Just Around the Corner

by Gilda O'Neill

  Stephen winked supportively at his grandson, egging him on; he was lucky that Katie never saw him.

  ‘We was only jumping off Stinkhouse Bridge, Mum,’ said Michael in a bored, matter-of-fact sort of way. ‘Swinging on that rope what Dad got us.’ He elbowed the stricken-looking Timmy in the ribs. ‘It was a right laugh, weren’t it, Tim?’

  ‘A right laugh?’ Katie could hardly believe her ears.

  ‘We never meant to fall in or nothing.’

  Her distaste for his foul, stinking, slime-covered clothes forgotten in her anger, Katie grabbed hold of Michael by the jacket, but she quickly withdrew her hand. ‘And what’s this sticking out of yer pocket? It looks disgusting.’

  Michael pulled out the object of his mother’s revulsion. ‘It’s cold fish.’

  ‘It’s what?’

  ‘Cold fish. You know, what yer get in the chip shop from the day before. Farvee got it for us. He’s gonna make me and Timmy and him some sandwiches with it. ’Cos swimming makes yer right hungry, don’t it, Farvee?’

  Katie took the filthy lump of fish from her son and gingerly peeled back the sopping wet batter so that she could examine the inside. Her nose wrinkled. She held it out for Peggy and Nora to see. ‘Look at it. Just look. It’s grey. He’d have poisoned ’em. It must be at least a week old.’ Katie glared at Stephen.

  Peggy was out of her depth, she really did want to go home, but as she rose from her chair, Katie would have none of it.

  ‘No,’ said Katie, ‘you stay where you are, Peg. Don’t let him . . .’ She jabbed an accusing finger at Stephen. ‘. . . drive yer away. I’m gonna get these two in the kitchen, give ’em a good scrubbing. And yes, Michael, with the nail brush. Then I’ll make us some more tea.’

  Stephen raised his eyebrows and tutted at his grandsons in recognition of the fact that there was no understanding women, then he put on what he thought was a winning smile and turned to face his daughter. ‘So, if there’s no fish sandwiches about, Katie love, is there anything else for us to eat for our teas?’

  Katie’s mouth dropped open at such gall. ‘I can’t believe you, I really can’t. Yer’ll get me flaming put away for what I’d like to do to you. I’d like to get my hands round that stupid neck o’ your’n and—’

  ‘Yer telling me yer’ve not got our tea on yet, then, are yer, darling?’ Stephen said with another wink at Michael.

  ‘That’s right. In fact, there’s no cooking gonna be done by me in this house tonight. None at all. So yer can just go and fetch us all some fish and taters – fresh ones, not flipping three days old. And yer wanna be quick about it and all. Pat’ll be back from the Queen’s expecting his tea any minute now.’

  With that Katie stormed inside, dragging Michael by the ear and Timmy by the elbow. She paused in the doorway just long enough to say to him, ‘You might have got round Mum, but you ain’t getting round me. Now you two, in, and don’t you dare drip on my clean floor.’

  Stephen chucked Nora under the chin. ‘So, that son-in-law of ours is over in the pub, now is he? Sure, I’d better go and have a quick word with him, see if it’s rock or cod he’ll be wanting.’

  Phoebe was barely able to contain herself with delight at the spectacle she and Sooky had witnessed, and even though her neighbour could see just as well as her, Phoebe gave Sooky a running commentary on her interpretation of events.

  ‘Look at him,’ she said, nodding towards Stephen. ‘Off down the pub, he’ll be. He won’t be getting any supper tonight, you mark my words. And as for her, that Katie, what a right madam! Always acts likes she’s good enough to put ten bob on herself in the three thirty, that one. But now she’s so ashamed she’s had to have it away indoors. Wants to be out of sight, see. Pride comes before a fall, they say, and I reckon they’ve got that just about right. Like I told yer, they don’t like the truth, some people. Soon as I mentioned him from the end, that widower, Frank Barber or whatever he calls himself, she had to change the subject. Churchgoers. Don’t make me laugh. And they want to keep an eye on that Sean and all. I’ve seen him going in that Laney’s. And when the old man’s out. That’s the one they should really be worried about, if you ask me.’

  Nora got on with her sewing, but all the while she listened while Phoebe rattled on. When the old gossip eventually paused to draw breath, Nora stood up.

  ‘Peg, I don’t wanna be rude, love, but I think I’ve heard more than enough of them two. I’m going in to help Katie with the boys. That be all right with you?’

  ‘Course, Nora,’ Peggy said, hooking her knitting bag on one arm and picking up her kitchen chair with the other. ‘I’ll have to be seeing to my Bill’s tea before he gets back from the Queen’s anyway, or there’ll be another row for them spiteful old biddies to get their mouldy rotten gnashers into.’

  Nora chuckled. ‘What a turn out, eh, Peg?’

  ‘Never a dull moment in this street, eh, girl?’

  When Katie and Nora eventually came back outside with the boys, who were now clean, dry and looking really sorry for themselves, daylight had faded into a pleasant, early spring evening. As the streetlights had been lit, Nora repositioned her chair by the lamppost, and sat herself down to get on with her mending.

  Before Katie sat down with her, she bent forward and wagged her finger close to Michael’s face. ‘Now, if yer don’t wanna be sent up to bed without yer tea, yer can play with yer glarneys right there,’ she pointed to the pool of gaslight shining on the pavement in front of the house, ‘where I can keep me eye on yer.’

  ‘Why is it me yer telling? Why don’t yer tell him?’ demanded Michael. ‘Timmy never gets told off.’

  ‘Not that I should have to answer such a rude little boy, but it seems to me that it’s always you what’s in the middle of whatever’s going on when there’s any trouble. And that Timmy, daft idiot that he is, just follows yer.’

  Unsure as to whether he should be pleased or annoyed at being identified as the ring leader, Michael merely scowled in reply, took his marbles out of his pocket and sat down heavily on the kerb.

  ‘Now,’ Katie said, hands on hips, ‘where’s he got to with our tea?’

  Nora looked up from her darning. ‘He popped over the Queen’s first to have a word with Pat about what he wants to eat.’

  ‘So he still ain’t gone to get it yet, then?’

  ‘He said he’ll fetch it in a minute.’

  Katie slumped down in the chair next to her mum. She felt worn out. ‘The mood he’s put me in, he’d just better, that’s all. I dunno what he was thinking, taking ’em down there. Of all the daft, stupid, thick-headed—’

  Nora dropped her sewing on to her lap. ‘Katie,’ she said, sounding exasperated. ‘Sure, all it was was a bit of fun, girl, that’s all. It’s good to have a laugh, you wanna remember that. It’s a while since I saw you even crack a smile across that face of yours.’

  ‘Aw yeah, there’s so much to laugh about, ain’t there?’

  Nora shook her head. ‘Don’t start on that again.’

  Katie dragged her own mending from her pocket and started darning furiously. ‘He’d better get back here soon, that’s all I can say.’

  It was nearly an hour before Stephen eventually reappeared and, from the way he was weaving along hanging on to Pat’s arm, it looked as though he had spent most of that time pouring booze down his throat rather than enquiring as to the variety of fish his son-in-law fancied for his tea.

  As he swayed backwards and forwards in front of Katie and Nora, grinning foolishly, Stephen began a long rambling explanation as to how he had got talking with Harold and how he couldn’t possibly walk out on a man who was seeking his advice on matters of great importance.

  ‘Advice? From you?’ Katie hadn’t raised her voice but her manner was menacing enough to shut Stephen up immediately.

  ‘All right, love,’ Pat said, touching his wife gently on the shoulder. ‘He’s just had a few too many.’

  ‘And where did he get the money from to get in tha
t state?’

  ‘I treated him.’

  ‘You what? You paid for him to get plastered?’

  ‘I think we’d better go indoors if we’re gonna have a row about this,’ Pat said, taking hold of her arm.

  ‘No, hang on, I wanna get this straight. There’s no work,’ Katie said shaking off his grip, ‘but yer can find money to buy booze for him?’

  ‘All right, we’re short of money, so’s everyone round here. What d’yer want me to do about it, go around moaning all the time like you’ve started doing? Or causing rows in the street and showing you up whenever I get the arsehole about something, even if it’s nothing to do with yer?’

  With a sigh, Nora got up. She went to the kerb and told her grandsons to go indoors into hers. Reluctantly, for it looked as though their parents were brewing up for a really good row, they did as they were told.

  ‘So I’m moaning all the time, am I?’ Katie shouted. ‘And I have a go at yer for nothing?’

  ‘Yer wasn’t listening. I didn’t mean—’

  ‘Aw yes you did, Pat Mehan; that’s exactly what yer meant. Well, I’ll tell yer what. I’m gonna go out and find meself a job and earn some money, that’s what I’m gonna do. Then there won’t be nothing for me to moan about, will there?’

  ‘I’m the breadwinner in this house. I ain’t having no wife of mine going out to work.’

  ‘Why not?’ Stephen butted in, his drunken grin still twisting his lips into a lop-sided grimace. ‘Sounds like a fine idea to me.’ He winked, screwing up the whole of his face as he struggled to keep one eye open. ‘All the more money to spend over at the Queen’s, eh, Pat?’

  Pat ignored his father-in-law. ‘What sort of a job could you get anyway?’

  ‘I dunno, but there’s bound to be something. Ain’t it you who’s always going on about women getting jobs ’cos we’re cheap?’ With fists stuck in her waist, Katie glared at Pat, daring him to say another word.

  Stephen spoke, or rather mumbled, again. ‘Isn’t that our young Sean up there?’

  ‘Stephen!’ Nora warned her husband. She was too late.

  ‘It is, look, going into that moneylender feller’s house.’

  Katie’s eyes turned on her father. ‘Eh?’

  ‘Sean,’ he repeated, ‘going into Laney’s. I saw him. He just jumped over the wall by the pub, and dived into number six. Like a young deer he was, real athletic, just like me when I was a young man. Now did I ever tell yers about the time I ran in that race against Micky O’Halloran on the—’

  ‘So that’s his game, is it?’ Her row with Pat forgotten, Katie marched along the street and banged on the Lanes’ front door.

  Pat went to follow her but Nora stopped him. ‘Pat, don’t. Let Katie sort the kids out. Anyway,’ she said, jerking her head towards Stephen, ‘the state that one’s in, he’s probably talking out of his hat. You just go and fetch a nice bit of fish for us all, and you’ll see, by the time you get back, Katie will have forgotten all about her hollering and hooting at yer, and it’ll be Sean what’ll be copping it.’ She grinned. ‘Poor little devil!’

  Pat ran his hands through his hair, shrugged, then, with a loud sigh, set off for Chrisp Street to fetch their supper.

  The door of number six was opened by Irene, Arthur Lane’s much younger, bleached-blonde wife. Katie didn’t say a word to her. She just barged past her into the house, shouting at the top of her voice: ‘Sean! Where are yer? You get out here, now! Do you hear me?’

  ‘Mrs Mehan?’ Irene called after her, in her girly, high-pitched little voice. ‘Is anything wrong?’

  Katie didn’t answer her, she was too busy looking in the front room, but it was empty, so she stormed her way along the passage to the back kitchen.

  There she found Arthur Lane, the despised local moneylender and, so it was rumoured, fence. Despite his very profitable services being in more demand than ever, since even the work in the docks had become so unpredictable, Lane had the reputation of wringing every last brass farthing out of anyone he could, even the most desperate of women who were struggling just to put a loaf of bread on their table to feed their children. He was sitting at the kitchen table, not wearing a shirt but he had his braces on over a baggy white vest, his big, fat belly hanging in folds over the top of his trousers.

  Katie was so appalled by the sight of him – she had only ever seen him in his expensive suits or his camelhair overcoat – that she didn’t even notice her son standing in the corner, leaning against the wall.

  ‘What you doing here?’ Sean asked, blowing a stream of smoke from his nostrils.

  Katie blinked, as though released from a spell, turned to face her son and strode across the room towards him. She snatched the cigarette from his mouth and threw it in the fireplace.

  ‘So, this is where you’re getting yer money from, is it, Sean? You’ve been borrowing money from him.’ She moved closer to her son, her face almost touching his. ‘I hope it is just borrowing and you ain’t been thieving.’

  She looked over her shoulder at Arthur Lane, who was clearly interested in how Sean was handling himself, and said, very slowly, ‘If you’ve got my boy involved in anything crooked . . .’

  The contempt in Katie’s voice made Lane chuckle, sending vibrations of amusement wobbling through his gut, but Irene, who had just appeared in the kitchen doorway sounded more upset than amused by what Katie had said.

  ‘Mrs Mehan,’ she squeaked, ‘Sean ain’t been doing nothing wrong, have yer, Sean? Tell yer mum. Go on.’

  ‘I ain’t borrowed nothing off no one,’ Sean sneered. ‘I don’t have to, do I?’

  ‘So where are yer getting yer money from?’ She lowered her voice. ‘People have started talking, Sean.’

  ‘I’d be more worried about what they’re saying about you and that geezer over the road, if I was you,’ Sean said, looking past his mother and smiling over her shoulder at Arthur.

  ‘Sean!’ Irene piped. ‘Don’t speak to yer mum like that!’

  The sound of someone else telling her son how to behave had Katie boiling. She raised her hand ready to slap the smirk right off her son’s face, but she stopped. She wouldn’t show herself up in front of the likes of Arthur and Irene Lane. ‘I’ll swing for you, Sean, God help me if I don’t.’ She paused, taking a deep slow breath. ‘Now, get home with yer.’

  Sean didn’t move.

  ‘Do as yer mother says,’ Katie heard Arthur Lane saying behind her. ‘Go on. Get yerself off home.’

  As Katie spun round to tell Lane it was none of his business what her son did, Sean levered himself away from the wall and swaggered past her right out of the kitchen.

  ‘See yer, love,’ Irene trilled after him, ‘and behave for yer mum, eh?’

  Katie was beside herself. She launched herself across the room at Lane’s wife, her fists clenched by her side to stop herself from slapping the stupid smile off of her red, painted lips. ‘If yer so desperate for a bit of company closer to yer own age than that fat old pig,’ Katie raged, ‘yer wanna get yerself down St Leonard’s Road to the gin palace. I’m sure there’re plenty prepared to pay for the privilege down there.’

  She ran out of the kitchen and along the passage.

  Irene caught up with her, just as Katie was about to step out on to the pavement. ‘Yer shouldn’t talk to me like that, Mrs Mehan,’ she said quietly. ‘Yer don’t understand . . .’

  Katie didn’t wait to hear what it was she didn’t understand, she was too concerned with getting out of there and catching up with Sean before he had the chance to leg it. As she stepped out of the doorway, she looked about her to see where he had got to. She knew it: there he was clambering over the wall and escaping on to the East India Dock Road. The little so-and-so, showing her up in front of the likes of the Lanes. But before Katie made up her mind whether there was any point giving chase right away – he could be off in any direction by now – or if she should wait up until she heard him creep back into his nanna’s later on and then read the litt
le tyke his fortune, she heard her mum shouting the odds at the top of her voice.

  Whatever now? Katie asked herself as she made her way wearily back towards this latest family drama.

  Nora was standing on the street doorstep of number ten, apparently rowing with Stephen and a destitute-looking man who was standing, or rather swaying, by his side.

  ‘What’s all this about, Mum?’ Katie asked, standing well back from the foul-smelling stranger.

  Nora, her arms folded tightly across her chest, barring the entrance to the passageway of her house, jabbed her thumb at the man. ‘This one here reckons, if ever yer’ve heard such a thing in the whole of yer life, that yer father issued him an open invitation to come and stay any time he liked. Met him in a boozer over Bow Common, if yer don’t mind.’

  Stephen nodded in drunkenly foolish agreement. ‘That’s true. Sure as I’m standing here in front of yers, I said to him, my wife is a good ’un, a real treasure of a woman. She’ll not mind yer coming any time yer need a bed and a decent meal down yer. Them’s exactly the words I said, weren’t they?’

  ‘They were, lady,’ the man said in support, his boozy breath nearly knocking Nora off her feet.

  ‘The silly bastard might have promised yer a night in Buckingham Palace for all I care,’ Nora fumed, stabbing her finger into the man’s chest. ‘But so long as I’m the one what cleans this step, I’m telling yer, if yer put one foot across it I’ll take the poker to yer. Now, bugger off!’ With that Nora slammed her street door firmly in their faces.

  Almost immediately the letter box flapped open and they heard Nora shout from inside, ‘Katie? You still there?’

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ said Katie, not knowing whether to laugh or cry at this latest episode.

  ‘Pat’s gone to fetch some fish and taters for us all, so you can pass mine over the back wall and I’ll feed the boys in here. It’s up to you whether yer feed that drunken swine or not.’ There was a moment’s silence and then the letter box flapped shut again.