‘Aye, well, yer different to me an’ that’s for sure, ’cos I’d have tekken that money and gone out on the town with it. But you! By! You turned it down like it had the pox.’
Molly took a deep breath. ‘I couldn’t do anything else and live with myself afterwards.’
‘I understand. Really I do.’ But she didn’t, and she never would. To Sandra’s mind, money was money, no matter where it came from.
The faintest of smiles crept over Molly’s tragic features. ‘That poor man though,’ she said, giggling. ‘I’ve an idea he won’t dare show his face round these parts again.’
Sandra sniggered. ‘I’m bloody sure he won’t! Not after you threatened to set the dogs on the poor sod.’
They looked at each other and took a fit of the giggles. In fact, to laugh at themselves was what they both needed. These past weeks they had seemed to lose the thread of their friendship, but now they were as close as ever, and it was wonderful.
‘What will you do?’ Molly asked, when once they were quiet again. ‘About the bairn, and everything?’
Sandra sat for a moment, stiff and upright in the chair, her face hard, her hands twisting round and round each other. ‘I heard he had a new woman,’ she said, so quietly Molly could scarcely hear her.
‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip.’
‘Ah, but this wasn’t gossip,’ Sandra revealed. ‘I got it from somebody who should know.’
‘And who was that?’
‘The landlord at the pub where he used to drink. I went there to see if he knew where Dave had gone.’
‘And did he?’
‘No, but I’ll find him. It’s just a matter of time.’
‘Then what?’
‘He’ll be made to face up to his responsibilities. New woman or not, I’m having his kid, and it’s his place to look out for us.’ Shaking her fist in the air, she declared, ‘He can kick this other woman out for starters!’
‘And if he refuses?’
A terrible look came into Sandra’s eyes. ‘I’ll cut out his heart,’ she promised.
And Molly was filled with dread.
Suddenly, her mood changed and Sandra was concerned about Molly. ‘That’s why you sent Alfie away, weren’t it, gal?’ she said. ‘Because yer mam ran off and left you with the kids. You knew yer dad weren’t up to much, so you sent Alfie away, so’s he’d have some sort of a life. You didn’t want him lumbered with your lot – not when he’d just been given the opportunity of a lifetime.’
‘Seems you’ve got it all worked out.’
‘So, am I right?’
Molly nodded. ‘What else could I do?’
‘By! I don’t know if I’d make such a sacrifice. You must really love him.’
‘I do. I always will.’
‘Mam kept it all to herself, did you know that?’
‘I asked her to.’
‘She didn’t even tell Grandaddy.’
‘If she had have done, he might have gone straight off and told Alfie.’
‘I don’t know about that. You know how mad Grandaddy is about boxing an’ all? Even though he thinks the world of you, I’m not sure he’d have told Alfie, knowing he would have insisted on staying here, with you.’
‘Nobody must tell Alfie.’
‘Nobody will.’
‘He’s got a big fight coming up, did you know that?’
Sandra looked at her sheepishly. ‘I’ve been out of it a bit,’ she confessed. ‘Me and me mam have been at loggerheads over this bloke of mine, especially when I came home with a black eye. She went off her bleedin’ rocker! That’s why I daren’t tell her about the bairn. Hey!’ A look of horror came into her eyes. ‘You won’t tell her, will yer?’
‘You know I won’t,’ Molly assured her, ‘but I think you should talk it over with her all the same. Your mam’s a good woman. However angry she might be, she’ll be on your side.’
‘Aye, well, I’m not so sure. That’s why I’m saying nothing, at least not until I’ve got its daddy well and truly where I want him. If I can fetch him home and let me mam see he’s not such a monster, she might come round to our way of thinking. That’s when I’ll tell her she’s about to become a grandma.’
‘This bloke of yours, Sandra…’
‘What about him?’
‘Is he worth all the aggravation? He sounds like a womaniser to me, and violent into the bargain. What makes you think you can change him?’
‘Because I will.’ She laughed. ‘Or I’ll die in the trying.’
‘Be careful, Sandra. Be sure you know what you’re doing.’
‘Aw, stop worrying, gal. I’m not as daft as yer think.’ She joked, ‘Not daft enough to throw a fat wad of money away, at any rate!’
The conversation ended with Molly having to confirm her promise not to say anything to Rosie about the bairn, and Sandra promising in return not to do anything stupid if and when she found her fella. ‘But if he has got another woman, I’ll cut his balls off an’ no mistake!’
Before Molly left, she quickly checked the Craig family’s hotpot, giving it a good stir as she had promised Rosie, and then walked home, thinking about Sandra, and about Lottie, realising suddenly how alike they were. ‘A law unto themselves,’ she muttered. ‘Wilful and hot-headed, the pair of ’em.’
And a constant worry to both herself and Rosie.
* * *
Amy had been on edge all day. ‘What time will he be back?’ She glanced at the grandfather clock. ‘It’s already half past six. What time did he say he’d be back?’
‘Another hour or so. It’s a long way, my love, and what with the snow and everything, it’s bound to slow him up.’
‘I’m sorry, Jack, but I can’t help worrying.’
Coming away from the big, open fire, she crossed the room and stood in the bay window, her sorry gaze stretching down the drive to the road beyond. ‘What if he didn’t find her? She could have been out, and he had to come away without giving her the money.’
‘If that’s the case, he’ll make another trip.’ Getting out of his comfortable leather chair, Jack came to stand beside her. ‘Amy! Will you stop your worrying?’ He kissed her on the neck. ‘You’ll wear yourself out.’ He made a suggestion. ‘Look, why don’t you go and get yourself dolled up and we’ll go to the club in Bedford town. It’ll do you good. In fact, it’ll do us both good.’
‘Not tonight, Jack.’
‘Fair enough, but like I say, stop fretting. He’ll be here shortly, you’ll see. Molly will have got the money, and all will be well. It should be enough to keep them going for ages – until the next payment.’
Turning to him, Amy looked up with adoring eyes. ‘Thank you, Jack. Thank you for being so thoughtful and generous when you don’t have to be.’ Kissing him on the mouth, she told him softly, ‘I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such a good man as you.’
‘Oh, I’m not so good.’ Holding her tight, he smiled fondly. ‘I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again… you’ve made me the happiest man on God’s earth.’
Another kiss, and this time a smile to go with it. ‘I’m glad,’ she said, and meant it.
* * *
It was nine o’clock when the long black saloon came up the drive. ‘He’s here!’ Like a cat on hot bricks, Amy leaped out of her seat by the window. ‘Oh Jack, he’s here!’
She would have run out, but Jack told her to stay where she was. ‘I’ll see to him. There’s no need for you to come out in the cold.’
Amy watched the two men, deep in conversation. She saw Jack lean into the car and she saw him glance up towards her. When he smiled, she beckoned excitedly, and he began his way back.
Breathing heavily from the cold, he took off his long coat and hung it on the hallway dresser. ‘Apparently he had a terrible drive home,’ he told Amy. ‘There was a bad accident on the A5. It seems the traffic was held up for some time.’
‘What did he say?’ Amy could hardly contain herself. ‘Was Molly there?
Did he give her the money? Was she pleased? Oh Jack… it will do so much for her and the children.’
Seeing her bright anxious face he didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. ‘Everything’s all right,’ he lied. ‘He took the money and Molly was in. So now you can stop worrying.’
‘Did she send me a message?’
He shook his head. ‘No message.’
Amy’s face fell, then she was smiling again. ‘But she did get the money? That’s what he said, isn’t it? Molly was in, and she got the money.’
Not wanting to lie again, he merely nodded.
Like a child, Amy clapped her hands. ‘Oh Jack, that’s all I want to know. I didn’t expect a message, not really.’ But it would have been wonderful to know Molly had forgiven her.
‘Now, will you get ready and we’ll go to the club for an hour?’
She glanced at the clock. ‘It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?’
‘Maybe you’re right.’ He slid his arms round her. ‘Let’s have a quiet drink here, just the two of us, and afterwards, an early night?’ He winked. ‘What d’you say?’
‘I say yes.’
‘And no hanky panky.’ He smiled down on her. ‘I’ve a string of business meetings in London tomorrow.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it!’ she said in mock horror.
Later, when they walked across the hallway, he noticed the envelope jutting from his coat pocket on the dresser. ‘You go on up,’ he suggested. ‘I’m not sure whether I locked the back door.’
‘Don’t be long,’ she warned with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Or I might get fed up waiting.’
He patted her backside. ‘I’ll be quick as a wink.’
As she turned the corner at the top of the stairs, he hurried back to his coat and took out the envelope. Peering inside, he saw that not a penny had been accepted by Molly. ‘Yer a proud little sod, Molly Tattersall!’ he sighed. Then he took the envelope into the front room, where he tucked it neatly into his briefcase.
Lying to Amy had not come easy. But he knew if he had told her the truth, she would never have had a minute’s peace. ‘It’s better she doesn’t know,’ he told himself. ‘I’ve tried, and done my best. That’s all any man can do.’
Chapter Fifteen
It was Christmas Eve. The thaw had been and gone, and the fall of snow promised for Christmas had not materialised. ‘I can’t say as I’m sorry.’ Mr Bruce, the owner of the corner shop, would complain whether the sun was shining or the heavens had opened. ‘Damned weather, it’s never what you’d call comfortable. Always either too hot or too cold, or raining so bloomin’ hard you can’t see a hand in front of you.’
Granny Arkwright shook her head and tutted. ‘Yer a miserable old git,’ she told him, whistling through the gap in her false teeth. ‘You ain’t never satisfied about nuthin’!’
Even at the back of the queue, Molly and Bertha heard it all. ‘Why is that lady whistling?’ Bertha wanted to know, and Granny Arkwright laughed out loud.
‘’Cos me teeth are falling apart, lass – that’s why. They’re old and bent, just like me.’
‘Right then!’ Having weighed her potatoes in his scale, Mr Bruce told her to hold up her shopping bag. Sliding them into her bag, he asked, ‘Is there owt else?’
Red in the face from holding the bag up, the old woman put it to the ground. ‘I’ll have a cabbage, and not a big one neither. I’m not paying good money to throw ’alf of it in the midden. There’s only me to eat it, as well you know.’
Grumbling under his breath, Mr Bruce sorted out a small round one. ‘How’s that?’
The old woman examined it up and down, then sideways and back to front. ‘Is that the best you’ve got?’
‘It is.’
‘Hmh! Well, I’ve seen better, but it’ll do.’ She wagged a bony finger. ‘And don’t go pushing your hand down on them scales when you weigh it.’ Screwing up one eye, she peered at him through the other. ‘’Cos I’ve got my beady eye on yer.’
With the cabbage safely stowed in her bag, she nagged at him some more. ‘I’ll ’ave a box o’ snuff… oh, and two apples,’ she concluded. ‘Not hard ones neither. They’re no good to me when I can’t chew the blessed things.’
A few minutes and two arguments later, she toddled out the shop. ‘The old Scrooge!’ Mr Bruce was well and truly riled. ‘Two and bloody ninepence, that’s all she ever spends. It’s a mystery to me how she manages to keep it within a farthing every time – unless she does summat to them scales when me back’s turned. That wouldn’t surprise me one bit.’ Granny Arkwright was a thorn in his side. ‘She counts them pennies like they’re never gonna make any more, while everybody knows she’s rolling in money since her husband died.’
‘Aye, an’ he earned it, too!’ said Bert Turner, now at the back of the queue. ‘I miss that shop. I allus used to get me baccy there, and everything.’
Molly’s turn came and it didn’t take her long to spend her few coins. ‘A loaf of bread, a pot of your strawberry jam and some margarine, please.’ Knowing the circumstances, Mr Bruce threw a couple of big taters in as well. ‘You can make some good chips with them,’ he told her with a wink.
Outside, she found Granny Arkwright bent double, her bag lying on the ground beside her, while she fought off a stray dog with her walking stick. ‘Mangy thing! I dropped me bag and now it’s after me apples.’
Picking up the bag, Molly helped the old woman home. It wasn’t far. ‘Number two, Duckworth Street, dear,’ she told Molly. ‘Every day the journey to the shops gets longer, and my legs seem to get shorter.’
She laughed at Bertha, who had not stopped staring solemnly at her. ‘I’m a comical old bugger, ain’t I?’ she cackled. ‘But you’ll be old one day, my beauty. Everybody gets old, or dead, and I’d rather be old.’ After that she held tight to Molly’s arm and muttered to herself all the way home.
Helping her as far as the door, Molly was told, ‘That’s far enough, lass. I don’t ever let anybody into my house – not that yer might rob me or owt, but I have to be careful, what with being on my own.’
She smiled on them both. ‘But you’ve been very kind and I want to thank you.’ Reaching into her purse, she took out a florin. ‘That’s for your trouble,’ she said.
Molly graciously refused, but it was pressed into her palm. ‘You take it for the children,’ the old woman insisted. ‘Tomorrow’s Christmas Day. I don’t suppose you’ve got a tree nor trimmings neither, so go on, lass. You’ve earned it. You carried an old lady’s bag all the way…’ She laughed until she began coughing and could hardly breathe. ‘You very nearly carried me an’ all.’
Molly wasn’t satisfied until the old lady had the door open and her bag inside the passage.
‘Will you do it again for me, lass?’
For a minute, Molly wasn’t sure what she meant. ‘Do what?’
‘Well, carry me bag, o’ course!’ the old lady tutted. ‘I’m too old to be carting heavy bags about. What’s more, that Mr Bruce wears me out with his arguing and moaning. I’m asking you to do me shopping, lass. I’ll pay you a florin a week. That’s for a trip to the butcher’s in town, and a trip to Mr Bruce’s corner shop. What do you say? Will you help me out?’
Molly didn’t need to think twice. ‘It’s a deal.’ They worked out which days she would come and at what time, then shook hands on it.
Molly ran Bertha all the way home. Bursting into Rosie’s front room, she grabbed her by the waist and danced her round. ‘We’ve got a job!’ she cried. ‘Granny Arkwright’s took me on to do her shopping – a florin a week!’
When she was let loose, Rosie fell into the nearest chair. ‘Oh, that’s grand news. When do we start?’
‘Not tomorrow ’cos that’s Christmas Day, but we’ll walk the streets on Boxing Day and knock on every door in Blackburn.’ Lifting Bertha into her arms, Molly swung her round in turn, making her scream with delight. ‘We’re on our way!’ she cried. ‘We’re on our way!’
Rosie smiled. ‘God bless yer, lass,’ she murmured. ‘It’s only what ye deserve, so it is.’
* * *
Christmas Day was one of the best ever, despite Amy Tattersall’s absence.
Thanks to Granny Arkwright, there was a small tree and some trimmings. With some of her savings, Molly had bought and hidden a scarf each for Rosie, Sandra, Michael and her father, together with a little present for each of the children; all bought from the market and all very much appreciated.
There were two rag dolls, one for Bertha and one for Milly, though Molly wisely bought one with red hair and one with brown, so the girls could tell them apart.
Georgie had a wooden engine that screeched when you blew into its tail end. Eddie had a little duck that quacked when pulled along, and everybody opened their presents amid much laughter and fun.
Molly received a knitted jumper from Rosie and a matching bobble hat from Sandra; Michael Noonan, Rosie’s father, gave her two bob to, ‘Get yesel’ a nice treat, me darlin’.’
Sandra rather unkindly told him that Molly wouldn’t be able to buy much with two bob, but her friend thanked him graciously and said she had seen a pair of gloves that would match her jumper and scarf. ‘And I’ll still have a penny change.’ She was fibbing to save his pride, but it got her a thank you and a kiss.
From the children she received the best present of all. ‘It’s really special,’ Milly said, and so it was.
‘It’s beautiful!’ Molly exclaimed. The children had made a large pencil drawing of her, complete with big droopy eyes and flyaway hair, one arm longer than the other and a skirt up to her backside. Her odd-sized feet were like clogs and there was a smile on her face that would frighten the dead.
Really, it was a comical thing, but it brought a lump to her throat as she hung it on the wall with pride.
Rosie looked at it from all angles. ‘It looks like the scarecrow in Ted Bateman’s allotment,’ she spluttered into Molly’s ear. But Molly didn’t care if it looked like the bogey man himself. The children had spent time drawing it with her in mind, and that was wonderful.
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