MB02 - Last Tram To Lime Street

by Joan Jonker

  ‘No, I’ll dance this one with Doreen.’ He put his hand on Doreen’s back and moved her forward. ‘Can’t leave her on her own all night, so yer’ll have to share me … seein’ as Mike’s not here.’

  Phil reached them just as Sammy was leading Doreen on to the dance floor, and his face fell. He hesitated for a second before smiling at Maureen. ‘Would yer like to dance?’

  Oh, boy, can this boy move! Maureen felt herself floating effortlessly across the floor. Even if he was as ugly as sin he’d still be worth dancing with. She bit on the inside of her cheek to keep the laughter back as she thought how yer could always put a paper bag over his head if he was as ugly as sin, then yer wouldn’t know the difference. It’s no wonder Doreen’s fallen for him, he is def-in-itely the best. She looked for her friend and nearly burst out laughing when she saw the dark, threatening glare being directed at her over Sammy’s shoulder. She’s terrified of me telling tales out of school! Well, serves her right … let her be jealous for a change.

  ‘I can tell yer another of Connie Millington’s pupils.’ Phil smiled down at her. ‘She must be the best teacher in Liverpool.’

  ‘Yeah, she’s great. I used to go there with Doreen.’

  ‘And yer boyfriend?’ Phil raised his blond eyebrows. ‘That is yer boyfriend, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not really.’ That was true, Maureen consoled herself, me and Sammy are not courting as such. ‘I’m too young to ’ave a proper boyfriend.’

  ‘Sixteen in a few weeks like Doreen, are yer?’

  Maureen looked at him hard to see if he was making fun of her, but no, he looked really interested. ‘There’s only a week between our birthdays. I’m seven days older than her, so I get to be the boss.’

  Phil chuckled as he led her into a quick spin. ‘I can’t see anyone bossing Doreen around.’

  ‘Blimey, you catch on quick.’ Maureen found herself liking this lad who seemed to have everything going for him. Good looks, a smashing dancer and nice into the bargain. ‘Yer could say me mate’s high-spirited.’

  ‘The boy who isn’t yer boyfriend, on account of yer being too young to be courtin’, doesn’t seem to approve of me … if looks could kill, I’d be a dead duck.’

  ‘Oh, Sammy’s all right,’ Maureen said, ‘he’s just got a cob on ’cos Doreen didn’t tell Mike she was comin’ here tonight.’

  ‘She doesn’t have to, does she. Not unless they’re going serious.’

  ‘Nah, they’re not serious. I think Mike would like to be, but Doreen doesn’t feel the same way.’ Maureen was sorry when the music stopped. Sammy wasn’t a bad dancer but he wasn’t in the same league as Phil. She smiled and started to walk away. ‘Thank you, I enjoyed that.’

  ‘Yeah, me too.’ Phil touched her arm lightly. ‘Will yer ask Doreen to save me the next dance?’

  ‘I told yer I’m the boss … I won’t ask her, I’ll tell her!’ With that, Maureen turned in search of her friend and Sammy.

  ‘I’m goin’ to the toilet.’ Doreen bent to retrieve her bag from under the chair. ‘Are yer comin’, Mo?’

  Maureen pulled a face. ‘Do I have a choice?’

  Doreen linked her arm. ‘Come with me, save me walking through that lot on me own.’

  ‘Be back soon, Sammy,’ Maureen called over her shoulder as she was marched away. ‘Just goin’ to comb me hair.’

  Doreen didn’t speak until they were safely inside the toilet. Then she couldn’t get the words out quick enough. ‘What did he say? Did he mention me? What were yez talkin’ about?’

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!’ Maureen leaned back against the white-tiled wall. ‘The third degree, is it?’

  ‘Ah, come on, Mo … what did he say? Did he mention me?’

  ‘No, he asked me if he could take me to the pictures tomorrow night.’ Maureen saw the dismay on her friend’s face and moved away from the wall. ‘God, Doreen, yer’d fall for the flamin’ cat, you would! He said to tell yer to save the next dance for him, an’ if we don’t get back quick, he’ll think yer not interested.’

  Doreen nodded, her face eager as she opened the door and let her friend walk through first. ‘He’s nice, isn’t he, Mo?’

  ‘That’s putting it mild,’ Maureen said. ‘He’s gorgeous.’ She grinned impishly. ‘If yer not careful, I’ll make a play for him meself … give yer a run for yer money.’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ Doreen started when she saw Phil standing outside the door to the dance hall. ‘Yer not goin’ home, are yer?’

  ‘I’m making sure I get yer before the boy who isn’t Maureen’s boyfriend claims yer.’ Phil held the door open. ‘It’s a nice dreamy waltz.’

  ‘Mo, take me bag for me, will yer?’ Doreen’s face was creased in a smile that said she was blissfully happy. ‘I’ll see yer later.’

  ‘Yer better had!’ Maureen called as she watched the pair join the dancers on the floor. She could understand her friend falling for Phil; she could fall for him herself.

  ‘She’s nice, yer friend.’ Phil slowed down to a walk as he gazed into Doreen’s eyes. ‘I bet she’s full of fun.’

  ‘Yeah, she’s a good scout, is Mo.’ Doreen’s heart was thumping so hard she thought he must surely hear it. Those vivid blue eyes of his were flirting with her and she was loving every second of it.

  ‘I may as well come an’ stand with yez, save me having to dash across the floor all the time.’

  Doreen came down to earth. ‘No, don’t do that! Not tonight, anyway. Sammy won’t be here next week, then yer can stand with us.’

  ‘Can I walk yer home, then?’

  Doreen felt so light-headed she thought she would faint. This must be what falling in love was like. She wanted so much for Phil to walk her home and was sorely tempted to say to hell with what anyone thought. But even in her euphoric state she could hear warning bells. It wasn’t only what her friends thought that mattered … there was her mam to worry about. She’d have a duck egg if she knew her daughter had let a strange lad walk her home. She’d never trust Doreen again, and that would queer her pitch for any favours she might want … like staying out late again next Tuesday. ‘No, I came with Mo, so I’ll have to leave with her. Yer see, me mam’s very strict, she likes to know who I’m mixing with.’

  ‘I can hardly ask yer mam if I can walk yer home when I don’t even know her.’ Phil began to chuckle. ‘Yer know, it’s a novelty to me, havin’ to get permission from a girl’s mother before I can walk her home.’

  Doreen thought he was making fun of her and took the huff. ‘In that case, why don’t yer walk one of yer other girlfriends home? I’m sure yer’ve got plenty of them.’

  ‘Because it’s you I want to take home, that’s why.’ Phil found his interest growing. He was used to girls throwing themselves at him and found Doreen’s attitude a refreshing change. He knew by the innocence in her eyes that she was telling the truth and not just playing hard to get. ‘So when do I get to meet yer mam?’

  ‘When I’ve known yer a bit longer.’ Doreen was surprised at her own self-assurance. If she was truthful she’d have to admit she’d like nothing better than to see Phil every day of her life. He was everything in a boy she’d ever dreamed of. But she knew nothing about him … he might have half a dozen girlfriends for all she knew. ‘Me mam won’t let me bring a boy home yet, she says I’m too young. An’ we don’t know each other, not really. After all, we’ve only seen each other twice.’

  ‘So it’s a case of a few dances every Tuesday, eh?’ Phil sounded disappointed. ‘We’ll never get to know each other at that rate.’

  ‘When I’m sixteen I’ll take yer home to see if me parents approve.’ Doreen tilted her head, her eyes twinkling. ‘That’s if you’re still around an’ I’m still interested.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll still be around … will you still be interested?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’ Doreen lowered her lashes. Like every young person does at some time, she was wishing her life away. The next nine weeks wouldn’t go quick enou
gh for her. ‘So yer’ll be here next Tuesday, then?’

  ‘Wild horses wouldn’t keep me away.’ Phil pulled her close. ‘I won’t pretend I’m not disappointed, ’cos I am. But I agree with yer mam, she’s right to keep an eye on yer. Shows she’s a good mother and cares for yer.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Corker pulled a crumpled ten-bob note from his pocket and smoothed it out before placing it on the counter. ‘It’s quiet in here tonight, Les.’

  ‘Wednesday night, Corker, there’s no money around.’ The barman glanced around the snug as he pulled a pint. There were two workmen standing at the other end of the bar with pint glasses in their hands. They were wearing their working caps and overalls and their hands still bore the grime of a hard day’s toil. They came in every night, straight off the tram, for one pint of bitter before going home. He could set his clock by them … they arrived dead on the dot every night. Apart from them, the only other customers were three elderly men sitting on the benches along the wall. They came in regular every night too, just for some male company. Retired from work, they were glad to get away from their wives for a couple of hours. All they ever bought was a half-glass of beer, and that would last them all night. What they spent wouldn’t pay his wages, but Les didn’t mind, it was better than having an empty pub, lent a bit of atmosphere.

  ‘Was it four glasses of sherry, Corker?’ Les had been delighted when the big man walked in, followed by what looked like a small army. His takings would be well up on a usual Wednesday night, ’cos Corker always spent a few bob.

  ‘I’ll take these and come back for the sherry.’ Corker picked the four pint glasses up in his two huge hands and carried them to a table in the corner. ‘I got yer a pint, Bob, is that all right?’

  ‘Is it drunk yer’ll have him?’ Bridie asked, before Bob could open his mouth. She eyed the large glass with misgiving. ‘Sure he’s a man of moderation, so he is, an’ that’s altogether too much for him.’

  Bob winked at Corker before taking his wife’s hand in his. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart, this will last me till closing time.’

  ‘Truer words yer never spoke, Bob Jackson.’ Bridie slapped his hand. ‘’Cos won’t I be having me eye on yer all night?’

  When all the drinks were on the table, Corker raised his glass. ‘Here’s to us and ours.’

  Molly waited until they’d wished each other well, then leaned forward on her stool. ‘Go on, Corker, tell them what yer’ve found out.’

  ‘Molly!’ Jack tutted. ‘For heaven’s sake let the man have a drink in peace.’

  ‘Eh, you!’ Nellie’s dig in the ribs knocked Jack sideways. ‘Never mind leave the man in peace! I’m dyin’ to go to the lavvy, but I’m not movin’ until I hear what Molly’s bein’ so mysterious about. Sure as eggs, if I move I’ll miss something.’

  Corker roared with laughter as he licked the froth from his moustache. ‘Go to the lavvy, Nellie, I’d hate yer to have an accident. I promise me lips will be sealed until yer get back.’

  ‘Uh, uh!’ Nellie shook her head emphatically. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust yer, Corker, it’s me mate I don’t trust. She’s on pins, an’ I bet a pound to a penny that by the time my backside hit the lavatory seat she’d have it out of yer.’

  ‘Well, thanks very much!’ Molly’s attempt to keep her face straight failed miserably. ‘Oh, all right,’ she tittered, ‘but don’t blame us if yer wet yer knickers.’

  ‘An’ what sort of talk is that from a lady?’ Bridie asked. ‘Sure, haven’t I asked meself a thousand times who it is yer take after?’

  ‘And how many times ’ave I asked what the milkman an’ the coal-man looked like?’ Molly stood up and leaned across the table to kiss her mother’s cheek. ‘Don’t look so shocked, Ma, I’m only acting daft.’ She tilted her head to one side and in an accent that would fool even an Irishman said, ‘Sure, now, isn’t it yer dear sweet self I take after?’

  ‘D’yer know, I could ’ave spent a penny by now.’ Nellie clucked in disgust. ‘Will yer sit down, missus, an’ stop hoggin’ the limelight? Corker can’t get a word in edgeways.’

  ‘Wait till I wet me whistle.’ Corker lifted his glass and to everyone’s amazement emptied it in one go. ‘Mmmm, that was good.’ He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and turned to Ellen, who was seated next to him. ‘All right, love?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ She lowered her eyes and plucked at a loose strand of cotton hanging from the sleeve of her coat. Even the curls she’d coaxed with the help of Molly’s curling tongs and the make-up she’d taken ages to apply didn’t give her the confidence to feel at ease. ‘Go on, tell them what yer found out.’

  ‘Not much, really! Nothing to get excited about. Only that the Bradleys have got a scrapyard down Westminster Road. The father and that weed of a son run it between them. One goes out with a handcart, like a rag an’ bone man, while the other stays at the yard and buys second-hand stuff that people bring in.’ The three old men in the corner looked over when Corker’s loud guffaw filled the room. ‘Me mate said they’d buy anythin’ from a jam jar to a tram car.’

  Jack looked thoughtful. ‘Good way of getting rid of any stuff they knock off, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘Aye, the thought had crossed my mind, too,’ Corker said. ‘But how do we find out if any of the things he’s got in the yard ’ave been nicked? We need proof before we can do anythin’, an’ none of us could just go in and mooch around … he knows us too well for that.’

  ‘Ooh, isn’t it maddening?’ Nellie was perched on her stool with her legs wide open, showing the tops of her stockings which were held up by a piece of elastic tied in a knot just above her knees. ‘Mind you, little Dolly Lawton’s bike will be well gone by now. He probably flogged it for a few bob to get rid of it quick.’

  ‘There’s another little bit of tittle-tattle. Me mate said Mrs Bradley had a bun in the oven when they got married.’ Corker picked up his empty glass, a twinkle in his eye. ‘The talk in the neighbourhood at that time was that they had to get hitched because of her being in the family way. But when the baby arrived it didn’t look a bit like either of them. It had blond hair, an’ as yer know, she’s red-headed and he’s jet black. The wagging tongues had a field day, so I’m told. They reckoned the baby wasn’t his.’

  ‘Well, I’ll go to the foot of our stairs.’ Nellie’s face was doing contortions. ‘She must ’ave pulled a fast one on him.’

  ‘How d’yer know all this, Corker?’ Jack asked.

  ‘She used to live in Bullens Terrace, near the railway station in Marsh Lane, an’ one of me mates lived a few doors from her. They stopped with her family for two years until they got a place of their own. The neighbours weren’t sorry when they moved … they weren’t very popular.’

  ‘I bet she was the talk of the wash-house.’ Nellie’s chubby cheeks moved upward and her eyes disappeared in the flesh. ‘I was goin’ to say she was lucky anyone would marry ’er in that condition, but he’s no cop, is he?’

  ‘Now, love, don’t you go around spreadin’ tales,’ George cautioned, knowing his wife’s penchant for gossip. ‘After all, it mightn’t be true.’

  ‘Oh, trust you to put a damper on things.’ Nellie gazed around the group, looking for sympathy. ‘He’s a proper spoilsport is my feller … hates to see me enjoying meself.’

  ‘He’s right though, Nellie,’ Corker said, nodding to Jack and George to finish their drinks so he could get another round in. ‘Least said, soonest mended.’ He grinned at Bob as he reached for the three empty glasses. ‘Sorry, mate, but I’m not goin’ to ask yer to drink up, ’cos yer wife will kill me.’

  ‘I’ll come with yer, Corker.’ Jack squeezed past Molly’s legs, careful not to rock the table. ‘This round’s on me.’

  ‘I’ve got a better idea.’ George fished in his pocket and brought out half a crown. ‘We’ll have a kitty … that’s the best way.’

  Corker opened his mouth to protest, then changed his mind. He knew they
didn’t have much money, would probably have to scrimp and save for the rest of the week, but they had their pride. ‘Okay, we’ll do it your way. Four sherrys and three pints coming up.’

  Setting a glass down in front of each of the ladies, Corker told them, ‘I’ve got to report back to the ship at four tomorrow, we’re sailing at six.’

  ‘Ye gods, it wasn’t worth yer comin’ home!’ Molly was disappointed. So far they didn’t have enough on the Bradleys to go to Mr Henry, and with Corker away they wouldn’t be getting any more. ‘How long will yer be away this time?’

  ‘Only God knows that, Molly, an’ He won’t tell. I didn’t expect to be sailing so soon, but the way things are, yer can never tell. I knew this was goin’ to be a quick turnaround, but not this quick. The dockers must be working around the clock … non-stop.’ Corker turned to Ellen and patted her knee. ‘With a bit of luck it’ll be a short run, eh, love?’

  With all eyes on her, Ellen coloured. ‘Yer can never tell with you.’ She played with a strand of hair that had lost its curl and was hanging limply down the side of her cheek. Remembering how he’d caught her out yesterday, she cringed inside. She hadn’t been in long when he called and was still wearing her working overall which was covered in bloodstains where she’d wiped her hands down the front after serving customers. ‘It’s a case of here today an’ gone tomorrow.’

  Molly picked up her glass and sipped slowly at the sherry as she wondered about the couple facing her. With Ellen you could never tell. When Corker was there she never looked you straight in the eye, never dropped her guard. When he wasn’t there she wouldn’t talk about him … always steered the conversation on to safer ground. But the big man was a different kettle of fish. He showed his feelings openly and didn’t give a damn what people thought.

  Molly set her glass on the table. He was one of the best, was Corker, they didn’t come any better.