MB05 - After the Dance is Over

by Joan Jonker

  After The Dance

  Is Over

  Joan Jonker

  Copyright © 2001 Joan Jonker

  The right of Joan Jonker to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2011

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  eISBN: 978 0 7553 9032 8

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  338 Euston Road

  London NW1 3BH

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Author

  Also by Joan Jonker

  Forward

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Joan Jonker was born and bred in Liverpool. Her childhood was a time of love and laughter with her two sisters, a brother, a caring but gambling father and an indomitable mother who was always getting them out of scrapes. Then came the Second World War when she met and fell in love with her husband, Tony. For twenty-three years, Joan campaigned tirelessly on behalf of victims of violence, and it was during this time that she turned to writing fiction. Sadly, after a brave battle against illness, Joan died in February 2006. Her best-selling Liverpool sagas will continue to enthral readers throughout the world.

  Joan Jonker’s previous novels, several of which feature the unforgettable duo Molly and Nellie, have won millions of adoring fans:

  ‘Wonderful . . . the characters are so real I feel I am there in Liverpool with them’ Athena Tooze, Brooklyn, New York

  ‘I enjoy your books for they bring back memories of my younger days’ Frances Hassett, Brixham, Devon

  ‘Thanks for all the good reads’ Phyllis Portock, Walsall

  ‘I love your books, Joan, they bring back such happy memories’ J. Mullett, Lancashire

  ‘I’m an ardent fan, Joan, an avid reader of your books. As an old Liverpudlian, I appreciate the humour. Thank you for so many happy hours’ Mrs L. Broomhead, Liverpool

  Also by Joan Jonker

  When One Door Closes

  Man Of The House

  Home Is Where The Heart Is

  Stay In Your Own Back Yard

  Last Tram To Lime Street

  Sweet Rosie O’Grady

  The Pride Of Polly Perkins

  Sadie Was A Lady

  Walking My Baby Back Home

  Try A Little Tenderness

  Stay As Sweet As You Are

  Down Our Street

  Dream A Little Dream

  Many A Tear Has To Fall

  After The Last Dance Is Over

  Taking A Chance On Love

  Strolling With The One I Love

  Dear Readers

  This is a story of love, laughter and friendship. The fans of Molly Bennett and Nellie McDonough will be delighted because this is the hilarious duo at their very best. Laughter is in abundance and guaranteed, so pull up a chair and treat yourself.

  Warmest regards to all my readers

  Take care

  Joan

  Chapter 1

  ‘Molly Bennett, will yer slow down, girl, before me heart gives out on me?’ Nellie McDonough was red in the face as she tried to make her eighteen stone move faster to catch up with her friend. ‘What the hell’s the hurry?’

  Molly turned around, put her hands on her hips and tutted. ‘I’m only going to the bread shop. I used the last of the loaf for Ruthie’s breakfast and there’s not a crumb in the house. Anyway, where are you off to?’

  ‘I’m following you to see what ye’re up to! What’s the big idea? Yer never go to the shops without me.’

  ‘Oh, aye? Well, who was it passed my window on her way to the shops about an hour ago, sunshine? Yer never knocked to ask if I wanted to come with yer.’

  ‘Ah, but there’s a difference, girl. Yer see, I don’t mind going to the shops without you, but I object to you going without me! If I’m not with yer, God knows what yer’d get up to on yer own. So now yer know.’

  ‘Nellie, ye’re with me more often than me shadow. By the time I get back with me loaf, yer’ll be knocking on the door for yer morning cup of tea.’

  ‘I won’t, yer know, girl, ’cos you’ll be letting us in with a key. I might as well stay with yer now, it’s no good wasting good shoe leather going home and then coming out again.’

  ‘If I thought yer’d understand, sunshine, I’d explain that ye’re wasting more shoe leather coming to the shops with me now than yer would walking the few yards from your house to mine. But yer’d only talk yer way out of it, so I won’t bother.’

  ‘Yer know something, girl, yer talk too much. Yer mouth is never still. We’re wasting good time standing here doing nowt when we could be back in your house and I could be dunking a ginger biscuit in me tea.’

  Molly’s mouth gaped. ‘You cheeky article, Nellie McDonough! What makes yer think ye’re getting a ginger snap? I’ve kept yer in cups of tea for the last twenty odd years, now yer expect to get biscuits with it! And yer know everything’s still on ration so yer’ve got a flaming nerve.’

  ‘Ay, yer’ve got a short memory, girl. What about the packet of custard creams I gave yer that time?’

  Molly was dying to laugh at the expression on her best mate’s face. At the moment she was playing the drama queen, but any second she’d be a petulant child with a quivering bottom lip. ‘And aren’t you forgetting who ate that packet of biscuits? If my memory serves me correct, by the time I’d had two, you’d scoffed the rest!’

  ‘I don’t know why ye’re raking that up, girl, ’cos it was years ago!’

  ‘You’re the one what raked it up, not me! And you’re the one what ate the biscuits!’

  At four feet ten inches, Nellie had to look up at Molly. ‘I’m getting a kink in me neck, so are we going for yer bread or not? It’ll be ruddy stale by the time yer get it, and I’m not very partial to stale bread.’

  ‘You should worry, yer won’t be the one eating it!’

  A sly smile spread across Nellie’s chubby face. ‘I would be if yer asked me to have a bit of lunch with yer. After all yer wouldn’t begrudge a member of yer family having a round of toast?’

  ‘How many times do I have to tell yer that ye’re not one of the family? Just because your Steve married my Jill, that doesn’t make us blood relations!’

  ‘As near as damn it, it does! Anyway, me tummy heard me mention a ro
und of toast and it’s starting to rumble, so can we get our skates on?’ She linked her friend’s arm. ‘Come on, girl, and don’t talk so much.’

  ‘Oh, no, yer don’t.’ Molly moved her arm away. ‘Me other arm, sunshine, I’m not walking on the outside and ending up in the gutter.’

  ‘I can’t help having wide hips what sway, girl. Anyone would think I was pushing yer on purpose, and I wouldn’t do that, not to me very best mate.’

  ‘Flattery won’t get yer a round of toast, Nellie, so don’t be trying it on. I’ve got a stack of washing to put out on the line, and if you hadn’t come along I’d have been to the shop and back by now and me washing would be wafting in the breeze.’ She squeezed her friend’s arm. ‘Still, the sun’s going to shine for another few hours so I’ll get me clothes dry.’

  ‘I put mine out at eight o’clock and they’re dry now,’ Nellie said, her face the picture of innocence as she purposely threw the cat amongst the pigeons. She’d been up since seven and hadn’t had a decent laugh yet. ‘I’ve got them all folded up ready for ironing.’

  Molly pulled up sharp. ‘Yer’ve what! Got all yer washing dried and ready for ironing! Well, you cheeky so-and-so! Yer’ve got yerself all organised, with time on yer hands, so yer think yer’ll do some socialising in my house, do yer, drinking my tea and eating my biscuits?’

  ‘I thought yer said yer had no biscuits, girl?’

  ‘Oh, sod off, Nellie McDonough!’ Molly stuck her nose in the air and thought of how to get one back on her mate. She’d found this word in the dictionary a couple of weeks ago and had been waiting for the opportunity to use it. ‘Whether I’ve got any biscuits or not is really inconsequential – and none of your ruddy business.’

  ‘Temper, girl, temper! Remember that bad heart of yours. I don’t want yer pegging out on me in the middle of the main road.’

  ‘That’s my mate for yer, full of sympathy. Never mind that I’ve conked out in the middle of the tram lines, all yer thinking about is how soft you’ll look. Ye’re as hard as nails, Nellie, with a swinging brick for a heart.’

  The two friends were walking towards the main road, with Nellie chatting away oblivious to the fact that Molly was getting pushed nearer to the wall with each step. ‘Yer might know a lot of big words, girl, but ye’re not that bloody clever. I said I didn’t want yer pegging out on me, not conking out. Conking out means passing out if yer’ve had too much to drink, or fainting with the heat. But pegging out means finito, yer haven’t got a return fare, yer’ve gone for good.’

  ‘Very nicely put, sunshine, with just the right amount of delicacy and sympathy for which ye’re well known.’ They were standing at the kerb and Molly looked both ways before leading her friend across the wide main road. ‘I may as well get all me shopping in now, save coming out later. Yer’ve turned me whole day upside down, Nellie McDonough, but then I should be used to it ’cos I always end up giving in to yer.’

  Tony Reynolds was putting a tray of minced meat in the window of his butcher’s shop when he saw them crossing the road. He shouted to his assistant, ‘Ay out, Ellen, here come the terrible twins. They should brighten the day for us, they usually do.’ He smiled as his two favourite customers entered the shop, with Nellie having to come through the door sideways on. ‘Good morning, ladies, how are you this fine day?’

  Nellie swaggered over to the counter. ‘Morning, Tony. Morning, Ellen. I’m feeling very well meself, but I wouldn’t ask Molly if I were you ’cos she’s got a right gob on her. Nearly bit me head off she did because I asked her if I could have a bite to eat with her! I mean, yer wouldn’t see a beggar in the street starve, would yer, never mind yer own flesh and blood?’

  ‘So help me I’ll clock her one of these days.’ Molly winked at the butcher she’d known since the day she moved into the area as a newly married woman, and to his assistant who was her next-door neighbour and good friend. ‘And I didn’t have a gob on me until I found her following me down the street. I only came out for a loaf, ’cos as yer know we don’t usually do our shopping until later, but me bold Nellie changed all that just ’cos she’s too ruddy nosy.’

  ‘That’s a load of cobblers.’ Nellie’s vigorously shaking head sent her layers of chins flying in all directions. ‘The real reason she’s got a cob on is because I’ve got all me washing dried ready to iron and she hasn’t even got hers on the line yet. Now is it my fault if she’s too bloody lazy to get out of ruddy bed in the mornings?’

  ‘I’m not getting involved,’ Ellen said, knowing full well the two women had never had a proper falling out in the twenty years she’d known them. And if they didn’t leave here laughing their heads off, she’d eat her hat. ‘Fight it out between yerselves.’

  ‘Ye’re a wise woman, Ellen,’ Tony said, beaming. ‘Never take sides between two friends.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘What can I get for you, ladies?’

  ‘I haven’t got me ration book with me, Tony, ’cos I wasn’t expecting to do me shopping now,’ Molly said. ‘So can I have half of mince and I’ll bring yer the coupons tomorrow?’

  ‘Yer certainly can, Molly. And I’ll throw yer a bit extra in for good measure ’cos the bloke at the abattoir was in a good mood this morning and gave me over the odds.’

  ‘I’ll have the same as me mate.’ Nellie wasn’t going to be left out. ‘Especially that extra bit ye’re throwing on for good measure what yer got off the bloke at the . . . er . . . the . . . er . . . the place what yer get yer meat from.’

  Tony chuckled. ‘The abattoir, Nellie, that’s what the place is called.’

  She walked around the shop in a circle while she considered how best to find out what she wanted to know. Then she had a brainwave. ‘Ay, ye’re good with words, Tony, but I bet my mate can lick the pants off yer.’ She jerked her head at Molly. ‘Go on, girl, tell him what it is when ye’ve either got biscuits or yer haven’t.’

  Molly kept her face straight but she was laughing inside. She’d wondered when her friend would get round to it. ‘It’s none of your ruddy business!’

  ‘Yeah, I know yer said that. But what did yer say before?’

  Molly held her chin in her hand, her blue eyes thoughtful. ‘Let’s see if I can remember. Oh, yes, I said whether I had biscuits or not was inconsequential.’

  Nellie folded her arms and hitched up her mountainous bosom. ‘There yer are, Tony, how’s that for a word? I bet yer a tanner yer don’t know what it means.’

  ‘Oh, yer shouldn’t have bet me a tanner, Nellie, ’cos yer’ve lost. It means something of little importance. So hand yer money over.’

  Nellie was flummoxed. Her eyes darted around the shop seeking a way out. And she found it. ‘I’ll only believe yer, Tony, if yer write it down for me. Go on, spell it out.’

  It was the butcher’s turn to be flummoxed. He hadn’t got a clue how to spell it. But he found a way out, too! At least he thought he had. ‘I’ll tell yer what, I’ll weigh yer mince while Ellen writes it down for yer.’

  Ellen’s eyes and mouth were wide. ‘Spell it? I can’t even say it, never mind write it down. No, I’ve got a better idea, Tony, I’ll serve the ladies while you find yerself a nice clean piece of paper what hasn’t got any blood on.’

  ‘Ha-ha.’ Nellie’s shoulders shook with mirth. ‘Yer can’t spell it, can yer, Tony? Come on, be a man and admit it.’

  ‘Nellie, you bet me a tanner and the bet stands. Just make sure yer have it with yer tomorrow when I bring in a nice clean piece of paper with the word written on it.’

  ‘Bugger off, Tony Reynolds, yer must think I just came over on the banana boat!’ Her shake of head and chins signified her disgust. ‘Yer haven’t got a ruddy clue! Fat chance yer’ve got of getting a tanner off me. If I want to see it written down I can get me mate to do it for nowt!’

  ‘Yer know what you can do, don’t yer, sunshine?’ Molly said. ‘I can say it, and I know what it means, but I’d have a job spelling it. Yer bet Tony a tanner he didn’t know the meaning of it and he d
id, so pay up and look happy.’

  Nellie wasn’t having any of that. Her head shook so fast her chins didn’t know which way to turn. ‘Tony stands as much chance of getting sixpence off me as my George has of winning the football pools.’

  ‘But George doesn’t do the football pools!’

  Nellie spread her hands. ‘See what I mean, girl? Tony doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell. Anyway, him being a fine upstanding Catholic, he knows it’s a sin to gamble. So I’m doing him a favour by leading him down the path of rightussness.’

  Molly and Ellen covered their mouths, bodies shaking with laughter, while Tony tilted his head back to enjoy a loud guffaw. In the process his straw hat fell off, landed on the sawdust-covered floor, and brought a fresh burst of hilarity from them. As he bent down to retrieve it, he used the counter as a screen while he tried to wipe the smile off his face. ‘Oh, aye, Nellie, what path is that, then?’

  ‘You heard me, yer haven’t got cloth ears.’ Nellie knew exactly what she was doing and saying, she always did. But she was game for a laugh, too. Mind you, she’d learned about the path of righteousness at school, the priest had made sure of that, so she was on safe ground there. It was that big word of Molly’s that had her beat, she couldn’t even get her tongue around it. ‘I don’t know what the three of yer are laughing at, yer silly sods. Have yer never heard of the path of rightussness?’

  ‘I’ll tell yer what I’ll do, Nellie, so we’ll be quits. I’ll take a chance on God not minding anyone having a little flutter, and I’ll bet you a tanner yer can’t spell it. Now I can’t be fairer than that.’

  Nellie’s mind went back to the priest who used to take them for religious instruction every morning. Where was he now when she needed him? He used to drive it home to them every morning about the path of righteousness, but he’d never asked them to spell it! ‘Not on yer life, Tony Reynolds. I don’t think much of me chances of getting to heaven as it is – I’m not going looking for trouble!’