by Joan Jonker
Mary spluttered. ‘Yer mean I’m gullible, yer daft nit, not gullital.’
‘There yer are, Molly, she admits I’m right. Now yer can’t argue with that, yer heard it with yer own ears.’ Amy tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. ‘By the way, Molly, just out of curiosity, like, is your room any bigger than this?’
‘Oh, I’m wise to yer, Amy Hanley, so I am. Yer’ll not be catching me out so easy, indeed yer’ll not.’
Amy sighed as she gazed at Mary. ‘I’m sorry, girl, but yer can’t say I didn’t do me level best for yer. It looks as though you’re stuck with having the party, like it or not.’ She turned to Molly. ‘Seeing as ye’re too miserable to have the party at your house, how would yer like to come to our party? And Seamus, of course, and your Mick.’
Mary dropped her head in her hands and groaned. More often than not Amy’s jokes turned into reality. ‘What about Annie Baxter and her husband, Amy? And, of course, yer could ask Lily Farmer and her feller.’
‘Nah, I can’t stand them two, they get on me bleedin’ nerves. And after what yer’ve told me about the antics of Elsie Blackburn and the milkman, I wouldn’t associate meself with the likes of them. If yer invite any of them, girl, then even though it would grieve me, I’d have to turn down yer kind invitation.’
Molly chuckled. ‘Oh, it’s invitation only, is it?’
‘I haven’t even said I’ll have a party yet!’ Mary shook a fist in Amy’s face. ‘All this started because yer were too mean to light a flaming fire! I should have told yer to sling yer hook and I’d have been spared all this.’
‘Then yer’d better make it plain, me darlin’,’ Molly patted her arm, ‘before yer friend here invites the whole street.’
‘I wouldn’t invite the whole street, I’m not that daft.’ Amy bit on her bottom lip to try and stop a smile appearing. ‘Half the street, perhaps.’
‘What would yer do with her?’ Mary spread her hands and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Okay, I give in. The Hanleys and the Moynihans are invited to a friendly get-together on Christmas night. But yer’ll have to help out with the food, otherwise I won’t be able to afford it.’
Amy beamed at Molly. ‘There yer are! I bet when yer knocked on the door yer didn’t expect to get an invite to a party, did yer?’ She eyed the Irishwoman with curiosity. ‘By the way, what did yer knock for?’
‘Amy!’ Mary blushed with embarrassment. ‘Yer’ll get me hung one of these days, yer cheeky article. What’s it got to do with you why Molly knocked?’
‘Yer don’t have any secrets from me, do yer, girl?’
‘I should be that lucky! You wouldn’t let me have any secrets.’
‘In that case, Molly may as well tell me what she’s come for, save me shouting over the wall to yer later.’
‘Well, now, I’d hate yer to have to stand on a bucket to see over the wall, that I would. Sure, I’d never forgive meself if yer fell off and broke a leg.’ Molly was glad she had come, the last half-hour had brightened up her day. She had no family here to visit, they were all back in Ireland, so she was grateful that she’d been able to make friends with her neighbours. Life would have been very lonely without them. Particularly these two, who were guaranteed to put a smile on the most miserable of faces. ‘A secret is something yer don’t want anyone else to know about, but I don’t think an ounce of Golden Virginia comes into that category, do you? Seamus asked me to get it for him, but I don’t need to go to the shops for anything so I came to see if Mary would get it if she’s going out. It’s lazy I’m getting in me old age, and that’s the truth of it.’
‘Yes, I’ll get it for yer. I’ve got to run to the shops, so it’s no bother. That’s if I can ever get rid of me mate, here.’
Amy shuffled her bottom to the edge of her chair. ‘Ye’re getting rid of me right now, but not for long. I’m going home to get me coat, then I’m coming to the shops with yer.’ She linked her arm through Molly’s. ‘I’ll take yer out with me so yer can’t talk about me. Never mind about paying her for the baccy now, yer can see her later.’
Laura rushed in from school that night, her face flushed with excitement. ‘Mam, we’re all being allowed time off tomorrow to go to the Labour Exchange. Teacher said they give us a card and tell us where to go for a job. If there’s any jobs going, we can go for an interview the day after.’ She took a deep breath and let her heartbeat slow down. ‘Wouldn’t it be the gear if I got a job to start after Christmas?’
‘It certainly would!’ Mary took her hands out of the soapy water and shook them before leaning against the sink. She was pleased for her daughter and privately hoping that getting a job would be the makings of her. ‘You’ll have to look clean and smart tomorrow, then. I’ll press yer gymslip tonight and you can give yer shoes a good polish. Appearances are very important, sunshine, as are first impressions. If yer look scruffy then yer don’t stand much chance.’
‘We’re not going for interviews tomorrow, Mam, only to the Labour Exchange.’
‘Yes, I know that, sunshine, but they’re the ones who separate the wheat from the chaff. They know what the employers are looking for, and they’ll give out cards for interviews accordingly.’ Mary wasn’t worried about her daughter’s appearance, she knew she could stand up against anybody. She was a pretty girl, with a nice slim figure, rich dark hair, finely arched eyebrows, full lips and wide eyes that were constantly changing from hazel to green. Dressed properly she stood as good a chance as any of the other girls. It was her attitude that worried Mary. She was far too self-assured for her age and too fond of answering back. ‘Just be pleasant and polite, Laura, and yer’ll do fine.’
Laura’s hair swung across her face as she shook her head, her green eyes flashing. ‘I’m not a kid, yer know, Mam. I do know how to behave meself.’
‘It’s important yer remember that tomorrow, sunshine, if yer want to get a job.’
Laura tossed her head again as she flounced out of the room. ‘I’m going to Cynthia’s.’
Mary sighed as she turned and plunged her hands into the water where she’d been washing some socks and knickers. Her daughter wouldn’t take criticism, she flew off the handle for the least thing. She was in for a rude awakening when she started work, for no boss would tolerate her high-handed attitude.
Mary rinsed the clothes through and wrung the wet out of them before folding them and placing them on the draining board. It was too late to hang them out now, she’d do it first thing in the morning, weather permitting. She lowered the gas-rings under the pans on the stove, then popped her head around the door to glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was a quarter of an hour before Stan was due in, she might as well put her feet up for a few minutes. It was then her eye caught the glint of gold paper on the sideboard and her hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh Lord, I forgot to take the baccy over to Molly. I’d better go now before I start putting the dinner out.’
Molly saw her neighbour crossing the cobbled street and when she opened the door she had the exact money in her hand. ‘It’s an angel, yer are, me darlin’. When yer want the favour returning, all yer have to do is shout out.’
Mary passed the tobacco over and took the money. ‘It was no bother, Molly, I had to go out anyway. Besides, shopping with Amy is as good entertainment as yer’ll get anywhere. Every shop we go in, she causes mayhem. Honestly, she never ceases to amaze me, the things she comes out with. I’m pretty quick on the uptake, and I think I’ve got a sense of humour, but she leaves me standing.’
‘Sure, she’s on her own when it comes to humour, and that’s a fact. And she’s a heart as big as a week, I’ll say that for her.’ Molly leaned against the door jamb and folded her arms. ‘But don’t be talked into having a party on Christmas night, me darlin’, ’cos that’s taking a joke a bit too far.’
‘Oh, I’m not that soft, Molly, believe me. I’ll admit I wouldn’t have thought of it only for Amy sowing the seed, but I’m quite taken with the idea now. It won’t be a lavish affair, and yer’ll al
l have to muck in with the food, but it would be nice for the three families to get together for a few hours, don’t yer think?’
‘It would be grand, me darlin’, and I mean that sincerely. But, sure, I’d be happy to invite yer over here, save you the bother.’
Mary shook her head. ‘No, it’s all arranged now, Molly.’ She grinned. ‘Another of Amy’s bright ideas was that I should send invitations out and do the job properly. Actually, her exact words were, “Show them yer were brought up, girl, and not dragged up.” But I’ll settle for asking yer by word of mouth. Seven o’clock, Christmas night, at the Nightingales’.’
Molly straightened up, a wide smile on her face. ‘Will yer look at these two fine-looking men coming down the street. The two finest specimens of manhood ye’re likely to see in the whole of Liverpool.’
Mary followed her neighbour’s eyes and saw Seamus Moynihan, with his son Mick, walking down the street. And as Molly had said, they were fine-looking men. Seamus was taller and broader than his sixteen-year-old son, but both were as handsome as they come. They would stand out in any crowd, with their raven black hair, deep blue eyes, strong white teeth and dimpled cheeks.
‘Good evening to yer, Mary.’ Seamus swept off his cap with a flourish. ‘Sure I hope the Good Lord is looking after yer, keeping yer fit and well.’
‘Hello, Seamus, and you, Mick. I’m fine, thank you. On top of the world, as yer might say in Ireland.’
‘Yer can thank Mary for getting yer baccy for yer, Seamus Moynihan. I wasn’t in the mood for shopping, so Mary was kind enough to oblige. If it hadn’t been for her yer’d have been puffing on an empty pipe all night, and with the divil’s own temper in yer.’
When Mick laughed, Mary thought what a handsome lad he was. He’d be breaking many a girl’s heart in years to come. ‘Take no notice, Mrs Nightingale, me dad isn’t allowed to have a temper.’ He’d been six years old when his parents brought him to England and, although there was still a trace of his Irish accent, it was now mixed with the Liverpool twang. ‘There’s only one boss in our house, and although I won’t tell yer who it is, I will tell yer that it’s not me or me dad.’
Molly shook an admonishing finger, but there was love and laughter in her eyes. ‘It’s not too old for a spanking, yer are, Mick Moynihan, and don’t yer be forgetting that.’
‘Not too old, Mam, but I think yer’d have a job putting me across yer knees. Yer see, yer’d need yer two hands to stop me from slipping off.’
Mary saw Stan’s familiar figure turn the corner of the street and she laid a hand on Molly’s arm. ‘Ay out, here’s my feller. I’ll see yer tomorrow, sunshine. Ta-ra Seamus, ta-ra Mick.’ She couldn’t resist patting the boy’s cheek. ‘If I was twenty years younger, sunshine, I’d be running after yer.’
‘If yer were twenty years younger, Mrs Nightingale,’ he called after her, ‘yer wouldn’t have to run fast, I’d be letting yer catch me.’
‘I’m going to be stuck for money,’ Mary told her friend as they sat facing each other across the table. ‘I’m all right for food, but it’s the presents. The two girls want clothes, and Stan could do with a new shirt and pullover. The few bob I’ll have isn’t going to run to it.’
‘Do what I’m doing,’ Amy said, her hands curled around the cup. ‘Get a cheque off yer club woman. I’m just as broke as you are, so it’s a case of having to.’ Her chubby face creased in a smile. ‘I’ll be cursing the poor woman every week when she’s due, hoping she falls and breaks a leg before she gets to our house.’ She saw Mary shaking her head and chuckled. ‘Yer know I don’t really hope she breaks a leg, I’m not that wicked. Just a sprained ankle would do, that would be enough to keep her off work.’
‘Amy Hanley, I don’t know how you sleep at night. God will pay yer back one day, you just mark my words.’
‘Nah, He wouldn’t do that. Yer see, girl, God’s got a good sense of humour, which is more than can be said for you.’
‘I’ve got a sense of humour, sunshine, but it isn’t warped, like yours is. Anyway, I think I’ll take yer advice and ask the club woman for a two-pound cheque. That would save me scrimping and scraping. And with our Laura passing that interview for a job at Ogdens, I’ll be able to afford to pay an extra bob a week.’
‘I bet she was over the moon, was she?’
‘Like a dog with two tails. Honestly, she never stopped talking. Anyone would think she was the only one ever to get a job. And what she’s going to do with her pocket-money is no one’s business. Talk about breaking eggs with a big stick, isn’t in it.’
‘I know someone who used to work there, and she said the money wasn’t bad and they were a good firm to work for. She was on packing the cigarettes, and she said they got so many for nothing each week. So your Stan could come up lucky.’ Amy put the cup down on the saucer and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. ‘It’s to be hoped your Laura doesn’t start smoking, though, girl. I can’t stand to see a woman with a fag hanging out of the side of her mouth. Always reminds me of a gangster’s moll.’
‘Yeah, I think they look as common as muck.’
‘My grandma used to smoke a clay pipe, mind. I was only little, but I can remember her as plain as day. She used to shuffle to the corner pub every night, with a jug hidden under her shawl for a pint of stout. And she’d sit in her rocking chair, as happy as Larry, puffing at this clay pipe and drinking her stout. Deaf as a doorpost she was, couldn’t hear a word yer said to her. Yer could tell her someone had died, and she’d laugh her bleedin’ head off. Didn’t do her no harm either, ’cos she lived until she was ninety.’
‘There yer are, yer see, a warped sense of humour runs in your family.’ Mary stood up and reached for the cups. ‘Let’s get down to the shops before they close for dinner. I want to get all the ironing done this afternoon, that’ll be one thing off me mind.’
‘I’m ready, girl, I brought me coat with me. I don’t want much shopping, so I can put me things in your basket.’
Mary came back from putting the cups in the kitchen. ‘Yer may have a warped sense of humour, sunshine, and yer may be wicked, but no one could ever say yer were daft. Use my basket indeed, and let me do the carrying.’
‘For crying out loud, girl, I only want a couple of things from the Maypole. It’s not as if I’d asked yer to get me a hundredweight of bleedin’ coal.’
‘Shut yer face, Amy Hanley, and let’s get cracking. And do us a favour, try and behave yerself.’
Their first stop was the Maypole. A young girl assistant came over, smiling. ‘What can I get for yer?’
‘Nothing against you, girl, but I want to see the manager,’ Amy said, pulling herself to her full height and thrusting her bosom forward. ‘I have a complaint to make.’
Mary grabbed her arm. ‘Amy, for heaven’s sake, don’t be making a scene.’
‘Me! Make a scene! Now as if I would.’
The manager, Greg, came in answer to the young assistant’s call. ‘Good morning, ladies, can I help yer?’
Amy’s face was so serious, no one would guess the laughter that was going on inside of her. ‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you. Well, I don’t know whether bone’s the right word to use. Do bluebottles have bones?’
Greg looked to Mary for guidance, but as she was as wise as he was, she could only shrug her shoulders. ‘Why do you ask, Mrs Hanley?’
‘’Cos the half of margarine I got off yer yesterday had a ruddy big bluebottle in the middle of it. Fair made me sick, it did.’
Mary stepped back so she was standing behind her friend, and she shook her head at the bewildered manager. ‘She’s pulling yer leg,’ she mouthed.
‘I’m sorry about that, Mrs Hanley.’ Greg kept his face straight. ‘But you can rest assured I did not charge yer for the bluebottle.’
‘I never said yer did, did I? No, I’m a fair-minded woman, and I only want what’s due to me. What I’m asking for is me money back for the margarine the bleedin’ bluebottle ate.’ The shoulders we
re stiffened and the jaw set. ‘I can’t afford to be feeding no ruddy bluebottles, and yer should have seen the ruddy big hole in the margarine, yer wouldn’t believe it.’
‘Yer should have brought it back, Mrs Hanley.’
‘Brought what back – the hole? Oh, I couldn’t do that! Yer see, I used the hole for me husband’s carry-out.’
All the staff and customers were listening by this time. Amy was noted in the neighbourhood for pulling people’s legs, and if there was free entertainment going, they wanted some.
‘Well, you should have brought the bluebottle back. At least that would have been some proof that what ye’re saying is true.’
‘Ah, I couldn’t bring that back.’ Amy’s eyes went around her audience. ‘Yer’ll all cry yer eyes out when yer hear this, it’s that sad. Yer see, poor Bluey died from over-eating. Near broke me heart it did, to see him on his back, his little legs waving about until the end finally came. I put him in a matchbox, but I haven’t buried him yet because yer can’t have a burial without flowers. So to give him a decent send-off, I’m here to collect for a wreath for him – and I know yer’ll all be generous. Especially you, Greg, because it’s your fault he’s dead. If you hadn’t been careless enough to let him fly on my margarine, the poor bugger would be still alive. He’d be sitting in your window right now, flying from the brawn to the bacon, really enjoying himself with his sister. She’s sitting on yer boiled ham right now, using it as a lavvy, and wondering where he is.’
The Maypole was usually a very quiet shop, except when Amy Hanley was in it.
Chapter Four
‘Ay, isn’t this the gear, girl?’ Amy’s round face beamed. ‘All the food and presents in, and nowt to do but sit back and enjoy ourselves.’
‘You’re looking on the bright side, aren’t yer?’ Mary had finished wrapping the dress she’d bought Laura for Christmas and was tying the parcel with green string. ‘What about preparing all the spuds and veg, cooking the turkey, making the stuffing and gravy? There’s stacks of jobs to do yet, and I’m going to start on them as soon as yer’ve gone, save standing in the kitchen all night.’ She patted the stack of presents and smiled with pleasure. ‘That’s them seen to. I just hope they like them.’
