They went together. With great trepidation and very little hope in her heart, Polly knocked on the manager’s door. When a voice boomed out, telling her to enter, she very nearly ran away.
Twenty minutes later she was glad that she hadn’t. The manager did still possess the carpet, his plans for turning the cinema into a dance-hall having suffered a set-back while he sought extra finance through the dark days of the depression. Now that he had succeeded in his quest, he was more than ready to agree a price and be rid of it. He even offered to have his own men deliver it to Polly’s warehouse. She couldn’t believe her luck.
‘We’re in business,’ she whooped, whirling Benny round in a dance of delight right there on the pavement. ‘Aren’t I blessed with a fine son? Ye’ve come up trumps again, so you have.’ And he puffed out his chest with pride. Perhaps it was time to tackle Georgie Eastwood head on. Then again, perhaps not yet.
When the carpet was delivered, Polly felt almost overwhelmed by the task which confronted her. It would take days, if not weeks, to clean, cut and bind a carpet this size into saleable pieces. She had no money left to pay for labour to help her, not a penny, but still it had been worth it. Lucy had promised to give what assistance she could. Benny couldn’t sew, of course, but had offered to help with the lifting and carrying, eager to prove his worth and help his mam earn enough money to get them out of Joshua’s clutches.
‘It will be a real family business, will it not?’ she’d told them.
For the rest, she’d just have to grit her teeth and set to work herself. Despite the prospect of weeks of back-breaking labour, Polly felt alive with new hope. She meant to put a sign on the windows of their part of the warehouse, just as soon as they had some pieces to sell. She didn’t hold out any great hope of selling many carpets that way, but the odd sale would help to keep the wolf from the door, until she had enough stock to go out on the road.
‘You look mighty perky. Have you lost twopence and found a tanner?’ It was a day or two later and Big Flo was watching with interest as Polly pulled her shawl over her head, ready to set off especially early. ‘You look like you’ve come into a fortune.’
‘Maybe I have in a way. If you must know, I’ve bought a carpet, a great big one, which is going to set me up grand.’
Big Flo shook her head in disbelief when she’d been told the full tale. ‘A cinema carpet? Nay, you can’t cope with one that size all on your own.’
Polly smiled at her mother-in-law’s lugubrious expression. ‘I did tell you I’d find more stock.’
Aye, but I never thought you’d actually do it. He’ll not like it, tha knows.’
Polly didn’t ask who she meant. ‘Well, he’ll have to lump it.’ She closed the door on her mother-in-law’s dire warning and walked briskly away. She’d only got halfway down Dove Street when she found that she was no longer alone. Big Flo was beside her, old black shawl enveloping her massive shoulders, huge clogs clicking on the stone setts. Polly stopped dead. ‘What’s this?’
‘I thought as how you’d happen need a bit of a hand like. If it’s as big as you say.’
‘Oh, it’s big all right.’
‘Right then, let’s get cracking.’
Polly was delighted by this turn of events. Big Flo would be invaluable, with her great strong hands and arms. And she had a good eye, able to cut straight as a die.
‘What about Joshua? You’d be going against his wishes.’
After a long moment in which the two women looked at each other without a word being exchanged, Big Flo wrapped the shawl tighter about her massive shoulders. ‘Happen so. And happen he isn’t always right, eh?’
It was a major concession, one she had never made before. When Polly said nothing, she snapped, ‘Come on then, lass. We’ll not earn any brass standing about here gawping!’
The dusty days of summer soon gave way to the shorter days of autumn, with the lamplighter coming round earlier and earlier. The Italian ice cream sellers put away their highly decorated carts and made a start on the hot chestnut season.
‘Annyragnbones?’ shouted the rag and bone man, in the hope of picking up a few decent bits of clothing, paying his customers with slabs of donkey-stone or used clog irons. He did a thriving trade.
If Polly’s own business wasn’t exactly booming, at least she was breaking even. She was covering her costs and able to offer a sum of money each week to pay for the food she and the children consumed. This at least gave them a sense of independence, even if they were still living under what was effectively Joshua’s roof.
She stuck a small notice in the warehouse window, announcing the date they would be open for custom. In addition, following Joshua’s own example, she risked some of her precious money on having a hundred or so leaflets printed and got Benny and Lucy to go round likely streets in and around Ancoats, putting them through letter-boxes.
When the big day arrived, each and every one of them was anxious to do well. Even Big Flo, who normally claimed to be untroubled by such things, was a bundle of nerves.
‘Eeh, heck, what if nobody comes?’
But they did come. A full hour before the appointed time, a queue began to form outside. Lucy, peeping through the dusty window, could hardly believe her eyes. There were men, women and even children patiently waiting to view the novelty of carpet pieces which might brighten their homes and bring warmth to their cold feet. And everybody loved a bargain. Lucy was so astounded by the numbers gathering that she had to bring Benny, and her mother to confirm that she was right; they were indeed queuing up to come into the warehouse, and not simply waiting for a tram.
When the moment came to unlock the double doors, Big Flo appointed herself doorkeeper.
Polly looked a bit worried by this. ‘Remember, we have to be polite, Flo. They are our customers. We want them to enjoy the experience and stay around long enough to buy.’
‘Aye, I know that, but if there’s any trouble, they’ll be out on their ear faster than they can turn round!’ She rolled up her sleeves in readiness, bringing them all to a fit of giggles at the picture this painted of people spinning through the door and landing on their ears.
The day was a great success. The crowd surged in and each one of the Pride family, Polly, Lucy and Big Flo, was kept fully occupied showing rugs and taking money. Benny helped too, earning himself the odd copper by rolling up the carpets and sending them sliding down the home-made chute, or offering to deliver the larger pieces to folk’s front doors. At this rate he’d a good chance of earning more in tips on the delivery rounds which he could fit in each day after school. Life was picking up.
There was one awkward moment when Polly rolled out a largish square of carpet and a beetle scurried across it. Quick as a flash Big Flo caught the interloper in her great fist before anyone noticed and held it there, its legs scrabbling to be let out. The customer, none the wiser, paid over her money and went off happily with the rug tucked under her arm. Only then did Big Flo open up her hand to reveal the creature which was unharmed.
After releasing it out the back door, she said, Id’ve thrown this little chap in for nowt, only I know Ida Murgatroyd already has plenty of her own.’ And she cackled with laughter, for this was the best fun she’d had since last wakes week on Collin’s Fairground.
Chapter Twenty-Three
During the long cold days of winter, Polly worked harder than she ever had in her life before, though never had she felt more fulfilled. After that first day, the sales became a feature, every Thursday and Saturday, regular as clockwork. Some days were quiet with no more than a few curious wanderers; on others there would be a steady flow of customers, even if they didn’t all buy, which gave Polly hope. The Depression surely couldn’t last forever’
The rest of the time the Pride family was busy cutting and sewing, or Polly was out and about with her hand cart, seeking more carpets. Sometimes she was lucky, more often than not she came home empty-handed. Finding stock continued to be a problem, which proved there was n
o room for complacency. As soon as the weather improved she’d have to try further afield, though she still hadn’t solved the problem of transport. Even so, life was good.
‘Sure and everything’s going right for us at last.’
‘Aye, you could say so,’ Big Flo agreed, but there was still the slightest hint of doubt in her tone.
Lucy, having decided that her mother was back on track now, resolved to give more attention to her own affairs. Each morning she would set out early, hoping to catch sight of Tom on his way to the rail yard where he worked. Tom was a Catholic. Therefore not at all suitable so far as Uncle Joshua was concerned. Not that Lucy cared what her uncle thought. After a dozen disappointments, she finally spotted Tom, managing to come around a corner at the optimum moment to collide with him head on.
‘Oh, hello Tom, I thought you’d disappeared off the face of the earth,’ she chided, picking up his snap tin which had gone spinning to the ground.
‘I thought you were too busy looking after your mam.’ The reddening of his cheeks told Lucy she was still in with a chance.
‘I was, but she’s better now, so I might be able to find time to go out now, were someone to ask me.’
She tossed the words at him with a slight lift of her chin, trying to show that she really didn’t care one way or the other whether he asked her out or not; but was secretly thrilled and delighted when he grabbed at the chance.
‘I’ve been wanting to take you out for ages, Lucy, you know I have,’ the young man informed her earnestly. ‘We’ll go to the Palais, eh?’
The Palais was the most expensive place he could have suggested, costing ninepence to get in. She told him she’d consider it and let him know, feeling a leap of excitement in her heart, though what on earth she would wear for such an outing, she hadn’t the first idea.
Bet Sutcliffe’s old clothes shop solved the problem. Though she gave Lucy a few funny looks at her enquiry, she produced a red polka dot frock rather like a magician brings a rabbit out of a hat. Lucy was enchanted.
‘How much?’
Bet named a sum but on seeing the girl’s face fall, dropped it a few more pence. ‘Go on, I’m a fool to meself. You can have it for one and sixpence. Pay up quick afore I change me mind.’ Lucy paid, the coins carefully saved from her meagre earnings. Bet threw in a pair of equally daring scarlet shoes to match out of sheer pity. The lass had obviously got herself a lad, and Bet remembered being young herself once. She was willing to keep their little transaction a secret, for the very same reason.
The Palais de Danse was on Rochdale Road and Lucy was well aware that even at sixteen she was still young to go. Even her mother, were she aware of the plan, would be against it. Grandma Flo would call it ‘a den of iniquity’ and the women and young girls who went dancing there either ‘fast pieces’ or, even worse, ‘scarlet women’, for all it was Temperance and nothing stronger than coffee was ever served there.
But Lucy had no intention of telling anyone, most especially not Uncle Joshua. What the eye didn’t see, the heart didn’t grieve over, wasn’t that one of Grandma Flo’s favourite sayings?
She took especial care with her bath on the following Friday evening, even offering to carry extra buckets of water from the street tap so she could have clean water of her own instead of sharing everyone else’s.
Polly was surprised but Big Flo reminded her of her own fetish for cleanliness, so where was the harm?
‘I’d rather be on me own too, while I have it,’ Lucy insisted, and after exchanging amused glances her mother and grandmother discreetly obliged by going upstairs to sit in a bedroom while the hour-long bath took place. Uncle Joshua was out distributing leaflets for the coming NUWM elections and not expected back for ages, and Benny was off with his pals as usual, so there was no one else to disturb her. Lucy lay back in the steaming water and thought of Tom. She’d fancied him for years; had dreamed of him asking her to be his girl. Perhaps tomorrow he would. Oh, she did hope so!
She heard the click of a latch which she assumed to be her mother. Her eyes were closed and the heat of the water was causing her to drift into a delicious dream of anticipation. Tomorrow would be her first proper date with a boy. What would it be like? Would Tom admire her? Would he even try and kiss her? Oh, she couldn’t make up her mind whether she wanted him to or not, or how she should respond if he did.
She certainly didn’t intend to ask her mother for advice. The less people knew of her plans, the better. She could hardly wait.
Upstairs Big Flo settled down to her knitting in the only chair in the small bedroom while Polly sat staring out of the window, watching people pass in the street, although not seeing the one person she longed to see most of all. She hadn’t set eyes on Charlie Stockton for months but he was still there in her mind, an elusive and cherished memory. He’d probably forgotten all about her, perhaps gone off to find work in some other part of the city. Manchester was big enough for anyone to get lost in.
Big Flo said, ‘Do you reckon our Lucy has found herself a lad?’
Remembering a previous conversation with her daughter, Polly smiled. ‘I think that might well be the case.’
‘Then you’d best have a word then, about - you know.’
‘Don’t be daft, Flo! I had a "word" with Lucy ages ago. She’s a good girl and I’m sure we’ve nothing to fear in that direction.’
‘I never had any trouble with my lads, but girls are different. Here, you might as well do summat as sit on that window-sill in a day-dream.’ Flo handed Polly a skein of wool to hold between her hands, and once she’d adjusted the position to her satisfaction began to wind up a ball of it at lightning speed. ‘Grand lads they were too, all three of them. Never gave their mother a moment’s concern.’
Polly said nothing but moved her hands automatically to accommodate the winding process while continuing to stare out of the window.
‘I know our Matthew was keen to marry young, and Cecil never got chance. But our Josh never had no time for women. More interested in his work at the chapel, and politics, and whether his shirt collars were clean enough. Always very particular in that respect.’ Flo smiled fondly.
Polly thought it a great pity he wasn’t quite so fussy about the purity of his mind. ‘Lucy will be fine,’ she said again, discouraging further conversation on the subject.
Lucy would have heartily agreed were she privy to the conversation. She felt blissfully happy, but the water was growing cold so she stood up in the bath, enjoying the sensation of the water sliding off her body.
The man standing by the crack of the door noted her pleasure, watching as she ran her hands over the firm contours of her young breasts with a movement that was almost sensual. He saw her shiver, though whether from excitement or the draughts in the old kitchen he couldn’t have said. It was the body of an alluring young woman, not a child, the breasts taut, the hips softly rounded. It was almost a pity, he thought, that she was blood-related. Although the Bible permitted him to chastise her, it would be wrong for him to lust after her. But there were other pleasures which would serve to curb his own weaknesses of the flesh as well as his young niece’s. She was a wanton child, growing up too fast and in dire need of discipline. But not now, not today. He’d slipped back only to collect his members’ address list, which he’d forgotten to take with him. As Lucy reached for the towel. Joshua slipped quietly away.
Benny was, at that precise moment, seated deep inside a railway wagon, waiting with heart in mouth for the chap with the long hooked pole to knock it free and send it rattling away down the track. He’d worked out a new way to deal with the bullying. He’d decided that as he couldn’t possibly win against Georgie Eastwood, not even with the backing of the Dove Street Gang. then he must tackle the problem head on and make friends with the enemy.
The very next time Georgie pounced, Benny had been ready. ‘Wait, wait!’ he’d yelled as the older boys tugged and pulled at his clothing, pushing him this way and that as if he were a yo-yo on a s
tring. ‘I want to join your gang.’
Georgie held up one grubby hand and his ‘men’ instantly stopped their taunting while he considered the matter. ‘You want what?’
Benny had swallowed hard, wondering if this was such a good idea after all. ‘I want to join your gang,’ he’d repeated, deciding there was no other way.
Georgie’s mouth twisted into a nasty smile, as if this were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. ‘You’d have to take a test. An initiative test. We don’t want no weaklings in our gang.’
‘I don’t mind. I’m your man. I’ll take any test you like, only I’m fed up with the Dove Street lot. They’re no good. I want to join yours.’
Georgie had grinned from ear to ear as he’d clenched hold of Benny’s coat collar and dragged him close. ‘Now that’s something I’d really enjoy - seeing you take one of our tests. That’d be a rare treat, that would. Come on then, we’ll show you what you have to do to join our gang, won’t we, lads?’
And so here he was.
Riding the rails had been the last thing on Benny’s mind when he’d once expressed a wish to work on the railways. But he’d made the mistake of letting Georgie Eastwood know of this ambition, and so the test had been devised.
Somewhere over the wall he could hear a group of girls chanting a skipping rhyme: ‘I’ll tell me ma when I get home, The boys won’t leave the girls alone.’ For the first time in his life, he envied them their uncomplicated lives.
But Benny wasn’t interested in girls. He wasn’t as interested in trains as he used to be either, he discovered. But then he’d never before been at such close quarters with one. He just had to make sure that he survived the experience. He was going through all of this, he told himself, to stop the bloomin’ Eastwoods from bullying him. If he could just convince them he wasn’t a coward, they’d leave him alone, he was sure of it.
Polly's Pride Page 26
