MB02 - Last Tram To Lime Street

by Joan Jonker

  ‘I thought yer’d be in bed by now.’ Doreen was surprised to see her mother and father sitting quietly listening to the wireless. The serious expressions on their faces caused her to ask, ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Bloody Hitler, that’s what’s up!’ Molly lifted her hand. ‘Sshh, let’s listen.’

  Doreen dropped her dance shoes and slipped out of her coat. Standing by the door, she listened to the words coming from the set. From the tone of the man’s voice, whatever had happened was serious. Hitler’s name was mentioned, then soldiers, guns and tanks. ‘What’s happened, Dad?’

  Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly between clenched teeth. ‘Germany’s invaded Czechoslovakia.’ He took another deep breath and there was anger in his voice when he continued. ‘It’s been stickin’ out a mile what he was up to. They’ve had soldiers massed at the border for weeks, and anyone with half an ounce of intelligence could see what he was going to do. But apart from a few warnings from the likes of Chamberlain, no one did anythin’ about it. Now he’s lifted his two fingers up to the lot of us and marched into Czechoslovakia with whole armies, tanks and aeroplanes. And I’ll bet a pound to a pinch of snuff he gets away with it, because no one is strong enough to bloody well stand up to him.’ Jack only ever swore when he was worried or in a temper, and right now he was blazing. ‘He’s been gearing up for this for years and we should have seen it coming. But instead of building our forces up, we’ve sat on our bloody backsides and let it happen.’

  ‘Perhaps the Czechoslovakian people will stop him,’ Molly’s face was drained of colour. ‘They’re bound to fight back – they won’t just stand there and let Hitler take over their country.’

  ‘Well I can’t see them being able to stop him. He’s got enough forces and armaments to take on the whole of Europe. Yer’d have thought we’d have learned our lesson from the last war, but no, we’ve well and truly been caught with our trousers down.’

  Doreen sat on the arm of the couch. ‘Will we get dragged into a war, Dad?’

  ‘I’m not very clever, love, but to me it’s as plain as the nose on yer face. If Hitler takes Czechoslovakia – and I’ve no doubts he will – he won’t be content. He’ll go for another small country, and then another.’ Jack lit a cigarette and drew deeply. ‘He’s got to be stopped.’

  Doreen met her mother’s eyes. ‘Does that mean all the young fellers will be called up?’

  ‘I dunno, sunshine, I don’t know what to think.’ Molly ran her fingers through her hair. ‘It’s beyond me why men want to fight each other.’

  ‘Sshh!’ Jack lifted a hand for silence. His ear cocked towards the wireless, he listened intently. Then he shook his head. ‘That’s the beginning … Chamberlain has denounced Hitler and recalled our ambassador.’

  ‘Does that mean we’re at war?’ Molly asked, her hands tightly clasped on her lap.

  ‘Not yet … not officially. But mark my words, it won’t be long before we are.’

  ‘They wouldn’t call you up, would they, Dad?’

  ‘No, not an old crock like me.’ Jack noticed the frown on his daughter’s pretty face and cursed himself for helping to put it there. Time enough to worry when and if his gut feeling was turned into reality. ‘Anyway, as the saying goes, “don’t worry, it may never happen”.’

  ‘Ooh, I hope not.’

  They heard the key in the lock and three pairs of eyes were on the door when Jill came through. ‘I’m sorry I’m a bit late, Mam, but I was listening to the news on the wireless at Steve’s.’ She put her handbag down on the floor. ‘Sounds pretty grim, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Well, it’s certainly nothin’ to celebrate.’ Molly put her hands on the sides of her chair and pushed herself up. ‘It’s a pity Hitler’s mother didn’t drown him at birth … she’d have been doin’ us all a favour.’

  ‘Now as yer come to mention it,’ Jack’s brow was furrowed, ‘isn’t it funny that all they’ve written in the papers about Hitler, there’s never been one word said about his family?’

  ‘They’ve probably disowned ’im,’ Molly grunted. ‘Who in their right mind would want him for a son, or a brother?’

  ‘Funny that,’ Jack mused, ‘he must have some family.’

  ‘I dunno, an’ I don’t ruddy well care.’ As she untied the knots in her pinny, a sudden smile crossed Molly’s face. ‘Perhaps he’s been made up of nuts and bolts … like that Frankenstein monster.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Mam, that wasn’t real! It was only a picture!’ Too late, Doreen saw the twinkle in her mother’s eye and blushed. ‘Oh, you!’

  ‘Me mam’s right about one thing,’ Jill said, ‘Hitler is a monster.’

  ‘Whatever he is, I’m not goin’ to lose any sleep over him.’ Molly yawned and stretched her arms aloft. ‘If I do dream, it’ll be about Ray Milland or Cary Grant, not a little feller with a stupid moustache who struts around with his hand in the air shouting “Heil Hitler”.’

  ‘Ay, come off it!’ Jack pointed a stiffened finger. ‘If you do dream, it had better be about me or I’ll want to know why.’

  ‘Don’t be gettin’ yer knickers in a twist.’ Molly bent towards him and rubbed her nose against his. ‘Yer see, in me dreams I’m not me! I mean, with the best will in the world, yer can’t see Clark Gable kissing me, now can yer? So I make believe I’m Jean Harlow, Myrna Loy or Constance Bennett. I wear glamorous chiffon or flowing silk dresses, an’ I lay on a chaise-longue with a glass of champagne in one hand and a cigarette holder in the other. An’ I have all these handsome men kneeling in front of me, paying homage, like.’

  All thoughts of war forgotten, Jack’s hearty chuckle filled the room. ‘No wonder yer like going to bed early, yer have a fine time in this secret life of yours.’

  Jill had pulled out a chair and sat down, her elbows resting on the table, her face cupped in her hands. ‘Go on, Mam, it was just gettin’ interesting.’

  ‘Yeah, go ’ed, Mam.’ Doreen sounded eager. ‘Tell us what happens.’

  ‘Oh, how soft you are!’ Molly gave Jack a broad wink before straightening up. ‘Yez can go and find yer own dreams, ’cos yer not being invited into mine.’

  ‘Oh, all right, meanie.’ Doreen stuck her tongue out cheekily. ‘I won’t tell yer about my dreams, so there!’

  Jill turned to her sister, a smile on her face. ‘Talking about dreams, was your dreamboat at the dance?’

  Doreen blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘He’s not my dreamboat, just a bloke I dance with.’ Then she realised she was being stupid. After all, she’d be wanting to bring Phil home in a couple of weeks, so it would be better to prepare her parents. The thought gave her the courage to go on to say, ‘He is nice, though, an’ I do like him.’

  ‘Don’t be gettin’ too serious, sunshine, ’cos one engagement in the family is enough to be going on with.’ Molly made for the door, scratching her head and yawning. ‘Anyway, yer far too young to be courting.’

  ‘Can I ask ’im to me birthday party? Then yer can see him for yerself.’

  ‘Birthday party!’ Molly croaked. ‘Who said anythin’ about yer having a birthday party?’

  ‘Ah, go on, Mam! Not a real party, just a few friends.’

  ‘Ask yer dad … I’m too tired to think straight.’ Molly walked from the room, calling, ‘Good night and God bless, everyone.’

  ‘Can I, Dad?’

  How can I refuse? Jack asked himself. Jill was courting Steve when she was only fifteen and he couldn’t make fish of one and flesh of the other. ‘You can certainly ask him along, love, an’ a few of yer friends. But don’t expect too much, because yer mam’s got Jill’s engagement party comin’ off an’ that’ll cost a few bob.’

  ‘Ooh, thanks, Dad.’

  Doreen didn’t need to dwell on her mother’s dreams that night; she had plenty of her own. All happy dreams, and Phil was in all of them.

  When the knock sounded at half past seven the next morning, Molly looked down in dismay at her scruffy dressing gown. ‘W
ho the heck’s knocking at this time in the morning?’ she muttered as she walked down the hall. ‘The flamin’ streets are not even aired yet.’

  ‘I’m sorry to bother yer so early, Molly,’ Ellen Clarke fussed, ‘but I told Tony I’d open up this morning so he could get to the abattoir.’

  ‘Yer surely haven’t given me the fright of me life just to tell me that?’ Molly tutted. ‘I thought someone was dead.’

  ‘Our Gordon wasn’t a bit well last night … he had a real temperature an’ I didn’t like leaving him. So I was wonderin’ if yer’d do me a favour and nip up to Corker’s when yer’ve got time and pass his message on to his mam? I feel mean not goin’ up to see her meself, but there’s no way I could ’ave left our Gordon, not the way he was.’

  ‘Yeah, of course I’ll tell her,’ Molly assured her. ‘I’ll slip up as soon as I’ve got Ruthie off to school. But what about Gordon? Who’s lookin’ after him while you’re at work?’

  ‘I’m keepin’ our Phoebe off school, she’ll look after him. He’s not nearly so bad today, just a sore throat, no temperature.’

  ‘You poppy off to work and don’t worry. I’ll see Mrs Corkhill an’ I’ll also keep an eye on Gordon.’

  ‘Thanks, Molly, yer a pal.’ Ellen waved as she hurried away. She was lucky to have a neighbour like Molly Bennett … salt of the earth, she was.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘What a ruddy mess yer makin’,’ Molly joked to one of the workmen busy laying electricity cables. ‘When yer get down to our ’ouse I’ll have a brush an’ shovel at the ready, so yez can clean up after yerselves.’

  The workman laughed, a grimy hand pushing his cap to the back of his head. ‘As long as yer keep us supplied with cups of tea, I’ll personally make sure they wipe their feet every time they pass your house.’

  ‘How long before yer down to me?’

  ‘I’d say about two weeks … three at the most.’

  ‘Ooh, the gear! We’ll have ’leccy light for me daughter’s engagement party!’ Molly moved her shoulders up and down to show her pleasure. ‘We won’t know we’re born, will we? Just think, no more standin’ on a chair to light the gas, an’ no more ruddy gas mantles! Plus, we’ll be able to see what we’re saying.’

  ‘I like me tea with two sugars,’ the man called as Molly made to walk away. ‘An’ strong enough to stand the spoon up in.’

  ‘Oh, aye, gettin’ cocky now, are yer?’ Molly laughed. ‘Yer’ll get what yer given and like it.’

  She was in a happy frame of mind as she walked to Corker’s. She wouldn’t know herself when they had electric light. No more sore eyes trying to read or sew by gaslight. And if her ma was to be believed, the electric meter didn’t take any more coppers than the gas had.

  Molly lifted the knocker and gave a light rap. And while she waited for an answer she gazed across the street to the Bradley house. No improvement there … the raggedy curtains were still pulled across windows that had never seen a chammy leather, and the windowsills were filthy.

  ‘Hello, Molly.’

  Molly’s mouth gaped. ‘Corker! What the ’ell are you doin’ home? I’ve come up to give yer mam this message yer sent, an’ here yer are!’

  ‘Come in.’ Corker stood aside to let her pass. ‘I just got back to the ship after ringin’ Maisie from a phone box, an’ the Captain said I could have three days’ leave.’ He followed her down the hall. ‘I didn’t ring again because I was rushing around, ready to get the night train.’

  ‘Hiya, Mrs Corkhill.’ Molly made straight for the roaring fire and spread her hands out in front of the warmth. Although it was March and the worst of the winter was over, there was a cold wind out. ‘I did pass the message on to Ellen, but she couldn’t come last night because young Gordon wasn’t well. If I’d known, I’d have come meself.’

  Corker took hold of Molly’s arm and pulled her around. There was concern on his face as he asked, ‘What’s wrong with the little feller?’

  ‘Ellen said he had a temperature and she was frightened to leave him. But when she knocked this morning she said he was a lot better.’

  ‘Has she gone to work an’ left him?’

  ‘No, Phoebe’s stayed off school. An’ I said I’d keep an eye out for them.’ Rubbing her hands, Molly smiled at Mrs Corkhill. ‘Made up to have yer son home, eh?’

  ‘I was beginning to think he’d run off. One letter I’ve had from him since he went away … just one!’ Mrs Corkhill craned her neck to look up at the son she adored. ‘I’ve been worried sick about yer.’

  ‘Now, Ma, what could happen to me?’ Corker placed his two huge hands around her waist and lifted her up as easily as he would a china doll. ‘D’yer not think I’m old and ugly enough to look after meself ?’

  ‘Put me down, yer daft beggar.’ Mrs Corkhill pushed against his chest, pretending to be angry with him. ‘One lousy letter in all that time.’

  ‘Ma, there’s no pillar boxes in the middle of the ocean.’ Corker put her down gently. ‘An’ yer know I’m no good at letter-writing … I can’t spell an’ I never know what to write about.’

  ‘That’s a poor excuse.’ Mrs Corkhill gave Molly a sly wink as she bustled towards the kitchen. ‘Yer don’t deserve it, but I suppose I’d better make yer something to eat.’

  ‘Bacon and egg, with some fried bread, Ma.’ Corker licked his lips. ‘And plenty of bacon fat to dip me bread in.’

  ‘So, yer’ve only got three days, Corker?’ Molly asked as they heard the gas plop under the frying pan. ‘Not long, is it?’

  ‘Only two days really, today and tomorrow. I’ll have to travel back on Friday morning. I caught the night train last night so I could have the extra day, but I wouldn’t like to do that again, the journey seemed endless.’

  ‘Ellen will get a surprise,’ Molly said. ‘Will you call in the shop and let her know?’

  Corker nodded, then looked towards the kitchen where the bacon could be heard sizzling in the pan. In a low voice he said, ‘I want her to ask for the day off tomorrow so we can go an’ see Nobby.’

  Molly’s brow shot up in surprise. ‘Why d’yer want to waste one of yer days goin’ all the way to Winwick?’

  ‘Not now.’ Corker put a finger to his lips. ‘I’ll tell yer another time.’

  Mrs Corkhill popped her head around the door. ‘Nearly ready, son. Will yer set the table for me?’

  Molly moved towards the hall. ‘I’ll make meself scarce so yer can eat in peace. D’yer want me to ask our Jill to sit with Ellen’s kids tonight, so yez can go out?’

  Corker chuckled. ‘You’re a mind-reader, Molly Bennett.’

  ‘Call in to ours when yer’ve got a minute, I’ve somethin’ to tell yer about the Bradleys. Me an’ Nellie have done a bit of detecting work.’

  ‘I was asking Ma about them when yer knocked.’ Corker saw his mother coming from the kitchen with a plate in her hand and he jumped up. ‘Hang on a minute, Ma, while I get the cloth.’

  ‘Have you seen anythin’ of the Bradleys, Mrs Corkhill?’ Molly asked. ‘Not been botherin’ yer, have they?’

  ‘Molly, me door’s firmly closed an’ I keep meself to meself. They haven’t been near me since the last little do, but I know the neighbours are plagued by them. Living right opposite, I can’t help but see and hear things. Still, as long as they leave me alone I’m not going to get involved.’

  ‘Quite right, sunshine.’ Molly was staring at the plate of bacon, eggs, tomatoes and black pudding. It looked so appetising she could feel her mouth watering. ‘I’m going before I ask for a drippin’ buttie.’

  ‘Yer can have one, lass, I’ve got some dripping in.’

  ‘No, thanks, Mrs Corkhill, me eyes are bigger than me belly. It’s not long since I had me breakfast, so I can’t possibly be hungry.’ Molly wrapped her coat closely around her body. ‘I’ll be on me way, but I’ll see yer tonight, eh, Corker?’

  ‘You will that, Molly me darlin’.’ Corker had made a bacon sandwich and it was halfway to h
is mouth when he said, ‘I’ll pick Ellen up, then we’ll give yer a knock.’

  ‘I’ll see you to the door, Molly.’ Mrs Corkhill wiped her hands down the front of her pinny. ‘When my son’s got a plate of food in front of him, not even the King could take his mind off it.’

  When Molly reached the end of the terrace she hesitated, debating whether to slip around and see her parents, or call to the Clarkes first to see how Gordon was. After dithering for a moment, she muttered aloud, ‘Me ma first, then Gordon.’

  Bridie’s face lit up when she saw her daughter. ‘Now this is a pleasant surprise, so it is. Yer da will be happy to have someone to talk to … he was just complainin’ that he’s fed up talking to the flowers on the wallpaper.’

  Molly gave her mother a peck on the cheek before breezing through to the living room. ‘Top of the mornin’ to yer, Da!’

  Bob laid down the morning paper, a smile creasing his face. ‘Hello, lass, it’s good to see you.’

  ‘I can’t stay long, but I’ve always got time for a cup of tea.’ There was tenderness in Molly’s eyes and sadness in her heart. Her da had aged so much since his heart attack. His face was pale and lined, and he seemed to have shrunk in size. He didn’t half miss going out to work, and the camaraderie of his workmates. He was always restless these days, fretting because the doctor had told him he mustn’t do anything strenuous, and Bridie made sure he did as he was told.

  ‘Sure, I don’t need the house to fall in on me before I take a hint, so I don’t.’ Bridie headed for the kitchen. ‘One pot of tea coming up.’

  ‘Pour me the first cup, Ma, yer know I don’t like it too strong.’ Molly settled herself on a chair near the fire. ‘How yer diddling, Da?’

  ‘Plodding on, lass, just plodding on. I get fed up sometimes, being so inactive, but still, I mustn’t complain.’