  ‘Thanks ever so much for comin’ to see our Annie,’ she said.

  ‘Pleasure,’ said Will. ‘Tell her I’ll send a pair of trousers round.’

  ‘Trousers?’ said Nellie. ‘What for?’

  ‘She’ll know,’ said Will, and went off laughing.

  Nellie, returning to the kitchen, said, ‘Will’s funny, ain’t ’e?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ asked Annie.

  ‘’E said ’e’d send you a pair of trousers. ’E said you’d know why.’

  ‘He said what?’

  ‘A pair of trousers,’ giggled Nellie, ‘’e said ’e’d send them round.’

  Annie quivered all over.

  ‘Are you laughin’, Nellie?’ she asked.

  ‘Me?’ said Nellie.

  ‘I’m not,’ said Cassie.

  ‘I bet he is,’ said Annie, ‘I bet he went off laughin’. Did he?’

  ‘Well, ’e wasn’t actu’lly cryin’,’ said Nellie. ‘Ain’t ’e nice, though, Annie? It’s a shame ’e didn’t stay a bit.’

  ‘I expect ’e’s gone to Windsor Castle to make some lemonade for the Queen,’ said Cassie. ‘She likes lemonade. Annie, what’s ’e goin’ to send you trousers for?’

  ‘Never you mind,’ said Annie. ‘Just wait till – Nellie, did he say he was comin’ back again?’

  ‘No, not direckly,’ said Nellie, ‘’e only said about the trousers.’

  ‘I bet he’ll be laughin’ all the way home,’ said Annie. ‘I – oh, blow, look at the daffs.’ She was shocked at herself.

  ‘Yes, ’e must like yer,’ said Nellie, scenting romance, ‘you ain’t ever ’ad anyone bring you flowers before. Oh, if ’e don’t come again, though, p’raps it’s because ’e’s finished ’is leave and is goin’ back to the Army.’

  Annie gritted her teeth. What must he think of her? She hadn’t thanked him for them, not properly she hadn’t. She’d been so astonished she’d hardly said anything. Oh, blow and bother.

  ‘Where was it he said he lived?’ she asked.

  ‘Caulfield Place,’ said Nellie, ‘it’s only down in Browning Street.’

  ‘I’ll ’ave to—’ Annie stopped. No, she’d have to go in person, so that she could thank him properly, she couldn’t just send a note. She’d be very nice about it, then she’d feel she could give him an earful about sending trousers round. She knew what he’d meant by that, even if her sisters didn’t. And he’d better not laugh at her again. A young lady her age ought to be treated seriously.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘SAMMY DARLING?’ PURRED Miss Susie Brown, private secretary, personal assistant and exclusive fiancée to the managing director of Adams Enterprises Ltd.

  Sammy, just back from a visit to his East End garments factory, looked up at her from his handsome old desk.

  ‘Yes, what is it, Miss Brown?’ he asked in strict businesslike fashion.

  ‘Pardon?’ said Susie.

  ‘If you could hurry it up, Miss Brown?’

  ‘I’ll give you Miss Brown,’ said Susie threateningly. Sammy had days when he tried to re-establish an authority she’d managed to knock sideways.

  ‘Me principles relatin’ to business hours—’

  ‘Oh, yes, highly formal,’ said Susie.

  ‘Bless you, Miss Brown,’ said Sammy, the youngest of his mother’s three engaging sons. She’d brought them all up to count their blessings, and Susie happened to be top of his personal list. He thought the world of her and her status as his fiancée, even if he did sometimes wonder what had hit him. Her blue eyes mostly, which on a sunny day could sparkle like sapphires. In a stylish navy-blue costume that set off her fairness, not even a French count with arched eyebrows and a haughtifying family tree could have said she wasn’t a stunner. She was all her own work too, allowing for the original contribution made by her mum and dad. She’d done it all on her own, she’d pulled herself up from being just another shabby and hungry-looking Walworth girl and turned herself into a May Queen. L
ovely figure too, and very high-class legs. Meritorious, it was, all the Adams female women owning high-class legs. Lizzy, his sister, to start with, Tommy’s wife Vi and Boots’s wife Emily, though Emily was getting a bit thin lately. In a few weeks, Susie’s legs would join the high-class collection. Lovely girl, Susie. Sammy Adams, his mother had said, I never thought you’d have enough sense in your money-box head to ask Susie to marry you, I thought you had hardly any real sense at all. Actually, his feelings for Susie were such that he often didn’t know whether he was upside-down or back to front. In a rash moment, he’d mentioned that to Boots. He should have known better, because Boots of course said well, Sammy, I’d say upside-down, since we all know Susie’s been standing you on your loaf of bread for years.

  Susie, viewing him lovingly, said, ‘Sammy, you darling.’

  ‘You want something,’ said Sammy, feeling he was going to have to raid his wallet. He’d do it too. He was in the hopeless and helpless position of never being able to say no to her.

  ‘You’re a lovely bloke,’ said Susie.

  ‘This is goin’ to cost me,’ said Sammy.

  ‘It’s goin’ to earn you a smacker,’ said Susie. ‘Sammy, you’ve given my dad a new job managin’ our new scrap metal yard.’

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ said Sammy.

  ‘I think everything of it,’ said Susie, ‘and you too.’

  ‘Very good, Miss Brown, if that’s all we’ll now get on with our work.’

  ‘It’s not all,’ said Susie, and came round the desk to bend over him.

  ‘Miss Brown, not in the office—’ Too late. Susie delivered a warm and loving smacker. Sammy yielded a principle or two and made an advance of his own. Inside the jacket of her costume, Susie quivered and straightened up.

  ‘What’s that doin’ there?’ she asked, and took his hand out.

  ‘It’s mindin’ its own business, I’d say,’ observed Sammy reasonably. ‘Well, what’s mine is yours, Susie, and what’s yours is mine.’

  ‘Not yet it isn’t, and certainly not in the office,’ said Susie. ‘You’re always breakin’ your own rules, Mister Sammy Adams.’

  ‘I don’t recollect—’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘You sure, Susie?’

  ‘Mmm, lovely,’ said Susie, ‘but kindly stop helpin’ yourself to what’s not yours till the weddin’ certificate’s signed. And even then, wait till we leave the church. I don’t want you committin’ unlawful sacrilege.’

  ‘In front of the vicar? Perish the thought,’ said Sammy, ‘he’s been my vicar man and boy, and I don’t want to get struck by his lightning on me one and only weddin’ day. It might be fatal. Fine thing that would be, gettin’ married and goin’ to me own funeral on the same day. All me old friends and neighbours would talk. Well, that’s definitely all, Miss Brown, now let’s get on with things.’

  Susie laughed. There was no-one quite like Sammy, the driving force behind Adams Enterprises and its associate companies.

  ‘Sammy love, you’re sweet for what you did for my dad.’

  ‘Well, I can’t have me dad-in-law sweepin’ floors, not when he’s up to runnin’ a scrap yard.’

  ‘You’re still a sweetie,’ said Susie. ‘Oh, there’s something else.’

  ‘If it’s not business, I’m not listening,’ said Sammy.

  ‘Yes, you are. Sammy, we’re goin’ to have a horse and cart for our weddin’.’

  ‘A whatter?’ said Sammy, who had work to do, including reading every word of a contract relating to Adams Fashions.

  ‘A pony and cart, actually.’

  ‘I was under the official impression that me best man Boots is arrangin’ to drive us from the church to the weddin’ breakfast in our motorcar.’ Sammy was the owner of a motorcar. He wore the approved peaked cap and goggles when driving it, which had made Susie tell him he looked as if he was about to enter a race at Brooklands. Sammy said he quite fancied that. Susie said she’d blow the car up if he got serious.

  ‘Yes, I know about that arrangement, Sammy, but I’ve just been speakin’ to Mr Greenberg. He’s with Boots, they’re talkin’ about Mr Greenberg supplying our new upstairs offices with furniture. Sammy, you didn’t tell me that both your brothers and your sister Lizzy all had Mr Greenberg’s pony and cart for their weddings. I want that too, it’s a fam’ly tradition now, and Mr Greenberg’s goin’ to be really upset if we don’t ask him to do the honours.’

  ‘Well, Susie—’

  ‘I don’t want any flannel.’

  ‘I’m not in the habit—’

  ‘Yes, you are, but like your mum says, you’re a nice boy really.’

  ‘That was fifteen years ago. I now happen to be—’

  ‘Yes, you’re lovely, Sammy. I’ll ask Mr Greenberg to come and see you.’

  ‘What’s the use?’ mused Sammy as Susie disappeared. ‘I can’t even answer her back now. I’m done for, I’m already gettin’ careless about me overheads – here, hold on, what’s this, a hundred per cent disclaimer clause in the event of delivery failing to be made on the due date? That’s not friendly, Harriet, nor Christian.’ Harriet de Vere was the chief buyer for Coates, a West End store with branches all over the South of England, and the contract was between Coates and Adams Fashions. ‘That’s not up for signin’, Harriet me female alligator, that’s up for discussion.’

  Susie reappeared, in company with Mr Eli Greenberg, who had known Sammy as a boy and had long been his most obliging business friend. He was also a family friend. A family friend who doubled as an obliging business friend was priceless. Mr Greenberg advanced with his mittened hands lifted in a gesture of expansive pleasure. He wore an old round black hat and a dark grey overcoat with capacious inner and outer pockets. His grey-flecked black beard split in a happy smile and his white teeth moistly beamed.

  ‘Sammy, my poy, vhat a pleasure, ain’t it? You and Susie in a state of expectant marriage, vhat a joy to my heart, and vhat a fair princess, ain’t she?’

  ‘Hello, Eli, old cock.’ Sammy stood up and shook Mr Greenberg’s hand. ‘Mind, I’m up to me ears.’

  ‘Vhen veren’t you up to your ears, Sammy? Up to your ears has cost me time and money, but who minds starvin’ vhen it’s in the name of friendship? The vedding, a blessing, ain’t it?’

  ‘I’m not denyin’ it,’ said Sammy, ‘and I’m refrainin’ from mentioning what it’s going’ to do to me wallet. I’m notin’ your kind sentiments, Eli, and am takin’ the opportunity to say Susie and self would be obliged if you’d do us the favour of transportin’ us from the church to St John’s Institute in your pony and cart.’

  Mr Greenberg beamed again.

  ‘Vhy, Sammy, vhat a pleasure, vhat a privilege. Already I am invited to the veddin’, now I am to cart you and Susie. Vell, don’t I remember doin’ the selfsame for Lizzy and Boots and Tommy? Vhat a privilege indeed, my young friend.’ Mr Greenberg took out his large red handkerchief and blew his nose. ‘You’ll ask vhat vill I charge you. Not a penny, Sammy, not even a farthing. It vill all be for friendship and Susie’s blue eyes.’

  ‘You’re a love, Mr Greenberg,’ said Susie.

  ‘Ah, vhat a fine turn Sammy has come to, Susie. Business is business, vun can’t say it ain’t, but vhere vould it lead a man to if he vas married to it and not to a young lady like you?’

  ‘To my dad’s chopper,’ said Susie.

  ‘Ah, such a joke, Susie.’

  ‘It’s no joke,’ said Susie, and Mr Greenberg’s deep chuckle rolled up from his broad chest and gurgled in his throat.

  ‘Vell, I must be on my vay now,’ he said, ‘I have had the pleasure of obligin’ Boots regardin’ handsome furniture at a price that vill take the shirt off my back, and now I have to oblige a handsome lady.’

  ‘If I had the time and wasn’t church-goin’, I’d oblige her meself,’ said Sammy.

  ‘Over my dead body,’ said Susie, and Mr Greenberg departed still chuckling.

  The moment the door closed behind him, Sammy
said, ‘This contract, Susie, is a pain in me posterior. There’s a delivery clause in it which could make us walk the plank with nowhere to go but down. And the pirate captain is Harriet.’

  ‘Miss de Vere of Coates?’ said Susie.

  ‘Selfsame,’ said Sammy.

  ‘Well, kindly let her know that you’re mine, Sammy, not hers, and that you’re not to be made to walk the plank so that she can rescue you from drowning, dry you out and get you into something comfy in her flat. Or I’ll push her face in.’

  ‘Don’t like the sound of that, Harriet with her face pushed in,’ said Sammy. ‘It might be considerably detrimental to Adams Fashions. Further, Susie, my mother, bein’ fond of you, wouldn’t like to hear you talkin’ in an unladylike manner. I’ll deal with Harriet, I’ll phone her and arrange to see her tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘Sammy darling, don’t be silly,’ said Susie. ‘Tomorrow’s Saturday.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll see her in the afternoon,’ said Sammy.

  ‘You won’t,’ said Susie.

  ‘Did I hear you right, Miss Brown?’

  ‘Yes, Mister Sammy Adams, you did. Tomorrow afternoon is when we’re going out to buy the rest of our furniture.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Sammy. He had acquired a handsome house in Denmark Hill, and Susie, excited by all it meant, had been leading exultant charges into furniture emporia to help him spend his money. He’d had to tell her that each charge was causing him personal ruination. Susie, who knew him through and through by now, noted with affection that he accepted ruination manfully.

  ‘You promised,’ she said.

  ‘Well, Susie, a promise is a promise,’ he said. ‘Is this one goin’ to cause me serious injury?’

  ‘Oh, it won’t be fatal,’ said Susie.

  Boots came in then. Long-limbed, grey-eyed and twenty-nine, he was the man who held everything together. He had the gift of easy communication and a very whimsical side. Women always looked twice at him, and most of the office girls had crushes on him. His left eye, almost sightless, sometimes seemed a little lazy. He’d been blinded on the Somme. An operation had cured his right eye, but the left one was fairly useless.