by Joan Jonker
‘Oh, he doesn’t say nothing, girl, ’cos he knows I wouldn’t think twice about clocking him one if he said the wrong thing.’
‘Quite right too, sunshine. But we should be over at our Doreen’s by now. She’ll wonder what’s keeping us. I’ll get me coat and we’ll be on our way.’ Molly slipped her arms into the coat sleeves, and shrugged her shoulders until the coat was hanging properly. Then she faced Nellie. ‘I’ve been thinking, sunshine. It might not be a good idea repeating what we’ve been talking about. Our Doreen’s too young for that sort of talk, and I don’t think Victoria would appreciate it. So skip that, and I’m sure yer’ll think of plenty of ways to amuse us. Ye’re very good at that. I’ve never known yer to be short of ideas.’
That was praise indeed, and Nellie was flattered. She linked her friend’s arm as they walked across the cobbles to Doreen’s. ‘Ye’re right, girl. I’ll put me thinking cap on. It’s a long time since I took off Tessie O’Shea, so I’ll start with her.’
Molly squeezed her arm. ‘Yeah, that’s a good idea. Anybody but Betty Boop, sunshine, ’cos I don’t want yer using all Phil’s black boot polish to make yer kiss curls.’
Chapter Nine
Corker’s loud guffaws rang out in the smoke-filled bar room of the pub on the corner of the street. The manager, Alf, had pulled three of the small round tables together to cater for the nine men, who were in very high spirits. The big man was always a welcome sight at the pub, for on the nights he was there the takings were sky high as he was very generous. Corker liked his pints of bitter and could hold his drink. No one had ever seen him drunk: merry, perhaps, but never drunk. In fact on a Saturday night, when all the local men had a few bob in their pockets, there would always be the odd one who would cause trouble. But even though they might be the worse for wear and full of fighting spirit, with their fists punching the air and thinking they could conquer the world, they could always be talked round by Corker. And they would stagger home, lurching from side to side, believing they had conquered the world.
Derek Mattocks, Corker’s old shipmate, had soon made himself at home with the men from the street, and he and Corker had a captive audience as they related some of their experiences in the many countries of the world they had visited, and some of the sights they had seen. ‘Mind you, yer can’t get a pint of beer anywhere in the world as good as this here. I don’t know what they put in it, but it’s deadly.’ He punched his old mate on the shoulder. ‘Ay, Corker, d’yer remember that night in a port in India, when you and me went into this dive for a drink? And the next morning we both woke up with big heads and didn’t even remember how we got back to the ship?’
Corker, his weather-beaten face wreathed in a smile, wiped the froth from his huge moustache before saying, ‘Ah, well, yer see, I’m like a homing pigeon. I always find me way back to where I came from.’
Derek laughed. ‘That’s why I was glad I was yer mate. I can only drink half the amount you can, and there’s been many a time I’d have missed the ship if it hadn’t been for you.’
‘What would have happened if yer had missed the ship?’ Jack asked. ‘Or did they send out a search party looking for yer?’
‘Did they heck! There was a war going on – they couldn’t afford to miss a tide. If yer didn’t make it back in time, they sailed without yer.’
Corker put his glass down and wiped a hand across his mouth. ‘There’s lots of low-life dives in some ports. Places of ill-repute, which our captain would warn us about. Where the women were two a penny, and would drape themselves round yer as soon as yer walked in the door. That’s how they made their living. The more they could get yer to drink, the more wages they got. And if any of the men were daft enough to accompany them to a seedy room upstairs, then they made a bit more money. But while yer could understand men being attracted to these places after being away from home for weeks on end, many of them found themselves picking up more than they bargained for.’
Jack and George were used to Corker’s tales of life at sea, but the young men – Steve, Phil, Tommy, Archie and Paul – were hanging on to every word. Archie thought Derek was in his mid-thirties, and took it for granted he would be married. ‘How many children have yer got, Derek?’
Corker’s head fell back and his guffaws brought a smile to every face in the room. ‘That is something he hasn’t got an answer to, Archie, me boy.’
The room was filled with smoke but it didn’t hide the blush that covered Derek’s face. ‘That’s one of Corker’s jokes. I admit I strayed a few times while I was at sea, but because I’m not married I wasn’t hurting anyone.’
‘Not married?’ George sounded surprised. ‘I would have thought a fine-looking feller like yerself would have had a wife in every port.’
‘No, I’m footloose and fancy free. I wouldn’t take up with anyone in the foreign countries we visited because we weren’t there long enough to get to know anyone well. And the same when we were home on leave: no time to make friends. My dad died when I was fifteen, yer see, and as I’m the only child, I didn’t want to leave me mam on her own.’
‘He tells me he’s packing up the sea and getting a shore job,’ Corker said. ‘He’ll find it takes a while to settle to being a landlubber, ’cos I still miss the sea. Once it’s in yer blood, it’s hard to get it out.’
‘You wouldn’t want to go back to sea, would yer, Uncle Corker?’ Steve asked. ‘I thought you were settled in yer job.’
‘Yeah, so did I,’ Phil said. ‘Yer’ve never mentioned it before.’
Tommy chuckled. ‘Is it the drink talking, Uncle Corker? And have yer told Auntie Ellen how yer feel?’
‘Oh, she knows right enough, lad. I have told her. And, God bless her, she said if I really wanted to stretch me sea legs, she wouldn’t try and stop me.’
‘Are yer serious, Corker?’ Jack asked. ‘I thought yer’d settled down now, and liked being home with Ellen and the children.’
‘Ay, Uncle Corker, have yer forgotten I’m courting your Phoebe?’ Paul’s dimples showed as he grinned. ‘And we should have a say in whether yer can go back to being a seaman.’
Corker raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘I think I could sail to a few countries in the world before you and me daughter tie the knot. If I had to be on it, son, I’d say it would be next year before you and Phoebe wed.’
‘We’re both happy to leave it for another year,’ Paul said. ‘We haven’t got enough money saved. But we do put so much a week away, Phoebe sees to that. When it comes to money, she’s got a better head on her than me.’
George stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray before looking across at his son. ‘It strikes me, son, that Phoebe’s got a lot more sense than you. If the saving up was left to you, there’d never be a wedding.’
‘There better had be,’ Steve said, his dimples deeper than his brother’s. ‘You’re the only one left, and we expect a big do with all the trimmings.’
Tommy was sitting next to Archie, and he gave him a dig in the ribs. ‘Has the word blackmail entered yer head at all?’ He spoke quietly. ‘If we play our cards right we’ll be set for free beer every Saturday.’
It didn’t take long for the light to dawn, and Archie’s deep brown eyes lit up. ‘Nice thinking, mate, nice thinking. Do you want to start the ball rolling, or shall I?’
‘You do it. Ye’re a better boxer than me.’
Corker was busy chatting to Jack and George, stopping only to down half a pint of bitter every so often. ‘Aye, those were the days all right. Good skipper and fine mates. There was never any trouble on board, was there, Derek?’
‘Not when you were around, no! They knew better than to start anything, ’cos they knew they’d get their heads banged together. They’d rather risk the German U-boats than you. I’ve seen yer lifting two blokes, one in each hand, about four foot off the ground as though they were rag dolls. That’s why I was always yer best mate. I was terrified not to be.’
Archie pressed his hands on his knees and leaned
forward. ‘Corker, yer know these low dives yer were talking about, the dens of iniquity, well, did Ellen know about them? Yer see, me and Tommy were wondering what it would be worth to yer for me and him to keep our mouths shut?’
Corker chuckled. ‘There’s not much mileage in that, lad, ’cos I wasn’t married to Ellen at that time.’ His gaze covered all their faces. ‘Most of yer here know the tale about me and Ellen, but I’ll tell it anyway to put everyone in the picture.’ He picked up his glass and took a long drink before he started. ‘When I was a young lad, like most of yer here now, I went courting Ellen. When the ship was in port I would see her every night, and we’d go dancing or to the flicks. I was crazy about her, and had every intention of asking her to marry me. But like a soft lad, I didn’t tell her me intentions were honourable because I believed she would take it for granted. Anyway, when the ship docked after a three-month trip, it was to find she’d married Nobby Clarke. He was a tall, dark, handsome bloke, who could charm the birds off a tree. But I knew a different Nobby to the face he showed to the girls, and I knew he was a rotter. Still, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. But the bottom had dropped out of my world, for I really loved her, and I’ve never looked at another girl since.’ Corker picked up his glass and drained it. ‘Another round, everyone?’
Archie shook his head. ‘Yer can’t leave it like that, Corker, not without telling us how you came to marry her in the end.’
Steve, Tommy and Paul all had reason to remember Nobby Clarke, for each of them had suffered from his violent temper. If they were playing in the street, not hurting anyone, he never passed without clipping one of the kids round the ear, or booting them up the backside. He had his hands round Tommy’s throat one night, because a ball had broken one of the Clarkes’ windows, and Tommy was the one who got the blame because he didn’t run away. He hadn’t done it; it was his mate, Ginger, who had picked up the ball and run hell for leather up the street, leaving his friend to face the music. Molly had tried to prise Nobby’s hands from Tommy’s throat, but the more she tried the tighter his grip became. In the end, Nellie came out to see what the commotion was, and when she saw what was happening she managed to free Tommy and sent Nobby sprawling on the pavement. Oh, yes, they all remembered Nobby Clarke, and the way he treated his wife and four children.
However, Corker had no intention of speaking ill of the dead. ‘He died just after the war, and after waiting a suitable interval Ellen agreed to marry me. I wouldn’t wish a man to die so I could marry his widow, but I am a very happy man now. A wife I adore, and four kids that I’d lay me life down for.’
While the other men were thinking it was just like Corker not to say anything nasty about Nobby Clarke, or anything that would bring back bad memories to Ellen if it was repeated in her presence, Archie was really moved by the tale. ‘That was just like sitting in the picture house watching a romantic film, Corker. It’s a one in a million love story, that is, and I’m really happy it ended the way it did.’
‘So am I, son, so am I! And I hope you and Lily find the same happiness in yer married life. Yer’ve got some very good examples here, except for Derek, but he’ll soon find himself a good woman when he gets a shore job. The rest of the men, young and not so young, have all been lucky in love.’ He chortled. ‘D’yer know, Archie, yer’ve had me yapping away and losing valuable drinking time. I’ll not get me quota in, and that will never do.’ He raised his arm as a sign to the landlord, who was waiting patiently for a signal. He couldn’t afford to miss a nine-pint round, that would never do. ‘Same again, Alf, and one for yerself.’
‘Coming up, Corker.’ With his hand on the pump, Alf felt well satisfied. The takings would be good tonight, but heaven help them if Corker ever became teetotal. The pub would have to shut down.
‘Yer’ll have to move the table back,’ Nellie said, feeling very important as the entertainer. ‘How d’yer expect a professional artist like meself to perform if I can’t move around? Yer wouldn’t find Tessie O’Shea working in a small place like this. She’d turn her nose up at it.’
‘Ooh, is that who ye’re going to be tonight?’ Doreen asked, picking up a dining chair to take out to the kitchen. ‘What song are yer going to sing?’
Nellie shook her head, her chins and her bosom. ‘Blimey, yer’ll be asking for programmes next. Ye’re getting me talent for nothing, so be satisfied. Get those ruddy chairs out and we can push the table back.’
Molly patted the couch. ‘Come and sit next to me, Frances, before me mate says ye’re putting her off her stroke.’ When Phil’s mother sat down next to her, Molly grinned. ‘Yer know what these professionals are like. Very temperamental.’
‘Ay, watch it, girl. Don’t be calling me for everything.’
‘I haven’t called yer for everything,’ Molly answered. ‘I never mentioned yer name!’
‘I heard yer, girl. I haven’t got cloth ears. Yer told Frances I had a temper and was soft in the head.’
Frances shook her head. ‘Molly didn’t say that, Nellie.’
‘I heard her with me own ears, Frances, so don’t be sticking up for her.’
Victoria was rocking in her chair, loving every minute. It was nice to have visitors and have a laugh with them. Yer couldn’t beat good friends, especially when they were Molly and Nellie. So the old lady sat back and rocked, knowing it would all end up in laughter, but wondering what it would go through to reach that stage.
‘Listen, sunshine, don’t be making up things,’ Molly said. ‘Frances told yer I never mentioned yer name, and I didn’t. If yer heard me, then ye’re hearing things and yer should go and see yer doctor.’
Oh, that did it! Nellie’s hands went on her hips, her jaw jutted out and her eyes narrowed. ‘Ye’re a bleeding fibber, Molly Bennett, ’cos I definitely heard yer tell Frances I was bad-tempered and I was daft in the head.’ Nellie put a finger to her temple. ‘The word yer used was mental, and I know ruddy well what people mean when they say a person is mental.’
Ellen was sitting on the couch now next to Frances, after being turfed off her dining chair. And both women were waiting to see how this would end up. Molly knew how it would turn out, but not until she’d pulled her mate’s leg. ‘What was the exact word yer heard, sunshine?’
‘Words, girl, not word. Temper and mental are two words, and even a clever clogs like yerself can’t say they’re not.’
‘Try putting the two words together, sunshine, and see what yer get. If yer say it quickly, yer might just see the light.’
‘Don’t start being sarky as well, girl, ’cos I’m confused as it is. And why should I say those words quickly, just to please you? It’s not that I can’t say them, so don’t be thinking I’m making excuses, but I’d like to know why I should.’
‘Well, if yer do, it’ll become clear to yer, and yer won’t have a cob on with me. Go on, sunshine, it’s nearly time for Tessie O’Shea to come on stage.’
Nellie held her hands out, palms upward, and appealed to Frances, who looked the most sympathetic. ‘If she wasn’t me best mate, Frances, I’d have clocked her one by now. So doesn’t that prove I haven’t got no bad temper?’
‘Oh, I’m saying nothing, Nellie.’ Phil’s mother looked very frail, as though a puff of wind would blow her away. She’d been told six months ago that there was nothing more the doctors could do for her, and it was only a matter of time. But although it was an effort, for she had little energy or strength, she looked forward to the twice-weekly visits to her son’s house. They were the highlights of her week. ‘I’m not coming between friends.’
Molly patted her hand. ‘Yer don’t have to, Frances, ’cos even if Nellie strangled me to death, I’d still be her best mate. Wouldn’t I, sunshine?’
‘Oh, all right,’ Nellie said, rolling her eyes. ‘Tempermental.’
There was a burst of applause, and Molly said, ‘There yer are, Nellie, that’s what I told Frances yer were. Yer missed a letter out in the middle, but yer know what temperamen
tal means, don’t yer? So are yer satisfied now that I didn’t tell Frances yer had a temper and were mental?’
‘Yer must think I was born yesterday, Molly Bennett, to think I’d fall for that load of bleeding rubbish. There’s no such word as tempermental, and yer ruddy well know there isn’t.’
‘Yes there is, Auntie Nellie, honest!’ Doreen said. ‘And it’s got nothing to do with having a temper and being mental.’
‘What does it mean, then, girl? Go on, tell me, seeing as ye’re so bleeding clever.’
But Molly didn’t want that. She wanted to be the one to make Nellie swell with pride. ‘Let me tell her, Doreen, ’cos she is me best mate and I don’t want her falling out with me.’ She gave Nellie a sweet smile. ‘D’yer know all the well-known artists, like Tessie O’Shea, Gracie Fields, George Formby, and all the big film stars in Hollywood, such as Greta Garbo and Katharine Hepburn? Well, they are said to be temperamental ’cos they think because they are big stars they can do and say what they like. It’s because of their profession, their talent, that they are different to other folk. And because they are famous, they get away with being temperamental.’
Nellie was torn between wanting to believe her mate, and not wanting to appear foolish. But it was Victoria’s nodding head that did the trick. With a smile on her face, she hoisted her bosom and stretched to her full height. ‘I had yer going there, didn’t I, girl? Yer see, I knew all along what tempmental meant, but I thought I’d string yer along. Us gifted artists are different to you what have no talent. I’ve been tempmental since I was a young girl: that’s how I knew I would be a great singer.’
‘And yer’ve been keeping that secret to yerself for over twenty years, have yer, sunshine? I thought we were never going to have any secrets from each other, but seeing as you are different to the rest of us, you being a great singer, I’ll forgive yer.’ Molly felt like leaving her seat to plant a kiss on her mate’s chubby cheek, but decided to ask one more question. ‘Are yer going to tell George about this talent of yours? This gift that makes yer … er … what’s the word now? It’s gone right out of me mind.’
