MB04 - Down Our Street

by Joan Jonker

  Molly and Nellie sat on the long back seat of the tram, their precious hats in Lewis’s bags on their knees. ‘A posh hat in a posh bag, eh, girl? If it wasn’t a secret, I’d walk up our street with me arm out so everyone could see we’d shopped at Lewis’s.’

  ‘Nellie, if you let on to anyone about these hats, so help me I’ll clock yer one. We’re going up the entry to Mrs Corkhill’s so no one will see us, and what a waste of time that’s going to be if you start shouting yer mouth off.’ Molly clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. ‘I don’t know, yer can’t keep anything to yerself.’

  ‘Of course I can!’ Nellie quivered with indignation. ‘I can keep a secret just as well as you can, so there!’

  Molly too was quivering, but it was with suppressed laughter. ‘I remember years ago, not long after we’d moved into the street and we barely knew each other. I distinctly remember saying to meself, “Stay clear of that woman, Molly, ’cos she can’t keep anything to herself”.’

  Nellie looked at her in amazement. ‘Yer can remember saying that to yerself twenty-five years ago! My God, girl, yer should be on the stage with that Leslie feller … the one they call the Memory Man. Yer’ve missed yer chance in life, yer could have been famous! Mind you, ye’re too ruddy slow to catch cold.’

  ‘It might have been twenty-five years ago, sunshine, but I can still remember. I can even hear meself saying it!’

  ‘And what, pray, Mrs Woman, did I do twenty-five years ago that made yer think I couldn’t keep anything to meself?’

  Molly had to turn her head to look out of the window, otherwise she’d have burst out laughing. ‘It was the day yer found out yer were pregnant with your Steve. Yer told everyone in our street, and all the streets around. The whole neighbourhood knew before yer husband.’

  ‘Ooh, aye, yeah! I remember that, too, girl. My feller was coming home from work and couldn’t understand why people were shaking his hand, slapping him on the back and congratulating him. He thought we must have come up on the pools until I reminded him we didn’t do them.’ The bag containing her hat began to slip off Nellie’s lap and she made a grab for it. Holding it as though it was a baby, she went on, ‘Ye’re not the only one with a good memory, girl. I can see George standing one side of the table and me the other. He said, “Well, if we haven’t won the pools, what have we won?” I said we hadn’t won nothing, but I did have a present for him, of a kind. He said, “It must be some present if everyone in the street knows about it. Come on, let’s have the good news.” And d’yer know what, girl? When I told him he was going to be a father, he just scratched his head and said, “And that’s what all the fuss is about?”.’

  Molly was smiling as her friend spoke. She’d heard this tale hundreds of times over the years, but it never failed to touch her emotions.

  ‘I couldn’t believe it, girl, ’cos I thought he’d be over the moon! I was just thinking of picking up the poker to flatten him, when I saw he was smiling with his eyes. The next minute I was in his arms and being whirled around the room.’ There was no regret in her voice, just pleasure at conjuring up a happy moment from the past. ‘Mind you, I was a slim young thing in those days. If George wanted to twirl me round now, he’d need a block and tackle.’

  ‘Your George still sees yer as that slim young thing, sunshine, yer can see it in his eyes every time he looks at yer. Besides, what can yer expect after having three children in three years? Just look at the state of me and think back. My hair used to be as bright blonde as the girls’ is now, and my figure the same as theirs. But if yer think about it, the same applies to all the neighbours down our street. Everyone loses their figure as they grow older and start a family; it stands to sense yer can’t stay young and beautiful all yer life.’

  ‘You speak for yerself, girl! I might not be young, but my feller still thinks I’m beautiful.’

  Molly gave her a dig. ‘Come on, this next stop is ours. Give me that hat to carry so yer don’t squash it.’

  ‘I’d cut me throat if I squashed that hat, girl, I’m telling yer. Three guineas for a ruddy titfer, my feller will think I’ve lost the run of me senses.’ Nellie passed the bag over before struggling to her feet. ‘At least, that’s what he’d think if he knew. I’m going to tell him I got it from TJ’s for thirty bob.’

  ‘I’m telling Jack the truth,’ Molly said, swaying down the aisle of the tram behind her friend. ‘I always get paid back if I tell lies, and it serves me right. So I’m not taking a chance of anything going wrong on the day of the wedding.’

  Nellie waited until she was safely on the platform, gripping the bars with both hands, before nodding. ‘Ye’re right, girl, as usual. If George asks, I’ll tell him the truth. If he doesn’t ask, then what the eye don’t see, the heart don’t grieve over.’

  ‘Ye’re a crafty article, Nellie McDonough.’ Molly pressed her feet firmly on the floor as the tram came to a shuddering halt. ‘You get off first, then I can pass yer one of the bags.’

  Nellie looked at the driver and saw a chance to brag. ‘You be careful with my bag, girl, ’cos it’s not every day I buy a three-guinea hat.’

  Molly couldn’t help but chuckle. Her mate never missed a trick. If she could keep the hats a secret for the next nine weeks, it would be a flaming miracle.

  While Molly and Nellie were walking up the back entry, hoping no one came out of their back door until they were safely in Mrs Corkhill’s, Lily was sitting quietly staring into an empty grate. The weather was so nice her mam hadn’t bothered lighting a fire. Although she wasn’t cold, the girl thought it would be nice to stare into dancing flames. She was a lot calmer now, and her heart was filled more with anger than sorrow.

  Lily knew the precise moment she realised that Len Lofthouse wasn’t worth a moment’s thought. It was when Uncle Corker’s hearty guffaw had rung out. He had brightened the quiet house, bringing a normality to it. And it had also brought her to her senses. It wasn’t the end of the world, and she’d do as he said and put the past two years out of her mind. In fact, she was glad that Len had come down – it had given her a chance to see what he was really like. Mind you, it could have turned out nasty if Uncle Corker hadn’t put in an appearance. Funny how he always seemed to be around when help was needed. She used to call him Sinbad when she was younger, like all the other kids in the neighbourhood, because he reminded them of the man in their storybooks. And although she was no longer a kid, she still thought of him as that larger-than-life fictional character who was there when people needed him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  When Nellie got home her husband and son were back from the match and looking very pleased with themselves. ‘Yer’ve no need to tell me, Liverpool won!’

  ‘What else did yer expect?’ George asked, his tone so superior anyone would think it was he who scored the winning goal. ‘They’re on top form, it was a cracking match.’

  ‘Both teams were good, Dad,’ Steve said. ‘They certainly gave us our money’s worth. Liverpool were lucky to score that last goal five minutes before the whistle, otherwise it would have been a draw.’

  Nellie came back from hanging her coat in the hall. ‘Don’t say that, son, or yer’ll put yer dad off his meal. Him and his ruddy football team! I hope Liverpool are not playing at home on your wedding day, otherwise I’ll be sitting in the church pew on me own.’

  George chuckled. ‘No fear of that, love, ’cos there’ll be no football. The season finishes next week.’ He eyed his wife. ‘Anyway, where’ve you been until now? I was beginning to think yer’d run off with the coalman.’

  ‘I’ve been shopping with me mate, if yer must know. Blimey, just ’cos I’m not here when yer get in, yer think I’ve done a bunk with Tucker! I’d have done that years ago if he’d have had me, but he knocked me back. He was nice about it, mind, so I wasn’t upset. In fact, he paid me a compliment and said I was too much of a woman for him.’ Nellie turned to smile at her daughter. ‘I see yer’ve made them a cup of tea, love, that was th
oughtful of yer. How about pouring one out for me, I’m gasping?’

  Lily jumped up. ‘It won’t be very hot now, so I’ll make a fresh brew.’

  ‘Put a light under the pan of potatoes for us while ye’re at it, love, and I’ll rest me poor feet for ten minutes. Me corn’s giving me gyp.’

  ‘Where’s yer shopping?’ George asked.

  ‘What shopping is that, love?’

  ‘Yer said yer’d been shopping, but yer came in empty-handed!’

  ‘I said I’d been shopping with me mate. It was Molly what did some shopping, I didn’t buy nothing.’

  ‘What are we having for tea, then,’ cos I’m starving!’

  ‘It’s the fresh air what’s done that, love. That and shouting yer ruddy head off every time Liverpool looked like scoring. Yer come home puffed with glory and decide ye’re starving! Then, horror of horrors, yer find yer dutiful wife isn’t here to put a plate down in front of yer the minute yer come through the door. And why isn’t she? Because she’s run off with the ruddy coalman, that’s why!’

  Steve had a smile on his face as he listened. He was lucky with his parents and he loved them dearly. He’d miss these exchanges when he left, especially his mam’s fantastic sense of humour. But he’d still be living in the street and would see them every day.

  ‘When yer’ve calmed down, love, will yer tell us what we’re having for tea?’ George asked. ‘Then I can picture it in me mind until I see it with me eyes.’

  ‘Mashed potato, one and a half sausages each, and beans out of a tin. If yer’ve any complaints let’s hear them now, while me hand is in reaching distance of the poker.’

  George decided to quit before his wife got too far ahead of him. ‘No complaints, love.’

  ‘Right – well, I’ve got one for you!’ Nellie’s chins got ready to sway when she nodded her head. ‘The Bennetts got a letter from Jack’s brother in Wales today, and him and his wife are coming all that way to the wedding. But you, yer lazy so-and-so, haven’t been to ask your Ethel yet, and she only lives in ruddy Seaforth!’

  George looked suitably chastised. ‘I’ll go tomorrow afternoon, love, I promise. Yer could come with me if it’s a nice day, the outing would do yer good.’

  Nellie glanced towards the kitchen where she could hear Lily pottering about. She wasn’t going to leave her daughter in the house on her own again to sit and mope. Not that she looked as though she was moping, but you never could tell what was going on in her head. ‘Sod off, George McDonough, I don’t call going to Seaforth a day out. Now if yer’d said yer’d take me to Southport … that’s what I’d call a day out.’

  George looked down at his clasped hands so she couldn’t see the glint in his eyes. ‘I took yer to Southport once, woman, so don’t be trying to make out I never take yer anywhere.’

  ‘Holy suffering ducks! Did yer hear that, Steve? Ay, Lily, come in and listen to this.’

  Lily came through carrying a pot of tea in one hand and a chrome teapot stand in the other. She had heard all the conversation and knew there was laughter on the way. After putting the stand and teapot on the table she perched herself on the arm of the couch. ‘What is it, Mam?’

  ‘I want yer both to know how good yer dad thinks he’s been to me. Like taking me on days out and such. So go on, George, tell them about the day yer took me to Southport.’

  ‘What’s there to tell? We went on the train, and I remember buying yer an ice-cream cone on the promenade. I ate mine, but you insisted on licking yours to make it last longer. The trouble was, it was a hot day and the ice cream melted and ran down the front of yer dress. Yer tried to wipe it off with my hankie, but yer only succeeded in making it worse. And yer made me walk in front of yer so no one could see the mess yer’d made.’

  ‘How’s that for a memory, eh?’ Nellie too remembered that day and she felt like hugging him to bits. And she would when she’d got her point across. ‘If yer can remember that so clearly, yer must remember when it was.’

  Oh, George remembered it all right, as if it was yesterday. But he knew his wife wanted the last word, so he said, ‘Ah, come on, love, I’ve forgotten.’

  ‘It must have been when I was in the army,’ Steve said. ‘It’s the first I’ve heard of it.’

  ‘Well, yer wouldn’t have heard of it, son, because it was twenty-three ruddy years ago and you were only a twinkle in yer dad’s eye! That’s how long it is since my beloved husband took me on a day out.’

  George chuckled. ‘After the mess yer made of yerself I didn’t fancy taking another chance. The only suit I possessed in those days was me wedding outfit and I couldn’t afford to get ice cream or candy floss all over that. It had to last me years, did that suit.’

  ‘George, yer’ve just said yer only possessed one suit in those days. Well, how many suits have yer got in the wardrobe now?’

  ‘Yer know damn well I’ve only got the one.’

  Nellie knew how this was going to end and was looking forward to it. ‘George, in all yer life, have yer ever owned more than one suit?’

  ‘No! How could I afford more than one when I was spending all me money taking you to Southport and buying yer ice cream?’

  The laughter was so loud, no one heard the door opening, so Nellie was surprised to see Paul framed in the doorway. ‘In the name of God, look who’s here! The return of the Prodigal Son!’

  Paul grinned. ‘It’s nice for some people to be able to sit around laughing and joking. Me now, I’ve been hard at work, dancing the feet off meself.’

  Nellie gasped. ‘Yer’ve never been to a dance this afternoon, have yer?’

  ‘I certainly have.’ Paul held one arm up and curved the other around the waist of an imaginary girl. ‘Reece’s tea dance, very enjoyable.’ He used the small space available in the living room to show off his prowess. ‘I just wish all these Yanks would go home, though. Our blokes don’t stand a chance with them. They’ve got far more money than us, and seem to be able to get plenty of chocolate, pure silk stockings and lipsticks. They can’t dance, most of them just move around the floor with lovesick girls gazing up at them. Even those that are as ugly as sin can get a click.’ He dropped his arms and his cheeky grin appeared. ‘What I say is, now the war’s over, let’s send them back home.’

  ‘Pure silk stockings and lipstick?’ Lily feigned interest. ‘Now I wouldn’t mind acting lovesick for a pair of pure silk stockings. I’ve never even seen a pair, but one of the girls in work went out with an American when they were stationed in Aintree, and he used to get pure silk stockings for her. She said they’re so fine she was afraid of putting them on in case she laddered them.’

  Nellie knew Lily was pulling her brother’s leg and would never in a million years play up to a man for a pair of stockings. But there had to be a laugh here somewhere. ‘Ooh, I wouldn’t half love a pair for the wedding. How d’yer fancy taking yer mam and yer sister to this tea dance next Saturday, son? We’d dress up so yer wouldn’t be ashamed of us, and once yer got us inside, yer could pretend yer didn’t know us and go about yer own sweet business.’

  ‘And have you two cramp me style? Not ruddy likely!’

  ‘Not just the two of us, son! I was thinking of asking Molly, Miss Clegg and Corker’s mother. Between the five of us we should at least come up with two pairs of these flaming pure silk stockings.’

  ‘I hate to break this up,’ George said, ‘but didn’t Lily put a light under the potatoes about half-an-hour ago?’

  ‘Oh, good grief, I forget all about them!’ Lily made a bee-line for the kitchen. ‘They’re well done, Mam, they’re all falling to pieces.’

  ‘Drain them off, love, and I’ll come and see to the sausages. One of the men can open the tin of beans because the ruddy tin-opener is hopeless. I usually end up on the floor struggling with the ruddy thing. I’m sure it’s got a mind of its own.’ Nellie turned at the kitchen door to ask, ‘Did Archie go to the dance with yer?’

  ‘No, I didn’t know I was going meself until
this lad in work mentioned it and I thought I’d give it a try. But I don’t think I’ll bother again ’cos I can’t really afford Saturday afternoon and Saturday night out. Me money wouldn’t run to it.’

  ‘If that’s a hint, lad, then ye’re not on. When I was your age I used to get sixpence a week pocket money and daren’t ask for a sub through the week.’ Still talking, Nellie went into the pantry under the stairs for the sausages. ‘I bet there’s not many lads can afford to go dancing every single night of the week like you do.’

  Paul knew he was well off. His mam was more than generous with all her children. But it didn’t pay to let her know that. ‘Archie can afford it.’

  ‘Well, he would, wouldn’t he? He’s served his time and is on a man’s wage.’ Nellie appeared holding the link of eight sausages which she began to twirl like a skipping rope. ‘In another ten months, yer’ll be in the money yerself and can please yerself what yer do. But while ye’re waiting, get out here and open this tin.’

  Steve winked at his dad before calling after her. ‘Ay, Mam, who’s going to be the lucky one today?’

  The voice came back, ‘What d’yer mean, son?’

  ‘Well, yer’ve got eight sausages and yer only need seven and a half if we’re getting one and a half each. So who gets the extra half?’

  ‘My God, yer don’t miss much, do yer? If yer must know, it’s going to the man of the house. And in case yer don’t know who that is, it’s yer dad. It’s my way of saying thank you for the ice cream he bought me twenty-three years ago. He must think I’ve no manners, just taking it off him and nodding.’

  ‘I admit I was waiting for a word of appreciation,’ George said dryly. ‘It’s a good job I didn’t hold me breath while I was waiting.’

  ‘Well, yer patience is being rewarded, light of my life.’ To the sound of fat sizzling in the frying pan, she added, ‘I’d rather have half a sausage than a thank you, any day.’

  ‘Will yer put a move on, Mam?’ Paul emptied the tin of beans into a small pan. ‘Ye’re late with the tea tonight – Archie will be here before I’m ready.’