MB02 - Last Tram To Lime Street

by Joan Jonker

  ‘Why stop at this end?’ Molly looked innocent. ‘Those new people live opposite Corker’s mam, don’t they? An’ didn’t I always tell Corker I’d keep an eye out for his mam when he was away?’ She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. ‘There’s no need to look at me like that, Nellie McDonough, ’cos honest to God, I’d made up me mind to go an’ see Mrs Corkhill long before Ellen said anythin’.’

  ‘I believe yer where thousands wouldn’t.’ Nellie winked at Ellen. ‘Give us a knock when yer goin’, girl, an’ I’ll come with yer. I don’t see why you should ’ave all the fun.’

  ‘I’d stay clear of that family if I were you,’ Ellen warned. ‘I wouldn’t go near them to save me life.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve no intention of goin’ near them,’ Molly answered. ‘I’m just goin’ to visit Mrs Corkhill, see how she is. Mind you, if she mentions them of ’er own free will, I won’t stop her. Wouldn’t be polite, would it?’

  Ellen started to titter. ‘Never a dull moment with you two, is there?’

  ‘No!’ Molly grinned. ‘We’ve got no money but we do see life, eh, Nellie me old mate?’

  ‘We see it because you go lookin’ for it,’ Nellie said. ‘That’s why I’m comin’ with yer tomorrow, to keep yer out of trouble.’

  ‘Me very own bodyguard.’ Molly blew her a kiss. ‘Don’t know what I’d do without yer.’

  Chapter Three

  Molly rapped on Mrs Corkhill’s door before turning sideways to view with curiosity the house opposite. The downstairs curtains were still closed, dragged across any old way to give the house an unkempt appearance, while the upstairs window had no curtains at all, just a piece of newspaper covering the bottom panes of glass. There were two girls outside playing with a rubber ball, and Molly thought they looked about eight and ten years of age.

  ‘Looks a bit of a mess, doesn’t it, Nellie? How would yer like them for neighbours?’

  ‘Huh! I’d do me flamin’ nut! Look at the houses either side of it, all spick an’ span, an’ that one stickin’ out like a sore thumb!’

  ‘Who is it and what d’yer want?’

  The voice from behind the door sounded abrupt, not a bit like the welcome they usually got from Corker’s mother. Surprised at having to communicate through the door, Molly called, ‘It’s only me, Mrs Corkhill.’

  There came the sound of a heavy bolt being drawn back, then the door opened. ‘This is a surprise, I wasn’t expectin’ anyone.’

  ‘Just got up, have yer, Mrs Corkhill?’

  ‘Nah, I’ve been up since six o’clock.’ The old lady shuffled down the hall in her carpet slippers, leaving Molly to close the door behind her. Fancy being caught like this, with her mob cap on and her false teeth in a cup of water in the kitchen. ‘When yer get to my age yer don’t need much sleep.’ Corker’s mother was small and slight, with pure white hair and deep lines etched on her face. But she was a wiry little soul and fiercely independent. Did all her own shopping and housework, and kept the place spotlessly clean.

  ‘Go ’way with yer, yer just a spring chicken!’ Molly gave her a hug. ‘I thought with the bolt still bein’ on yer must have just got up.’

  Mrs Corkhill bent and pushed the poker between the bars of the grate, lifting the coals to let a draught in. ‘The fire’s a bit low, but it won’t take long to burn up.’ She turned to face them, a hand covering her toothless mouth. ‘I wasn’t expectin’ visitors an’ yer’ve caught me on the hop. Me hair’s a mess an’ I’ve got no teeth in.’

  ‘We’re not visitors, we’re mates!’ Molly and Nellie sat side by side on the couch. ‘If it makes yer feel better, though, sunshine, go an’ comb yer hair an’ put yer teeth in.’

  A veined hand hid Mrs Corkhill’s smile. ‘Even at my age a woman’s got to have some pride, an’ there’s nowt worse than being caught with no teeth in.’

  ‘Go an’ see to yerself, then, girl,’ Nellie said, nodding knowingly. ‘Me an’ Molly aren’t in no hurry.’

  ‘I’ll only be five minutes.’

  When Mrs Corkhill had disappeared into the kitchen, Molly’s hand swept around the room, which was filled with ornaments and pictures that Corker had brought home from his trips at sea. ‘I bet there’s somethin’ here from every country in the world. Corker never comes home without a present for his ma.’ She pointed to the rug in front of the fireplace. ‘He brought that from India.’

  ‘They’re very nice and all that, but I’d hate the job of dustin’ this lot. Just look at all the brass ornaments on the sideboard and the mantelpiece, there’s a full day’s work just polishin’ that lot!’ Nellie’s chins wobbled. ‘No, I’ll stick to me Whistlin’ Boy, thank you very much! A quick flick of the duster an’ he’s done.’

  Molly lifted a warning finger. ‘Sshh! I thought I heard the door. Yeah, there it is again.’ Molly pushed herself up. ‘There’s someone knockin’, Mrs Corkhill, shall I go?’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Mrs Corkhill came in, drying her hands, the mob cap gone and her teeth in place. ‘Tell them I’m not in, will yer, Molly?’

  Molly turned, her hand on the door knob. ‘I can’t say that or they’ll wonder what I’m doin’ here. Anyway, yer don’t know who it is, it might just be someone canvassing, tryin’ to sell something.’

  Mrs Corkhill shook her head. ‘It’ll be them from over the road, on the borrow, as usual. She sends the kids over a few times a day on the cadge. Either a cup of sugar, some marg or a few rounds of bread. They’ve got me moth-eaten.’

  ‘Don’t tell me yer give them what they ask for?’ Molly saw the telltale blush and huffed with temper. ‘The bloody cheek! They’ve only been here five minutes!’

  ‘I don’t like refusing.’

  ‘If yer’d refused in the first place they wouldn’t keep comin’ back! Now they’ve got yer taped, they’ll never leave yer alone.’ Molly was beside herself with indignation. Fancy borrowing from an old lady! She looked at Nellie. ‘They certainly know who to pick on, don’t they?’

  The knock on the door was loud enough for the whole street to hear and Nellie shuffled to the edge of the couch. ‘Let me go, they’ll not be botherin’ yer again, Mrs C.’

  ‘No, I’ll go,’ Molly said, noting the apprehension on the old lady’s face. ‘It’s no good startin’ anythin’ ’cos Mrs Corkhill’s got to live here. I’ll make some excuse, then when Corker comes home he can deal with them.’

  Molly opened the door to the eldest of the two girls she’d seen playing ball. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I wanna see the old lady.’

  The brazen look on such a young face took Molly’s breath away, but she stayed calm. ‘The old lady? I suppose yer mean Mrs Corkhill?’

  ‘Is tha’ ’er name? Well, I wanna see ’er.’

  ‘You can’t see ’er now, she’s busy.’

  The crafty look in the youngster’s eyes warned Molly, and she was just in time to grab a thin arm as the girl made to dash past her. ‘Ay, ay, where d’yer think you’re goin’?’

  ‘I’m goin’ to see Mrs Whats-her-name, an’ you can’t stop me, yer don’t live ’ere.’

  Molly tightened her grip, amazed that a young girl would answer a grown-up back in such a defiant way. She’d belt hers if they did that. ‘I’ve told yer, she’s busy! Now get back home, where yer belong.’

  ‘I won’t! Me mam wants to borrer some tea, she hasn’t got none in the ’ouse an’ we want a drink.’ The girl’s leg came up and she aimed a kick at Molly, but missed when Molly stepped back just in time.

  ‘You little faggot!’ Molly’s nostrils flared in anger. ‘If yer were mine I’d have yer over me knee and give yer a damn good hidin’.’

  ‘Let go of me arm or I’ll call me mam.’ The girl tried to wriggle free but Molly’s grip was tight. ‘Me mam’ll kill yer.’

  ‘Oh, aye!’ Nellie had been standing by the living room door, listening to everything that was said. Now she came up behind Molly. ‘Did yer say yer mam was goin’ to kill someone? Well, you go an’ bring
yer mam over an’ we’ll see about that.’

  The girl weighed up the size of Nellie and her face lost some of its defiance. But still she brazened it out. ‘My mam can fight anyone, so there!’

  ‘This I’ve got to see.’ Nellie touched Molly’s arm. ‘Let her go. I can’t wait to see this female Joe Louis.’

  As soon as Molly’s grip relaxed, the girl fled, stopping halfway across the street to turn and stick her tongue out before running through the open door of the house opposite.

  ‘Well, have yer ever seen such a hard-faced kid in all yer life?’ Molly leaned back against the door. ‘No wonder Mrs Corkhill gives them what they ask for, she’s probably terrified of them.’

  ‘Let’s step outside, see if the mother comes out.’ Nellie held on to the door frame as she lowered herself down into the street. ‘D’yer know, girl, I hope she does! It’s a long time since we had any excitement.’

  Molly was thinking she could do without this kind of excitement when a picture of Corker flashed through her mind. He was six feet five, was Corker, and built like a battleship. He was well known in the area and well liked. Especially by the children. When he walked up the street with his sailor’s bag slung over his back, word would spread like wildfire and children would leave their ollies and footballs to run to meet him, drawn like a magnet to the gentle giant they called Sinbad.

  He was gentle, too, until he saw anyone being badly treated, then, roaring like a lion, he would move into action to help the underdog. And if it was the mother he adored who was being put on, then heaven help the perpetrator.

  As her imagination conjured up pictures, Molly let out a giggle.

  Nellie raised her eyebrows. ‘What’s ticklin’ yer fancy now?’

  Molly’s giggle turned into a full-blown laugh. ‘I’d love to see their faces when they get a load of Corker! If they’ve heard Mrs C’s got a son, they’ll expect ’im to be small an’ thin, like her, not a flamin’ giant!’

  Nellie began to see the funny side and her whole body shook with laughter. ‘Ay, wouldn’t it be funny if they sent over for a cup of sugar an’ Corker opened the door? They’d do it in their kecks.’

  ‘Oh, yez think it’s funny, do yez?’

  They looked across to the pavement opposite where a woman was shaking a fist at them. She was about the same height as the two friends, and her size was somewhere between Molly’s eleven stone and Nellie’s eighteen. Her red hair looked as though it hadn’t been combed for months, the pinny she was wearing was filthy and the stained navy-blue cardigan had big holes in the elbows. ‘Yez’ll be laughin’ the other side of yer faces if I get me hands on yez.’

  Nellie ran the back of her hand across her nose. Wait till she told George about this! It was like a scene from one of Old Mother Riley’s films. She tried to wipe the smile from her face, knowing it would only inflame the woman more, but her efforts were in vain. Walking to the edge of the kerb, she put her hands on her ample hips and stared the woman out. ‘Me an’ me friend don’t need to ask your permission to ’ave a private conversation, do we? Anyway, are yer comin’ over or not?’

  Rolling her sleeves up, the woman took stock of the situation. The one with the fair hair was no threat, she could easily deal with her. But the big woman was a different kettle of fish, she looked as though she could handle herself. And some of the neighbours were standing at their doors now, attracted by the shouting. If she got stuck in and came off worse, she’d be a laughing stock.

  ‘Go on, Mam, belt ’er one.’ The daughter who’d got her into this mess was pulling on her skirt. ‘Go on, yer said yer would.’

  ‘Get back in the ’ouse, yer little flamer!’ The woman bent and delivered a stinging slap to the girl’s bare leg. ‘Get in an’ do as yer told.’

  Rubbing her leg, the girl stumbled back into the house. What was the matter with her mam? She’d never dodged a fight before. She could lick anyone, her mam could. Why, she’d even knocked a man out in the street where they used to live.

  ‘Are yer comin’ over or not?’ Nellie goaded, thinking of Mrs Corkhill being taken for a ride by this woman and her family. ‘We’ve got other things to do, even if you haven’t.’

  Quickly deciding that the odds were stacked against her, the woman blustered, ‘If I didn’t ’ave a pan boilin’ on the stove, I’d be over there like a shot an’ sort yez out.’ The rolled-up sleeves were rolled up even further. ‘But I’m warnin’ yez, I’ll be on the lookout for yez in future.’

  ‘I can’t wait for the pleasure,’ Nellie shouted back. ‘Next time, pick a better excuse than a boilin’ pan.’

  Molly pulled on Nellie’s arm. ‘Come on, that’s enough. Don’t be eggin’ her on.’

  Nellie allowed herself to be propelled back into the house where Mrs Corkhill was standing twisting the corner of her pinny. ‘Oh, dear, I’m sorry you got involved. It would ’ave been easier to ’ave given them what they wanted.’

  ‘Not on yer life!’ Molly exploded. ‘Don’t let them borrow anythin’ off yer again, d’yer hear? If yer refuse them a few times, they’ll soon get fed up an’ leave yer alone. Let’s see if they can find anyone else as daft as you.’

  ‘It’s over now, Mrs C, so why don’t yer put the kettle on an’ we’ll have a nice cuppa?’ Nellie’s face was beaming. She’d enjoyed that little exchange and it had given her something to talk about to George.

  While they were having their tea Corker’s mam told of the trouble the new people had caused. ‘All the neighbours are up in arms over them. The children are allowed to do as they like, fightin’ with the other kids in the street an’ pinchin’ their toys. And they’re still playing out at eleven o’clock at night.’

  ‘Why aren’t they at school?’ Molly asked. ‘It’s a wonder the school-board hasn’t been after them.’

  ‘They haven’t been to school since they moved in.’ Mrs Corkhill passed a plate of biscuits around. ‘There’s a boy as well. He looks old enough to ’ave left school, but I don’t think he’s working because he doesn’t leave the house until after nine in the mornings. The father must ’ave a job, though, ’cos he’s out early.’

  ‘What’s their name?’ Molly asked.

  ‘Bradley. The girl yer’ve just seen, she said her name’s Joyce. The boy has been over on the cadge as well, but I don’t know his name. Real shifty-eyed he is, never looks yer straight in the face. I just wish they’d leave me alone.’

  ‘They’re a queer lot, if yer ask me,’ Nellie said. Then her brow creased as she asked, ‘They don’t borrow money off yer, do they?’

  Mrs Corkhill looked sheepish. ‘Only the once, a tanner it was.’

  Molly blew out in exasperation. ‘I know it’s a daft question, but did yer get it back?’

  When the old lady shook her head, Nellie banged her fist on the arm of the couch. ‘The bloody cheek of them! Yer’ll never get rid of them, Mrs C, unless yer put yer foot down. Next time they come, tell them to sod off.’

  ‘Never mind,’ Molly said, as the worry lines deepened. ‘Corker’s due home this week, he’ll sort them out.’

  ‘That’s what I’m worried about.’ Mrs Corkhill sighed. ‘I don’t want any trouble.’

  ‘Yer’ve already got it!’ Molly huffed. ‘But yer won’t ’ave it for long, not when Corker’s home. He’ll soon send them packin’ with a flea in their ear.’ She leaned forward to put her cup on the table. ‘We’d better be makin’ tracks, Nellie, I want to call an’ see old Miss Clegg before I go to the shops, in case she needs anythin’. You an’ Mary ’ave been doin’ me good deeds for me, but I’m back in the fold now, ready to do me share.’

  ‘Give us a leg-up, will yer?’ Nellie held her hands out and pushed herself forward when Molly pulled. ‘Thanks, girl, I don’t know what I’d do without yer.’

  ‘I do!’ Molly told her, laughing. ‘Yer’d be sat on that couch until George came lookin’ for yer tonight.’

  ‘Ho, ho, very funny!’ Nellie’s gentle push was enough to send Molly totterin
g backwards. ‘Yer that sharp yer’ll be cuttin’ yerself one of these days.’

  Mrs Corkhill smiled, wishing these two were her neighbours. She’d never tell Corker, ’cos he worried too much, but she did get very lonely sometimes. But she wouldn’t if Molly and Nellie were around, ’cos there’d never be a dull moment.

  ‘Don’t forget what we’ve told yer,’ Molly said as they stood on the doorstep. ‘If they come over again, don’t give them anythin’, not even the time of day.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ But Mrs Corkhill didn’t feel as confident as she sounded. She knew she wouldn’t refuse to give a cup of sugar or a few rounds of bread, not if it meant a peaceful life. She was too old to be fighting with neighbours, and that lot opposite were a right tough bunch.

  ‘We’ll nip up in the mornin’,’ Molly said. ‘Just for a few minutes to make sure everything’s all right.’

  ‘Yeah, we’ll do that.’ Nellie linked her arm through Molly’s. ‘Ta-ra, Mrs C, don’t do anythin’ I wouldn’t do.’

  ‘That gives ’er a wide scope, doesn’t it?’ Molly said as they waved goodbye. ‘There’s practically nothin’ you wouldn’t do.’ She could feel Nellie’s tummy shaking against her arm. ‘What’s tickling yer now?’

  ‘Yer right, there’s not much I wouldn’t do. But if yer were to ask George, he’d tell yer there’s some things I can’t do because me tummy gets in the way. Right frustrating it can be, I tell yer.’

  ‘Nellie McDonough, yer’ve got a filthy mind.’

  ‘Yeah, I know! Loverly, isn’t it?’

  Jack turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. Then he turned to Tommy, who was standing behind him. ‘Not a word, d’yer hear? I’ll tell them when we’re havin’ our dinner. I’m dying to see the look on their faces.’

  Jill and Doreen were sitting at the table when their father and brother breezed in, and Molly was just coming through from the kitchen with a plate in each hand. She smiled a greeting. ‘I’ll dish yours up now. No overtime tonight then, love?’