MB02 - Last Tram To Lime Street

by Joan Jonker

  As they drew closer, Mary expected the man to stand aside to let her pass, but with his head buried even deeper into his chest, he barged ahead, forcing her to step out of his path to avoid a collision. Angry now, she spun around, muttering, ‘The ignorant so-and-so.’ It was then that she spotted the lock of long black hair which had escaped from his cap and was lying on the collar of his navy serge jacket. There was only one man she knew who wore his hair like a gypsy, and that was Tom Bradley. Mary’s hand went to her mouth. Oh my God, what was he doing around here? She glanced first to her own back door, then to the side entry a few steps away, wondering which way to turn. Then instinctively her winged feet were taking her down the short entry towards the pub.

  ‘Nellie McDonough, if yer don’t stop harping on that vacuum cleaner of Maisie’s, so help me I’ll throttle yer.’ Molly set her glass on the table and appealed to her friend’s husband. ‘George, do us a favour an’ buy her one to shut her up.’

  ‘I’ve got one and thruppence in me pocket, Molly,’ George laughed, ‘if that’s any good, she’s welcome to it.’

  ‘I’ll have to do somethin’ about her … half past ruddy nine this mornin’ she was at me door, I hadn’t even made the flamin’ beds! An’ all she wanted was to talk about Maisie’s vacuum cleaner … or as Nellie calls it, “Maisie’s new fangled machine”.’

  Perched on one of the small round stools, Nellie folded her arms. Her voice calm, her face angelic, she spoke softly and slowly. ‘When I got out of bed this mornin’, I promised meself I wasn’t goin’ to lose me rag no matter what. Yer see, girl, it’s not good for the old ticker! So you go right ahead an’ call me all the names under the sun, an’ I won’t turn a hair. Sticks an’ stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.’

  ‘If I were you, Molly me darlin’, I’d give in,’ Corker boomed as he licked the beer from his moustache. ‘Yer on a loser with Nellie.’

  ‘I know! Yer’d have thought I’d have learned my lesson by now, wouldn’t yer? Twenty years, an’ I don’t think I’ve ever once got the better of her. It’s a wonder I haven’t got an inferiority complex.’

  ‘Haven’t got a what?’ Nellie gaped. ‘The state of her an’ the price of fish!’ She turned to Bridie. ‘Where does your daughter get all these big words from? When I was a baby I got Farley’s Rusks to chew on … I think she cut her teeth on a ruddy dictionary!’

  ‘Well now, it would be a dull world if we were all made alike, so it would.’ Bridie smiled. ‘I think the good Lord was very clever when he matched you two for friends. He gave Molly the gift of the gab, and you the gift of humour.’

  Nellie narrowed her eyes at Molly. ‘Ay, girl, how come when your ma is dishing insults out she does it in such a nice way no one ever gets offended?’

  Before Molly had time to reply, Mary appeared at the table, flushed and out of breath. With a hand to her chest, she gasped, ‘Mr Bradley’s in our entry.’

  ‘What!’ Corker stood up so quickly he sent the table rocking. ‘When was this?’

  ‘Just now! I didn’t recognise him at first, he’s wearing a cap, but it’s him all right.’

  ‘I’ll come with yer.’ Jack was already squeezing past Molly. ‘It’s about time someone sorted that little weasel out.’

  ‘We’ll all come.’ Molly jumped to her feet. ‘The more the merrier.’

  ‘No, just me and Jack.’ Corker waved her down. ‘Get a drink in for Mary, there’s a good girl. We won’t be long.’

  Outside, Corker nodded to the entry facing. ‘I’ll go in this end, you go down the side one opposite your house. I’ll wait here till yer get in place.’

  Tom Bradley was leaning against Miss Clegg’s wall, a hand-rolled cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth, when he saw Corker. Grabbing the bag at his feet, he made to bolt in the opposite direction, until he saw Jack and realised he was cornered.

  ‘And to what do we owe the pleasure?’ Corker towered over the sickly-faced man. ‘Come visiting, have yer?’

  ‘I’ve been on a message and was just takin’ a short cut to the tram. It’s a public entry, isn’t it?’ Tom Bradley, even though he was quaking in his shoes, decided the best way was to brazen it out. ‘Yez don’t own the bleedin’ place.’

  ‘I’ll grant yer that.’ Corker sounded quite amiable. ‘But I’m sure yer won’t mind answerin’ a few questions. For instance, what are yer doin’ in this particular entry? Why are yer leanin’ against this particular yard wall? An’ why, if yer only takin’ a short cut, have yer been hangin’ around for the last ten minutes?’ Corker’s tone changed as he moved menacingly closer. ‘An’ don’t tell fibs, ’cos I only get mad when people lie to me.’

  Tom Bradley changed the tool bag to his other hand. ‘I’ve told yer all I’m goin’ to tell yer. If I want to walk down a bleedin’ entry, it’s got sod all to do with you.’

  Corker sniffed and wrinkled his nose. His eyes narrowed, he bent towards the bag. ‘Can you smell anythin’, Jack?’

  ‘Yeah, I got a whiff of it before. Smells like paraffin to me.’

  Tom Bradley started to blink nervously. A frightened man now, he tried to bluff his way out. ‘I don’t ’ave to stand ’ere wasting me time talkin’ to you two! Out of me way.’

  ‘Not so fast,’ Corker said. ‘Let’s see what yer’ve got in that bag first.’

  ‘Who the soddin’ ’ell d’yer think yer are?’ Tom Bradley gulped as two hands the size of ham shanks grabbed his shoulders and pressed him back against the wall.

  Corker jerked his head. ‘See what’s in the bag, Jack.’

  Jack opened the bag and turned his head away from the strong smell. ‘Whew, it stinks!’ Gingerly he put his hand in and brought out a bundle of rags. ‘They’re soaked in paraffin … I wonder what he intended doin’ with them?’

  ‘I’ll take a guess, shall I?’ Corker bent his head until his eyes were on a level with Bradley’s. ‘Yer were hangin’ around until it gets dark, weren’t yer? Then yer were goin’ to set the rags alight an’ stuff them through the old lady’s letter box … right?’

  ‘No! I wouldn’t do that!’ Bradley’s struggles were useless against the strength of Corker. ‘I wasn’t goin’ to do nothin’ like that!’

  ‘What were yer goin’ to do with them, then? An’ by the way, I’m in no hurry. I can stand here all night if that’s what it takes to get the truth out of yer.’

  When Bradley was still sticking to his story twenty minutes later, Corker was running out of patience. He was certain the squirt of a man had been intent on causing trouble for Miss Clegg and Phil, but how to prove it? He thought of beating it out of him, but his sense of fair play ruled that out. Someone his size fighting a man he could lift up with one hand just wasn’t on. No, a radical solution was needed, one that would put the fear of God into Bradley once and for all.

  Corker racked his brains. He knew most of the desk sergeants at the local police station, perhaps they would help. Bradley was known to them, having been brought in several times on suspicion of theft. But they’d had to let him go each time because they’d no proof. He’d never been caught in the act and was too wily to keep knock-off stuff in his own home for the police to find when they searched. They wouldn’t be able to arrest him now because they had no proof he intended to commit a crime. Still, the police were Corker’s last hope. If Sergeant Murphy was on desk duty, he might think of some way of scaring Bradley so much he’d be afraid to show his face in the vicinity again.

  Grasping Bradley by the scruff of the neck, Corker pulled him none too gently away from the wall. ‘Right, it’s down to the local nick for you, me laddo. Let’s see what the police think of yer cock-and-bull story.’ He winked at Jack. ‘You bring the evidence along, Jack.’

  It was nine o’clock when the two men came out of the police station, cock-a-hoop. ‘Thank God for Sergeant Murphy!’ Corker chortled. ‘He came up trumps.’

  ‘He certainly did … he frightened the livin’ daylights out of me an’ I haven’
t done anythin’!’ Jack threw his head back and roared. ‘Did yer see the look on Bradley’s face when he was led away to the cells? He really thinks he’s for the high jump.’

  ‘Yeah, the Sergeant played his part well.’ Corker nodded to emphasise his feelings. ‘I don’t know how I kept me face straight when he said he was keeping the bag of rags as evidence. An’ I nearly cracked up when he said he was contacting all the police stations to see if they had anything on Bradley. This is one night that little crook won’t forget in a hurry.’

  ‘Will they keep him in the cell overnight?’

  ‘Sergeant Murphy comes off duty at midnight, so they’ll probably release him just before that. The officer relieving him might not have the same sense of humour as Murphy, so they’ll get Bradley out of the way before he comes on.’

  ‘I know we’re laughing,’ Jack said, ‘but it’s not a laughing matter, is it? I mean, what would have happened if Mary hadn’t spotted him in the entry?’

  ‘Doesn’t bear thinking about, Jack.’ Corker’s face was serious. ‘An’ yer right about it not bein’ a laughing matter. That’s why I want you to go on to the pub while I call in to Miss Clegg’s. I’ll make the excuse I’ve come to say goodbye, but I really want to have a quiet word with Phil. I think it’s only right he knows about tonight’s little drama. Not that I think Tom Bradley will be back. I’m convinced we’ve seen the last of him. But it’s best if Phil’s on his guard.’

  ‘You’re missing a lot of drinking time, Corker.’

  ‘I know!’ Corker groaned. ‘An’ it’s me last night. Ellen will have me guts for garters.’

  They stood outside the pub. ‘I’ll get a round in, Corker, so don’t be long.’

  ‘Fifteen minutes at the outside,’ Corker promised. ‘And give my apologies to everyone … especially Ellen.’ He started to walk away, then turned. ‘By the way, tell Nellie if she needs any acting lessons, go an’ see Sergeant Murphy.’

  ‘Are you sure yer know what yer doin’, lad?’ There was a worried frown on Jimmy Cookson’s face as he wiped his oily hands on a scrap of rag. ‘Have yer given it plenty of thought?’

  Phil nodded. ‘I’d be gettin’ called up next year anyway, when I’m twenty, so I might as well join up now.’

  ‘But there’s every chance yer won’t be in the first lot to be called up; we’re on war work here and that might exempt yer for a while.’ The older man could feel his anger rising. There were lots of young lads rushing to enlist, thinking of the excitement and glamour of being in uniform. But there was nothing glamorous about war. He should know, he had been in the trenches in the last lot and had seen many of his friends killed and maimed. And for what? Oh, they’d beaten the Germans, but the cost in lives and suffering was too high a price. No, if there was another war, and the likelihood was looking more certain each day, they’d have to manage without yours truly because Jimmy had had a bellyful last time. ‘Joining the army isn’t like joinin’ the boy scouts, yer know, Phil, yer can’t drop out if yer don’t like it. And yer can take it from me, boy, it’s no bloody picnic!’ He threw the rag down in disgust. ‘What have yer family got to say about this crazy idea?’

  Phil lowered his head, shrugging his shoulders. He’d never told his workmate about his family because he’d been too ashamed. And it was too late now to try and explain, because he’d end up telling Jimmy the real reason he intended joining up. ‘There’s not much they can do about it. It’s my life and I’m old enough to know what I want.’

  ‘Well, yer seem to have made up yer mind, so it’s no good me trying to talk yer out of it, even if I do think yer need yer head testin’.’ Jimmy gave a deep sigh. ‘Yer’d better go an’ see Mr Latimer about having tomorrow morning off. And stand well back when yer tellin’ him, ’cos he won’t be very pleased. There’s a few apprentices he’d like to see the back of, but you’re not one of them.’

  Jimmy was feeling very emotional as he watched Phil make his way to the glass-fronted office. He was surprised at the depth of his feelings for the lad. Mind you, anyone that couldn’t get on with Phil Bradley must be very hard to please. They’d worked together now for five years and never a cross word between them. Funny how you took people for granted when you were with them every day, you sort of expected things to go on forever. But Phil’s news this morning had certainly shaken him out of his complacency … it was like a bombshell, knocking him for six. He couldn’t have felt any worse if it had been his own son.

  Jimmy wasn’t a shirker, he never wasted time in work. But because of his concern, he now took the time to watch as Phil knocked on the office door, waited for a second then walked in. The bottom partition of the office was wood, the top half glass. So all Jimmy could see of his workmate was his back from the shoulder blades up. He couldn’t see the manager, Mr Latimer, but guessed by Phil’s head movements that he was seated behind his desk. After a short while, Mr Latimer shot up like a jack-in-the-box. His face was red and angry, and as his shoulder moved up and down, Jimmy knew he was banging like hell on the desk with his fist.

  ‘I told him he wouldn’t like it,’ Jimmy muttered. ‘Let’s hope he can talk some sense into the lad.’

  But when a pale-faced Phil appeared at his shoulder, and Jimmy raised his brows questioningly, the lad shook his head. ‘He called me all the stupid buggers under the sun, but I told him I’d made up me mind.’

  Jimmy sighed. ‘So yer off in the morning?’

  ‘Yeah. It shouldn’t take long, I’ll probably be back here before the dinner break.’

  ‘Where d’yer have to go?’

  ‘There’s a recruiting office in Pembroke Place. I can get the tram to London Road, get off the stop before TJ’s and just cross over.’

  ‘Will yer promise me one thing, son?’

  ‘Yeah, sure, Jimmy!’

  ‘That yer’ll give it more thought before yer commit yerself. Think of all the people and things yer’ll leave behind.’

  ‘I’ll do that, Jimmy.’ Phil found it hard to smile. Hadn’t he spent the whole night tossing and turning in his bed, thinking of those he’d be leaving behind? Because of the rotter his mother had married, he was being forced to walk away from the only people who had ever shown him kindness and respect. Like Jimmy here … you could walk to the ends of the earth and never find a better bloke.

  And Aunt Vicky … The thought of leaving her made him want to cry. He didn’t know how he was going to pluck up the courage to tell her. He certainly couldn’t say he was doing it for her sake, so his family would leave her alone. He’d have to find the right words to tell her how much she meant to him. She was his family now, and if she’d have him, he wanted her home to be his home. He’d have to ask Molly and Nellie to help him over that hurdle, and also ask them to keep an eye on the old lady for him. They were two he’d certainly miss … they’d turned out to be really true friends.

  But it was a slim, blonde-haired girl with laughing blue eyes and a cheeky grin who was causing him the most heartache. She was his dream girl, he was crazy about her. He’d been filled with hope over the last week as the signs indicated she wanted to be friends again, and each night he’d lain in bed dreaming of a blissfully happy future together.

  But it wasn’t to be. He’d soon be gone and Doreen would find another bloke and forget Phil Bradley ever existed.

  May Tom Bradley rot in the hell he deserved.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ‘I’d given you up hours ago!’ Jimmy Cookson rested his hammer and gazed at Phil. ‘I had visions of them givin’ yer a tin hat and a kitbag and sendin’ yer off to camp.’

  After running all the way from the tram stop, Phil was red in the face and his breathing was laboured. He’d been expecting to be back at work before dinnertime; instead, it was now four o’clock. ‘That recruitment office in Pembroke Place was like a madhouse … yer’d have to see it to believe it. I waited an hour to be called over to one of the desks, and I thought it would just be a case of giving me name and address in, th
en waiting for them to send me a letter to go down for a proper interview. But after the officer I saw took all me particulars down, he handed me the form and told me to take it around to Central Hall in Renshaw Street.’ Phil, struggling into his dungarees, was dazed by the speed of events. ‘When I got round to Central Hall, that place was chock-a-block too! The form was taken off me by a soldier standing near the door, and I was told to take a seat and listen for me name to be called out. That meant another long wait, then more questions and more forms to be filled in.’

  ‘And what happens now?’

  ‘I’ll get a letter in the next week or two to go for a medical. The bloke asked which service I would prefer, the army, navy or air force. I said the army, although I don’t really mind.’

  ‘So yer’ve been and gone and done it, eh?’

  ‘Yep! No turning back now.’

  Jimmy shook his head sadly, thinking what a waste it was. ‘Have yer had anythin’ to eat, son?’

  ‘Yeah, I was that hungry, me tummy thought me throat was cut, so I nipped into the Kardomah for a pot of tea and a round of toast.’

  ‘Then we better get crackin’ on this job. It’s wanted in a hurry, part of an order that’s due for delivery the day after tomorrow.’

  Phil went at the job hammer and tongs, trying to rid himself of the doubts racing through his mind. One voice was telling him he was crazy, while another answered that under the circumstances it was the best thing he could do. With him away, Tom Bradley would have no reason to be turning up like a bad penny.

  His biggest worry was telling Aunt Vicky. He dreaded breaking the news to her because he knew she’d be hurt and upset. So even while he was calling himself a coward for putting the deed off, he made up his mind not to say a word until the letter came asking him to attend a medical.

  ‘If you two don’t put a move on, it’ll be time to come home before yez get there,’ Molly said, walking to the door with Doreen and Mo. She eyed them up and down as they stepped into the street and had to admit they looked very attractive. But she wouldn’t tell them that, ’cos their Doreen was big-headed enough as it was. They were off to Connie Millington’s, their dance shoes tucked under their arms. ‘The time yer’ve taken gettin’ yerselves all dolled up, anyone would think yer were going to a big swanky do.’