by Joan Jonker
‘Come back when Lucy’s in bed,’ George said. ‘We can have a good natter.’
‘That’s a good idea, it’ll round the day off for me.’ Titch started to push himself up from the couch. ‘I’ll nip down to the corner and get a few bottles.’
He was thrown back on the couch before he knew what was happening, and Irene was standing over him. ‘Oh, no yer don’t, Titch McBride. For one night in yer life yer can do without knocking the brown stuff back. Yer can make do with a cup of tea like the rest of us, and one of me home-made scones. So put that in yer pipe and smoke it.’
‘What! I wouldn’t dream of putting one of yer home-made scones in me pipe and smoking it. Not when it was made by those fair hands of yours.’
George was watching Lucy and could see her eyes becoming heavy. ‘Take the lass home, Bob, before she falls asleep on her feet. She’s had enough excitement for one day. Titch will still be here when yer get back, Irene will see to that. If he makes one move, she’ll sit on him.’
His grin reaching from ear to ear, Titch held his arms wide. ‘Oh, yes, please.’
Chapter Six
‘What sort of time is this for her to be coming in?’ Ruby had been listening to the noise coming through the wall, and with each burst of laughter her temper had grown. ‘She’ll get used to all this fussing and yer’ll never do anything with her – she’ll expect it all the time.’
Bob didn’t answer, but his eyes spoke volumes. He took Lucy’s coat from her and said, ‘I’ll hang this up, pet, you’d better run down the yard before yer go to bed.’
‘Yeah, I think I better had.’ Lucy was glad to get away from the room and her mother’s spiteful tongue. There were no hugs for me from a loving mother, she thought. Mine couldn’t even ask me if I’d had a nice time. Still, she can’t take my memories of tonight away from me, that’s one thing. I can lie in bed and go over it all again, relishing every second.
Inside the house, Ruby wasn’t to be silenced. ‘Did yer hear what I said? It’s too late for her to be out. She should have been in bed an hour ago.’
‘Yer didn’t think of that the night yer left her on her own until nearly half-past ten, did yer? But I don’t suppose that counts, seeing as you were out enjoying yerself.’ Bob shook his head in disgust. ‘It’s hard to believe that a grown woman could be jealous of her own daughter. You never take her out because, apart from the fact yer can’t be bothered, it might cost yer a few pennies, and yer need them to keep up with yer boozing friends. Yet yer don’t like it when someone else gives her what you should be giving her. And that’s a little love and attention.’ He heard Lucy running up the yard and pointed a warning finger. ‘One word out of place to her, and by God, yer’ll be sorry.’
‘I’ll go straight up, Dad, I’m dead tired.’ Lucy gave her father a kiss and left the room without a glance at the woman who had given birth to her. She didn’t act like a mother, Lucy’s sore leg reminded her of that, so she wasn’t going to treat her like one. But no matter how brave the words were that were running through her mind, in her heart she was hurt and sad. Why didn’t her mother love her like Mrs Pollard loved her boys? She wasn’t a bad girl, she’d done her best to make her mother love her. If she did, this house would be as happy as next door, and that would be wonderful. And her dad wouldn’t have that sad look she sometimes glimpsed in his eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking.
Lucy climbed into bed and pulled the clothes up to her chin. She was very tired and it wasn’t long before she could feel herself drifting into slumber. And as she did, there was a smile on her face as a picture flashed through her mind of Mr Titch biting the head off a green jelly baby.
Bob stood aside while Billy Gleeson slithered along the bench in the canteen, then he sat on his usual end seat. ‘It doesn’t seem like twenty-four hours, does it, Kate? I’ve never known the time to go so fast. It’s just flown over.’
‘I remember when I was about fifteen, me mam heard me saying I wished I was seventeen and able to go to dances. She gave me a lecture, saying I should make the most of my teenage years, because when I got to twenty-one the years would fly over.’ Kate smiled. ‘She was right, too, although I didn’t believe her at the time. But twenty-two years have gone by since then and I’ve hardly noticed them passing. It’s frightening when yer think about it.’
‘Go ’way, ye’re still a young woman,’ Bob said. ‘A mere slip of a girl.’
Billy had had his ear cocked. ‘He’s flattering yer, Kate, yer want to keep yer eye on him. I knew yer never should have given him that fairy cake.’
‘It’s not very often anyone flatters me, Billy, so I’m going to make the most of it. Just think what would have happened if I’d given him two cakes! Me head would be twice the size. I think when I go home I’ll tear me birth certificate up, then when I’m feeling weary I can tell meself I’m only twenty-one. There’ll be nothing to prove otherwise.’
‘Only that yer’ll still feel weary,’ Billy said, tapping the side of his long nose. ‘Yer body’s the one thing yer can’t fool. I should know because I feel every day of me thirty years.’
Bob chuckled. ‘Yer’ve lost fifteen years somewhere along the way, Billy.’
‘That’s only first thing in the morning, mate. I wake up as spritely as a spring chicken, ready to take on the world. But by the time I’ve bent down to put me shoes on, then try to straighten up again, those fifteen years let me know they’re still there.’ He cocked an ear. ‘Ay out, let’s listen to this.’
‘Hey, Elsie,’ Peg Butterworth spoke through a mouthful of corned beef sandwich. ‘Any more news from that house of ill-repute? The one where the woman’s having it off with the milkman and the coalman? At least, according to everyone in your street she is.’
Elsie’s eyes slewed sideways to see if Peg was making fun of her. But her mate’s face was dead straight. ‘Not everyone, Peg, there’s one silly cow who won’t hear of it. Mind you, the tight-fisted bitch is making a few coppers out of it, so she’s bound to believe what she wants to believe. It’s in her best interest, isn’t it?’
Peg put her buttie down and swivelled her bottom round. ‘Ye’re not going to tell me she stands at the door and charges the men? And then afterwards the two women split the dosh between them? Well, that takes the biscuit, that does. What sort of a street d’yer live in, girl?’
‘Don’t be so bleedin’ stupid, Peg Butterworth, of course she doesn’t stand at the door taking money. There’d be a lynch mob out if she did that. Besides, she’s a sneaky thing, she doesn’t do anything in the open, it’s all underhanded.’
‘I know I’m a fool for asking,’ Peg said, ‘but I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep if I didn’t. How does this sneaky, underhanded woman make money out of the carryings-on of one of her neighbours?’ Then Peg banged a closed fist on the table. ‘I’ve got it! The men pay her money to keep her mouth shut. I’m right, aren’t I?’
‘Are yer hell,’ Elsie said. ‘Ye’re miles out! She doesn’t get no money off the men, she gets it from the horse.’
Disbelief showed on all faces for a few seconds, then laughter broke out. ‘Elsie, ye’re a real case,’ Billy chuckled. ‘Yer had us going for a minute.’
‘I’m not pulling yer legs, it’s the truth,’ Elsie said, a smug smile on her face. She’d teach them not to make fun of her. ‘She makes money out of the horse.’
‘I’ve got it!’ Once again Peg banged the table. ‘While the milkman’s in the house, doing you know what, this sneaky woman gives people rides in the trap and charges them. That’s it, isn’t it?’
‘Ye’re not even warm.’ Oh, how Elsie was enjoying being the centre of attention. ‘I know,’ said another workmate, Ada Smithson, ‘she lets the kids stroke the horse and charges them a ha’penny.’
‘Ye’re not even close.’ Elsie’s face was now wearing a haughty expression. She was going to milk this situation for all it was worth. ‘Try again.’
‘Not on yer life,’ Peg said. ‘Ye’re taking u
s for suckers. There’s no way she can make money out of the horse.’
‘Yes, there is, so there,’ Elsie snapped.
Peg was equally determined. ‘And I say there isn’t.’
‘There is, and don’t you call me a bleedin’ liar, either, or I’ll clock yer one.’
‘Yer’ll have to prove it, ’cos I don’t believe yer.’
Those sitting at the table looked as though they were watching a tennis match, as their heads moved from Peg to Elsie. And when it looked as though Elsie wasn’t going to deliver the goods, Billy chipped in, ‘Go on, Elsie, put us out of our misery. We’re all on edge, waiting for yer to solve the mystery. How can she make money out of the horse?’
‘Manure.’ Elsie was still wearing her haughty face. ‘That’s what.’
Nine voices spoke in unison. ‘Manure?’
Elsie folded her arms and looked down her nose. ‘Are yez so ignorant yer don’t know what manure is?’
‘We know what it is, Elsie, but I don’t think we quite understand the connection.’ Billy decided to see if a bit of soft soap would work. ‘Ye’re very good at telling a tale, girl, yer have a way with words. Why don’t yer fill the picture in for us? You know, every little detail, so we can see it all in our minds.’
Elsie smiled. That was more like it. Not before time they were beginning to appreciate her. ‘Well, this money-grabbing little cow’s name is Flo Durning. She’s small, as thin as a rake and as miserable as bloody sin. Yer never see her without a mobcap on and a pinny with a big pocket in. She’s got beady little eyes, and believe me she doesn’t miss a trick. If she’s not standing at the door, taking all in, then she’s peeping behind her curtains. There’s not a thing goes on in our street that she doesn’t know about. In fact, she knows about it before it bleedin’ happens.’ Elsie glanced around the faces. ‘Are yer with me so far?’
Peg Butterworth tapped her on the arm. ‘Yer did that beautiful, girl. I can see the little squirt as if she was standing in front of me. Now, carry on.’
Elsie beamed. That was praise indeed from her mate. ‘Well, now we’ll go to the horse. It’s a dark brown one, with a patch of white on its face. The milkman, Taffy, he’s got it well trained, I’ll say that for him. When he says “Wait”, then wait it does. And after about ten minutes, out comes droopy drawers, Flo, with a bucket and shovel. And sure enough, the flaming horse obliges and she shovels the manure up as soon as it hits the ground. In the bucket it goes, then the queer one makes a dash for her house with it. Honest to God, can yer imagine what her house smells like? Anyway, down the back entry she scarpers, and sells it to a bloke in the next street what’s got an allotment. Tuppence a bucket she charges him, the crafty cow.’
‘Well, I’ll be blowed.’ In repose, Peg’s mouth was far too big, it stretched the full width of her face. But when she was animated and smiling, it did wonders for her appearance and drew eyes like a magnet. ‘They’re an enterprising lot in your street, I must say. Not only do they give the neighbours plenty to talk about, they make a few bob into the bargain.’
‘Ay, yer can cut that out for a start,’ said Elsie, looking as suitably outraged as she thought the occasion warranted. ‘We’re not all tarred with the same brush.’
‘Only because the milkman wouldn’t have the energy to cover the whole street, and the horse will only oblige once a morning.’
‘Are you insulting what I think yer are, Peg Butterworth?’
‘All I’m saying is, chance is a fine thing. And before yer get on yer high horse and tell me ye’re going to knock me block off, just remember I’m bigger than you. You might have the weight, but that can be a disadvantage in a fight. So think on before yer take yer false teeth out and put yer boxing gloves on.’
Elsie’s eyes and mouth opened wide. ‘Ay, you, ye’re asking for it, you are. Yer know bleedin’ well I don’t wear no false teeth!’
Bob was grinning as he turned to face Kate. ‘Are they always like this, at each other’s throat?’
Kate nodded. ‘All the time. But they’ve never come to blows yet. In fact, they’re the best of mates. If one of them is in trouble, the other is always there to help out.’
‘Thank God for that! For one horrible moment I thought either me or Billy would have to be referee and stand between them. I wouldn’t fancy that, not with the weight Elsie’s carrying. One blow from her and I’d be knocked into the middle of next week.’
‘No fear of that, she’s as soft as a brush, is Elsie. If yer told her yer neighbour’s cat had been run over, she’d cry her eyes out.’ Kate gave a quick glance to make sure no one was listening. ‘As yer know, Peg can tell a good story. And last time we were on the early shift she went to the pictures. The film was a real weepy by all accounts and she had Elsie in floods of tears, telling her all the sad parts and really piling the agony on. Then when she’d finished, she handed over a piece of cloth for Elsie to dry her eyes on. “Seeing as yer won’t need to go and see it now, girl, I think yer should pay me what it would have cost yer. I won’t charge yer the tram fare, though, seeing as ye’re me mate.” That soon put a stop to Elsie’s tears. “Yer know what you can do, Peg Butterworth,” she said, “yer can just sod off.”’
Bob chuckled. ‘It sounds something like the picture Lucy went to see last night. By all accounts she cried all the way through it, and then at the end said it was a lovely film. The two boys from next door pulled her leg soft.’
‘I was going to ask yer how she got on. Did she enjoy herself?’
‘They all had the time of their lives. Especially Titch, the bloke who took them. He said it was a real eye-opener, just listening to them. The boys have inherited their mother’s sense of humour and he said the wisecracks out of them had him in stitches. And he surprised me over Lucy. He said she was as quick off the mark as they were and had an answer for them every time.’ There was a trace of sadness in Bob’s smile. ‘Who she inherited that from I don’t know, because no one could say I’m the life and soul of the party. And her mother certainly isn’t.’
‘Oh, come off it, Bob! Listening to you anyone would think yer were a real misery guts. Yer’ve got as much sense of humour as the next man, so don’t be running yerself down.’
If Bob had spoken his thoughts, he would have said his life over the last few years had robbed him of any humour he might have had. Instead, he said, ‘Oh, I can laugh at other people’s jokes, but I’m no good at telling them meself.’
‘You’re as bad as me, then. My husband used to laugh when I tried telling jokes, because I always told the end bit first. So I gave it up as a bad job.’
‘He must have been very young when he died?’ Bob asked the question before giving it any thought. When he saw Kate’s hazel eyes cloud over, he cursed himself for being so insensitive. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve upset yer now.’
‘The people who say time is a great healer don’t know what they’re talking about. It’s five years now since Vic died, but it still hurts like hell. There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t miss him because there’s so much to remind me of him. Oh, I’ve gone past expecting him to walk through the door, and I’ve got used to his favourite chair being empty. But our daughter, Charlotte, is the spitting image of him and a constant reminder.’
‘And then yer’ve got thoughtless people like yours truly. I really could kick meself, Kate, for being so stupid.’
They hadn’t heard the bell, and Bob was startled when Billy clamped a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s time to move, mate, but before we do, let us in on the secret. What have yer done that’s so stupid yer could kick yerself?’
Once again Kate came to the rescue. ‘Don’t tell him, Bob, or he’ll want one.’
Billy was intrigued. ‘Want one what?’
‘Ye’re a nosy bugger, Billy.’ By now, Bob had sorted his head out. ‘But since I know yer’ll keep at me until I tell yer, it’s a fairy cake. I’ve been promising to bring one in for Kate, and blow me if I don’t keep forgetti
ng.’
‘A likely tale,’ Billy snorted. ‘Come on, shift yerself.’
‘If I forget again tomorrow, Kate, yer have my permission to kick me.’ Bob winked. ‘See yer.’
‘Yeah, see yer, Bob.’ Kate picked up her carry-out box and put it under her arm. Then she smiled and called after him, ‘I’m not very good at kicking, so I’ll get Elsie to do it for me.’
‘Come on, Ma, let’s go into town and I’ll buy yer something.’ Titch faced his mother across the table. ‘We can go to Blackler’s and have a look around – yer like it there.’
‘There’s nothing I need, son,’ Aggie said. ‘And there’s no use buying something just for the sake of it. That would be a waste of good money.’
‘Ma, if I’m going to waste me money, there’s no one else in the world I would rather waste it on. I haven’t even bought yer a drink yet.’
‘Buying me drinks would be money down the bleedin’ drain. I’m quite happy with me half-pint of stout every night, suits me down to the ground. It’s nice and smooth and puts me in the mood for a good night’s sleep.’ Aggie had a thought. ‘Ay, Irene’s going into town to buy some long trousers for Jack – why don’t yer go with her? It would save yer hanging around the house twiddling yer thumbs.’
‘Oh, aye,’ Titch laughed. ‘George would love me taking his wife out. And we’d be the talk of every wash-house in the neighbourhood.’
‘Not if I was with yer.’
‘Yer’ve just said yer didn’t want to go into town!’
‘What I said was, I didn’t want yer spending money on me just for the sake of it. But I wouldn’t mind going around the shops with Irene, in fact I’d be made up. Me and her get on like a house on fire, and she’s always good for a laugh.’
‘Well, that’s settled then.’
Aggie tutted. ‘It’s not settled, son. Not until we’ve asked Irene if she minds us going with her. I’m sure she won’t mind, but it’s manners to ask.’
‘You’ll have to do the asking, Ma, I wouldn’t have the nerve.’
