by Joan Jonker
‘That’s not all she got up to today. She had Billy Nelson pulling his hair out.’
Jenny came running in, water dripping from her hands. ‘Yer didn’t tell me about that, Mam, so the dishes can wait for a few minutes. Go on, tell us.’
‘Well, I’d been served and Amy asked for five pound of potatoes. She stood there and watched Billy weighing them out, and never said a dickie-bird. Then, when he was emptying them into a piece of newspaper she pointed, and said, “Yer can take those little ones out, I don’t want them. Me knife’s a bleedin’ big thing, like what the butcher has, how d’yer expect me to peel those fiddling little things with it? Anyway, by the time they’re peeled there’ll be nothing left of them. Me hand will be cut to ribbons, blood running down me pinny and making a pool on the kitchen floor, and the only thing in me hand will be fresh air, the bleedin’ potato will have vanished”.’
Mary’s shoulders were shaking. ‘I can see Billy’s face now. He didn’t know whether to laugh or throw the potatoes at her. But he kept his cool, and asked, in a very quiet voice, “Amy, why didn’t yer ask for big ones?” And yer know how she squares her shoulders when she gets in a huff – well, she did that, then looking like a little angel, she said, “I’ve kept this secret for years, Billy, but now I’m going to open me heart to yer. I know yer fancy me, ’cos I can see it in yer eyes every time yer look at me. And I want yer to know that I feel the same way about you. Nothing can come of it, lad, because we’re both married, so yer’ll have to control yer emotions. But that doesn’t mean we can’t love each other from afar, does it?”’
Stan reached into his pocket for a hankie to wipe his eyes. ‘She’s a corker, all right. What happened next?’
‘There was no sign of a smile on Billy’s face when he asked, “What’s all that got to do with potatoes? Or am I missing something?” And with a hand on her heart, me mate says, “It bought me an extra five minutes in yer company. I’ll dream of yer tonight in bed and go over every precious word yer’ve spoken. I’ll even dream of yer picking those fiddling little potatoes out and replacing them with decent-sized ones. And, my secret love, I’d be grateful if yer’d put a bleedin’ move on ’cos I haven’t got all day to stand here listening to you yapping. They say women can talk, but by God, they’ve got nothing on you”.’
Mary stretched out an arm. ‘Lend me that hankie, love.’ She shook her head as she conjured up the scene in her mind. ‘Billy’s face was a picture, I can tell yer. He said, “I haven’t spoken a dozen flippin’ words! It’s you what’s done all the yapping.” And me mate just grinned at him. “That’s why I love yer,” she said. “I’ve always fancied the strong and silent type. Yer remind me of Gary Cooper, except yer haven’t got no horse”.’
‘How does Auntie Amy think of all these things?’ Jenny asked. ‘She’s not just funny sometimes, she’s funny all the time.’
‘Ah, but Billy had an answer for her. He said, “What d’yer mean I haven’t got no horse? How d’yer think I got these bow legs? I certainly didn’t get them sitting on a twenty-two tram. No, I got them riding the range on me faithful steed, Silver”.’
‘Did Amy appreciate the joke?’ Stan asked. ‘I bet she laughed her head off.’
‘Oh, she did more than that, did Amy Hanley. Yer know what she’s like for having the last word. She gave me a dig in the ribs, and said, “We’ve seen his horse, girl. It’s the one what pulls our coalman’s cart. It’s a dirty beggar, Billy Nelson, yer should train him proper. Every time he stops outside our door he decides he wants to go to the lavvy. I wouldn’t mind so much if we had rose bushes to put it on, but the ruddy horse can see we haven’t. Why doesn’t he wait until he’s outside a house with a garden?”’
‘These shopkeepers don’t take her serious, do they?’ Stan asked. ‘I mean, they must know every time she opens her mouth she’s having them on.’
‘Of course they know she’s having them on! They look forward to her coming because they know they’ll get a laugh. And they’re as quick off the mark as she is. As we were leaving the shop, Billy shouted after her, “Why don’t yer put a sign up outside yer house, Amy, saying USE OF TOILET 1d? Yer could make yerself a few coppers, ’cos lots of people get caught short when they’re out, not only horses”. With that me mate marches back into the shop, shakes a fist at Billy, and says, “Not bleedin’ likely! Me first customer would be that nosy cow from next door, Annie Baxter. She’s been trying to get into my house for the last ten years. Then she’d tell her mate, Lily Farmer, and before long there’d be a queue a mile long outside me house. Nah, that’s a stupid idea, Billy Nelson. In fact, it’s fair put me off yer. My feller’s got more brains than you have. He’d be smart enough to up the price to tuppence if they wanted paper thrown in”.’
Jenny was smiling as she went back to finish off the dishes. She could hear her parents laughing and felt a warm glow spread through her body. Now she was getting older she was allowed to stay up later and she was seeing more of her dad. They were getting to know each other and were closer than they’d ever been. She knew Laura had always been his favourite, but perhaps that was only natural as she was the firstborn and that made her special.
They were sitting around the fire when Laura came in, and as soon as Mary saw her daughter’s face as she sat on the arm of Stan’s chair, she knew she was after something. And it wasn’t long before she was proved right.
‘Dad, can I go up to Cynthia’s on New Year’s Eve? She can’t go to the Moynihans’ so there won’t be much fun for her with just her mam and dad.’ Laura neglected to say that her friend had invited two lads she’d met in work. ‘Go on, say I can.’
Stan looked at Mary and raised his brows. ‘What d’yer think, love?’
‘I don’t mind, as long as we know where she is.’
‘I’ll only be in Cynthia’s, honest! She is me mate, and we can keep each other company.’ Laura twisted a lock of her dark hair around her finger then let it spring back into place. ‘Me and Cynthia have been talking about next week, when we get our first week’s wages. How much will I have to give me mam out of me wage-packet, Dad?’
Mary opened her mouth, then decided not to voice an opinion until she’d heard what her husband had to say.
‘Yer’ve got it the wrong way round, Laura,’ Stan said. ‘You hand yer mam yer wage-packet and she gives you pocket-money back.’
Laura’s eyes flashed. ‘That’s not fair! They’re my wages, I have to work for them.’
‘I pass my packet over to yer mam, and you’ll do the same. She’s the one who has to run the house and that’s the way it should be.’ Stan’s voice was stern. ‘So let’s have no argument over it.’
‘I don’t see why I should hand me packet over, not when I’ve worked for the money,’ Laura said, her face sullen as she put an arm around her father’s neck. ‘Cynthia’s not handing hers over, Dad. She’ll be getting seven and six a week, same as me, and she’s giving her mam four shillings out of it.’
‘That’s very big of her, I must say!’ Mary laced her fingers together and pressed tight to remind herself to keep her temper under control. ‘But I wonder how much say her mother had in it? From what I’ve heard, the poor woman doesn’t have a say in anything, she’s treated like a skivvy.’
‘Forget Cynthia, and her mother. What goes on in this house has nothing to do with them.’ Stan moved Laura’s arm away from his neck. She was trying to worm her way into his good books but he wasn’t being soft-soaped, not this time. ‘Me and yer mam will decide how much pocket-money yer get, not you, or yer mate Cynthia.’
Jenny stood up and stretched her arms. She didn’t want to hear any more arguments, nor see her mother get upset. ‘I’m going to bed, Mam, I’m dead tired.’
‘I’ll come with yer, sunshine, I’m tired meself.’ Mary stood at the door and gave Stan a look that said he could sort this out. Then, as she climbed the stairs behind Jenny, she could feel tears stinging her eyes. She’d always done the best she could for her g
irls, gone without things herself so they always went to school looking neat and tidy. She hadn’t minded wearing second-hand clothes from the market, as long as her daughters were all right. And it hurt her to think that now life could be a little easier with Laura’s money coming in, every penny she got would be begrudged to her.
Standing on the tiny landing, Jenny put her arms around her mother. ‘Good night and God bless, Mam. And don’t worry about our Laura, she doesn’t always mean what she says. She acts tough, but she’s not, really.’
Mary managed a smile. ‘I hope not, sunshine, because sometimes she sounds as tough as an old pair of leather boots.’ She kissed her daughter’s cheek. ‘Good night and God bless, sunshine. We’ve got the party to look forward to – that should cheer us up.’
Seamus Moynihan was very well organised. Five minutes after the Nightingales and Hanleys arrived, they were sitting with glasses in their hands, and within half an hour the party was in full swing. They all joined in as Seamus and Molly sang ‘Danny Boy’, then came the ‘Bonnie, Bonnie Banks O’Loch Lomond’, followed with gusto by ‘She’s A Lassie From Lancashire’.
Then a halt was called to refill the glasses. And while the men were busy pouring, Mary crossed the room to where Amy was sitting, her legs dangling six inches from the floor. ‘I’ve been watching you, sunshine, and I’m getting worried.’
‘Why’s that, girl? There’s no need to worry about me, I’m having the time of me life.’
‘I know yer too well, Amy Hanley, and I think ye’re up to something.’
‘Me? Up to something? I’m sitting here minding me own business, girl, and I’ve got nothing to get up to.’
‘Ye’re too quiet for my liking. It’s never been known for you to refuse to sing, so unless ye’re sickening for something, I smell dirty work at the crossroads.’
‘Nah, I’m not sickening for anything, girl, I’ll give a turn when I’ve had a few more bottles of stout. Yer’ll soon see there’s nowt wrong with me.’
Two bottles of stout later, Amy said she’d give them a turn. ‘But I’m going to do it proper, like they do at the Metropole. Seamus can introduce me and I’ll make my grand entrance from the kitchen.’ With her hips swaying, she tapped a finger on Seamus’s chin as she passed him, fluttered her eyelashes and in her best Mae West voice, drawled, ‘I’ll give a shout when I’m ready, big boy, and make it good.’
Seamus thought it was hilarious, and when Amy called, he threw an arm out towards the kitchen door. ‘Put your hands together for Kirkdale’s own, the one and only – Amy Hanley!’
The applause was loud as the door opened slowly. Then, apart from gasps, everything went quiet as a chubby bare leg, with a fancy blue satin garter above the knee, began to kick in and out. Ben closed his eyes and groaned. ‘What’s that flippin’ wife of mine up to now?’
‘I knew it!’ Mary said. ‘I knew she had something up her sleeve.’
Then a chubby hand appeared and moved seductively up and down the door. There wasn’t a sound in the room, apart from Ben’s, ‘So help me, I’ll kill her.’
‘I hope ye’re all ready for this.’ Amy’s voice preceded her entrance, which knocked everyone for six. She’d cut an old dress up, hacking the sleeves out, making a high neck into a low round one, and cut the hem-line to mid-thigh. And around the bottom she’d sewn a blue silk fringe which danced as she began to Charleston. And every ounce of her fat danced with the fringe. She didn’t know the words to the song, so as she kicked her heels backwards and swung her arms, she kept repeating, ‘Do the Charleston … doh-doh-dee-oh-doh.’
Within a split second, the tune changed and so did Amy’s movements. With her arms outstretched she began to shake her shoulders and hips, and to whistles and cheers, she made her way across the room to stand in front of Ben, who looked as though he’d been struck by lightning. ‘If I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate’ she warbled … and as she sang, Amy put her all into the dance that had been the craze when she was younger. And as everyone was to say later, they’d never seen a better shimmy.
Ben looked up into eyes that were dancing with devilment, and he grinned. ‘Yer could always shimmy better than yer sister Kate.’
The dancing stopped and Amy put her hands on her hips. ‘I haven’t got no bleedin’ sister called Kate.’
‘I know yer haven’t, love, that’s why yer’ve got to be better than her. Stands to sense, that, doesn’t it?’
Amy cut such a comical figure in a dress that showed her figure in all its glory, that everyone was in stitches. Mary and Molly cried tears of laughter into each other’s shoulders, Mick and John were doubled up, and Jenny’s pretty face was alive. She’d been embarrassed at first at Auntie Amy showing off so much of her body, but oh dear, she was really so funny you couldn’t help but laugh.
Seamus bent down to whisper in Stan’s ear, and grinning like two schoolboys, they stole up behind Amy. Before she realised what was happening, they’d each put a hand under her armpits, then their other hand went behind her knees and they scooped her up. They lifted her as high as they could, with Seamus saying, ‘Here she is, folks, the lovely and very talented, Amy Hanley.’
‘Sod off, Seamus Moynihan, yer silly bugger,’ Amy called from her great height. ‘Yer nearly knocked me bleedin’ head off on the gas-light.’
John looked at his mother, and laughing so much he could hardly get his words out, he said, ‘Ay, Mam, I don’t think the flappers used to wear blue fleecy-lined bloomers.’
‘More fool them, son.’ Amy looked down to see she wasn’t showing anything she shouldn’t, otherwise she wouldn’t half get it off Ben when they got home. ‘Now we know why they were always shimmying and shaking – it was to keep themselves warm. Fancy using all that energy when all they needed was a pair of fleecy-lined bloomers.’
‘Ye’re right there, Mrs Hanley.’ Mick’s dimples deepened. ‘A pair of those would have kept them warm up to their chins.’
Amy patted the two men on the head. ‘Yer can let me down now, boys, and I’ll make meself presentable. And as it’s eleven o’clock I think it’s time the guests were offered something to eat. We can start the party again when the clock strikes midnight.’
It was a quarter past eleven when a knock came on the door and Mick put his plate down on the sideboard. ‘I’ll go, Mam.’
The chattering stopped when Laura walked into the room. She didn’t look as sure of herself as usual, and her laugh was nervous. ‘I thought I’d see how yer were getting on. Is that all right, Mrs Moynihan?’
‘Of course it is, child. Get the girl a plate, Mick, and she can help herself to whatever she wants to eat.’
‘What got into you?’ Stan asked. ‘I thought yer wanted to be with yer friend.’
‘Cynthia’s mam wasn’t feeling well and went to bed early.’ That was true, but the real reason for Laura’s early departure was that the two boys hadn’t turned up and she had no intention of sitting listening to her mate’s dad prattling on about his work. Not when she knew there was a party going on just up the street. And that there’d be two boys there. ‘It wasn’t worth staying because we couldn’t have celebrated the New Year, not with her in bed and us frightened to make a noise.’
There’d been very few words exchanged between Mary and her daughter since the night Stan had put his foot down and said Laura must turn up five shillings towards the housekeeping and pay her own tramfares to work out of the remaining half-a-crown. The girl seemed to put the blame on her mother and had sulked ever since. But she looked so ill at ease with all eyes on her, Mary’s motherly instinct came to the fore. ‘Get yerself something to eat, sunshine, then come and sit on the floor next to Jenny.’
Seamus Moynihan hadn’t stinted on the drinks, and his wife certainly hadn’t stinted on the food. Molly had refused help from her neighbours, saying that she had more money coming into the house, and fewer mouths to feed. So it was a heavily laden table that Laura stood in front of. ‘Ooh, I don’t know where to start, there’s
so much,’ she told Mick, who was being very gentlemanly and holding the plate for her to fill.
‘Pick what takes yer fancy, then yer can always come back for more.’
His attention put Laura in a very happy frame of mind, and when she squatted on the floor beside her sister there was a genuine smile on her face. ‘What’s been going on, kid? Have I missed anything?’
While Jenny was telling her sister that she had missed a real treat, Mick was back standing next to John who was pulling his leg. ‘Got yer eye on Laura, have yer, Mick? Be careful there, mate, she’d eat yer for breakfast.’
‘I was only doing what me mam told me to do, looking after the guests.’ Mick glanced over to where the two sisters sat. ‘I’m waiting for Jenny to grow up.’
‘Yer’ll have a long wait, mate, she’s not thirteen yet.’
‘I’m only sixteen meself, so I’ve plenty of time. I know a lot of water will flow under the bridge before she’s old enough, and I also know I might meet someone else before then, or that she might not fancy me anyway. But I’ve been drawn to her since I first saw her. She was only about three, but I remember thinking the colour of her hair reminded me of a wheatfield back home in Ireland.’
‘Blimey, you’ve got it bad, haven’t yer?’ John’s face gave nothing away as he leaned towards Mick and said softly, ‘Yer can get in the queue, mate. I’m before you.’
Mick chuckled. ‘We’ll continue this conversation in three years’ time, when we’ll probably both be courting strong and Jenny will be going out with a feller in the next street.’
‘Yer could be right,’ John said, nodding his head. ‘But if not, remember all’s fair in love and war.’
So it was, that when the tugs on the Mersey sounded their hooters at the stroke of midnight to herald the arrival of 1934, and all the grown-ups were hugging and kissing each other, Mick and John, armed with a piece of mistletoe, made their way to the sisters. Jenny, not thirteen for another four months, blushed to the roots of her hair and twisted her neck so the kisses landed on her cheek. While Laura puckered her lips, eager and willing.
