by Joan Jonker
‘There’s plenty of biscuits in the pantry,’ Bridie called. ‘And isn’t Nellie partial to a custard cream or two?’
‘Ay, not so fast.’ Tommy held Rosie back. ‘Let’s sort this word out first. It’ll haunt me in bed, and I’ll not be able to sleep if I don’t find out what it is. Have a bet with me, Auntie Nellie?’
‘Sod off, lad! If I had money to spare, I’d spend it on cream slices, not on flaming words I don’t understand.’
‘What is the word, Mam, before Auntie Nellie clouts me one?’
Molly had to bite on the side of her mouth to stop herself from falling apart with laughter as she looked at the faces waiting for her to speak. One last sharp bite, and out it came. ‘Serendipity.’
There was complete silence, then Tommy, who had been so sure of himself, asked in a croaky voice, ‘Say it again, Mam, but slowly this time.’
‘I’ll spell it out.’ Molly was hoping her son knew what the word meant, for he’d feel stupid after bragging. ‘S-e-r-e-n-d-i-p-i-t-y.’
‘This is a joke, isn’t it, Mam! There’s no such word,’ Tommy said.
‘I’m sorry, son, but I’d be telling lies if I said there wasn’t. Try it on yer workmates, and get a laugh out of it.’
‘Sure I’ve never heard a word like it in all me life,’ Bridie said. ‘It’s a foreign word, so it is.’
‘What does it mean, Mam?’ Tommy asked, looking sheepish. ‘I was always top of the class in English, but I’m blowed if I’ve ever heard that. Are yer pulling our legs?’
‘I’m not pulling yer legs, sunshine. I can’t remember what it said in the dictionary, but I promise there is such a word. And I’ve got a vague idea it means something nice, like magic.’
Nellie tilted her head, and asked Tommy, ‘D’yer think you and yer ever-loving wife could do something magic with the kettle and teapot, lad?’
Rosie took control and pulled Tommy out to the kitchen. ‘You see to the kettle and I’ll get the cups and saucers ready. Sure it’ll be time for our visitors to leave before they’ve had a drink, so it will.’
In the living room, with Bridie and Bob still sitting at the table holding hands, and Jack leaning against the sideboard, Nellie was looking up at Molly. ‘I like the sound of that word, girl, and I could have some fun with my George and Paul. That’s if I can get me tongue round it.’ Her face creased into a smile. ‘Ay, I can just see meself in the butcher’s, coming out with a word like that when the shop was full of customers. They wouldn’t half think I was clever. And it would be one in the eye for smarty-pants Tony. Say it again, girl, nice and slow so I can get used to it.’
‘Well listen carefully, sunshine, ’cos I can’t keep repeating it.’ So very slowly, with her mouth exaggerating every letter, Molly said, in a singsong voice, ‘Ser-en-dip-ity.’
Nellie beamed. ‘Ay, yer could dance to that.’ She grabbed a startled Jack by the arms and began pulling him around. ‘Sendipity, sendipity,’ she sang, moving the letters about as she saw fit. ‘Densipity, densipity.’ There was no respite for poor Jack, who was thrown against the chairs and table. All he could do was appeal to his wife with his eyes. If it carried on, there wouldn’t be a spot on his body that wasn’t black and blue.
‘That’s enough now, Nellie,’ Molly said, seeing her husband being bashed about. He was the only one not enjoying it, though, for she thought it was hilarious, as did Bridie and Bob, and Tommy and Rosie were in stitches. And it really was because there was no sign of the original word now. Serendipity had been torn apart and thrown out, and Nellie was singing any words that came into her head. She was like a bouncing ball, with a hot and bothered Jack wishing she’d run out of breath and energy.
It was Molly who brought Nellie to a stop. ‘Enough is enough, sunshine, so pack it in. My husband has to go to work tomorrow, don’t forget. Just look at him; he’s worn out. He won’t have enough energy to get out of bed.’
A slow, wicked smile crossed Nellie’s face. ‘Yer should be thanking me, then, girl, ’cos you could have a lie-in with him, and he’d soon recover his energy.’
Molly’s hand was quick to cover her mate’s mouth. Heaven only knew what was coming next, and with Tommy and Rosie only married a short time, she didn’t want them to be embarrassed. And she herself would be embarrassed in front of her ma and da. ‘Sit down, Nellie, and behave yerself. The tea’s poured out, and yes, there’s a plate of biscuits. So plonk yer backside down. Yer’ve had enough fun for one night.’
‘I don’t know where yer get the energy from, Nellie,’ Bridie said. ‘It’s tired I am just watching you.’
Bob agreed. ‘I was breathing for yer, Nellie, and yet you seem as happy as Larry and not in the least puffed.’
Nellie was feeling full of devilment, and was about to tell him she only ever ran out of puff in the bedroom. She actually had her mouth open, but was thwarted when Molly pushed a custard cream into it. ‘Ay, girl,’ she croaked, ‘what did yer do that for?’ With crumbs flying everywhere, she spluttered, ‘Yer nearly choked me, yer daft article. Yer’d have something to say if I did it to you. The foot would be on the other boot then, wouldn’t it, ay?’
The little woman didn’t know why there was a burst of laughter. ‘What’s so bleeding funny about me being choked to death?’
Molly struggled to keep her face straight. ‘There wouldn’t be anything funny, sunshine, not when the foot would be on the other boot. Painful, perhaps, but definitely not funny. On the other hand, though, if the boot was on the other foot, then it wouldn’t be painful at all.’
They could practically see Nellie’s brain working by the shapes her face was making. They’d lost her now; she didn’t know what they were talking about, turning things round about and upside down. They were daft, the lot of them. She was the only sensible person at that table. She scratched her head. The best way to treat someone what was doolally was to be nice to them and keep them calm.
‘These are nice custard creams, girl.’ Nellie smiled sweetly at Bridie. ‘Not that me mate’s are not nice, ’cos they are.’ She sent the same smile across the table to Molly. ‘Listen, girl, d’yer know tomorrow morning, when we’re having our morning cup of tea and biscuits . . .’ Another sweet smile, then, ‘Well, will yer write that word down for me, so I don’t forget?’
‘What word is that, sunshine?’
‘I don’t know, girl. I’ve forgot!’
Chapter Four
As Molly stepped down on to the pavement she almost collided with the young couple coming out of next door. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, sunshine, I nearly knocked you over.’ She smiled at Nellie’s son, Paul, and his girlfriend Phoebe Corkhill. ‘I should look where I’m going.’
‘Or look before yer leap, Auntie Molly,’ Paul said. ‘Yer came down those steps like a bat out of hell.’
‘Take no notice of him, Mrs B.’ Phoebe’s shy smile came with a wink. ‘He never looks where he’s going, even when he’s on the dance floor. I bet there’s many a girl gone home with sore toes.’
‘Is that where ye’re off to now?’ Molly asked. ‘Going to Blair Hall, or the Grafton?’
Paul, who had long black eyelashes any girl would die for, and deep dimples, lifted both arms out. ‘See, Auntie Molly, no dance shoes tucked away. My girlfriend is keeping me in order, and I’m only allowed to go dancing once a week. With her, of course, not on my own. She’s getting really bossy, and I’m wondering if she’ll give me a dog’s life after we get married.’ His dimples appeared when he chuckled. ‘What d’yer think, Auntie Molly? Shall I cancel the wedding?’
Phoebe punched his arm. ‘The way you’re carrying on, Paul McDonough, there’ll never be a wedding!’ She pretended to be exasperated. ‘Money goes through yer hands like water; you can’t spend it quick enough. It’s about time yer grew up and showed a bit of responsibility.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Molly said. ‘I hope ye’re not going to have a row in the middle of the street? If you are, then can yer just hang on for a minute while I knock for m
e mate? Yer mam would go mad if she missed a bit of excitement, Paul.’
‘It won’t come to that, Mrs B.,’ Phoebe said. ‘Me and Paul are on our way to the pictures. And before he gets a chance to tell yer why we’re going to the pictures, I’ll tell yer. It’s cheaper than going dancing. And although yer’d never notice, we’re supposed to be saving up to get married.’
Paul grinned, and looked a bit sheepish. ‘I do try, Auntie Molly, but yer know what they say about a fool and his money being soon parted? Well, it’s true. I’m hopeless at saving up, but I’m going to try and turn over a new leaf.’
Phoebe pointed a stiffened finger. ‘You better had, Paul McDonough, because if we don’t get married this year, then there won’t ever be a wedding.’ Again the finger was pointed. ‘And don’t think I’m not serious, because I am.’
Molly knew this was an idle threat, for Phoebe had loved Paul before she was old enough to know what true love was. She was a shy, gentle, pretty girl, and there’d never been any other boy in her life. ‘Are you listening to what Phoebe’s saying, Paul? Well, now you can listen to me. If you do your mam out of having an excuse to buy a wedding hat, she’ll stand on a chair and knock spots off yer. And d’yer know what, sunshine? When yer mam’s finished with yer, I’ll have a go at yer. Yer see, Paul, I’m partial to wedding hats meself.’
Phoebe chuckled. ‘There you are, see! If you don’t marry me before the summer’s over, I’ll set the whole street on to yer.’
Paul gaped. ‘The summer?’ He pretended to stagger backwards. ‘You said before the year’s out! Now ye’re saying before the summer’s over! That’s not going to give me enough time to save up ten bob!’
‘Ten bob will only pay for the flowers, dear.’ Phoebe smiled. ‘My bouquet and the bridesmaids’ posies. Oh, and buttonholes for the men.’
Molly had been intending to cross the road to visit her daughter when she’d bumped into the couple, so now she said. ‘Seeing as yer’ve got as far as the buttonholes, I’ll leave yer to it. I promised to go over to Doreen’s, and she’s probably looking through the window, wondering what I’m standing here gassing about. So I’ll love yer and leave yer. But I hope yer enjoy the picture.’
‘Oh, we won’t be going to the pictures now, Auntie Molly,’ Paul said. ‘We can’t afford it. A seat in the picture house costs as much as a buttonhole.’
Phoebe thumped him. ‘Don’t be acting daft. We are going to the pictures because Cary Grant is on, and he’s my favourite film star.’ Then with a broad wink at Molly, she added, ‘But we’re not getting the bus there, we’ll walk.’
‘I’m getting frightened now, Auntie Molly,’ Paul called out as Molly knocked on her daughter’s front door. ‘I don’t think I’ll enjoy being married.’
Doreen heard Paul’s remark when she was opening the door. ‘What’s Paul on about, Mam? Yer’ve been talking to him for ages.’
‘Wedding nerves, I think, sunshine. He doesn’t know whether he likes the idea of marriage now, or if he’s gone off it.’
Doreen had grown up with Paul, and there was only six months’ difference in their ages. ‘Don’t knock it until yer’ve tried it, Paul Mac,’ she called. ‘Yer don’t know what ye’re missing.’
Phoebe answered. ‘And he will be missing it if he doesn’t buck his ideas up. He’s playing hard to get.’ She lowered her voice so the neighbours wouldn’t hear and think they were being serious. ‘But I’m up to his tricks, and when we’re married he’ll find I’ve a few tricks up my sleeve. I’ll soon knock him into shape.’
Molly and Doreen laughed when they heard Paul say, ‘I’ll soon sort you out, Phoebe Corkhill. I’ll set me mam on to you.’
‘You are going to miss the start of the big picture,’ Molly told them. ‘And then yer won’t know what it’s about.’
Paul waved as he cupped Phoebe’s elbow. ‘Come on, Phoebe. And we’re getting a bus there, so don’t argue. I’ll let you buy the tickets if yer behave yerself.’
Molly and Doreen watched them walking down the street, then went into the house. ‘Paul is just like Nellie, never serious.’ Molly said. ‘I think we’ll be going to their wedding in the not too distant future.’
‘Are they still saving up for it?’ Doreen asked. ‘Last time Phoebe mentioned it, she said Paul couldn’t put money away, it went through his hands like water.’
Molly walked into the living room to see Victoria rocking gently in her chair, a welcoming smile on her face. ‘On your own, Molly? Where’s Nellie?’
‘Keep yer voice down, Victoria,’ Molly said. ‘I didn’t tell her I was coming. But it wouldn’t surprise me if she comes knocking, because she listens for me closing the front door.’
Phil, Doreen’s husband, popped his head out of the kitchen, his chin covered in shaving cream. ‘Yer’ll have to excuse me, Mrs B., I’m shaving now so it isn’t such a rush in the morning.’ He waved the shaving brush, saying, ‘You women are lucky you don’t have to shave. It’s a nuisance.’
‘You don’t have to do it every day, being so fair-skinned,’ Molly told him. ‘Jack goes through it every day, sometimes twice if we’re going out.’ She winked at Victoria before adding, ‘Women don’t have to shave, sunshine, but we have to make sure our hair is neat and tidy, and that takes as long as a man shaving.’ Molly looked at Victoria’s hair, which was almost pure white, and very sparse. But Doreen combed it for her, and she always looked the perfect lady, which she was. She was turned ninety now, but was always well dressed, and she still possessed all her faculties. ‘Men think women have an easy life, but they’d soon find out different if we swapped places with them for a week. They wouldn’t know what had hit them.’ Molly slipped her coat off and laid it on the couch. ‘I’d give them a week, and I bet they’d either take to their bed pleading tiredness, or spend the week’s housekeeping money in the first day buying easy to cook food.’
‘And that’s putting it mildly, Mam,’ Doreen said. ‘What about if they had to look after an eight-month-old baby, on top of all the housework?’
Phil’s head appeared again, free now of shaving cream. ‘I’ll surrender, Mrs B., come out with my hands up. I wouldn’t last a day if I had to do what Doreen does. Bobby is a handful on his own, before she starts on her housework, shopping and cooking. I wouldn’t . . .’ Phil’s words tapered off when there was a loud knocking on the front door.
‘I bet this is Nellie,’ Molly said, shaking her head in frustration. ‘Yer’d better open the door, sunshine, before she knocks it down and wakes the baby.’
Nellie bustled in, arms folded, head quivering and eyes narrowed. ‘What sort of mate are you, Molly Bennett, what sneaks out without telling anyone? If I hadn’t heard yer talking to our Paul and Phoebe, I’d have missed yer, and yer’d have got away with it.’
Victoria put a hand on each of her chair arms and pushed herself back into a comfortable position so she could enjoy what was bound to come. It reminded her of when she was younger, able to go to the pictures, and waiting for the big feature to start. The two women standing in the middle of the room now, facing each other, were as comical as Laurel and Hardy.
‘Nellie, what d’yer mean, I’d have got away with it?’ Molly asked. ‘I haven’t done anything to get away with! All I’m doing is visiting me daughter, and I can’t see anything wrong with that. I would have liked to have been here early enough to see the baby, but I had to darn a hole in one of Jack’s socks, ’cos he needed it to wear tomorrow for work. So that made me too late to see Bobby.’ Molly lowered her head so her eyes were on a level with Nellie’s. ‘Now, can I ask what you’re doing here, or is it a secret?’
Shaking her head, and her chins, Nellie looked at Doreen. ‘Your mam can be very sarcastic when she wants. I’ve told her it doesn’t suit her, ’cos her top lip curls over, but she doesn’t take no notice of me.’
‘Nellie, yer haven’t answered me question,’ Molly said, ‘and I’m not letting yer talk yer way out of it. Just tell me what ye’re doing here.�
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The little woman jerked her head at Doreen. ‘See what I mean, girl? See how the top lip turns up?’ She turned her attention to Victoria, and then Phil. ‘Yer both must have seen the face on her, as though she was smelling milk what had gone sour.’
‘I’m afraid I didn’t notice anything, Mrs Mac,’ Phil said, trying to keep his face straight. ‘But I’m sure my mother-in-law wasn’t intentionally sarcastic.’
‘Oh, you would say that, wouldn’t yer, lad? Got to keep on the right side of her, haven’t yer? Well, I can understand that, ’cos she can be a bad-tempered beggar when she feels like it.’
‘Oh, dear, Nellie, why don’t yer just tell us why ye’re here?’ Molly asked. ‘Yer must have had some reason for leaving yer own house and coming over here. Unless ye’re walking in yer sleep, sunshine, but yer look wide awake to me. Or perhaps it’s just because ye’re a nosy article, and are frightened of missing anything.’
Nellie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘This could go on for a long time, and me feet are getting tired. Particularly me little toe, what has a corn on. So if there’s no charge for sitting down, would yer mind if I take the weight off me feet?’
Phil jumped to his feet, like the gentleman he was, and pulled a chair out. ‘Here you are, Mrs Mac. Sit down and rest your legs.’
Nellie wrinkled her nose at Molly before turning to Phil with a beaming smile on her face. ‘Thanks, lad, ye’re very kind. Not like some people I know what are not a million miles away from here. They wouldn’t tell me to sit down and rest me weary feet while they make me a cup of tea.’ Phil received the benefit of another smile. ‘I like me tea strong, lad, and two sugars. And if yer happen to see a stray biscuit when ye’re in the pantry, stick it on me saucer, there’s a good lad.’
‘You cheeky article!’ Molly said, pulling a chair out and facing her mate across the table. ‘Yer walk in as though yer own the place, and cadge tea and biscuits. I don’t know how yer’ve got the nerve.’
Nellie lifted a finger. ‘I asked for a biscuit, girl, not biscuits. And yer should be thanking me for asking Phil to make me a drink, ’cos it means you’ll get one as well. Mind you, I’ll be thinking, not out loud, like, but in me head, that I hope it chokes yer for being so miserable.’