Bonzo Willis, of course, was a thundering menace, bringing the ball through and slinging it to his forwards. Dumpling had a terrible time, but somehow the ball never got past her. She kept sticking her gloved fists in the way, her feet in the way and her overcoat in the way. She also kept falling over. Each time she bounced up beaming, as if falling over was the jolliest part of her role. Bless her, thought Nick, she’s giving me heart failure, but she’s a sport and a trier.
The Rovers conceded a corner. Nick told Dumpling that if she fell over this time the whole team would jump on her.
‘Crikey, what yer fussin’ for, Nick?’ she said, planting herself solidly on the goal line. ‘Get out of me way.’ Most of the team were packing the goalmouth to protect her. Her face was pink and shining, and some of the Rangers kept looking at her. Nick hoped they’d think she was a Walworth version of Billy Bunter. The corner came over, and she took off. Two opponents collapsed as she ballooned into them, fell on top of them and flattened them, the ball hugged safely and joyously to her robust chest.
‘Bleedin’ blimey,’ gasped one of the flattened Rangers.
‘I hate fat goalies,’ groaned the other.
Up sprang Dumpling, and she booted the ball clear. The battle went on. No quarter was given, and Cassie almost died a death at what the large lump called Bonzo Willis kept doing to Freddy.
‘Kill ’im, Freddy!’ she yelled. ‘Oh, look at that, Alice, he’ll injure all Freddy’s prospects.’
‘What prospects, Cassie?’ asked Alice with a straight face.
‘Well, his future ones,’ said Cassie, who had her own as well as Freddy’s all mapped out, even if Freddy wasn’t aware of what he was in for. Alice smiled. She knew what Cassie was about.
Ten minutes before half-time, the Rovers’ centre forward, given a chance to score, ballooned the ball over the crossbar.
‘Rubbish!’ yelled young Fanny.
‘Go home, Ronnie!’ cried Cassie in disgust.
Fanny thought it tragic, a chance to score missed close to half-time. She watched as Nick took the ball forward a few minutes later, then held her breath as the walloping Manor Place centre half charged thunderously at her brother. Nick sidestepped and Bonzo Willis barged into empty air. Down he went and the ground shuddered.
‘Oh, good on yer, Nick!’ yelled Fanny in delight. ‘Sometimes,’ she said to Cassie, ‘I don’t mind ’aving him for a brother.’
Half-time arrived with no score. By dint of springing about like a tiger and putting herself in the way of everything, Dumpling had so far kept a clean sheet. Up came the team to the touchline, looking for their traditional slice of lemon. As always, young Fanny supplied them, Nick giving her tuppence from funds to cover a penny for the lemon and a penny for doing the job.
Up came Dumpling to talk to her captain.
‘Nick, ain’t I done wonders, not lettin’ any goals in?’ she said.
‘Proud of you, Dumpling,’ said Nick.
‘Yes, good on yer, Dumpling,’ said Freddy, and gave her a partial cuddle. Well, it was difficult to get an arm fully around her. He shouldn’t even have given her a partial cuddle, however, because Cassie at once gave him an unseen but well-felt kick. In Cassie’s book, he wasn’t allowed to cuddle any girl except herself.
‘Sufferin’ legs, I’ve just been bitten,’ he said.
‘Course you ’aven’t,’ said Dumpling, ‘you only get bitten in the summer. Anyway, what’re you goin’ to say about the second ’alf, Nick? You usually talk to the team at ’alf-time. Come on, blokes, Nick’s goin’ to tell us how to win the match.’
Nick felt a pep talk was necessary, so he addressed the team. ‘Hang on for all you’re worth, blokes. On top of that, I want our inside forwards to mark their walloping carthorse, Bonzo Willis. He’s getting too much of a free ride. Do what you can to break his leg.’
Amy, not a great football fan, blinked a bit.
‘Did I ’ear that, Alice?’ she asked. ‘Cassie, did he say break someone’s leg?’
‘Oh, it’s all in the game,’ said Cassie.
‘Not ’alf,’ said Dumpling. ‘Break ’is leg and slow ’im down a bit. That’s in the game.’
‘I don’t want that football enemy number one barging his way right through,’ said Nick. ‘We’ve got our goalkeeper to think about.’
‘That’s me,’ said Dumpling proudly, just in case Amy hadn’t noticed.
‘He’s capable of blowing a hole in Dumpling’s overcoat if we let him unleash one of his cannon-balls,’ said Nick. Amy giggled. ‘I’ll get cross,’ said Nick, ‘if we have to carry Dumpling home with a cannonball in her chest. As for your goalkeeping, Dumpling, don’t do any more falling over. Lean backwards a bit if you have to.’
‘Nick, would yer mind not insinuatin’ Dumpling ain’t all there up top?’ said Danny.
‘Might I point out Dumpling doesn’t need a lot up top?’ said Freddy. ‘She’s got plenty everywhere else.’
‘Freddy!’ shrieked Alice, while Amy spilled giggles and Dumpling took no offence at all.
The ref blew for the start of the second half, and Nick went back on to the pitch with his Rovers. Bonzo Willis spoke to him as the teams changed ends.
‘We don’t like yer fat goalie, Nick.’
‘Sorry about that, Bonzo.’
‘We’re goin’ to flatten ’im out a bit.’
‘He won’t like that,’ said Nick.
‘Do ’im good,’ said Bonzo.
‘He won’t think so.’
‘Yes, ’e will, it’ll be ruddy bliss for ’im when the pain leaves off.’
The second half began, Dumpling bouncing about in goal and the Rangers’ supporters taking the mickey. The Rovers’ supporters were joined by one man and his dog. Up and down the field the teams swept, with the Rovers’ inside forwards doing their best to mark thunderous Bonzo in a way that would do him a sporting injury. His response was to bundle them over and tread on them. And he had it in for Dumpling all right. He kept charging through, intent on ruining her afternoon personally. Nick kept trying to stop him, and the shuddering impacts caused young Fanny a lot of umbrage.
‘Oh, blimey,’ she breathed, ‘I know Nick’s only me brother, but I don’t want to have to take what’s left of ’im home in a sack. It wouldn’t ’alf upset Ma.’
Danny and Frankie came repeatedly to the rescue of Nick, while Dumpling frustrated the Rangers and their captain by continually getting in the way of the ball. Bonzo hollered that he’d never seen such bleedin’ fluky saves. Nick made him holler more by upending him twice with crafty trips. On the other side of the coin, Starving Crow went on a dizzy run down the left wing, cut in and delivered a shot that flew only inches wide.
With only five minutes to go, there was still no score. Then disaster struck. Bonzo roared through in rampant fashion and made straight for Dumpling and her goal. Dumpling, bless her, accepted the challenge. She rushed from her line and kept going. Rampant Bonzo aimed to strike. Dumpling ran into him. Nick conceded that she quivered a bit from the collision, but what it did to Bonzo was unbelievable. It staggered him and felled him. Thunder rolled as he crashed on his back. The ref blew a piercing note on his whistle and pointed to the spot.
‘Penalty!’
‘Eh?’ said Freddy, as Dumpling kicked the ball clear.
‘What?’ said Danny, eyeing fallen Bonzo.
‘A ruddy penalty, that’s what!’ bawled fallen Bonzo.
‘That’s done it,’ sighed Alice.
‘What a rotten ref,’ said Cassie.
‘Oh, me gawd,’ said Dumpling, which made a Ranger ask why the fat goalie’s voice hadn’t broken yet. Bonzo got up, breathing hard, and placed the retrieved ball on the penalty spot. Four minutes to go now, and it looked like the only goal of the match was coming up in favour of the Rangers. Nick whispered to Dumpling, who was having some natural palpitations.
‘As soon as he hits the ball, jump to your right.’
‘Crikey, I didn’t know there was
goin’ to be any penalties, Nick. That ref’s got blind eyesight.’
‘Come on, come on,’ growled Bonzo.
The ref moved everyone back except Dumpling and Bonzo. Dumpling gritted her teeth. Up ran Goliath, his right foot swung and he hit the ball hard. It didn’t rise more than twelve inches as it travelled straight for the left-hand corner of the goal. Dumpling, obeying her captain, jumped to her right all right, but then fell over. Mother O’Grady, she fell on the ball. The Rovers yelled with delight, and the Rangers stood aghast. Up bounced Dumpling and booted the ball, a real balloon of a kick. Alice yelled, Fanny shouted hooray, and the man’s dog barked.
Now as it happened, Starving Crow was the only Rover way down the field, with just two opposing backs between him and their goal. He gathered the ball and set off, arms flapping in excitement. Rangers poured back after him. On he went, then cut inside and darted straight between the two closing defenders. He let go a beauty, and it beat the goalkeeper all ends up with only a minute or so to go.
It won the match for the Rovers. Young Fanny did a bit of a rapturous swoon, Alice did a bit of a dance, Cassie did a knees-up and Amy said something to the barking dog. Danny rushed up on Dumpling, hugged her and gave her a reckless smacker on her flushed cheek.
‘’Ere, come off it, yer soppy date,’ said Dumpling.
‘What a girl, what a goalie,’ said Danny. Other team members arrived and Dumpling received hugs from all.
‘Cor bleedin’ blimey,’ said a disgusted Ranger, ‘what a load of ruddy fairies, they’re kissin’ their fat goalie.’
Dumpling practically disappeared amid delighted Rovers.
‘You lot goin’ daft?’ she gasped. Another hug and kiss arrived. ‘Oh, yer soppy lumps.’ Even so, they chaired her off the field and all the way into the Rovers’ section of the changing hut. ‘’Ere, give over,’ she yelled, ‘I can’t come in yer dressin’-room.’
Fortunately, the Rangers were only then beginning to trail despondently off the field, otherwise they’d have heard her and known that none but a girl could have a voice like hers.
‘Put her down, blokes,’ said Nick, and they put her down.
Happy and flushed, she said, ‘Can I take me dad’s coat off now, Nick?’
‘All right, just for ten seconds, so that the team can see you looking proud,’ said Nick.
‘Oh, yer a real captain, Nick,’ she said, and forthwith took the coat off to display her goalkeeping self. The fellers rolled in the aisles. Well, thought Nick, who wouldn’t have? Dumpling in a goalkeeper’s bright yellow jersey a little too small for her was a knockout.
Alice, Amy and Fanny were all a bit miffed that they hadn’t seen Dumpling perform in her yellow goalkeeping jersey, and they voiced their complaints over a high tea of bacon, scrambled eggs and fried bread. Ma said she’d never heard such silly talk. Amy said indignantly that she wouldn’t have gone to the boring old match if she’d known Chrissie was going to wear an overcoat all the time. Nick told her that when she was old and wrinkled, she’d be able to tell her grandchildren she’d been present at the greatest football match ever, when Browning Street Rovers beat Manor Place Rangers by a last-minute goal. Amy said some hopes, she hadn’t seen the goal, she’d been talking to the man’s dog at the time. Nick said there was something funny about women. What other human beings would be talking to some man’s daft dog at a moment when the winning goal of an historic football match was being scored?
‘Yes, and she missed seein’ Chrissie save the penalty as well,’ said Fanny.
‘Amy needs half an hour’s good tickling to wake her up,’ said Nick.
‘I’ll scream the house down,’ said Amy.
‘We don’t want anyone screamin’ the house down, Nick,’ said Ma.
‘All right, Ma, let’s all go to the pictures instead,’ said Nick.
‘Like you promised if the team won?’ said Fanny.
‘Yes, my treat,’ said Nick.
‘I’ll wear me best Saturday evenin’ hat,’ said Ma.
They all enjoyed the film. It featured Wallace Beery as well as Clark Gable. The girls said Clark Gable gave them goosepimples. Ma said she thought she liked Wallace Beery best. She said he reminded her of Joe Hubbard, their hearty and helpful dustman.
‘I don’t know that your Pa wouldn’t of done better for ’imself and ’is fam’ly if he’d been a dustman,’ she said on the way home.
‘Not Pa,’ said Alice, ‘he’s a gent.’
Freddy and Cassie also went to the pictures. Cassie said he’d got to take her or she wouldn’t forgive him for not scoring the winning goal himself. Oh, all right, said Freddy, I’ll only get all thin and haggard if I’m not forgiven. I can live with some things, he said, but not with the thoughts of being unforgiven.
That made Cassie smile sweetly. Her ready smile always seemed to be sweet and pacific, but underneath she was a real cockney caution. Woe betide any girl reckless enough to make eyes at Freddy. Cassie would pounce, tread on the girl’s foot or pinch her, and she’d do so with her smile at its sweetest.
She had recently told Freddy to make his fortune by the time she was twenty, then they could think about getting married. Freddy said he couldn’t see any fortune coming his way, just a continuation of his good steady job at the brewery. So don’t talk barmy, he said. Cassie said don’t answer me back or I’ll do you an ’orrible injury. Freddy said look, just because we’ve always been mates doesn’t mean we’ve got to get married. Getting married is serious, he said. Yes, I know that, said Cassie, especially getting married to me, and my mind’s made up about it. It can’t be, said Freddy, not at your age. He shouldn’t have said that, because Cassie trod on his foot. Here, said Freddy, what was that for? My Aunt Connie, the one that nearly married a butler, told me to always do it to boys who answered back, said Cassie. She told me that half the trouble in the world comes from boys and husbands answering back. Well, said Freddy, if that’s what I’m going to get when we’re married, I think I’ll stay single. He shouldn’t have said that, either, because Cassie trod on his foot again. That is, she would have done if he hadn’t taken his foot out of the way. Stand still when I’m trying to tread on you, said Cassie. Not likely, said Freddy, think I’m dozy, do you? Cassie smiled sweetly and gave him a kiss.
They, too, saw the film featuring Clark Gable and Wallace Beery. On the way home, Cassie said Clark Gable was smashing. Freddy asked her if she’d like to go to Hollywood and marry the bloke.
‘How can I when I’m promised to you?’ said Cassie.
‘I don’t mind releasin’ you from yer promise, Cassie.’
That was one more thing he shouldn’t have said, because Cassie kicked him on his best footballing leg.
Chapter Five
ON SUNDAY MORNING, the paper boy popped the News of the World through Ma’s letter-box. Ma didn’t think much of that. The family always had the Sunday Express. In Ma’s opinion, the News of the World was dead common, and its reports on lurid court cases were an uncomfortable reminder of that part of Pa’s trial that had also been lurid.
‘What made the paper boy drop that thing on our mat?’ she asked over breakfast.
‘Just a mistake,’ said Nick, ‘I’ll take it back later and change it for the Express.’
‘But we could ’ave a look at it first,’ said Amy. ‘There might be something in it about that woman in Peckham who had two husbands, one at ’ome and one in New Cross.’
‘I don’t want anyone in this fam’ly readin’ about women like that,’ said Ma.
‘Where’s it gone, anyway, the News of the World?’ asked Alice.
‘I’m sittin’ on it,’ said Ma, ‘and I’m stayin’ sittin’ on it.’
Nick took it round to the paper shop later. The shop was run by Gran Emerson, a widow, and her daughter-in-law Ivy. Gran was a card, and Ivy was a saucebox. She had a flirtatious twinkle running about in her eyes. The Sunday morning rush had died down when Nick arrived.
‘Morning, Gran,’ he said. Every
one called Mrs Emerson that. ‘Morning, Ivy.’
‘’Ow’s yerself, Nick?’ asked Gran.
‘Yes, ’ow’s yer thrilling leg muscles, lovey?’ asked Ivy.
‘Bearing up under the strain of carrying me about,’ said Nick.
‘Like a nice lie-down and some leg liniment, would yer, ducky?’ said Ivy. ‘We’ve got some Sloane’s up in the flat, and a sofa as well, and I’ve got ten minutes to spare.’ Ivy at twenty-five was a good-looking saucebox. ‘Fancy it, Nick?’
‘Not half,’ said Nick, ‘but it’s Sunday, and if I go around smelling of Sloane’s all day, it’ll put Ma and the girls off their dinner and tea.’
‘Oh, you can eat with us,’ said Ivy, ‘except Wally might create a bit.’ Wally was her husband, Gran’s son.
‘Might even smack yer bottom,’ chuckled Gran. ‘Anyway, what can we do for yer, Nick?’
‘Packet of ten Players, and a change of paper,’ said Nick.
‘Change of paper?’ said Gran.
‘Yes, we got the News of the World this morning instead of the Express.’
‘It’s that blessed paper boy,’ said Gran, ‘’e does more whistlin’ than lookin’.’
Ivy, inspecting the returned paper, said, ‘It’s all sorry for itself.’
‘Well, Ma sat on it.’
‘What for?’
‘To keep it dark,’ said Nick. ‘She’s like that about the News of the World.’
‘Still, it don’t like to be sat on,’ said Ivy.
‘Well, if you don’t change it,’ said Nick, ‘Ma’ll come round and sit on you.’
‘’Ello, cheeky this morning, are we?’ said Ivy.
‘Nick’s always lively,’ said Gran. ‘When’s yer sailor dad comin’ ’ome, Nick?’
‘Not till his ship does,’ said Nick.
‘What’s the name of ’is ship?’ asked Gran. ‘Only Wally’s got a friend that’s in the Navy.’
Pride of Walworth Page 5
