by Joan Jonker
It wasn’t often that Nellie was made such a fuss of, and she was lapping it up. It might never happen again, and she told herself she may as well make the most of it. So she decided to play the wounded soldier. ‘Oh, I think so, girl, ’cos I did get quite a shock, yer know. And a shock to the system like what I got, well, it can bring on all sorts of things, like a stroke or a heart attack. So best be on the safe side and have a tot of whisky.’
‘I’ll go now then,’ Molly said, reaching for her coat. ‘Where d’yer keep yer glasses?’
‘Oh, we don’t have no glasses, girl. We used to, but somehow they all got broke. It won’t take yer a minute to slip down to your house for one.’
‘Yer don’t half love getting waited on, Nellie. And fancy not having a glass in the house. I’m surprised at yer.’
‘Well, we don’t need no glasses, do we, girl? I mean, George goes to the pub for his pints, and if we have a party it’s always at your house. So we have no need for glasses.’
Molly shook her head slowly. ‘Don’t yer ever listen to yerself when ye’re talking, Nellie? If yer did, yer might realize that yer get away with murder. First, it’s bad enough when yer tell me yer haven’t got a glass in the house, so I’d better get one from my house to get the whisky in. Then yer have the nerve to tell me yer don’t need glasses because when we have a party it’s always in my house! The flaming cheek of yer!’
Nellie looked surprised. ‘Well, we do have parties in your house, girl, so what are yer getting so het up about?’
Keep calm, Molly told herself, ’cos yer know darn well yer’ll never get through to Nellie, and yer’ll never win. But that little voice in her head egged her on to say what was in her mind. It wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference to Nellie, who was never going to change, but it would make Molly feel better to get it off her chest. ‘There yer go again, Nellie! Well, when Christmas comes round this year, we’ll have my party in your house! How about that?’
With the innocent look of a newborn baby on her face, Nellie said, ‘But we can’t have the party in my house, because I’ve just told yer, soft girl, we haven’t got no glasses!’
Molly, torn between tearing her hair out or laughing, chose the latter, and her loud laughter brought a huge grin to Nellie’s chubby face. ‘That’s better, girl, yer had me frightened for a while. I thought yer’d lost yer chuckle button. Why don’t yer treat yerself and have a tot of whisky with me? It would warm the cockles of yer heart and cheer yer up. Go on, girl, go mad and tear paper.’
‘It’s too strong for me, sunshine. I don’t like it.’
‘Well, get yerself a sherry, then, if that’s what yer like. I’ll mug yer to one, how about that?’
‘That’s very kind of yer, Nellie, I appreciate it. I’ll nip home and get two glasses, then go to the pub. Tell me where yer keep the purse with yer silver in, and I’ll pass it to yer to get the money out.’
‘Oh, I don’t know what I’ve done with that purse, girl! It must be with the shock, I can’t remember where I put it. You pay, and I’ll settle up with yer later.’
‘Not on your life, Nellie McDonough.’ Molly slipped her coat off and laid it on the arm of the couch. ‘How soft you are! And how convenient that yer can’t remember where yer put the purse. I’m not forking out for drinks that I don’t want anyway, knowing I’ll probably never get the money back. And I hope yer don’t try and pull any stunts on our Doreen when she fetches our shopping. She can’t afford to be throwing her money away. So put yer thinking cap on, and remember where yer put that purse of yours. Otherwise there’ll be no dinner for George or Paul. And there’ll be no cream slice for you, Nellie McDonough.’
‘But I’ve already given Doreen ten shillings,’ Nellie said. ‘That’s plenty for what shopping she’s getting.’
‘I know, sunshine, and I’ll have to pay half of that for my shopping. The ten bob note will cover it all, at least I think it will. But I’m not paying my half until I know how much it all comes to. Regarding the whisky, I think we should forget it, ’cos yer seem to have perked up, and you don’t need it.’
‘You’re wicked, Molly Bennett, d’yer know that? Fancy begrudging a mate what has just had a bad accident a dose of something what might do her good. But just wait, I’ll get me own back on yer.’
A knock came on the front door, and Doreen’s voice called through the letterbox. ‘Open the door, Mam.’
Molly was taken aback when she opened the door to find Doreen was not alone. Standing next to her was Harry Watson, Bella’s father, and he was carrying a workman’s toolbox. ‘I met Mr Watson on the main road, Mam,’ Doreen said, looking pleased with herself. ‘He was on his way to a job, and I happened to mention that Auntie Nellie’s chair had caved in, and he very kindly said he’d have a look to see if he could fix it.’
‘Oh, that’s kind of yer, Harry. Come on in.’ Molly held the door wide. ‘Nellie will be delighted if yer can fix it.’
When Harry had passed her on his way to the living room, Molly took the basket Doreen had taken off the pram. ‘The shopping came to nine shillings and sixpence, Mam, so I got two extra cream slices with the other sixpence. I thought Auntie Nellie would appreciate an extra cake.’
‘I’m glad about that, sunshine, because yer know what she’s like with money. As it is, I’ll give her five bob and we’re quits. I’ll nip home for it when Harry leaves.’
‘How is Auntie Nellie, Mam? She certainly came a cropper.’
‘She’s improving by the minute, sunshine. Can’t yer hear her talking fifteen to the dozen down Harry’s ear?’ Molly stepped down on to the pavement to kiss Bobby, who chuckled and kicked with excitement when he saw her. ‘Who’s a lovely boy for his grandma, eh?’ She cocked an ear and stood up. ‘Is that banging I can hear?’
Doreen was grinning from ear to ear. ‘Wasn’t it lucky I met up with him, Mam? I’ll be delighted if he can fix Auntie Nellie’s chair for her, and I bet she’ll be over the moon.’
‘I won’t go in yet, because I always blush when my mate tells lies, and she doesn’t turn a hair. It’ll be interesting to know what tale she’s telling Harry about how the chair came to be broken. It wouldn’t surprise me if she told him George had done it.’
Bella’s father came out looking pleased. ‘I’ve fixed it for Nellie, but I’ve told her to tell George not to stand on it again. Those chairs weren’t made to stand on.’
‘Yer’ve been a blessing, Harry. I bet Nellie’s tickled pink?’
‘I think you could say that. But it was an easy job, no trouble at all, and I was glad to be able to help. I’ll be on me way, Molly, I’ve got a couple of jobs to go to. Ta-ra.’
‘Ta-ra, Harry, and thanks again.’ Molly waited until he was out of earshot, then dashed into the house, calling over her shoulder to Doreen that she’d be down to see her and Jill as soon as Nellie was sorted out with the shopping.
Nellie had a really smug smile on her face. ‘How about that for service, girl? The chair’s as good as new.’
‘Nellie Mac,’ Molly said, ‘if you fell down the lavatory, yer’d come up with a gold watch. It’s the luck of the devil you’ve got. He loves yer because ye’re very good at telling whopping lies. Fancy telling Harry it was George who broke the chair by standing on it.’
‘What George doesn’t know won’t hurt him.’ Nellie’s cheeky, chubby face looked so alive, Molly couldn’t be angry with her. So when her mate asked, ‘Has Doreen brought the shopping? A nice fresh cream slice will make my day perfect,’ Molly brought in the basket from the hall.
‘Ye’re dead lucky, Nellie, ’cos Doreen bought us two cream slices each.’
Just the thought of two cream slices brought a look of bliss to the chubby face. ‘All in all, girl, it’s turning out to be a wonderful day.’
Chapter Six
Paul took Phoebe’s hand and led her on to the dance floor. He was humming to the music as he took her in his arms and held her close, his cheek touching hers. The tune the four-piece ba
nd were playing was ‘I Wonder Who’s Kissing Her Now’ and Paul whispered, ‘This is my all time favourite song.’
Phoebe moved back a little, to look into those deep brown eyes that made her go weak at the knees. She was crazy about him, but wished he was more serious about their relationship, which was two years old now. ‘One of these days you might have reason to hate the song, Paul McDonough, for it may have memories that come back to haunt yer.’
‘Why would it do that, babe? There’s no reason why I’d ever go off the song. None that I can think of anyway.’ His dimples deep and his brown eyes smiling into her face, he pulled her close. ‘Yer’ve put me off me stride now, so don’t blame me if I stand on yer toes.’ When Phoebe held back he raised his brow and queried, ‘I thought yer liked this dance? What’s got into yer?’
‘Trying to get through to you is like trying to get through a brick wall, Paul. And sometimes I get so mad I wonder why I bother. And when I said the day might come when this song brings back memories that will haunt yer, I wasn’t joking. If things carry on much longer as they are now, with you being come day, go day, then yer might be left wondering who the boy is that’s kissing me!’
‘Don’t be like that, babe, not in the middle of me favourite dance.’ His dimples and brown eyes didn’t work their wonder this time, and Paul’s face became serious. ‘Okay, you win, babe! Finish this dance as we always do, locked in each other’s arms to show how much we love each other, and then we’ll sit the next dance out, so we can have a good talk. You can get it all off yer chest, and I promise I won’t act daft. But don’t talk about any other boy kissing you, ’cos it ain’t ever going to happen.’
The dance came to an end then, and Paul squeezed Phoebe tight as he steered her to the door leading to the entrance hall. There were quite a few people there, as smoking wasn’t allowed in the dance hall, and he said, ‘Let’s get our coats and go for a little walk. We can’t talk here, we’d need a loudhailer to make ourselves heard. You get yer coat and I’ll meet yer back here in a minute.’
As Phoebe reached for her coat from the hanger in the cloakroom, she was curious. She’d often given Paul hints that she was not happy with his lack of real commitment, and he’d always joked his way out of it. Never before had he suggested leaving the dance floor, and as for going for a walk and maybe missing a dance, well, that wasn’t a bit like him. Especially over the last few months since she’d told him she didn’t like going dancing every night, there was far more to life. He’d reluctantly agreed to going just twice a week, but he was up for every dance. He wanted everything his way, like when she said he could go dancing on his own, and she would go to the pictures with one of her friends from work. He wasn’t happy about that, and because she could seldom refuse him once he set those eyes on her, it ended up with them going to the pictures together, and the dances. She knew she was too soft with him, and would probably end up regretting it one day. But when love rules the heart it’s very difficult to refuse.
Paul walked towards her when she came out of the cloakroom. ‘What the heck have yer been doing? I was worried yer’d climbed through the window and left me in the lurch. All on my lonesome, with no one to love me.’
‘Ah, poor you! And for your information, Paul McDonough, there is no window in the cloakroom.’
‘That’s a very useful piece of information, that is. Yer never know, it might come in handy sometime. If I ever want to make a quick getaway I’ll remember it’s no good going to the ladies’ cloakroom, ’cos there’s no way out.’
As he pulled Phoebe’s arm through his, he patted her hand. ‘We won’t stay out long if it’s too cold for yer.’
‘It’s not cold at all, we’re into spring weather now.’ Her pretty face smiled up at him. ‘Don’t yer think ye’re a bit on the big side anyway, to climb through a window? Yer’d be lucky if yer got yer head through, never mind yer shoulders.’
Paul came to an abrupt stop. ‘As me mam would say, har you hinsinuating that hi have a big head?’
‘Not at all! But yer must admit it would look big sticking out of a window. It would appear to be detached from the rest of yer body.’
‘Can we skip all the frivolities now, babe, and go to where you want to tell me about finding yerself another man? I’m going to listen very seriously, I promise. Then I’ll tell yer what my thoughts are.’
‘I’ve told yer dozens of times, Paul, that I don’t think you take our relationship as seriously as you should. We’ve been courting for two years now, and I’m getting tired of people asking me when we’re getting married. I’m sure the girls in work think you’re leading me on, with no intention of settling down. And there are times when I agree with them. Soft girl, me, I’m putting all the money I can spare each week, without fail, into the post office. It’s mounted up now to eighty pounds, but you’re saving hardly anything. So I’m just wasting me time. I could be buying meself new clothes with the money, ’cos heaven knows I could do with dolling meself up now and again.’
‘Phoebe, you always look beautiful to me. Yer don’t need to doll yerself up for me, ’cos I’d love yer just as much in a sack as I would if yer wore posh clothes! But I want you to be the most beautiful bride our street has ever seen, the day we get married.’
Phoebe chuckled. ‘That’s asking a lot, Paul, if yer think anyone can outshine the Bennett girls. I wouldn’t even try.’
‘I wish yer wouldn’t run yerself down all the time, babe. The Bennett girls are lovely, and they’re nice as well. They don’t go around saying, “Look at me, aren’t I beautiful?” Don’t forget us fellers have different ideas on girls, we don’t all think alike. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so they say. And in my eyes you are beautiful.’
‘You’re not missing a couple of dances just to have this conversation, are yer, Paul? Because if you are, we are both wasting our time.’
‘No, not at all. And I think yer’ve done very well to have saved up eighty pounds.’ He put a hand on each of her shoulders and turned her to face him, for he wanted to see the expression on her face when he told her, ‘It’s almost as much as my hundred pound.’
Phoebe’s eyes were wide, as in her heart she was hoping what he was saying was true, and he wasn’t pulling one of his practical jokes. ‘Paul, yer wouldn’t pull my leg over something like this, would yer? I’d never forgive yer if yer did.’
‘As God is my judge, babe, I am telling yer the truth. I’ve been going to tell yer many times during the last few months when yer’ve been going on at me. But I stuck it out until I had a hundred pounds. That’s enough to pay for whatever things the bridegroom has to pay for. Like presents for the bridesmaids, and all the flowers. I’m not sure about what my duties will be, seeing as I’ve never been married before, but I can ask our Steve. He’ll put me wise.’
Phoebe’s heart was singing with joy. ‘All this time I’ve been nagging at yer, Paul. I’m sorry I’ve been such a moaner. But I can’t wait to be married to yer, ’cos I love yer to bits.’
‘I’ll keep putting money away every week, babe, so I’ll have a nice little stack by the time we get married.’
‘You won’t need much more than a hundred pounds, Paul, in fact yer won’t need anywhere near it. Me dad is paying for the wedding, but I’m insisting on buying me own wedding dress. I know exactly what I want, but I’m not telling anyone.’ Phoebe clutched his arm. ‘Oh, I’m so excited, Paul, me tummy is doing somersaults. This is the nicest walk I’ve ever been on. I’ve got so much to look forward to, and so have you. We’ll have to get our parents together to include them in the arrangements. I know my mam and dad will be over the moon, and would like to be involved. And they’ll want to set a date.’
‘There is something I don’t want them involved in,’ Paul said, ‘at least not yet. It’s going to be my wedding present to you, but I’d like to keep it a secret from the families for now. It’s got nothing to do with the wedding arrangements anyway, so I’m not leaving them out of anything.’
&
nbsp; ‘Are you keeping it a secret from me as well?’ Phoebe asked. ‘Surely you can tell the future bride?’
‘I’d like it to be a surprise, babe, so I’m not telling you. Have you any particular date in mind that you’d like to be married on? I know yer can’t say a definite day because we haven’t got a calendar, but have you any idea what month?’
‘Paul, I can give you the month, the day, and the hour, that I’d like to get married on. But we can’t always have what we want when there are other people to be considered, so we’ll see what the families say. They’ll be paying for most of it, at least me dad will, so we’ll all get together at a time that suits everyone, and make plans or offer suggestions.’
‘No. Hang on a bit, Phoebe, it’s not up to the family to say when we can get married. If you have a date in mind, then say so and we’ll stick to that. After all, it’s your wedding day.’
Phoebe chuckled. ‘I had rather hoped you’d be there as well, Paul. It wouldn’t be a wedding without the groom. I’d look a bit stupid standing in front of the altar on me own, with everyone feeling sorry for me.’
‘No messing around, babe. I know yer think I’ve dragged me heels over setting a date for the wedding, but I wanted to save enough money to be able to do the job properly. But I’ve got that now, so I can concentrate properly. And for me the only thing I’m interested in, apart from making you my wife, of course, is to see you have the happiest day of your life. And if you have a day in mind, then for heaven’s sake say so, and that is the day we’ll choose, come what may. Are yer going to tell me, or not?’
‘I’d love to get married on me birthday.’ Phoebe shrugged her shoulders. ‘But it sounds selfish, expecting everyone to fall in with what I want, so let’s leave it until we can have a powwow with our parents.’
However, Paul stuck to his guns. ‘If you want to get married on yer birthday, and I say that suits me fine, then no one is going to stop us.’
‘But my birthday is on the eighteenth of September, Paul, and that’s on a Friday. The men work on a Friday.’