On Mother Brown's Doorstep

by Mary Jane Staples

  ‘Sammy, stop him!’ cried Susie.

  ‘Why, what’s he said?’ asked Sammy.

  ‘Keep goin,’ Boots,’ said Will, hoping that laughing moments wouldn’t affect his tubes.

  Rachel thought, I should miss this? Not likely. What a family.

  Boots touched on the subject of bridal trousseaux. He said he hadn’t seen Susie’s trousseau, but he had it on good authority from her sister Sally that it wisely contained some winter warmers.

  ‘I can’t hardly believe what I’m hearin’,’ said Chinese Lady.

  ‘Nor me,’ said Sally, close to hysterics.

  ‘It’s the winter weather,’ said Boots. If Sammy was rarely lost for hitting English on its head, Boots was never lost for whimsical or deceptive patter. And he was talking as much to divert himself as the guests. Something was still worrying him, something he felt he’d forgotten or overlooked. He caught Rosie’s eye, and Rosie waited in delight for his next piece of nonsense. ‘You’ll all be interested to know that Susie’s bottom drawer is as good as she hopes Sammy’s plumbing will be.’

  ‘Never mind the plumbin’,’ said Sammy, ‘just give me a list of me fancy expectations.’

  ‘Well,’ said Boots, ‘how’d you like the sound of four ladies’ woolly vests down to the knees, two red flannel petticoats and one plumbers’ spanner for giving you a headache?’

  ‘That’s out for a start,’ said Sammy. ‘I don’t like headaches except as a matter of business.’

  ‘I never heard anything more deplorable in all me life,’ said Chinese Lady, ‘and I can’t take kindly to you laughin’ about it, Edwin.’

  ‘Believe me, Maisie, I’m not laughing,’ said Mr Finch, ‘I’m crying.’

  ‘So am I,’ said Susie.

  ‘Don’t see why,’ said Will, ‘I like the sound of four woolly vests down to your knees, sis.’

  ‘I’ll kill Boots,’ said Susie.

  ‘You’ve done it now, Daddy,’ said Rosie.

  ‘Regarding the happy couple,’ said Boots, ‘I’ve known Sammy all his life, and it’s my considered opinion that if there were two more like him, the rest of us would be walking backwards.’

  ‘Granted,’ said Sammy.

  ‘Seconded,’ said Tommy.

  ‘Thirded,’ said Lizzy.

  ‘I’ve known Susie since she was sixteen,’ said Boots. ‘Sammy runs on electricity, Susie runs on sunshine. If you put two people like Susie and Sammy together, they’ll never have a freeze-up, even if their plumbing is a major disaster.’

  ‘Is that son of mine makin’ sense?’ asked Chinese Lady.

  ‘Now and again,’ said Mr Finch.

  ‘Sammy fell on his head when he first met Susie,’ said Boots, ‘and he’s still not right way up. Long may Susie keep him like that, it’s one way of emptying his pockets. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the bride and groom and a long-lasting marriage.’

  ‘Well done, Boots,’ said Mr Finch, and everyone came to their feet to toast the happy couple. After which, Rosie whispered to Boots that she was sure his mum was going to box his ears.

  ‘Never a dull moment in this family, kitten,’ he said.

  ‘Mummy’s still laughing,’ said Rosie, ‘I think she’s getting better, don’t you?’

  ‘Thumbs up to that, Rosie.’

  Sammy’s speech was appreciated by one and all. He admitted Susie had floored him, and that she answered him back as well, but it hadn’t been painful all the time, and he was hoping to make a recovery. He further admitted he had had to hand Susie all his worldly goods on account of the vicar listening, and he could only hope she’d let him have enough back to take care of his overheads. He thanked Mrs Brown for having had Susie as a result of a twinkle in Mr Brown’s eye, and he thanked them both for making sure that Susie hadn’t run off with a floor-walker, as that would have upset him no end. He hoped that as his wife she’d cure herself of answering him back. He thanked everyone for their presents, and he thanked his mother for bringing him up to be virtuous, charitable and a bit of all right in the business world. Modesty prevented him saying more than that. He complimented Mr Finch on becoming his stepfather, and he complimented the bridesmaids on looking highly adorable. He proposed a toast to them, and he himself toasted his bride.

  ‘Good luck, Susie!’

  ‘Good on yer, Sammy!’

  ‘Bless you both,’ said Mrs Brown happily.

  There was an interval before the three-piece band arrived and dancing began. Ladies took themselves off to their cloakroom and Boots took himself into the street. The uniformed constable was patrolling about. Boots asked him if he was acting under instructions. The constable said yes, that his orders were to make sure that Ponsonby, the wanted man, did not enter the Institute or intrude on the wedding celebrations in any way. A colleague was just round the corner in Brandon Street to check on people entering Larcom Street. There was a third man near the vicarage and church, watching people coming up from Charleston Street or from the Walworth Road. In addition, there were scores of men combing the whole area.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Boots, ‘I’ll have cups of tea and some wedding cake sent out to you and your colleague in a while.’

  ‘Kind of you, Mr Adams, we’ll appreciate that. Good luck, sir.’

  He and Rosie needed that, did they? If so, how much? Ponsonby, obviously, was still at large. He went back into the hall. Everyone, of course, knew about the murders and a man who’d been charged by the police. What they didn’t know was that the slippery bugger had escaped custody. Well, there was no point in telling them, no point in introducing an ugly note. It was Susie’s big day. Let it stay like that.

  There was a queue tailing back from the ladies’ cloakroom beyond the stage, and the caterers were busy setting out cups and saucers and making huge pots of tea. The cake was waiting to be cut. Susie and Sammy were circulating in dutiful and sociable fashion, talking to as many guests as possible. Boots looked instinctively for Rosie. Young Tim was his pal, Rosie his sweetheart. He sometimes had to be careful not to show more attention to the girl than the boy, and Rosie herself took care to see that Tim was never pushed into the background.

  Will came up, a smile on his face. Boots liked Will, he liked the whole of the Brown family, very much a reminder of his own when they were living in Caulfield Place.

  ‘How’s it goin’, Boots?’ asked Will.

  ‘It’s going well for Susie,’ said Boots. ‘Have you seen Rosie?’

  ‘She’s over there, with Freddy, Cassie and your niece Annabelle. Sally’s gone into hidin’. There’s a young bloke from your offices tryin’ to turn her into his girlfriend.’

  Sally appeared then, a young vision in pink.

  ‘Who’s this?’ asked Boots.

  ‘Boots, it’s me,’ said Sally.

  ‘Well, don’t go home too early,’ said Boots, ‘not before I’ve had a dance with you.’

  Sally turned a thrilled pink that almost matched her cerise dress. Boots was her hero after what he’d done for Cassie yesterday. Will recognized her then as a girl with a crush.

  ‘Oh, I’ll be ever so pleasured,’ she said. ‘Boots, ’as Will told you the Army’s goin’ to discharge ’im?’

  ‘Is that a fact, Will?’ asked Boots.

  ‘Had an official letter this mornin’,’ said Will.

  ‘With an offer of a pension?’ asked Boots, glancing across the hall at Rosie.

  ‘Not a word,’ said Will.

  ‘Well, we’ll go to work on it together,’ said Boots. ‘I’ll come and see you sometime next week.’

  ‘Oh, ain’t you nice?’ said Sally.

  ‘The Ministry of Pensions won’t think so,’ said Boots.

  ‘Blow them,’ said Sally.

  ‘I won’t say five bob a week wouldn’t be useful,’ said Will.

  ‘We’ll start by getting you to ask for two quid,’ said Boots.

  ‘Two quid?’ said Sally, blinking.

  ‘Will won’t get it,’ said Boots, ‘but it’
ll send the Ministry into a panic. That’ll give Will a chance to settle for twelve and six, or ten bob at the worst.’

  ‘I’m not proud,’ said Will.

  ‘Nor am I,’ said Boots, ‘it alters the shape of your face.’

  Sally laughed. Boots had a quiet word with a waitress about tea for the policemen.

  The tables had all been folded and stowed away, except for two covered with cups and saucers. The hot tea was ready and the wedding cake was cut amid the sounds of revelry. Boots went across to Emily, who had just taken young Tim in hand and was trying to show him how to dance the Boston Two-Step. Boots collected a cup of tea on the way and gave it to Emily.

  ‘Lovely,’ she said, ‘just what I need.’

  ‘Sit down and drink it,’ said Boots. The chairs now lined the walls.

  ‘But I’ve already been sittin’ for ages,’ said Emily.

  ‘Well, good for you,’ said Boots, ‘now do some more. I’ll see to Tim. Come on, young ’un, let’s go out to the yard and see if we can have five minutes football before the band arrives.’

  ‘Crikey, could we, Dad?’ asked Tim, plainly preferring that to the Boston Two-Step.

  ‘Did I hear someone mention football?’ asked Emily.

  ‘Yes, Dad did,’ said Tim.

  ‘Not likely you’re not,’ said Emily, ‘not in your suit, me lad, nor your dad in his. I don’t know, goin’ out to a yard to kick a ball about when there’s a weddin’ on. Your grandma will have a fit. So will I. That dad of yours wants talkin’ to sometimes.’

  ‘No football, then,’ said Boots; ‘just a look at the fresh air. It’s getting a little warm in here.’

  ‘Well, lovey, if it’s fresh, bring some back ’ere,’ said Emily.

  ‘I’ll find a paper bag,’ said Boots, and took Tim around the stage and through the kitchen to the back door, which opened on to an alley used as a yard for dustbins. He wanted to check the door, to find out if the caterers were keeping it locked. They weren’t. They were using the dustbins. But just beyond the entrance to the alley, he glimpsed a constable. So there he was, the colleague of the man on duty outside the Institute. Inspector Grant was taking seriously his feeling that before Ponsonby attempted to slip off to wider pastures he meant to revenge himself for being handed over to the police in that factory wasteland. With other police officers swarming elsewhere, Ponsonby must be feeling squeezed, wherever he was.

  ‘Look, there’s a bobby, Dad,’ said Tim, ‘I’ll go and ask him the time.’

  ‘What for, young feller-me-lad?’

  ‘Dad, you always ask a bobby the time,’ said four-year-old Tim.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ said Boots, catching hold of his energetic young son before he had a chance to slip the parental leash. ‘Up you come.’ He picked the boy up and slung him over his shoulder. Tim yelled with delight as Boots carried him back into the hall. Chinese Lady intercepted father and son, a cup of tea in her hand, her hat a wedding triumph.

  ‘So there you are,’ she said.

  ‘Hello, old lady,’ said Boots, eyes picking out Rosie.

  ‘What’s that boy doin’ over your shoulder, might I ask?’

  ‘What boy?’ asked Boots.

  ‘Me!’ yelled Tim.

  ‘What’s he doin’ up in the air?’ demanded Chinese Lady.

  ‘Search me,’ said Boots, and his mother put on her severe look.

  ‘I don’t know what I’m goin’ to tell people about that speech of yours,’ she said. ‘It’s a mystery to me where you got that tongue of yours from.’

  ‘It’s a mystery to me too,’ said Boots, ‘so we’re both in the same boat. Well, you do the rowing, old lady, while I keep a lookout for the old man of the sea.’

  ‘What old man of the sea?’ asked Chinese Lady suspiciously.

  ‘The one with all the answers,’ said Boots.

  Chinese Lady’s firm mouth twitched.

  ‘Put that boy down,’ she said.

  ‘Down you come, Tim,’ said Boots, and set the lad on his feet. ‘Go and get yourself a cup of tea and a slice of cake. Then I’ll show you how to turn cartwheels for your grandma.’

  ‘Crikey, yes,’ said Tim, going at a run.

  ‘Lovely wedding, old girl,’ said Boots.

  ‘It was,’ said Chinese Lady, ‘till you started talkin’ about Susie’s bottom drawer. I was never more embarrassed for any of my sons. Sammy’s bad enough, but at least he ’asn’t got any of those Frenchified ways you picked up in France.’

  ‘Well, that’s something to be thankful for,’ said Boots. The three-piece band had arrived, a little surprised to have been closely inspected by a policeman. They were now up on the stage and getting ready for their part in the proceedings. As soon as everyone had had a cup of tea and a piece of wedding cake, the caterers would finish clearing the hall.

  ‘I can’t for the life of me think why Edwin don’t disapprove of that tongue of yours,’ said Chinese Lady, who wouldn’t have allowed him to, in any case.

  ‘Never mind, live in hope,’ said Boots. He glimpsed a movement in the gallery. ‘Just a moment.’ He walked to the far end, climbed the stairs and came upon Freddy and Cassie. ‘Hello, what’s happening up here?’ he asked.

  Cassie regarded him in dreamy adoration, having been told he was the man who had helped Freddy bring her home.

  ‘’Ello,’ she said shyly. ‘Me an’ Freddy’s lookin’ for Queen Mary’s best ’at.’

  ‘Well, she’s lookin’,’ said Freddy, ‘I’m just bein’ wore out.’

  ‘Yes, Queen Mary come up ’ere once,’ said Cassie, ‘and lost ’er best ’at. I read it somewhere. It’s got green feathers. Mister, ’ave you met Queen Mary and ’ad Sunday tea with ’er?’

  ‘Not lately,’ smiled Boots.

  ‘There, I told yer, Freddy,’ said Cassie. ‘I told yer ’e was bound to ’ave met Queen Mary.’

  ‘Yer’ll ’ave to excuse ’er, Mister Adams,’ said Freddy, ‘she can’t ’elp bein’ scatty.’

  ‘I ain’t scatty, am I, mister?’ said Cassie.

  ‘I like scatty girls,’ said Boots. ‘We’re all a bit that way. In fact, the whole world’s barmy, Cassie.’ He ruffled the girl’s hair. ‘Enjoy yourselves. Hope you find Queenie’s hat.’

  The band struck up then. The tables were all out of the way, the hall clear. The dancing began.

  And Annie arrived.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  ANNIE ENTERED THE Institute at five minutes to five. Crikey, she thought, it must be an important wedding to have a policeman on duty outside. Actually, there’d been quite a few about. Had she bought an evening paper on her way home from work she’d have known why. They were headlining the escape of the man held in custody. His name was revealed and his description, together with the warning that he was dangerous.

  The atmosphere of revelry reached Annie at once. The guests were dancing to the music of a three-piece band, and the hall was a picture of colour and movement. Girls were all dolled up, and all the women looked wedding-worthy. Annie noticed some very smart ladies and some posh-looking men. She supposed Sammy Adams had friends all over because of his business. Young men looked frisky, and the middle-aged women looked kind of mellow, as if beer and port had been flowing. The band were playing ‘Miss Annabelle Lee’, and the dancers were doing a quick-step. It all looked lively and exciting, and there wasn’t a gloomy face anywhere. The bride herself was dancing, her white gown swirling and floating, and she was laughing up into the face of a very interesting-looking man. Combing the vague recollections she had of seeing Sammy Adams at his market stall, Annie felt sure she was seeing him now. There were chairs along the side walls, but not many people were using them at the moment. Most were dancing. Annie looked around for a sight of Will. Not seeing him, she slipped into the cloakroom to take off her hat and her light raincoat, and to unnecessarily tidy up her face.

  She emerged in her highly fashionable loose-waisted white dress, her stockinged legs gleaming. The first person she saw wa
s Cassie, who was in argument with Freddy. Freddy was in a new grey suit with long trousers, but still looked very much a boy.

  ‘Hello, you two,’ she said, ‘what’s up?’

  ‘I just don’t believe it, but it ’appened,’ said Freddy. ‘Cassie’s barmy cat ’as invited itself.’

  ‘D’you mean it came in ’ere?’ asked Annie.

  ‘Well, Tabby likes weddings,’ said Cassie. ‘I keep tellin’ Freddy, but ’e keeps not listenin’.’

  ‘Crikey, Annie, don’t yer look posh?’ said Freddy.

  ‘Do I, Freddy?’

  ‘I bet Will’s goin’ to fall over when ’e spots yer,’ said Freddy.

  ‘Annie, Tabby’s gone in the men’s cloakroom,’ complained Cassie, ‘an’ Freddy won’t go an’ get ’im.’

  ‘Beats me ’ow it got here,’ said Freddy, ‘but I ain’t fetchin’ it, D’you know what she wants to do? Take it round in a dance.’

  ‘Well, Tabby likes dancing,’ said Cassie. ‘’E used to dance as Dick Whittington’s cat in a pantomime.’

  ‘Bloomin’ Muvver O’Grady,’ breathed Freddy, ‘she ain’t real.’

  The dance came to an end. Annie watched couples leaving the floor. There was no sign of Will with a partner.

  ‘Hello.’

  Annie turned, and there he was, smiling and looking a fine young man in his new grey suit, bought for the wedding.

  ‘Hello, Will.’

  ‘You’re lookin’ highly fashionable again, Annie,’ he said, thinking her just about the nicest girl a bloke could hope to walk out with.

  ‘I don’t like the way you say highly,’ said Annie, ‘you’re as bad as me dad.’

  ‘Well, it’s not our fault you look good enough to eat,’ said Will. ‘Come on, come and meet the bride and groom and lots of other people.’ He took her to that part of the hall where the Brown and Adams families were sociably grouped. He introduced her first to Susie and Sammy. Susie, recognizing her and wanting her to be a bright light in Will’s life, greeted her like an old friend. Sammy, who had been told about her and what had happened yesterday to her sister Cassie, shook hands warmly with her. She was immediately conscious of electric energy.