by Joan Jonker
‘Molly, what about drinks?’ Jack asked. ‘I’ll feel a right fool if I can’t offer them a drink.’
‘There’s half a bottle of sherry left, and I’ve bought four large bottles of milk stout. That’s plenty for four ladies. Oh, I’ve asked Maisie and Alec, that’s why there’s four ladies. As for the men, Corker said to leave the beer to him. And he insisted, Jack, so don’t be looking at me like that.’
‘But he always supplies the beer, it doesn’t seem right!’
‘Jack, it’s always us that have the parties, so it’s only fair that the others chip in. I don’t mind having them here, I enjoy it, but we couldn’t afford to fork out for all the food and drink every time. I’m not tight, but yer have to draw the line somewhere.’
‘Me mam’s right, Dad, it’s only fair everyone makes a contribution,’ Tommy said. ‘Just think of all the parties we’ve had in this house. Every Christmas without fail, birthdays and weddings. And every time Uncle Corker comes home on leave. No one could afford to keep that up, unless they were loaded.’
‘No, if yer look at it that way, I suppose not.’
‘Well, I’m glad that’s sorted out! Now when yer’ve finished yer dinner, Ruthie will bring the plates out.’ Molly got as far as the kitchen door. ‘By the way, is Liverpool playing at home this afternoon?’
Jack looked surprised. ‘Yes, they are! But why the sudden interest? Yer’ve never asked me that before?’
‘I thought yer might like to go to the match with George and Paul for a change. It would get yer out from under me feet. Then when I’ve done the baking I could give the room a good clear out without having to ask yer to shift all the time.’
Jack eyed his son. ‘D’yer feel like going to the match, Tommy?’
The lad shook his head. It might only cost a few coppers, but those coppers were needed to swell the money he and Rosie had saved. ‘No, I’ll go round and sit with me nan and granda for an hour, then walk to meet Rosie when the shop closes.’
‘Right, that’s you two sorted out. And Ruthie, I suppose you’ll be going over to Bella’s?’
Ruthie frowned as she swung her legs back and forth under the chair. ‘Where am I going tonight? I don’t want to stay in with all the old fogeys.’
‘Yer can go next door to Ellen’s and have a game of cards with Gordon and Peter. Ask Bella if she’d like to come.’
That brought a smile to the girl’s face. She had her eye on Ellen’s son, Gordon. He was a working lad now, and thought himself all grown-up. But she’d be leaving school next year, so she’d be grown-up herself then. ‘Yeah, that’s the gear, Mam, I’ll go over and ask Bella now.’
‘Table cleared first, sunshine, then the afternoon is yer own.’
Nellie and George were the first to arrive, and as soon as Molly opened the door she could see by her friend’s face she was bursting with news and excitement. And when Nellie wanted to talk it was very difficult to shut her up. So Molly dragged her out to the kitchen, closed the door so no one could hear, then warned, ‘Not a peep, sunshine, until everyone is here. The events of yesterday and this morning are going to be the highlight of this party so I want yer to promise to keep yer mouth shut and not spoil it.’
‘Are we going to give a performance, girl?’
‘We sure are, sunshine, we’re going to have them rolling in the aisles.’
Nellie wagged her shoulders from side to side. ‘Ooh, I can’t wait, girl! But I can tell you a bit about what I found out, can’t I? Just the Christian names of the Mowbrays, that can’t hurt.’ Her arms were folded and her bosom hitched. ‘The mother is called Beryl and she’s not bad when yer get talking to her. I didn’t see her husband ’cos he was at work but his name’s David. The lad we saw, Jeffrey, is fourteen, and there’s a daughter called Joanne. But from what I saw, she’s a hard case, dead forward and cheeky.’
Molly cocked an ear. ‘There’s a knock, sunshine, yer’ll have to leave the rest till a bit later.’ When she heard Corker’s voice booming, Molly opened the kitchen door wide and let her friend in first. ‘Welcome, Ellen, and you, Corker.’
‘Molly, me darlin’, ye’re looking as pretty as ever.’
‘Don’t mind me,’ Ellen said, ‘I’m only yer wife.’
‘And the best one in the world, me darlin’.’ Corker dwarfed his wife when he put an arm across her shoulders. ‘But I’ve been telling Molly for twenty years how pretty she is, if I stopped now she’d think she’d turned ugly. And if I may say so, Mrs McDonough is also looking very smart.’ His weatherbeaten face grinned at Nellie before he handed over a heavy bag to Jack. ‘A few bottles of beer to whet the whistle. Will they go in the kitchen?’
‘Yeah, thanks, Corker. I’ll wait for Maisie and Alec to come before pouring any drinks.’
‘Was our Paul late for his date with Phoebe, Corker?’ George asked. ‘He was upstairs getting ready when we left, and honest to God, anyone would think he was going to Buckingham Palace, the time he spends polishing his shoes and slicking his hair.’
‘Yeah, he knocked for Phoebe just as me and Ellen were coming out. They’ll be off now to enjoy themselves. They make a fine-looking couple.’
‘There’s the door,’ Molly said. ‘It’ll be Maisie and Alec. Make yerselves comfortable while I let them in, and then me and Nellie are going to entertain yer for an hour or so. And if me mate’s in good form ye’re in for a treat.’
Chapter 6
As Phoebe walked down the street with Paul, she was kicking herself for not having the guts to tell him she’d rather do something else than go dancing tonight. Her heart sank when she saw his dancing shoes under his arm, but she didn’t say anything because her mam and dad were just going out and she didn’t want to have words in front of them. Even now, because he seemed so happy and carefree, she was reluctant to speak out. It wasn’t that she didn’t like dancing, she did, but not every night. There were other things she would have preferred to do, like going on one of the Mersey ferries over to Seacombe and then walking to New Brighton. Or going to the pictures to sit on the back row of the stalls holding hands.
‘Ye’re quiet, aren’t yer?’ Paul said, looking down at her. ‘I know ye’re never very noisy or talkative, but yer seem more quiet than usual.’
Phoebe looked into his deep brown eyes and was lost. He loved dancing and she couldn’t disappoint him. ‘I’m all right, I just don’t have much to talk about.’
They turned the corner of the street and saw a tram trundling towards the stop. ‘That’s handy, we’re just in time.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Blair Hall.’ Paul cupped her elbow and helped her board the tram. ‘I thought we’d honour them with our presence tonight.’
‘Don’t yer think it would be a good idea to ask me where I’d like to go?’ Phoebe knew they’d end up in Blair Hall no matter what she said, but her pride told her she really couldn’t let him get away with having his own way all the time. ‘What if I’d wanted to go somewhere else, instead?’
Paul fished a sixpenny piece out of his pocket and handed it to the ticket collector who’d followed them to their seat. Then he waited for his ticket and change before answering. ‘Where else would yer rather go?’ He sounded surprised. ‘I thought yer liked Blair Hall.’
‘I do, but I think it would be nice if we did something else for a change. I know ye’re mad on dancing, but every night is a bit much.’
‘All yer have to do is say the word and we’ll go wherever yer want.’
‘We’ll leave it for tonight ’cos yer’ve got yer heart set on dancing. But in future I’d like some say in the matter.’
The smile was back in those brown eyes and the dimples reappeared. ‘Okay, boss, whatever you say.’ Paul was happy now they were still on their way to Blair Hall. If Phoebe had insisted he would have given in to her, but he’d have been disappointed. He was at his happiest when gliding across the dance floor, and he excelled at it. There were few boys at any dance who could better him. He
went every night, even on the two he wasn’t seeing Phoebe. She had a night in to wash her hair and on the other night she went out with a girl from work.
‘Next stop’s ours, kiddo.’ Paul left his seat and stood aside to let her go first, then put his hands on her slim waist to steady her when the tram lurched to a stop. ‘Drunk again, Miss Corkhill, I’m going to tell yer mam and dad on yer.’
‘That’ll be the day.’ Phoebe smiled into his face as they waited to cross the busy main road. ‘I bet both our parents are enjoying a drink now at Auntie Molly’s. And I bet they’re having a good laugh.’
‘That goes without saying.’ He took her hand when the coast was clear, and they ran to the side entrance of the dance hall. ‘Whenever me mam and Auntie Molly get together there’s always high jinks.’
Paul paid the man at the door, then waited until Phoebe had checked her coat into the cloakroom. ‘They’re playing a tango, let’s get cracking.’
They danced well together and made an attractive couple. Phoebe had a pretty face, slim figure, nicely shaped legs and long mousy-coloured hair which had been brushed until it shone. She was also the envy of many of the girls who had eyes for the tall, dark-haired boy who could set their hearts fluttering.
When they announced the next dance as a ladies’ excuse-me quickstep, Phoebe groaned inwardly because they would no sooner take to the floor than some girl would touch Paul’s shoulder and she’d be left to return to the edge. And it wasn’t just one girl excusing him, it would be one every minute or so. Not for the world would she tell him she objected because then he’d think she was jealous. Which she was, of course, but that was something she’d never let him see. Her mam had warned her when she became old enough to date that she should never run after any boy as that was the quickest way to lose him.
It was only with reluctance that Phoebe allowed herself to be led on to the dance floor, and it was hard to keep a smile on her face. Her fears were realised when, after they’d covered just half the floor, a pretty dark-haired girl tapped Paul on the shoulder. He didn’t think anything of it because he was used to it . . . it was an excuse-me, after all. But Phoebe was left to walk away, to stand on her own and watch. Then her mind rebelled and a voice in her head told her to find a chair and sit down instead.
She’d turned to walk towards the chairs lining the walls when she felt a hand on her arm. She looked sideways to find a tall blond boy smiling at her. ‘Can I have this dance, please?’
When she opened her mouth to say she didn’t want to dance, a voice in Phoebe’s head told her not to be so soft. Why shouldn’t she dance with a stranger? Paul was. And what was good for the goose was good for the gander. ‘Yes, I’d like that.’
The boy was a good dancer and easy to follow. ‘My name’s Bill, what’s yours?’
‘Phoebe.’
‘That’s an unusual name but I like it.’ He twirled her around with ease and she was happy she could follow his intricate footwork. ‘Nice little dancer, too! D’yer come here often?’
‘About once a week, usually. We go to Barlow’s Lane and the Aintree Institute as well.’
‘I notice yer said “we”. Is the bloke yer came in with yer boyfriend?’
Phoebe blushed and lowered her eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘How long have yer been going out with him? Or am I being too nosy?’
‘It’s no secret, I’ve been seeing him for a few months now.’
The dance came to an end and she moved out of his arms. Smiling shyly, she said, ‘Thank you.’
‘It was my pleasure,’ Bill told her, ‘I’ll see yer later.’
Paul watched her walking towards him. ‘Who was the bloke?’
‘How do I know? Except he said his name was Bill. Why?’
‘Did yer tell him yer with me?’ Paul looked very put out. ‘I hope yer did.’
‘I could ask yer the same thing, Paul. Did yer tell the dark-haired girl, or the blonde, that yer were with me?’
‘That’s different, that is! I didn’t ask them to dance, they excused me!’
‘And I didn’t ask Bill to dance, he asked me!’ Phoebe didn’t usually have a temper and seldom raised her voice, but she was stung by the injustice. ‘Would yer rather I sat like a wallflower while you enjoy yerself? That’s a bit selfish, isn’t it?’
Paul had the grace to blush. ‘Yeah, it is, isn’t it?’ His smile reached his eyes. ‘I’m not soft, am I? It’s like me telling yer to sit and be a good little girl while I enjoy meself. That’s dead selfish, and if I were you I’d tell me to get lost.’
‘It’s not worth falling out over, Paul, so just forget it.’
‘Yeah, especially as they’re playing a slow foxtrot, our favourite dance. Come into my arms, pretty lady, and let’s get all romantic.’
After the interval they announced the next dance, a waltz, was to be a gentlemen’s excuse-me. There won’t be any problems here, Paul thought, as he lead Phoebe on to the dance floor. He’d never been excused by a bloke yet. But he found there was a first time for everything when Bill tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Excuse me.’
The expression on Paul’s face was difficult to describe. Surprise came first, then disbelief followed by a trace of anger. ‘Can’t yer find another girl? This one is mine.’
‘It’s a gentlemen’s excuse-me, mate, and that’s what I’m doing – I’m excusing yer.’ Without further ado, Bill gently pulled Phoebe’s arm free and waltzed off with her, leaving Paul standing scratching his head. But not for long. ‘To hell with that,’ he muttered, and gazed around for the nearest girl who was a good dancer. But all the time his eyes were following Phoebe and the bloke who was chatting away to her as they danced. As the strains of the waltz died away and Paul thanked his partner, he was not a happy man. Long-faced, he walked back to where Phoebe was standing.
‘He had a bloody cheek, that feller! And you could have refused, yer know.’
‘Paul McDonough, don’t you dare swear at me! And if anyone’s got a bloody cheek, it’s you! What about the number of times I’ve been left like a lemon while you waltz off with some girl who’s excused yer? I never hear you refusing to dance with them. But yer don’t like it when the boot’s on the other foot, do yer? Honest, ye’re acting like a little boy who can’t have what he wants, and it’s about time yer grew up.’
Paul was taken aback. Shy, quiet Phoebe was actually shouting at him! And she looked so pretty with her flushed face, he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. ‘I’m sorry, I was being very childish. Everything yer said is true, I was out of line. So now I’ve said I’m sorry, can I see a smile back on yer face, please?’
‘Yer don’t deserve to be forgiven because I’ll be terrified now any time anyone asks me to dance. It’s all right for you to laugh and joke with other girls, but heaven help me if I so much as look at another boy.’ But looking into his deep brown, appealing eyes, Phoebe found herself weakening. ‘Oh, forget it, we’re both being childish. But I hope the same thing never happens again or I will lose me rag.’
‘Yer look very pretty when ye’re in a temper.’ Paul put his arm around her slim waist. ‘I’ll be a good boy in future, I promise. Now, how about a rumba?’
He’s a real charmer, Phoebe thought as they circled the room, and I’m a sucker for him. And with the thought came the memory of the man who had charmed her mother before they were wed, and had turned out to be a drunken rotter. A husband and father from hell. Thank God they had Corker for a father now and knew what a happy home was. But she would never forget Nobby Clarke, his foul language and his cruelty to her mam and the children. The way they’d starved and walked around with rags on their back. The memory of her father made her wary of all men. She didn’t think for a second that Paul would turn out to be the same, and she was crazy about him, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep him in check.
The last waltz was slow and dreamy, a good dance for singing softly and holding each other tight, upsets and tiffs forgotten for a while. ‘Are yer friends with me again,
Phoebe?’ Paul whispered in her ear. ‘’Cos if ye’re not, I won’t be able to sleep. And I know yer wouldn’t want to rob me of me beauty sleep, would yer?’
‘Heaven forbid! We mustn’t let Paul lose his beauty sleep.’ She smiled her gentle smile before resting her head on his chest. ‘Otherwise he might turn into a frog.’
‘Yer’d still love me even if I was a frog, wouldn’t yer?’
‘Ooh, I don’t know about that. I’d have to wait and see if my kiss would turn you into Prince Charming.’ The dance was coming to an end and there would be a mad scramble for the cloakroom so Phoebe turned him towards the door. ‘We can finish this conversation on the twenty-two tram or outside our front door.’
Paul grinned. ‘There’s always the side entry.’
‘I’ll tell me mam on you, Paul McDonough. Nice girls don’t go down entries. Not with boys anyway. So yer’ll have to be satisfied with a kiss outside our front door.’
With their arms around each other’s waists, Phoebe and Paul walked up their street. They were a few doors away from the Bennetts’ house when the door opened and a noisy, happy group of people spilled on to the pavement. And their laughter brought smiles to the young couple’s faces.
‘I might have known,’ Paul said. ‘Rotten drunk as usual.’
‘Not quite, son, not quite.’ Corker’s loud guffaw carried the length of the street. ‘Your mam has had us laughing so much there wasn’t time for drinking.’
‘Oh, aye, Mam, what have yer been up to now?’ There was deep affection in Paul’s eyes when he looked at his mother. ‘Honest, ye’re not fit to be let out.’
‘I’ll wager we had a better time than you, son,’ George said. ‘Yer mam and Auntie Molly entertained us with a play in three parts. The first act took place in the butcher’s shop, the second in the queue at the cake shop and the finale had us looking out of your front window watching the new neighbours move in.’
‘I’ve never laughed so much in all me life,’ said Maisie from the corner shop. ‘I thought Alec was going to choke, he laughed so much.’
