by Joan Jonker
Mary left her place to come and give Polly a hug. ‘Sure, that was good salesmanship, me darlin’, so it was. I’m proud of yer.’
The other women all smiled encouragement and Polly felt as though she’d been accepted. Her next customer wanted a bunch of marguerites, and Polly decided to try her powers of persuasion once again. She took the bunch of white flowers out of the bucket, then picked out a piece of fern. ‘See how nice the green looks with the white? It doesn’t half set them off.’
The customer pursed her lips. These Mary Ellens would sell yer the flaming Town Hall if you were daft enough to buy it. Still, she had to admit the girl had a point. The green did set the white flowers off a treat. ‘How much is the fern?’
‘Only a penny, madam, an’ definitely worth it.’ Polly remembered Mary telling her not to be too forward so she added, ‘But it’s up to you. If yer don’t want it then yer don’t have to buy it.’
The woman opened her handbag and took out a purse. ‘Go on, I’ll take them both.’
Sarah Jane was beside herself with happiness as the day wore on and her pocket became heavier. Polly had picked things up so quick the old lady hadn’t stirred from her stool all day. The girl definitely had a way with her, no doubt about that. She was doing as much business as any of the other vendors and it was all down to the smile that was forever present on the pretty face.
‘Have yer got change of half a crown, Sarah Jane?’ Polly handed the coin over. ‘Two bunches of carnations and one gypsy grass.’
The old lady’s eyes narrowed as she counted the change out. ‘Here yer are, girl, an’ tell them not to spend it all in one shop.’
All the women had brought sandwiches which they ate when there was a lull in trade, and Irish Mary had brought enough to share with Polly. The young girl was glad of them because her tummy was rumbling with hunger. ‘I’m doin’ all right, aren’t I, Auntie Mary?’
‘It’s wonders yer workin’, me darlin’, an’ that’s the truth of it. Sure, just look at the smile on Sarah Jane’s face. Doesn’t that tell yer what yer want to know?’
‘I think she’s lovely.’ Polly caught the old lady’s eye and winked. ‘I can’t wait to tell me mam about her.’
‘There’s someone at me stall, I’d better go.’ Mary beat a hasty retreat, calling over her shoulder, ‘We start packing up about half-past five.’
The remark set Polly wondering how Sarah Jane managed when the day was over. What happened to her stool, the buckets and any flowers that were left? There wouldn’t be much stock over today by the looks of things, but every day wasn’t as busy as a Saturday. She went to stand next to the old lady while at the same time keeping an eye out for a potential customer. ‘Are yer all right, Sarah Jane?’
‘Right as rain, girl! It’s the best day I’ve had for ages, thanks to you. I was just thinkin’ it’s a pity yer still at school, ’cos yer could work here every day – except Monday, that is. There’s no use comin’ on a Monday ’cos it wouldn’t be worth the effort. Everyone’s skint.’
‘I wish I could come every day, I haven’t half enjoyed meself.’ But although it was true that she’d enjoyed herself, it was the money that was uppermost in Polly’s mind. Just think, if she worked six days it would be six shillings a week! What a help to her mam that would be. ‘Sarah Jane, me mam is very strict with me an’ me brother, Joey, an’ she’s always saying we must be polite and respect our elders. She’d have me life if she heard me callin’ yer by yer first name.’
‘Well, that’s me name, girl, an’ everyone knows me as that.’
‘I know it’s only a pet name, but I’ve heard a few of the women callin’ yer Ma.’ Polly was blushing to the roots of her hair, afraid that what she was about to say might cause offence. ‘I was wonderin’ if I could call yer Grandma? Yer see, I haven’t got a grandma or a grandad. Both me mam’s an’ me dad’s parents died when I was only little. I’ve always wished I had a grandma.’
Sarah Jane was a tough old soul and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried. But right now she could feel a lump in her throat and tears stinging the backs of her eyes. Coughing to clear her throat, she said in a choked voice, ‘I’ll be yer grandma, girl! I might not be a good one ’cos I’ve never had any experience, but I’ll have a bleedin’ good try at it.’ She put a hand across her mouth. ‘A grandma shouldn’t swear, should she? Not a good one, anyhow. So I’ll watch me mouth from now on, except on a Saturday night when I’ve had a few stouts down me, then I’ve no control over me tongue.’
Polly roared with laughter. ‘Yer’ll make a lovely grandma, an’ as I won’t be seein’ yer on a Saturday night yer can swear as much as yer like.’ She spotted a man giving their flowers the once-over. ‘Watch this, Grandma. I’ll bet yer I get a sale.’
She was soon back to hand over a shilling. ‘That’s all yer carnations gone, Grandma, an’ he told me to keep the change.’
‘Bloody hell, girl!’ Sarah Jane looked down at the silver coin. ‘I’ll be able to get rotten drunk tonight!’
Polly wagged a finger. ‘My Grandma doesn’t get rotten drunk. An’ anyway, I want me wages before yer spend it in the pub.’
‘How much did Irish Mary say yer’d get?’
Polly didn’t like asking for money but it was a case of having to. That’s what she was there for. ‘A shilling a day, but it would depend upon how much we sold.’
Sarah Jane had not moved from her stool all day. She looked like a sweet old lady who was only there to pass the time. But she had a clever head on her shoulders and she knew to the penny how much she had in her now very heavy pocket. She had worked out how much she’d spent on supplies and how much profit she’d made so far. But the day wasn’t over yet and she wasn’t going to build the girl’s hopes up. ‘So far so good, girl, yer well on target.’
Content that her shilling was safe, Polly went about selling the remaining stock with a will. And by five o’clock they were left with just a few bunches which Sarah Jane told her to sell off for half-price. Polly did this in no time, shouting out with the rest of them. ‘Come on, ladies, half-price flowers! Don’t yer know a bargain when yer see one?’
Finally, Polly emptied the water down the grid and stacked the empty buckets on top of each other. ‘What do I do with these?’ she asked Sarah Jane. ‘D’yer take them home with yer?’
The old lady showed her toothless gums. ‘Gerroutofit, girl! D’yer think we all walk home with ten buckets on our heads? Nah, there’s a feller comes with a cart an’ he takes them away an’ brings them back on Tuesday mornin’. We give ’im a couple of coppers for his trouble.’
‘Tuesday morning?’ Polly’s heart sank. ‘But what about tomorrow? Auntie Mary said it was for two days, Saturday an’ Sunday.’
Sarah Jane shook her head. ‘The shops all close on a Sunday, girl, it would be a waste of time. No, the only places to sell flowers on a holy day is outside a hospital, church or cemetery.’
‘Will I be comin’ with you?’
Again the old lady shook her head. ‘I don’t work on a Sunday, girl, it’s too much for me. It’s not like ’ere where I can sit down, it’s on yer feet all day an’ me poor old plates of meat aren’t up to it. The women go in pairs an’ I’d just be a drag on whoever I was with.’
‘So I won’t be wanted tomorrow?’ Polly was heartbroken. The elation she’d felt after a successful first day evaporated. ‘I was lookin’ forward to tomorrow.’
‘If Irish Mary said yer’d be workin’ tomorrow then she must ’ave somethin’ in mind for yer.’ There was a glint in the tired eyes as the old lady held out her two hands, both tightly clenched. ‘Double or nothin’, eh?’
‘No!’ Polly cried. ‘I need the shillin’ for me mam!’
‘It was my idea of a joke, but it’s not bleedin’ funny, is it?’ Sarah Jane shook her head and tutted. ‘I’ll have to remember to keep this tongue of mine under control when I’m with me granddaughter.’ She opened her right hand to reveal a two-shilling piece nes
tling in the palm. ‘Yer wages, girl.’
Polly stared. ‘But that’s too much! I only want a shilling.’
‘Yer had quite a few coppers in tips, so that’s about right. Anyway, yer worked hard an’ yer deserve it.’
‘Oh, thank you!’ Polly bent to kiss the wrinkled cheek. ‘I’ll see yer next Saturday, then, shall I?’
‘Before, if yer feel like bunkin’ off school.’ Sarah Jane gripped her hand. ‘No, forget I said that, girl. God forbid that I should try an’ lead yer astray.’
Polly turned when she heard her name being called. The flower-sellers had now cleared all their paraphernalia away and were standing in a group with Mary in the centre beckoning to her. ‘I’ll have to go, I’ll see yer next week,’ she said to Sarah Jane.
‘Come here, we want yer,’ Mary said, when Polly hovered on the edge of the group. She waited until the girl was standing beside her, then went on, ‘We all think yer’ve done wonders for the old lady. Yer’ve brightened her life up no end, and that’s the truth of it. An’ everyone that’s good to her, is good to us. So we’ve had a little whipround – not much, mind you, but just to show our appreciation here’s a shilling that’s been collected between us.’
It was all too much for Polly and the tears began to flow. Two shillings off Sarah Jane, and now this! She couldn’t wait to see her mam’s face. ‘Thank you,’ she stammered. ‘I don’t know what to say, yer’ve all been so good to me.’
‘Just take the shillin’ and stop blabberin’,’ Nellie said, in her thick Liverpool accent. She was a big woman was Nellie, with a mouth on her like a fog horn. But when you got to know her, you soon found out her heart was as big as her body. ‘Yer a smashin’ little worker an’ yer did the old girl proud. She can go out tonight and sup as many bottles of stout as she can get down her.’
‘An’ yer’ve done us a favour as well,’ Florrie chipped in. ‘We usually give her a hand, which means we lose a bit of trade ourselves. But today, with you helpin’ her, we haven’t had to worry about ’er an’ we’ve all had a good day.’
‘Come on, let’s go,’ Maggie Murphy said. ‘Me flamin’ feet are killin’ me. I’ll be lucky if I make it to the pub tonight.’
‘Oh, my God, will yer listen to her!’ Nellie bawled. ‘It’s never been known for yer to miss a night at the ale-house, Maggie Murphy! If ever yer didn’t turn up, I’d start collectin’ for a wreath ’cos I know the only thing that would keep yer away was if yer were dead!’
Laughing, Mary put her arm across Polly’s shoulders. ‘Let’s get yer home, Polly, before one of these ladies says somethin’ not meant for young ears. Sure, ’tis the divil himself that gets into them sometimes.’
‘Three shillings?’ Ada shook her head. ‘Pull the other one, sunshine, it’s got bells on.’
Polly was bursting with pride as she held out her hand. ‘See for yerself – a two-bob piece an’ a shilling.’
‘Oh love, where did you get all that?’
Polly quickly told the tale, words pouring from her mouth as though she had no control over them. ‘I didn’t half do good, Mam. Sarah Jane was over the moon an’ the others said I’d done well for her.’ She placed the coins on the table in front of her mother. ‘That’s a good help, isn’t it, Mam?’
‘It’s more than good, love, it’s marvellous. I feel that proud of yer I could cry.’
Joey had been listening wide-eyed. ‘What d’yer want to cry for if it’s good, Mam? Yer only cry when somethin’ bad happens, like when yer’ve got the belly ache or a toothache.’
‘No, yer don’t, our Joey!’ Polly said. ‘Yer cry when nice things happen as well. I felt like bawlin’ me eyes out when I got that much money and they were all so kind to me.’
Ada pushed the shilling towards her daughter. ‘Take that to the corner shop an’ get a birthday card for Steve. An’ get a pennyworth of sweets between you and Joey.’
Polly shook her head. ‘No, Mam, yer’d better keep hold of it ’cos I won’t be gettin’ much temorrer. They don’t sell flowers in town on a Sunday, on account of the shops bein’ closed, an’ I’m goin’ with Auntie Mary to Anfield cemetery. But I can’t see her sellin’ many flowers there, so I might only get coppers.’
‘Go to the corner shop an’ do as yer told.’ Ada picked up the shilling and pressed it into her daughter’s hand. ‘It’s only a penny for a card an’ a penny for sweets, so I’ll still have two and tenpence left, way over what I was expectin’ yer to give me.’
‘Can I come with yer, our Polly, an’ choose me own ha’porth of sweets?’ Joey stood beside her, pulling at her coat. ‘Come on, it’ll soon be me bedtime.’
‘At last he’s in the land of Nod. I thought he’d never go off.’ Ada fell into the chair and stretched her legs. ‘It’s been a long day.’ She was about to say she’d missed her daughter running the messages for her and looking after Joey, but bit her tongue before the words came out. ‘Me legs are tired.’
‘Why don’t yer sit on the couch an’ put yer feet up? Go on, Mam, take it easy for a change.’
‘D’yer know, I think I will. I’ll leave the flamin’ washing until tomorrow when I’m off.’ Ada stretched out on the couch with a cushion at her back. ‘That’s better. Now I can sit in comfort while yer tell me what yer did today and what Sarah Jane’s like.’
‘Oh Mam, she’s lovely! I don’t mean to look at ’cos she’s very old an’ her face is all wrinkled.’ Polly didn’t need to exaggerate when it came to describing the old lady. ‘She frightened the life out of me when I first saw her, but once yer get used to her yer feel like cuddling her, she’s that nice. I’m a bit sorry for her ’cos she’s no family at all. Auntie Mary told me she has a room with a family and they look after her.’
‘Yer seem to have enjoyed yerself.’
‘Oh, I did! If I could go down there every day we’d nearly have enough money to keep us goin’, wouldn’t we, Mam?’
Ada looked startled. ‘Don’t you even think of saggin’ school, young lady! It’s me the School Board would be after, an’ I’m in enough trouble as it is.’
‘Just now an’ again, Mam, just to see us through until me dad comes home and goes back to work.’
‘I said “no”, Polly, so leave it at that! I’d have the School Board on me like a ton of bricks.’
‘Are yer goin’ to see me dad temorrer?’
Ada’s nod was accompanied by a sigh. ‘I haven’t been all week an’ I feel terrible about it. But it’s fourpence fare an’ I can’t afford that very often. Still, yer dad understands how we’re placed. He won’t think badly of me.’
‘When will he be comin’ home, Mam? Will he be home for the summer?’
‘I don’t think so, sunshine, he’s still very sick.’ Ada noticed her daughter’s downcast face and added, ‘But he’s in the right place an’ he’s goin’ to get better. If he comes home too soon, he’ll end up sick again – an’ we don’t want that, do we?’
‘When yer go in temorrer, will yer tell him about me job? An’ tell him about Sarah Jane an’ all the other women. It’ll cheer him up an’ make him laugh. An’ don’t forget to tell him me an’ our Joey love him very much an’ can’t wait for him to come home.’
‘I’ll tell him, love,’ Ada lied. Tommy was still very poorly indeed, and to inform him about his daughter having to go out and sell flowers would break his heart and just about finish him off. She’d not tell him anything that would upset him. As far as he knew, she had two cleaning jobs and they were managing to scrape along. She had no intention of telling him otherwise.
Chapter Seven
Ada let her body relax to sway in rhythm with the motions of the tram as it trundled along Walton Road. From side to side, backwards and forward she let herself go, the lightness of her body calming the turmoil in her mind. The visits to Tommy took their toll. The man lying in the bed was a mere shadow of her husband and she was heartbroken every time she saw him. The hospital conditions made it worse; with him in isolation she wasn�
��t allowed to get near enough to comfort him. She thought he looked worse than the last time she’d visited, but when she collared the Sister, she was told that, although there was no sign of improvement, he certainly wasn’t any worse. It was that small crumb of comfort that kept repeating itself in her mind. She had to believe he was going to get better otherwise she wouldn’t be able to carry on, she’d go out of her mind. The part that hurt the most was Tommy’s attempt to pretend he wasn’t as ill as he looked. She could tell he was using up all his energy to ask after the kids. How was Joey, was he looking forward to going to school? What was Polly doing to help her in the house, and how was she managing with having two jobs? He’d said, ‘Yer’ll have to watch out, love, or yer’ll wear yerself out.’ The same old Tommy, thinking of everyone else but himself.
The conductor’s voice brought Ada out of her reverie and, glancing through the window, she saw the tram was nearing her stop. She stood up and holding on to the rail at the back of the seats for support, she made her way down the aisle to the platform. She’d lied her head off to Tommy, painting a very rosy picture which was so far from the truth it would have been laughable if it weren’t so serious. But at least he’d looked peaceful when she’d left him, believing every lie that had come out of her mouth.
Dolly Mitchell opened the door to Ada with a big smile on her face. ‘Your Joey saw yer passin’ the window an’ ran like hell for his coat. He’s so eager to get away anyone would think I’d been beatin’ the livin’ daylights out of him.’
‘I’ll come in for a minute, see if yer can cheer me up,’ Ada said, pinching her neighbour’s cheek as she passed. ‘I always feel down in the dumps after I’ve been to the hospital.’
Dolly’s husband Les had the News of the World spread out on the table and was poring over the football pages. When Ada entered he quickly closed the pages and folded the paper. ‘Hello, Ada. Come in, girl.’
Joey had his coat on and, eager to get home, he grabbed his mother’s hand and pulled. ‘Come on, Mam, our Polly will be home soon.’
