MB01 - Stay In Your Own Back Yard

by Joan Jonker

  Doreen had the grace to blush. ‘I wanted to ask yer a favour. Trust our Ruthie to get measles now, ’cos yer’ll probably say no!’

  ‘Try me,’ Molly said. ‘I’m not exactly in the best of moods, but go on, what d’yer want?’

  Doreen could feel five pairs of eyes boring into her, all eager to know what was on her mind. She moved from one foot to the other, suddenly wanting to go down the yard to the lavvy. ‘I was wonderin’ like, if instead of givin’ me money for me birthday, like yer did our Jill, could I ’ave a party?’

  ‘Did yer hear that, Jack? Last night it was the pictures, tonight it’s a flippin’ party!’ Molly could feel laughter bubbling inside, then decided she had nothing to laugh about so it must be hysterics. ‘What ’ave yer got in mind for tomorrow night, Doreen? A box at the Empire, or is it dinner at the Adelphi Hotel?’

  ‘Only a small party, Mam!’ Having got the worst over now, she had no intention of giving up without a fight. ‘Just Maureen, Mike an’ Sammy. An’ our Jill and Steve, if they want to come.’

  Molly’s change of mind was so rapid she didn’t even know it was happening. To hell with it, she thought, why not? There’s so much sadness and misery around, we need something like a party to cheer us up. ‘Okay, sunshine, but only on condition that it’s not only for youngsters.’ She looked around the five disbelieving faces and grinned. ‘It goes without sayin’ that me and yer dad will be here to chaperon yez, an’ yer can invite Nanna and Grandpa, and Nellie an’ George too.’ After a slight pause, she added, ‘And Ellen.’

  ‘Oh, thanks, Mam!’ Doreen’s face glowed with pleasure. ‘Yer an angel.’

  ‘Don’t thank me, thank this little one!’ Molly bent to rub Ruthie’s tummy. ‘If it was next week yer’d got the measles, there’d be no party, would there, sunshine?’

  ‘Are yer sure yer can manage it, love?’ Jack looked doubtful. ‘It’s just before Christmas, an’ I thought yer wanted to have a few people in then.’

  ‘It won’t cost much, Jack, there’ll be no booze, only lemonade.’ Molly lifted her clasped hands over her head and did a little jig, singing ‘McNamara’s Band’. ‘We don’t need to get plastered to enjoy ourselves.’ She stopped dancing, her chest heaving from the exertion. ‘D’yer know, I’ve ’ad a right miserable day, what with one thing and another, but now I’ve got somethin’ to look forward to, I feel fantastic! We’ll ’ave a little do for Doreen’s birthday, and a real jars out knees-up for Christmas.’ She clapped her hands in glee. ‘Oh, it’s good to be alive!’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Doreen’s party wasn’t turning out as Molly had hoped. The young ones were sitting on the straight chairs by the table, looking bored stiff. And Molly wasn’t surprised, because the conversations going on around couldn’t possibly be of interest to them. The men had their heads together talking about Germany and the threat of war, while the women chattered about everything under the sun. What their neighbours were up to, the weather and the price of food. They were hardly topics to interest the youngsters and their faces showed how fed up they were. Doreen was looking really down in the mouth, disappointed that her party was turning out to be a flop.

  If we weren’t here, Molly thought, they’d soon liven themselves up, make their own enjoyment. The situation called for drastic action. ‘Jack, will yer leave Hitler alone for a while? I’m fed up hearing his blasted name!’

  He looked up, surprised. ‘We’re only talkin’, love!’

  ‘An’ a bloody miserable conversation it is . . . nothin’ but war, war, war! I think we should go out for a drink, leave the young ones to enjoy themselves. What d’yer say, Nellie?’

  ‘Good idea!’ She understood the message in Molly’s eyes. ‘My feller hasn’t taken me for a drink since Adam was a lad!’

  ‘That’s settled then.’ Molly didn’t bother asking what the others thought. She’d explain when they got to the pub. ‘Come on, gang, get yer coats on an’ we’ll be off.’ She pointed a finger at Steve. ‘You’re the eldest, Steve, so I’m relyin’ on yer not to let the others make too much noise. An’ if the ’ouse gets wrecked, I’ll batter the lot of yez.’ She ushered the others out, then turned at the door and gave a broad wink.

  ‘Enjoy yerselves, but don’t forget to listen for Ruthie.’

  ‘We will, Mam, honest!’ Doreen readily agreed, silently thanking her mother for coming to her rescue. ‘We won’t make any noise.’

  Ellen was waiting outside the door for Molly. The others had walked on, the men leading the way, still talking about the threat Germany was posing, while Nellie and Bridie walked behind, arm in arm. ‘Molly, I won’t come to the pub, if yer don’t mind.’

  Molly didn’t need telling why. ‘Yer won’t need any money, Ellen, the men will pay.’

  She shook her head, wrapping her coat more closely around her body. ‘I’m not goin’ anywhere if I can’t pay me whack.’

  ‘Don’t be so flamin’ independent! Can’t my feller mug yer to a glass of port if he wants to, for heaven’s sake? It’s only coppers!’ Molly bit on her top lip before trying a different approach. ‘He’ll be upset if yer don’t come, Ellen. In fact they’ll all be upset, think yer don’t like their company.’

  ‘They won’t even miss me, Molly! I’m not exactly the life an’ soul of the party, am I?’ The confidence Ellen had gained when Nobby was in hospital had left her since he’d been transferred to Winwick Mental Hospital. One day, in a rare show of emotion, she’d told Molly she felt ashamed and thought everyone was talking about her. It was the day she’d travelled all the way to the hospital in Warrington to see him. She’d had to miss the rent to pay the fare and take him a new pair of pyjamas, but as she told Molly, she may as well not have bothered because he didn’t even know her. ‘You go on, Molly,’ she said now, ‘don’t worry about me.’

  ‘Who the heck’s worried? Yer a big girl now, Ellen, yer don’t need anyone to worry about yer. But I think yer a bit mean to spoil me party. It’s me first bit of pleasure since our Ruthie got the measles.’

  Ellen grasped her arm. ‘I don’t want to spoil yer pleasure, Molly, it’s the last thing in the world I’d want to do, yer’ve been so good to me.’

  ‘Then come on!’ Molly took a tight grip on the thin hand and started to pull. ‘By the time we get there, the others will be blotto!’

  She pulled Ellen through the group of men standing by the bar, to a table in the corner where the others were sitting. ‘Where’s yer manners, Jack Bennett? Sittin’ down while there’s ladies standin’! You weren’t brought up, yer were dragged up!’

  He sprang to his feet. He could see by Ellen’s face she didn’t want to be there, and guessed why. ‘I’ve ordered yez both a port and lemon, I hope that’s all right?’

  Ellen nodded. ‘Thanks, Jack.’

  Perched on a round stool, Molly leaned across the table and stared into her husband’s face. ‘If I hear the words “Hitler”, “Germany” or “war”, I’ll flatten yer. I’m here to enjoy meself, an’ it’s nourishment I want, not punishment.’

  ‘Okay, boss!’ Jack, leaning to one side so the barman could put the tray of drinks on the table, whispered in Bridie’s ear, ‘She’s a holy terror, that daughter of yours, always laying the law down.’

  ‘Is that right, now?’ Bridie smiled. ‘Well, it’s not meself she gets her temper from, so don’t be looking at me.’

  ‘It’s this one I got me temper from.’ Molly jerked a thumb at Nellie. ‘I used to be as quiet as a mouse before I met her. A real lady I was, wouldn’t say boo to a goose.’

  ‘Ha, ha,’ Nellie roared, ‘yer can tell that to the marines, Molly Bennett! It’s the other way round, isn’t it, George? I was the quiet one, till I met you.’

  ‘Then all I can say is, it’s a pity you two ever met!’ George said, keeping a straight face. ‘What do you say, Jack?’

  ‘Oh, give over!’ Molly picked up a glass and handed it to Ellen before reaching for her own. Lifting it high, she said, ‘Here’s health
and happiness to us and all our families.’ She looked directly at Ellen. ‘Let’s forget our problems and look forward to happy days ahead. We’ve got our health and strength, and, thank God, plenty of good mates.’

  An hour later the pub was alive with laughter and singing. Some of the regulars, those with good voices, were coaxed to sing a particular favourite, then everyone would join in the chorus. Molly and Nellie were on their feet, arms around each other’s waists, heads thrown back and mouths wide as they sang at the top of their voices, clearly enjoying every minute of it. Even Ellen, after a couple of port and lemons, couldn’t resist the odd snatch of a well-known song.

  ‘If anyone asks,’ Bridie smiled at her husband as she tried to make herself heard above the noise, ‘I’ll say I’ve never seen her in me life before. Sure I never thought I’d see me own daughter standin’ up in a pub singing like a fish-wife.’

  ‘It’s good to see her enjoying herself.’ Bob smiled back into his wife’s beloved face. ‘What a pity, though, that she didn’t inherit your voice.’

  A bell sounded, followed by the manager’s voice. ‘Time, gentlemen, please! Come along now, drink up before I have the police down on me head.’

  ‘D’yez know, I really enjoyed that!’ Molly linked arms with Ellen and Bridie as they walked up the street. ‘Did me the power of good, just what the doctor ordered.’

  ‘We did notice,’ Jack said, walking behind with George and Bob. ‘You an’ Nellie drowned everybody else out.’

  ‘Oh, there he goes, old misery guts!’ Molly slipped her arms free and turned around. She grabbed hold of one of Jack’s arms and put it around her waist; the other she held high, in a dancing position. Spinning him around, she started to sing ‘Who’s Taking You Home Tonight?’. To everyone’s amusement, Jack waltzed her up to their front door, finished with a twirl, then bowed from the waist. ‘There yer are, girl,’ he said in a thick Liverpool accent, ‘an’ ta very much for the dance.’

  ‘Sure, an’ begorrah, ’tis welcome yer are, kind sir.’ Giggling helplessly, Molly gasped, ‘An’ aren’t I so drunk I can’t get me Irish accent right, even though I’ve been hearin’ it all me life.’

  Steve came to the door to see what the commotion was, and called to the others, ‘Come an’ take a dekko at this.’

  Doreen peered over his shoulder. ‘Mam, yer drunk!’

  ‘So I am, me darlin’, so I am.’ Molly struggled to contain her mirth, but it was no good, she felt too happy. ‘An’ I’m not ashamed to say so, either.’

  Jack took her by the arm. ‘Inside, love, before the neighbours come out to see what’s goin’ on.’

  Doreen’s party went with a swing after that. Molly had them all in stitches with her impersonations of the various singers they’d heard that night. She had their facial expressions and every movement of their arms off to perfection. ‘What did that feller sing, Nellie? Yer know the one I mean, Mr Thingamajig . . . oh, I remember now. It was “Won’t You Come Home Bill Bailey?”.’ With a hand covering her mouth, as Molly imagined the posh people did, she gave a slight cough to clear her throat. ‘Can we have the best of order for the singer, please, ladies and gentlemen?’ She nodded to the treadle sewing machine, pretending it was a piano. ‘Will you let me have a note, please?

  ‘Lah . . . lah . . . lah . . . yes, that’s it! Now, when I do this,’ she waved a hand, ‘I’d like you all to join in the chorus.’

  Ellen left about twelve o’clock, frightened of leaving Phoebe sitting up on her own any longer. But her flushed, smiling face told how much she’d enjoyed herself. It was two o’clock before the rest of the party showed any signs of breaking up. ‘It’s way past me bedtime,’ Bridie yawned, ‘and at my age, I need me beauty sleep.’ She kissed her granddaughter. ‘It’s been a lovely party, so it has, I’ve had the time of me life.’

  ‘It’s time we were all on our way.’ Nellie pulled her coat on. ‘It’s been a great party, Doreen, thanks for askin’ us old fogies.’

  After seeing her parents and neighbours out, Molly looked sympathetically at Mike and Sammy. ‘No trams this time of night, boys, so yer’ve got a long walk ahead of yez.’

  ‘We don’t mind, Mrs Bennett,’ Mike said, ‘it’s been worth it.’

  ‘It certainly has!’ Sammy agreed. ‘It’s been a smashin’ night.’

  Doreen was as happy as a dog with two tails. The evening had turned out better than she’d dared hope. ‘Aren’t yer glad yer mam said yer could stay the night, Maureen? Our couch isn’t very comfortable, but it’s better than that long walk.’

  ‘Yer not joking!’ Maureen’s pretty face was flushed with excitement. ‘I wouldn’t fancy walkin’ that far.’

  ‘You can sleep with me if you like?’ Jill offered. ‘It’s only a small bed, but we could sleep top and tail.’

  ‘Right, come on, the lot of yez.’ Molly started to put the chairs back in their rightful places. ‘See the boys out, then yer can discuss yer sleepin’ arrangements.’

  ‘Goodnight, Mrs B, an’ thanks.’ Steve put his hands on Molly’s shoulders and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘I’ll never ’ave a party without you there to entertain the guests. Yer should be on the stage, yer know.’

  ‘Yer mean the landing stage at the Pier Head?’ Molly chuckled as she lifted her hands and cupped his face with them. ‘With me ukulele in me ’ands, an’ a box at me feet for people to throw coppers in?’

  ‘I’d empty me pockets if I saw yer,’ Steve said, smiling down into her face. ‘In fact, if yer want a partner, I’ll carry a box an’ collect the money in.’

  ‘We’d make a good team, you an’ me, son.’ Molly lowered her hands and gave him a gentle push. ‘Come on now, all of yez, an’ let me an’ my feller get to bed.’

  The three girls walked down the hall after the boys, but when Jack went to follow, Molly grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t be a spoil-sport! They don’t want you looking on when they get their goodnight kiss.’ She gave him a dig in the ribs. ‘Yer’ve got a short memory, Jack Bennett! How would you ’ave liked it if me ma ’ad followed me everywhere? Yer’d never ’ave got to kiss me.’

  Jack pulled her close. ‘Why should they be the only ones enjoying themselves? Come on, give us a kiss.’

  Molly pushed the door of the corner shop open and stopped dead in her tracks. She’d never seen the place so packed. ‘What’s goin’ on, Maisie?’ she bawled. ‘Are yer givin’ the stuff away?’

  ‘Is that you, Molly?’ Maisie stood on tip-toe, trying to see over the heads of her customers. ‘Come an’ give us a hand, will yer? I’m run off me feet.’

  Molly elbowed her way to the hinged part of the counter, nodding and winking at faces that were familiar to her. Once behind the counter she slipped off her coat and threw it on top of some boxes. Rolling up her sleeves, she asked, ‘Well, what can I do to ’elp?’

  ‘Some of them only want one or two things. If yer’ll serve them I can manage the rest.’ Maisie’s face was flushed, her hair dishevelled. ‘If yer not sure of the price, ask me, and yer know where the till is.’

  ‘Right, let’s get the show on the road.’ Molly smiled at an elderly woman who was moving from one foot to the other. ‘Legs playin’ yer up, are they, Mrs Dawson? We’ll see to you first, shall we? Did yer say six large tin loaves?’

  A smile crossed the lined face. ‘Those days are long gone, Molly! Only meself to see to now. Just a small cottage loaf and a pound of sugar, please.’

  Molly took the sixpence with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Now I can get me hands in the till. If yer see me wearin’ a fur coat, yer’ll know where the money came from.’

  Fifteen minutes later the shop was cleared and Maisie’s sigh was one of relief and tiredness as she mopped her brow with the corner of her apron. ‘Thank God for that! I’m sweating cobs!’

  ‘Where’s Alec?’

  ‘The silly beggar tripped over a sack of potatoes and sprained his ankle.’ Maisie sliced a piece of brawn, tore it in two and passed half to Molly. ‘I haven’t had a c
up of tea or a bite over me lips since nine o’clock an’ me belly thinks me throat’s cut.’

  ‘I’ll stick the kettle on for yer.’ Molly made her way to the back room. She knew the shop inside out and within minutes Maisie was sipping a much appreciated cup of tea.

  ‘Where’s Alec now?’ Molly asked.

  ‘Sittin’ like Lord Muck with his foot propped up on the couch.’ Maisie pulled a face. ‘He certainly picked a fine time, I can tell yer! All the Christmas cakes and puddings have been delivered and we were going to start making the orders up today, but his little trip ’as put a stop to that! And how I’m going to get the orders delivered, heaven only knows! I can’t be in the shop and do the deliverin’ at the same time, I’ve only got one pair of hands.’

  ‘Alec won’t be laid up for long,’ Molly said to comfort her, ‘he’ll probably be up an’ about tomorrow.’

  ‘Fat chance of that! He’s in agony, can’t put his foot to the floor or even bear to touch it.’ Maisie looked at the end of her tether. ‘I’ll have to try and get a lad to make the deliveries, someone who I can trust an’ can ride a bike. It wouldn’t be hard, ’cos I’ll put the orders in boxes with the name and address on, and load them into the basket on the bike. And they’re all local, easy to find.’

  Molly leaned on the counter, an idea forming in her mind. ‘Yer’d ’ave to pay them a few coppers, wouldn’t yer?’

  ‘Well, yer couldn’t expect anyone to do it out of the goodness of their heart, could yer? Of course I’ll pay them!’

  ‘I know someone who’d be glad to do it.’ Molly nodded her head slowly. ‘Someone yer could trust.’

  Maisie studied Molly’s face for a second, then her lips curled into a smile. ‘Molly, yer’d never cock yer leg over! It’s a man’s bike, with a crossbar.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinkin’ of meself, yer daft thing! I was thinkin’ of Ellen’s boy, Peter! He’d be over the moon to ’ave a few pennies in his hands.’

  Maisie gaped. ‘But he’s only about ten! He’d never manage it, I bet he can’t even ride a bike!’ Then she saw the funny side. ‘He couldn’t even reach the pedals!’