by Joan Jonker
‘She was absolutely brilliant,’ Molly said. ‘I felt proud of ’er.’
Jill was grinning. It sounded just the sort of thing Steve’s mother would do. She was fond of all his family. His dad was lovely, and she got on like a house on fire with his sister, Lily, who was the same age as herself, and his brother, Peter, who was fifteen. But it was his mother she loved. Always a smile on her face, a joke on her lips, and a heart full of warmth and compassion. ‘Wait till I see her tonight, I’ll pull her leg soft.’
‘Don’t do that, sunshine,’ Molly warned. ‘Mr McDonough won’t think it’s very funny, especially if that bloke comes down an’ offers him out.’
‘D’yer think that’s likely?’ Jack asked, a frown on his face.
‘I don’t know, love! I don’t know what sort of a man he is, do I? If he’s anythin’ like the wife, then he’ll be down with fists flyin’.’
‘Nah!’ Tommy said. ‘If he knows the girl stole the money he’ll stay well away. Stands to sense, doesn’t it?’
‘Yeah, I think yer’ve got a point there, son.’ Jack pulled on the lobe of his ear, a habit he had when he was thinking. ‘Just to be on the safe side, though, Jill, tell Auntie Nellie to send someone down here if he comes. An extra pair of hands might come in useful.’
‘I’ll keep an eye out,’ Tommy said, sounding all grown-up. ‘Ginger lives a bit higher up the street, so we’ll hang around. If I see anythin’ I’ll run down and tell yer.’
‘I hope it blows over until Corker’s home,’ Molly said. ‘I’d love to see them tangle with him.’
A slow smile spread across Jack’s face. ‘Now, that is somethin’ I’d give anythin’ to see. They’d throw the towel in before the fight began.’
Chapter Five
Nellie pulled a face when another sharp pain seared her chest. ‘Keep goin’, yer nearly there,’ she muttered through clenched teeth, hurrying up the street as fast as her cumbersome body would allow. She could feel the sweat running freely down her face and neck, meeting in the valley between her breasts to form a pool within the confines of her brassiere. Finally she reached Molly’s door and just had enough breath left to bang with the knocker before falling back against the side wall. ‘If I’d kept that up much longer, I’d ’ave killed meself.’ She wiped the sleeve of her coat across her brow. ‘I’ll ’ave to get rid of some of this fat, it’s no good.’
‘Who yer talkin’ to, soft girl?’ Molly asked, carefully stepping over the step she’d donkey-stoned not half an hour since. ‘They’ll be cartin’ yer away in a straitjacket one of these days, talkin’ to yerself.’
A hand to her chest, Nellie panted, ‘I was just tellin’ meself I’ll ’ave to stop eatin’, try an’ get me weight down. It’s either that or take a Bob Martin’s conditionin’ powder.’
Molly eyed the red face and heaving chest. ‘The sweat’s pourin’ off yer! Why have yer been runnin’?’
‘Yer can hardly call it runnin’, girl, more like a hop, skip an’ a jump.’ Nellie drew away from the wall. ‘I saw Corker go into the greengrocer’s an’ I thought I’d let yer know in case yer want to nab ’im before he goes home. He’ll be turnin’ the corner any minute, probably only went to get his mam a bunch of flowers, like he always does.’
‘What d’yer think, Nellie? Perhaps we should leave it an’ let his mam tell him herself.’
‘I’ll lay yer ten to one she won’t breathe a word! Yer know she never says anythin’ to worry him.’ A huge beam spread across Nellie’s face as she waved her hand high in the air. ‘Here he comes, yer better make up yer mind quick.’
Molly spun round, her smile of welcome matching that of the giant of a man walking towards them, his seaman’s bag slung over his shoulder, a bunch of white marguerites dangling from his hand. He’d stand out in any crowd, would Corker, and not just because of his size. Everything about him was colourful, from his ruddy complexion to his mop of sandy hair and matching thick moustache and beard.
‘Molly, me darlin’, yer a sight for sore eyes.’ Jimmy Corkhill swung his bag from his shoulder, put it on the ground with the bunch of flowers on top, then encircled Molly’s waist and lifted her off her feet. ‘I swear, the older yer get, the prettier yer get.’
Molly laughed down into the twinkling blue eyes of the man she thought was one of the finest God ever made, and one of the most handsome. He towered above all the other men in the street – even her Jack, and he was six foot. ‘Let me down, yer big soft thing.’ Molly kicked her legs backwards. ‘Yer’ll ’ave the neighbours talkin’.’
Corker was enjoying her embarrassment. ‘While yer up there, tell me how yer father is.’
‘He’s out of ’ospital an’ he looks fine. When yer’ve got a minute, he’d love to see yer.’ Molly beat her fists on his shoulder. ‘Now, will yer let go of me?’
‘Give us a kiss first.’
Molly planted a kiss on his cheek, her nose twitching as his beard tickled her skin. ‘Now put me down, yer’ve got me dress pulled up an’ I’m showin’ everythin’ I’ve got.’
‘Got yer frilly ones on, have yer?’ Corker roared as he lowered Molly to the ground, bringing a smile to the face of Nellie who was watching with amusement. But when Corker turned towards her, his arms outstretched, she backed away. ‘Oh no yer don’t, Corker! I know yer a big feller, like, but yer’d need the ’elp of King Kong to lift me.’
‘’Tis a kiss I’m after, Nellie me darlin’, not a broken back.’ Corker cupped her chubby face between his enormous hands and kissed her full on the lips. ‘That’s me welcome home present.’
‘Oh, aye,’ Nellie laughed, nodding to the flowers. ‘An’ I suppose they’re a welcome ’ome present for yer fancy woman?’
‘I’ve got the best fancy woman in the world, Nellie, an’ I’ve had her since the day I was born.’ Corker smiled as he picked up the marguerites. ‘Me ma loves fresh flowers in the house.’
Molly bit her lip when Corker lifted his bag by the drawstrings, her mind torn between telling him about the trouble his mother had had with the new neighbours and leaving it to see if she told him herself.
When Corker swung the bag over his shoulder, Molly quickly made up her mind. ‘Corker, ’ave yer got a minute? There’s somethin’ I want to talk to yer about.’
‘I’ll call in later, Molly, I think I’d better get home first. Me ma’s probably lookin’ out for me.’
‘It’s yer ma I want to talk to you about.’ Molly nodded to the open door. ‘I think yer should come in, it’ll not take but a few minutes.’
The smile dropped from Corker’s face. ‘She’s not ill, is she?’
‘No, she’s in fine health,’ Molly assured him. ‘But she ’as got a problem, an’ me an’ Nellie think she might be too frightened to tell yer herself.’
‘Lead the way.’ Corker followed them into the house, dropping his bag at the bottom of the stairs before ducking his head to get through the living room door. ‘Now, what’s all the mystery?’
Molly indicated that he should sit down, but for once she didn’t offer to make him a drink. He wanted to get home and she knew his mother would be back and forward to the front door watching for sight of him. So she didn’t waste any time as she hurriedly told the story, with just a few interruptions from Nellie when she remembered something her friend had left out.
Corker listened in silence, his head bowed, staring at his clasped hands. And when Molly had finished speaking, he stayed in that position for several minutes, causing Molly and Nellie to exchange looks of surprise. This wasn’t the reaction they’d expected, not from Corker. They thought he’d blow his top and rant and rave. But when he raised his head, the cold steel of his blue eyes told them of his inner anger. ‘Yer say this family moved into the Culshaws’ old house?’
Molly nodded. ‘Nobody knew Mr Henry had let it, he never said a dickie bird! They just turned up one day with a cartload of furniture.’
‘So nobody knows who they are, where they came from?’ When Molly shook
her head, Corker stood up and shook the creases from his trousers. ‘Right! I’ll be off home an’ see how the land lies.’
‘Corker, yer ma doesn’t know about Nellie’s little confrontation with the Bradley woman. She probably knows we went over, ’cos I’ve a feeling she was watching from behind her curtains, but she doesn’t know Nellie caught the girl out.’
‘I’ll sort it out, Molly, they won’t bother Ma again, yer can be sure of that! But I’d like to thank the pair of yez for keepin’ an eye on her, I appreciate it.’
Nellie squinted up at the big man. Anyone who didn’t know him would think he was taking it very calmly, because he didn’t seem a bit perturbed. But they’d be very wrong. This was the calm before the storm, and Nellie thought she wouldn’t be in the Bradleys’ shoes for a big clock. ‘What’ll yer do, Corker?’
‘What I’d like to do an’ what I will do, Nellie, are two different things.’ Corker’s laugh was hollow. ‘They deserve to be punished for pickin’ on an old lady, and I’ll find a way of doing it. But there’s more than one way of skinning a cat. In all the years we’ve lived in that house me ma hasn’t had a cross word with any of her neighbours, so I’ll not be doin’ anything that would shame her.’ His face was thoughtful as he stroked his bristly beard. ‘But they’ll not get away with it, yer can bet yer life on that! I’ve got a week’s leave, plenty of time to do what’s got to be done. And by the time I’m due back on board, the Bradleys will wonder what’s hit them.’
‘Well, yer know where we are, Corker, if yer need us,’ Molly said. ‘Just yell out.’
‘I’ll not be doin’ anything in a hurry, Molly. Just askin’ a few questions here an’ there, get the lay of the land.’ Corker nodded to both women before bending his head to walk through the door. ‘Thanks again.’
‘I’ll let you out.’ Molly followed on his heels. ‘We’ll see yer when we see yer, eh?’
‘I’ll be comin’ down to see Ellen and the kids tonight, so if yer see ’er will yer let her know?’ Corker raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘If I think me ma’s all right to leave for a few hours, I might give yer a knock to ask Jack out for a pint.’
‘Okay.’ Corker had walked a few steps when Molly called after him. ‘Would yer like me to ask Jill and Steve to sit with Ellen’s children while yer take her out for an hour?’
Corker raised his thumb, a hint of a smile on his face. ‘Molly, me darlin’, yer a little cracker.’
‘Flatterer! I bet yer say that to all the girls.’ Molly laughed. ‘Anyway, get home to yer ma, now, she’ll be worryin’. See yer later.’
Corker crossed the road dividing the two ends of the street, then paused briefly before turning left. If he went up the entry and in the back door, no one would know he was home. So anyone coming on the cadge would be in for a surprise.
Lizzie Corkhill heard the latch on the entry door click and dashed to the back window. Her face lit up when she saw her son striding up the yard. It never ceased to amaze her that she, not the size of sixpennorth of copper, had produced this mountain of a man. She’d had a hard time giving birth because he was a big baby, eleven pounds, but never in her wildest dreams had she, or her husband Ted, imagined he’d grow to be the man he was. Oh, how happy her life had been then, with a husband she adored and a son they both idolised.
When her husband had come home from work one day complaining of a heavy cold, little did she realise it was the beginning of the end of her happiness. The cold had quickly developed into pneumonia and within a week her forty-year-old husband was dead. She was heartbroken and would have lost her sanity but for Corker. He was only fourteen at the time, but he had enough sense to know he had to make his mother carry on from one day to the next, otherwise she’d die of grief. So Corker suffered his own pain in silence. He took over the mantle of the man of the house and he’d cared for his mother ever since.
‘What’s the big idea?’ Lizzie Corkhill opened her arms wide as Corker reached for her. ‘Yer’ve never come in the back way before.’
Corker lifted her up and spun her around. ‘I was checkin’ on yer to make sure the yard’s kept clean.’ He held her tight, tears of love glistening in his eyes. ‘How’s my sweetheart?’
‘Just fine!’ She tugged playfully on his beard. ‘I don’t need to ask how you are, you look the picture of health.’
‘I’m glad to be home, Ma.’ Corker set her down gently. ‘Just think, I’ve got a whole week of you spoiling me with yer apple pies and pans of scouse. The cook on the ship is hopeless, wouldn’t know a pan of scouse from a rice puddin’.’
‘I’ve got a rice puddin’ in the oven right now, doin’ nice and slow, just the way you like it. Plenty of sugar in and nutmeg on the top.’ Lizzie touched her snow-white hair, making sure the waves she’d set with sugar and water were still in place. ‘I’ll make us a nice cup of tea and put those flowers in water.’
Corker threw his bag down in the hall and hung his navy-blue reefer jacket and peaked cap on the small hall stand which boasted a round mirror with a bevelled edge. He stared at his reflection for a few seconds, wondering how he should react if his mother did confide in him. Deciding the best plan would be to play it by ear, he made for the chair already drawn up to the fire for him and took his packet of Capstan Full Strength from his pocket. After lighting up, he stretched his long legs out and surveyed the room. Spick and span as usual. She was real house-proud, his mother. And for her age she did very well, keeping the place like a new pin all the time, inside and out. The back yard was swilled down every day, and once a week, come hail, rain or shine, she’d be out scrubbing the red-raddled windowsill and donkey-stoning the front step.
Corker drew on his cigarette. He worried sometimes about what would happen when she could no longer look after herself. If he had a trade he wouldn’t go to sea, he’d stay home and look after her. But he wasn’t skilled, and a labourer’s job didn’t pay much, certainly not the sort of money he got in the merchant navy.
‘Move yer legs out of the way, son, an’ make room for this.’ Lizzie set a small table down by the side of him. ‘I’ll bring the tray in.’
Corker studied his mother’s face as she poured the tea. She was chattering away and had a smile on her face, but he sensed a tension in her voice and manner that just didn’t sit right with her. ‘Have yer been managing all right, Ma?’ He took the cup and saucer and steadied it on his knee. ‘Plenty of coal an’ everythin’?’
‘Yes, Tucker always makes sure I’ve got enough coal in.’ Lizzie smiled. ‘He throws me two bags in every week when the weather’s bad, doesn’t even ask.’
Corker was watching his mother’s face when the knock came and saw the flicker of nervous apprehension as she stood up. ‘I’ll just see who it is.’
‘Stay where you are,’ Corker said softly. ‘I’ll go.’
‘There’s no need to disturb yerself, it’ll only be a hawker.’
‘Ma, I said I’ll go.’ Corker’s voice was quiet but firm. ‘If it is someone sellin’ things, I’ll soon get rid of them.’
Corker opened the door wide. ‘Yes?’
Joyce Bradley put a hand to her mouth and stared. She’d never seen anyone as big, he was like a giant out of the story books. She swallowed hard, so surprised she was rooted to the spot, unable to move or utter a sound.
‘What is it?’ Corker asked. ‘Have yer come to the wrong house?’ The girl shook her head. If she went back home without the bread she’d been told to borrow, she knew she’d get a thick ear. She hadn’t wanted to come, not after what happened yesterday, but her mam had kicked her out of the door cursing and swearing, telling her the old lady was a soft touch.
Corker took stock of the dirty, lank hair, the tidemark around the girl’s neck, her grubby, torn dress and scuffed shoes. He could have found pity in his heart for her, because children were what their parents made them, but there was an insolence in the eyes that told him that what he’d heard from Molly was true. So he hardened his heart. ‘I’m waiting.’
The girl considered her options. She knew what to expect from her mother, but this man was an unknown quantity. Still, she couldn’t lose anything by trying. ‘Me … er … me … me mam wants to know … er … if she can borrow a few slices of bread.’
‘I was right,’ Corker said, ‘you have come to the wrong house. We don’t borrow in this house, and we don’t lend. So away yer go and pass the message on to your mother.’ He didn’t like what was happening, he felt like a big bully shouting at a little girl. But the face staring back at him wasn’t the face of an innocent child. This one was tough, with no respect or compassion for an old lady. She was also a thief. ‘Would yer like me to come over with you and tell her meself?’
The girl took to her heels and fled, leaving Corker to close the door with a look of sadness on his face.
‘Are yer going to tell me about it, Ma?’ Corker caught his mother’s eye as he eased himself down in the chair.
‘Tell yer what, son?’ Lizzie looked away, running a hand down the front of her dress to smooth out the creases. ‘What is it yer want me to tell yer?’
‘Ma, don’t try an’ pull the wool over me eyes, it won’t do yer no good. I met Molly and Nellie on the way up.’
‘Oh dear!’ Lizzie’s hands fluttered nervously. ‘I was goin’ to tell yer, honest! But I wanted to give yer time to settle in first, not be moaning at yer as soon as yer walked in the door.’
‘Okay, Ma, don’t be gettin’ yerself all upset.’ Corker twisted the end of his moustache. ‘I’ll get it sorted out, they’ll not bother you again. And I promise there’ll be no fighting, so there’s no need for yer to fret.’
‘I’m not the only one had trouble with them,’ Lizzie said, defending her stupidity. ‘None of the neighbours like them, but it’s all right for them ’cos they’ve got big families, they’re not on their own like me.’
‘I’m surprised at Mr Henry, lettin’ the house to the likes of them,’ Corker said. ‘Does he know what’s goin’ on?’
