Anyway, I’m not going to do it any more, the stealing. None of us are – except Norbert. We’d decided to stop when the Major had asked us to look after the shop while he went upstairs to check on Mrs Creswell. He’d come down the ladder just as we’d put the stuff in our pockets. I was lucky he didn’t catch me, I’d dropped a liquorice stick on the floor and got it away just in time.
‘Listen, chaps, would you do me a favour? Would you keep an eye on things down here for a couple of minutes? I just want to pop upstairs and check on the little lady. The old girl’s having one of her bad days, I’m afraid . . .’
The Major’s wife is an invalid, she has to stay upstairs above the shop. We never see her, I think she’s in bed most of the time. We don’t even know what she looks like.
‘I thought I’d make her a quick cup of tea. Have you got the time?’
Norbert’s eyes lit up.
‘Yeah, you’re all right, Major Creswell, we’ll watch the shop.’
‘I don’t want to make you late for your Saturday matinee.’
Norbert looked at us.
‘No, it doesn’t start till half past ten, Major, we’ve got tons of time, haven’t we, lads?’
We all mumbled that we had plenty of time. We knew what he was going to do. And I knew what I was going to do.
‘Thanks a lot, chaps, won’t be long. Much appreciated.’
We watched him go into the back of the shop and heard him go upstairs.
‘Are you all right, dear? Thought you might like a cup of tea, old thing. A bunch of my regular customers are very kindly looking after the shop . . .’
We looked at each other. Norbert had this stupid grin on his face.
‘Bloomin’ hummer, we can take what we like!’
Uncle Derek was ‘shushing’ into the microphone.
‘Now, before we start the first film, I’ve got an important announcement to make . . .’
More boos. We all stamped our feet. Norbert looked round to check where the usherette was and stood on his seat to boo.
‘No, no, listen, boys and girls, this is something very exciting, you’ll like this, listen. Next week we’re going to have, up here on the stage, a film-star fancy-dress competition . . . !’
Tons of boos.
‘You have to dress up as your favourite film star and the first prize, courtesy of the Directors and Management of Associated British Cinemas – listen now, it’s something special, quiet now – first prize will be a year’s free pass to the ABC Saturday Morning Matinee . . .’
Stamping feet, cheering, whistling. I thought the roof was going to come down.
‘Second prize, a free pass for six months and third prize, a three-month pass. I told you it was special. Now remember, you do have to dress up as a film star . . .’
Norbert was shouting at me but I couldn’t tell what he was saying with all the noise.
‘Y’what?’
‘Free pass for a year! Bloomin’ hummer, I’m goin’ in for that.’
I couldn’t understand what he was so excited about, he gets in free anyway, every week.
‘And now it’s showtime!’
The lights started to go down and the curtain turned red, then deep red and went up slowly. The music started.
‘We are the boys and girls well known
As Minors of the ABC,
And every Saturday we line up
To see the films we like
And shout with glee . . .’
Norbert went round to the back of the counter. He still had his stupid grin on his face.
‘You lot listen out for him. What do you want? Liquorice cuttings? Oh look, sherbet lemons.’
I got hold of his jumper and pulled him back.
‘No! He’s asked us to look after the shop.’
Norbert pulled himself free and took a handful of the sherbet lemons.
‘Sod off, I’m not missin’ a chance like this.’
He put the sherbet lemons into one of his trouser pockets and grabbed another handful.
‘Well, I’m not takin’ anything. In fact, I’m putting my stuff back.’
I got the liquorice stick that I’d pinched out of my pocket and put it back in the box on the counter. Norbert was still taking stuff.
‘Keith, listen out for him.’
‘No, I’m p-p-putting mine b-back an’ all.’
Keith emptied his pockets. So did Tony.
‘So am I.’
Norbert stopped for a minute and looked at us.
‘You’re soft, you lot!’
He grabbed some dolly mixtures and ran out.
‘I’ll see you down there.’
He slammed the door shut. A second later it opened again and he came back in. I thought maybe he’d changed his mind and was going to put the sweets back, but he didn’t. He went over to the lolly cabinet, took a Koola Fruta and ran out again. Every time he went in and out the shop doorbell rang. The Major thought it was customers, we heard him coming back down the stairs.
‘Sounds like it’s getting quite busy down there, dear, better go and relieve the troops. I’ll pop up again later, old thing, when it quietens down.’
Tony, Keith and me waited for the Major to come back into the shop. He looked surprised.
‘Oh! I thought I heard a couple of customers come in.’
I waited for the others to say something but they didn’t.
‘No, Major Creswell, it was Norbert . . . he was worried about bein’ late so he went. He came back to . . . er . . . borrow some money for the bus.’
The Major went round the counter.
‘Thanks for holding the fort, chaps. Here you are, a little something for keeping an eye on things down here.’
He held up three bars of Five Boys chocolate. We looked at each other, we didn’t know what to do. We hadn’t stolen any sweets now so I reckoned it was all right. I took one.
‘Thanks, Major Creswell.’
Keith and Tony took theirs.
‘Yes, th-thanks, M-Major.’
‘Ta, Major.’
He held out another bar.
‘And one for your chum.’
We stopped at the door. Nobody wanted to take it but I didn’t have any choice, the Major threw it over and I was the one to catch it.
‘Thank you, Major Creswell, we’ll give it to him when we see him.’
As soon as we got to the bus stop we divided it into three and ate it on the way to the matinee.
‘We love to laugh and have a sing-song,
Such a happy crowd are we.
We’re all pals together,
The Minors of the ABC!’
And Mum, listen to this, first prize is a free pass for a year!’
As soon as I’d got home from the pictures, I’d told her about the fancy-dress competition.
‘You have to dress as a film star, what shall I go as?’
‘Ow!’
‘Stand still.’
‘I don’t want to go.’
‘Don’t start that again, not now, not after the effort me and your Auntie Doreen have put in.’
I wish I’d never mentioned it. I should never have told her about the fancy-dress competition.
‘What do you think, Mum? Charlie Chaplin?’
She was laying the table.
‘We’ll ask your Auntie Doreen when she gets here, she’ll have some ideas.’
I love Saturdays. Matinee in the morning, then usually we have fish and chips for dinner, my Auntie Doreen gets them fresh from Pearson’s on her way over.
‘What do you think I should go as, Auntie Doreen?’
I shook some more vinegar over my fish and chips. My mum snatched the bottle out of my hand.
‘Don’t drown them like that, you’ll spoil your dinner. What do you think, Doreen, Charlie Chaplin?’
My Auntie Doreen put some more vinegar on her fish and chips. She’s like me, she has tons of it. My mum doesn’t tell her she’s spoiling her dinner.
‘No, they’ll
be ten a penny, Charlie Chaplins. They’ll all be going as Charlie Chaplin or Roy Rogers. We’ll have to think of something different if he wants to win.’
She did.
‘Shirley Temple? She’s a girl, Auntie Doreen!’
We were on our way home from church on the Sunday and my Auntie Doreen was telling my mum her idea about me entering the fancy-dress competition as Shirley Temple. She had this big smile on her face.
‘It just came to me, Freda, right in the middle of the vicar’s sermon . . .’
‘Auntie Doreen, I don’t want to go as a girl!’
She wasn’t listening. Neither of them were.
‘You know when he was talking about us all being just ships that pass in the night, that song Shirley Temple sings came into my head you know, out of the blue . . .’
She started singing:
‘On the good ship Lollipop,
It’s a sweet trip to a candy shop . . .’
Then my mum joined in.
‘Where the bon-bons pla-ay,
On the sunny beach of Peppermint Ba-ay . . .’
They both fell about laughing.
‘It’s a good idea, Doreen, there won’t be any other lads going as Shirley Temple.’
I didn’t want to go as a girl.
‘Mum, I don’t think I want to go as a girl.’
‘Exactly, Freda, he’s bound to win.’
I didn’t want to go as a girl.
‘But I don’t want to go as a girl.’
They didn’t hear me, they were too busy talking about what I was going to wear. My mum said she’d get me a curly blonde wig and my Auntie Doreen said she’d make me a dress with bows on.
‘I’ve got some lovely gingham material, it’ll be perfect . . .’
‘I don’t think I want to go as Shirley Temple, Mum . . .’
‘And I’ll make him a couple of gingham bows to go in his hair.’
They started singing again and skipping down the street:
‘On the good ship Lollipop,
It’s a night trip, into bed you hop.
And dream awa-ay,
On the good ship—’
‘I’m not goin’ as a bloody girl!’
‘And you don’t come out until I say so! I will not have you shouting and swearing at your Auntie Doreen in the middle of the street like that! Specially when she’s trying to help you.’
She slammed my bedroom door shut. I’d said I was sorry. Twice.
‘But I’ve apologised, haven’t I? I’ve said I’m sorry!’
I could hear her stamping down the stairs.
‘Twice!’
I opened the door a little bit.
‘All right, I’ll go as Shirley Temple if you want!’
I heard her coming back. I shut it quick.
‘It makes no difference to us, you can go as Chu Chin Chow for all I care! And put your dinner plate outside the door when you’ve finished.’
I didn’t know what she was talking about. I’d never heard of Choochinchow or whoever she was talking about. She was probably a girl too.
I didn’t put my plate outside the door like my mum had told me. After I’d finished my dinner I sat on my bed for a while then I took it downstairs myself.
‘Sorry, Auntie Doreen, I didn’t mean to shout. Thank you for your help. I’d like to go as Shirley Temple.’
‘Come here.’
I went over and she gave me a big hug.
‘You go as you like, love, it was just an idea, something different.’
I looked at my mum. I didn’t want to go as a girl but I didn’t want to get into more trouble.
‘No, I’d like to, I think it’s a good idea.’
My mum smiled. My Auntie Doreen gave me another hug.
‘Come on, Freda, get your tape measure out, I want to make a start on his dress when I get home tonight.’
I had to stand on a chair while my Auntie Doreen got all my measurements and they sang that stupid song again.
‘On the good ship Lollipop,
It’s a sweet trip to a candy shop . . .’
At least I wasn’t in trouble any more.
‘Stand still.’
‘I don’t want to go.’
‘Don’t start that again, not now, not after the effort me and your Auntie Doreen have put in.’
I wish I’d never mentioned it. I should never have told her about the fancy-dress competition.
‘Now, let’s get that dress on him, Doreen, see how it looks.’
Later on, after my Auntie Doreen had gone home, my mum asked me to run round to the off-licence in Mansfield Street to get her a bag of sugar.
‘Here’s the ration book, don’t lose it, and here’s the correct money. Straight there and straight back, it’ll be getting dark soon.’
‘Right, Mum.’
I was pleased to be helping her, I hate it when she’s cross with me.
‘Hang on, love.’
She opened her purse again.
‘Get yourself something from the sweet shop, there’s enough coupons.’
That would have been nice but the Majors is closed on a Sunday afternoon.
‘He’ll be closed.’
She told me to keep the money anyway, in case I saw something in the off-licence.
‘Thanks, Mum.’
It was all right this. Worth going as Shirley Temple. Maybe it was a good idea, maybe I’d win. Even if it were only third prize I’d get a free cinema pass for three months.
I got the bag of sugar and a Wagon Wheel for myself and I started eating it on my way home.
When I went past Major Creswell’s I stopped to look in the window to see what I would have bought if he’d been open. Probably some liquorice torpedoes. Or maybe sherbet lemons – if Norbert had left any, he’d taken tons. I was pressing my face against the door, looking at the sweets inside, when it opened. I couldn’t believe it. The lights were all out and the closed sign was on the door but it just swung open. It hadn’t been locked properly on the inside. The bell was ringing and I was standing inside the shop. I didn’t know what to do. I reckoned the Major would have heard the shop bell so I waited for him to come down.
‘Major Creswell? Major Creswell?’
Nobody came. I closed the door to make the bell ring again. He still didn’t come down. All I could think was that it’d been a good job it was me and not Norbert who’d been leaning against the door, he’d have nicked everything by now.
‘Major . . . Major Creswell?’
Still nothing. I went to the back of the shop and called up the stairs.
‘Major Creswell? Are you there? The shop door wasn’t locked properly . . .’
There was a light at the top of the stairs and I could hear music playing. I didn’t know what to do. It was getting dark now, I had to get home for my mum. But I had to tell the Major. I couldn’t just go. I went up a few of the stairs.
‘Major? Major Creswell? Mrs Creswell . . . ?’
The music was quite loud, that was probably why he hadn’t heard the bell. I went up a few more stairs and called a bit louder.
‘Hello? Major Creswell . . . Mrs Creswell . . . Hello?’
When I got to the top of the stairs there was a landing, and the light and the music were coming from a room at the end of a corridor. The door was only half open. I walked towards it, tapped and peeped in. Mrs Creswell was sitting in a chair with her eyes closed, listening to the music.
‘Mrs Creswell?’
I thought it was funny she was smoking a pipe but it was only when she spoke that I realised.
‘Oh my God, old boy, you gave me the fright of my life.’
It wasn’t Mrs Creswell, it was the Major.
‘How on earth did you get in, old chap?’
He was dressed up as a woman.
‘Sorry . . . your shop door . . . it was open . . . you hadn’t locked it properly . . . Didn’t you hear me shouting?’
He got up and went over to the radiogram. He was in high hee
ls and nylon stockings like my mum wears, a red dress and he had long hair. He took off the record he was playing.
‘Ah, I was in the world of Beethoven, old chum. Didn’t hear a thing. Erm . . .’
He looked at me staring. He was wearing lipstick as well. And a pearl necklace.
‘Are you going in for a fancy-dress competition, Major Creswell?’
It was all I could think of. Why else would he be wearing a dress?
‘Er . . . no, no, this is – was – Mrs Creswell’s. One of her favourites, actually. Listen, old boy, I haven’t exactly been honest with you. I’m afraid Mrs Creswell . . . died some time ago.’
What was he talking about? She was here yesterday. He’d made her a cup of tea while we looked after the shop.
‘I miss her so much, I sometimes pretend she’s still here, pretend to make her cups of tea, that sort of thing. I know it sounds strange but it makes me feel better. That’s why I wear her favourite dress sometimes too. Makes me feel closer to her.’
It was getting late. My mum’d be worried about me.
‘I’ve got to go, Major, my mum’ll be wonderin’ where I am.’
He thanked me for letting him know about the door and told me to help myself to anything in the shop on my way out.
‘No, it’s all right, Major . . .’
He didn’t know we’d been helping ourselves to stuff every Saturday for the last few months, ever since he’d taken the shop over.
‘I’ll just get going.’
He stopped me at the top of the stairs.
‘Listen, old thing, I’d rather you didn’t tell anybody about this, they might not understand. They might think I’m a bit silly, you know, laugh at me behind my back. Perhaps it could be – our little secret? Eh?’
I promised that I wouldn’t tell anybody. And I didn’t. Not even my mum.
‘Where’ve you been? It doesn’t take that long to go to the off-licence. I was beginning to get worried.’
I told her what had happened, that the shop door had opened when I’d been looking in, that I’d had to go inside and tell the Major that he hadn’t locked up properly and that he was upstairs listening to music. I told her everything – except that he was wearing Mrs Creswell’s dress. I kept that secret, like I’d promised.
The Fib, The Swap, The Trick and Other Stories Page 24
