On Mother Brown's Doorstep

by Mary Jane Staples

  ‘What a pleasure,’ he said. ‘Are you the girl my new brother-in-law Will found in a pushcart?’

  ‘Sammy!’ Susie shook a finger at him.

  ‘Oh, I can’t believe it,’ said Annie, looking at Will. ‘You’ve done it on me again.’

  ‘Not me,’ said Will. Susie was the guilty party, actually. She thought the incident the funniest thing ever, although she was aware Annie didn’t.

  ‘I’d give five bob to see Susie in a pushcart,’ said Sammy. ‘Unfortunately, I can’t afford it at the moment.’

  ‘Sammy, go and stand in a corner,’ said Susie.

  ‘Who said that?’ asked Sammy, and Will, grinning, introduced Annie to his mum. She’d already met his dad. Mrs Brown was that taken with the girl she almost gave her a motherly cuddle. Mr Brown said hello again, Annie, glad you could come, but watch some of the fellers here, they’ll be after you. Annie met Chinese Lady, introduced to her as Mrs Finch, and her husband Mr Finch, ever such a distinguished-looking man. She also met Boots and Emily, Lizzy and Ned, Tommy and Vi. Then there was a quite beautiful woman whom Boots introduced as Rachel, a friend of the family, and a dark-bearded fatherly-looking man with whom all Walworth was acquainted, Mr Greenberg. Annie, knowing Boots was the man who had been such a great help to Freddy in finding Cassie, discovered him to be distinguished-looking himself, but with a very easy-going air. His wife Emily had marvellous auburn hair and magnificent green eyes, but was awfully thin. Then there were two people called Aunt Victoria and Uncle Tom, and several children. Lord, thought Annie, why am I meeting all these people if I’m just someone who’s only going to get a picture postcard from India, and perhaps not even that?

  Guests were dancing again, and most of the people she had just met melted away to take the floor. Annie waited for Will to ask her. Instead, he began chatting to Sammy’s mother. Annie ground her teeth. Tommy came up.

  ‘Now we’ve met and me wife Vi’s havin’ a sit-down,’ he said, ‘might I have the pleasure? I’m Tommy, in case you’ve already forgotten.’

  ‘I’m Annie, if you’ve forgotten,’ she said.

  ‘Which I haven’t,’ said Tommy, and so she danced with him, but she was wild with Will.

  Boots was taking Aunt Victoria round. Emily had said he ought to, for the sake of family relations. Aunt Victoria was saying that she was very complimented. Boots said well, you can still shake a fine leg for a woman of forty. Aunt Victoria, well past forty, felt so pleasured by this further compliment that she overlooked his mention of her limb. It was a lovely wedding party, she said, and she didn’t want to complain, but she thought the caterers’ port was a little vinegary, that it was very inconvenient that in the ladies’ cloakroom one of the cubicles was out of order, that she was sure Mr Higgins was getting drunk on all the beer he was ordering free from the waitresses, and that some of the children seemed a little rowdy. Well, I’m like you, Aunt Victoria, said Boots, I don’t want to complain, either, and I’m glad you agree we shouldn’t. Well, I was just mentioning one or two things, that’s all, she said. Boots smiled, and Aunt Victoria went girlishly giddy in his arms.

  The dance over, Annie looked for Will, a fierce light in her eyes. He’d gone missing, the coward. She intercepted Susie.

  ‘Susie, could I ask you, doesn’t Will dance?’

  Susie looked at her and saw vexation. She realized Will had said nothing about his condition to this very attractive girl. Susie felt she knew why. All the same, Annie should be told, it was only fair. They stood together in the middle of the hall. Waitresses appeared with trays of beer, port and soft drinks. Spirits in the church hall weren’t allowed.

  ‘Annie, Will’s got asthma. That’s why he’s home from India, and why he’s havin’ to leave the Army. He received a letter today, telling him they were goin’ to discharge him. He hasn’t told you, obviously. He gets attacks, sometimes not for a day or so, sometimes three a day. He probably thinks he’ll have an attack if he dances, and he’s a bit fed-up with himself.’

  ‘He’s got asthma?’ said Annie. She felt very upset. ‘Oh, that’s not like consumption, is it?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Susie, still softly brilliant in her wedding gown. She and Sammy weren’t going on their honeymoon to Devon until tomorrow. They were spending their wedding night in their new home. Susie was having nervously excited moments about it, and Sammy was wondering if Susie was going to wear a black silk nightdress. ‘It’s just that it makes Will feel he’s only half a man some days.’

  ‘Oh, where is ’e?’ said Annie. ‘Fancy not tellin’ me. If I can put up with bein’ dumped in a pushcart and havin’ him tell everyone about it, he can put up with tellin’ me about his asthma.’

  ‘Well, good for you, Annie,’ said Susie. ‘Look, there he is, up in the gallery, watchin’ us.’

  The band struck up again as Annie made for the gallery stairs. It didn’t take her long to corner Will and to speak her mind. She didn’t make the mistake of being sad and pitying, although she did feel sad.

  ‘Will, you silly, you ought to be ashamed,’ she said, ‘takin’ me out, kissin’ me till I didn’t know where me legs were, and not tellin’ me you’ve got a bit of a chest complaint. Lots of men ’ave got chest complaints, but they don’t go round deceivin’ girls.’

  ‘Deceivin’?’ said Will.

  ‘Well, it is deceivin’, isn’t it, not confidin’ in a girl who’s your young lady?’

  ‘I thought it was best if—’

  ‘As if I care you’ve got a funny chest—’

  ‘You haven’t. Yours is—’

  ‘Don’t be cheeky. I want to know all about the attacks you ‘ave. Will Brown, look me in the eye when I’m talkin’ to you.’

  ‘Annie, I’ve even been chucked out of the Army.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that,’ said Annie. ‘I don’t want my young man in any Army, anyway. And you’re still not lookin’ at me.’

  ‘Can’t,’ said Will.

  ‘Why can’t you? What’s wrong with me?’

  ‘If I look at you, I’ll kiss you.’

  ‘Well, that’s nice. I like you sayin’ things like that. Let’s sit down in the corner over there.’

  ‘Annie, if I get an attack, you won’t like what it does to me.’

  ‘Well, come and sit and talk to me,’ said Annie, ‘about what makes you have attacks. We don’t ’ave to dance, just sit together.’

  Will gave in. Annie put her arms around him and kissed him. Nothing chronically disastrous happened, even though Annie was wearing a little scent. Well, when a girl had made up her mind to be someone’s young lady, a little scent was a great help.

  The band played on, and on, contributing to the revelry infectiously and exhilaratingly, especially after each member had been served with a pint glass of the free beer. Old-fashioned dances alternated with lively modern fox-trots, and young people nearly fell over themselves in their delighted dash on to the floor to perform the Charleston. Sammy’s office girls rushed with young men. Into the fray went Lizzy, Vi, Emily and Susie with their husbands. In went Rosie and Annabelle to dance it with each other. In went Cassie, dragging an appalled Freddy with her.

  Chinese Lady could hardly believe her eyes. Those short frocks, and Sammy’s office girls all wearing pink garters, the delight of flappers. She knew where they came from. Sammy’s ladies’ shops. That disreputable young man was heading for purgatory all right. And look at Boots, her only oldest, he was performing with three partners now, Emily, Rosie and Annabelle. And that Tommy, going it with Vi. As for Lizzy, well, there she was with Ned, and Ned performing as if he didn’t have an artificial leg. Well, thought Chinese Lady, if I don’t have something to say to all of them, my name’s not Mrs Maisie Finch.

  ‘I never saw anything so shockin’,’ she said to her husband.

  ‘Wait until they’re performing “Mother Brown”,’ said Mr Finch, well-versed in this cockney ritual, known as a knees-up.

  ‘Oh, that’s different,’ said
Chinese Lady.

  Emily emerged exhausted at the finish of the Charleston, and Boots made her sit down. Ned came up, and advised Boots a bloke wanted to see him, he was waiting at the door.

  ‘I’ll get Emily a port, Boots, while you go and see the bloke.’

  Boots found a detective-sergeant waiting for him.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr Adams, but Inspector Grant asked me, as I was comin’ this way, to drop in on you.’

  ‘You’ve copped Ponsonby?’ said Boots.

  The CID sergeant said no, not yet. What he wanted to say was that they’d traced a call made by Ponsonby on a shop in King and Queen Street, near the market. He’d made the call not long after his escape from the Rodney Road police station. He’d bought a toy periscope.

  ‘A what?’ said Boots.

  A toy periscope, said the CID man, made of cardboard with two small mirrors and sold to kids for tuppence. Boots asked where Ponsonby had got the money from. Wasn’t it standard practice for the police to empty a suspect’s pockets? Yes, and that had been done, said the sergeant, but in making enquiries in the market, they’d discovered Ponsonby had sold his silk-lined waistcoat to a second-hand clothes stall for threepence. Incidentally, they’d also found a stack of money in a cupboard in his lodgings, which was be believed to relate to a robbery. Anyway, the point was, Inspector Grant was convinced Ponsonby was still somewhere in this area, and he wanted Mr Adams to take great care, especially when the wedding celebrations were over and he left with his family to go home. There would be police around, and if Mr Adams didn’t mind, they’d like to give him an escort to his home.

  Bloody hell, thought Boots, how the devil can I tell Emily and Rosie that there’s a maniac after my blood, and how the devil could Ponsonby have really worked out that I’m here with them? And what the hell did he want a periscope for?

  ‘Look, Sergeant,’ he said, ‘Ponsonby could have been sharp enough to find my address from the telephone directory. Can you ask Inspector Grant to check the area around our house?’

  ‘Good idea, sir,’ said the CID sergeant, ‘I’ll get that message to him. He’s not far away. Sorry if I’ve worried you as well as disturbed you, but Inspector Grant doesn’t like the bugger or what he’s capable of gettin’ up to.’

  ‘Tell him I share his feelings,’ said Boots, and the sergeant left. Boots rejoined the party. He saw Rosie and Annabelle talking to Chinese Lady. Sally, in retreat from Ronnie Jarvis, who had managed to collar her for the Charleston, begged Boots to save her from more of the office boy’s larks.

  ‘I think you’re playing hard to get, Sally,’ he said. A waltz had just begun. ‘Is this our dance?’

  ‘Oh, crikey, could we?’ breathed Sally in hero-worship, and Boots took her into the waltz. Sally was swoony all the way, but plucked up enough courage to ask him if he thought Sammy would give her a job in one of his shops. Boots said as an apprentice shop assistant? Oh, lor’, would he, d’you think? The advantage is all yours, Sally, you’re one of the family now, said Boots. ‘Oh, bless yer, Boots,’ said Sally, and swooned on.

  Will had managed a cautious dance with Annie, she bright-eyed now that she knew exactly where she stood, and that she had made him understand where he stood himself. They were walking out. Officially.

  The atmosphere was rousingly festive. Cockneys didn’t believe in enjoying themselves quietly. Ain’t there goin’ to be a knees-up? Later. What about a knees-up? Later.

  Sammy, noting Will and Annie sitting together and looking as if they were already thinking of good plumbing, efficient mangles and bottom drawers, decided he couldn’t let Susie’s likeable brother suffer unemployment as well as asthma. He told Susie he’d find him a job that wouldn’t crucify his chest. Susie hugged him and let his own chest introduce itself pleasurably to her bodice.

  ‘Lord love yer, Mrs Adams,’ he said, ‘not here if you don’t mind. Later.’

  ‘Love you, Sammy.’

  Rosie spoke to Emily.

  ‘You all right, Mummy?’

  ‘Fine, Rosie love.’

  ‘I expect you’re getting a bit tired.’

  ‘I’m not goin’ to be too tired for the knees-up,’ smiled Emily.

  ‘We’re really going to have one?’ said Rosie.

  ‘There’ll be a riot if we don’t,’ said Emily.

  Boots appeared.

  ‘Rosie,’ he said, ‘I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure yet. How about it, kitten?’

  ‘Well, I think I’m disengaged, Daddy, yes, I think I am,’ said Rosie. ‘You can have the pleasure.’

  ‘Come on, then,’ said Boots and they went flying into the Boston Two-Step, Rosie in sheer exhilaration. Cassie couldn’t get Freddy to participate, so she made him go and look for her cat. She did some more looking herself, and tried the ladies’ cloakroom. No-one was there. She looked and she called. Tabby didn’t miaow or show himself, it was just ever so quiet in the cloakroom, the door of one cubicle locked and chalked ‘OUT OF ORDER’. She didn’t like it being so quiet and she ran out.

  It was not Cassie Mr Ponsonby was waiting for, however.

  It was Rosie.

  Rosie, coming off the floor with Boots, said, ‘I’ll tell Miss Simms that just everyone was here this evening, Daddy – oh, silly me, I can’t. She’s gone to darkest Africa. I’m sorry, aren’t you? I think she liked you lots. Never mind, I’ll tell all my school friends just everyone was here.’

  ‘From all the noise we’re making, I should think everyone knows already that just everyone’s here, Rosie. We might—’ Boots stopped. It hit him then, the point he’d overlooked. Everyone included Ponsonby. Boots recalled the scene in the police station, when there was the necessity of making a statement. Quite close was the handcuffed Ponsonby, who knew by then whose daughter Rosie was. Boots had said, ‘Let’s get it all over with now, Inspector, I’m attending a wedding here, at St John’s Church tomorrow, with my family.’ It was a wedding Ponsonby knew about, and he probably knew too that the reception was taking place at the Institute. And at that point he also knew the man who had knocked him out would be there with his family. He had seen Rosie, he had heard her. ‘Hello, Daddy.’

  It was after nine-thirty now, and Ponsonby was somewhere close, Boots was absolutely certain of that now. He told Rosie to get hold of Tim, and for the two of them to give Emily a little company until he got back. He was just going to the cloakroom. Rosie looked at him. The hall was alive with laughter and uproarious jokes, with young people awaiting the next dance.

  ‘Daddy, something’s worrying you,’ said Rosie.

  ‘Oh, just the thought of doing the knees-up,’ said Boots.

  ‘Daddy, I’m not silly, you know,’ said Rosie. His worries were her worries, his pains her pains.

  ‘Nor am I, I know when I need to go to the cloakroom,’ said Boots. ‘Collect Tim, Rosie, and go and sit with Mummy, there’s a sweet girl.’

  ‘Yes, all right, Daddy,’ said Rosie and went looking for Tim. The band struck up for the next dance. Rachel intercepted Boots as he crossed the hall.

  ‘Boots, may I?’ she said, her smile affectionate.

  ‘In two ticks, Rachel, promise,’ he said, and off he went to check the back door again. It was still not locked, the caterers were still using the dustbins. They were on duty until ten-thirty. But this time, there was a policeman on duty in the alley itself. In the darkness, Boots made him out. A street lamp beyond the alley cast a faint light over the entrance. It would pick out anyone entering.

  Boots returned. Rachel was waiting. Rosie was watching, and she watched the person she loved best in all the world dance a fox-trot with the most beautiful woman in the hall. Rachel was purring.

  ‘Lovely,’ she murmured.

  ‘I am?’ said Boots.

  ‘God, I hope not,’ said Rachel. ‘Not you or Sammy or Tommy. I like you all for being men, not pretty ones.’

  ‘Bless your proud bosom, Rachel,’ said Boots, thinking, thinking.

  Will suddenly came to
his feet.

  ‘What’s up?’ asked Annie.

  ‘Something’s hittin’ me tubes,’ said Will. ‘Give us a few minutes, Annie.’

  ‘Yes, all right, Will,’ she said, and watched as he made his way to the cloakroom, where he entered a cubicle, locked it and stood with his back against the door. He drew in breath. The danger signals fluttered and weakened. He sighed with relief, but guessed he’d have an attack by the time he got home, if not before.

  Boots came off the floor with Rachel, and they both sat with Emily to let Rosie and Tim join Lizzy’s children. Susie appeared in a swirl of white.

  ‘Knees-up after the next dance,’ she said, ‘everyone in.’

  ‘I should be worried?’ said Rachel. ‘Susie, I can’t wait.’

  ‘I’ve got a wooden leg,’ said Boots.

  ‘No excuses,’ said Susie, and delivered the order next to Chinese Lady, Mr Finch, Mr and Mrs Brown, and Mr Greenberg.

  ‘Well, I don’t mind any company doin’ a knees-up,’ said Chinese Lady, ‘but I’m not sure—’

  ‘No excuses, Mum,’ said Susie, now a daughter-in-law.

  ‘Well, my goodness, Susie, at my age and all.’

  ‘No excuses, Maisie,’ said Mr Finch, who had come back from Germany with definite worries of his own, all concerning the political ambitions of a man called Adolf Hitler.

  ‘Ve are all friends,’ beamed Mr Greenberg, ‘and vhat is a knees-up for if not for friends, ain’t it?’

  Guests swarmed again as the band struck up ‘On Mother Kelly’s Doorstep’.

  ‘Come on, Boots, let’s you, me, Timmy and Rosie all do this together,’ said Emily.

  They collected Tim, and Boots called Rosie.

  ‘Yes, in a minute, Daddy,’ said Rosie, coming up, ‘but I’ve got to shake hands with the water board first.’ That was a family thing. Spending a penny was called going to shake hands with the water board. Rosie dashed off. Boots, taking hold of Tim’s hand and Emily’s hand, was hit by a shaft of light.

  Ponsonby. The ladies’ cloakroom. Two cubicles, one out of order. The curate, knowing a large wedding party was using the Institute today, would have moved heaven and earth to ensure there was no inconvenience of that kind. Plumbing, for God’s sake.