by Joan Jonker
Nellie had been leaning closer as the tale was unfolding, and no one could have asked for a more appreciative audience. For the little woman’s chubby face went through every emotion known to man. Her hand clenched into a fist, and she shook it, muttering, ‘The bleeding robber. Just let me get me hands on him, and I’ll show him what for.’
‘Anyway, he didn’t get away with it, sunshine, for the men caught him red-handed. But what a blessing, eh, that I mentioned my suspicion to Ellen? He wouldn’t have got to Rita, with her being next door, but imagine if she’d walked in this morning to find the place ransacked. The shock would have been enough to kill her.’
‘What did Jack and Corker do with the bloke?’ Nellie asked. ‘Did they give him a good hiding, and take him to the police station?’
‘I don’t know any more than I’ve told yer, sunshine, because the men were eager to get a few hours’ sleep. And Jack didn’t have time to tell me this morning, because Ruthie was having her breakfast with us, and I’d warned him not to mention anything while she was there. The least she knows the better, for we don’t want Rita to find out. Anyway, that’s it for now, sunshine, yer know as much as I do. Corker is coming here tonight, and him and Jack will give us the full story.’
‘What time are they coming, girl?’ Nellie asked. ‘I want to be here before they arrive, ’cos I don’t want to miss anything.’
‘It’ll be about eight o’clock, Nellie, so don’t you come too early. I want to wait until Ruthie is out of the way, and also I don’t want you asking Jack questions until Corker gets here.’
‘Okay, girl, I won’t come too early. I’ll wait until I see Ruthie going over to Bella’s.’
‘Oh, no, you don’t, Nellie McDonough. How crafty you are! Yer know Ruthie goes out at half seven. I don’t want you coming here too early. If yer do, I won’t let yer in.’
Crafty was the word for the look in Nellie’s eyes. ‘Jack would open the door for me. He’s a gentleman, is Jack, and he wouldn’t leave a woman standing on the doorstep.’
‘Listen to me, sunshine, even your voluptuous body wouldn’t tempt Jack to go against my wishes. Yer see, he’s very happy with my not so voluptuous body.’
Her eyes down, Nellie muttered, ‘Some men are bleeding easy to please. They don’t know what they’re missing.’
‘Lift yer head up, sunshine, I can’t hear what ye’re saying.’
‘I just noticed, girl, and told meself a button on me coat was missing.’
Molly, of course, had heard the muttered words, and gave her mate credit for fast thinking. And she decided she’d do some fast thinking herself, even though she would not be given any credit. ‘Oh, well, that settles it, sunshine, yer can’t come here tonight after all. We’ll be having an intelligent conversation, and anyone with a button missing from her coat would spoil it. Yer’d stick out like a sore thumb.’
‘Sod off, Molly Bennett! And don’t be trying to belittle me, either, saying I’d stick out like a sore thumb. Besides, yer can easy hide a sore thumb, but yer can’t hide a broken nose. And that’s what you’ll be sporting tonight if yer keep having a go at me. To hear yer talk, anyone would think yer owned the bleeding house!’
‘I know I don’t own the house, sunshine, but I am the tenant and pay me rent every week. Which means I can have who I like in the house, and keep out those I don’t like.’
‘Oh, Miss Hoity-toity, eh? Think ye’re better than anyone else, just because yer know a lot of big words what nobody else knows. Well, ye’re not the only one who is a tenant and pays their rent every week, ’cos I do as well. And I can have who I like in me house, and keep out those what I don’t like. So there, clever clogs!’
‘Oh, I agree with yer, sunshine, a hundred per cent.’ Molly kept a straight face. ‘But we’re not having the meeting in your house tonight, are we? Unless yer’d like to have it in yours? That would suit me and Jack, and Corker wouldn’t mind.’ Molly knew she was on safe ground because Nellie didn’t like having to tidy up for visitors. She much preferred to visit than be visited. ‘In fact it would be a break for me, not having to make pots of tea. So, if you’re game, sunshine, I’d be delighted if we met in yours for a change.’
Nellie couldn’t think of an excuse right away, so there was silence until a victim came to mind in the shape of her husband. ‘I’d like to accommodate yer, girl, but I can’t. It’s George, yer see. Yer wouldn’t be able to hear yerselves talk with the noise.’
Molly’s brow furrowed. ‘What’s George got to do with anything? And why wouldn’t we be able to hear ourselves talk?’
‘The noise, girl, the noise! It’s chronic!’
‘Yer’ve lost me now, sunshine. What noise are yer worried about? There’s no children in yer house, and I know Corker has a loud voice, but not loud enough to deafen us.’
‘It’s the snoring, girl, it’s something wicked. Yer wouldn’t believe it, but sometimes I can feel the floorboards creaking, he snores so loud.’
‘I thought George spent the night reading the paper, sunshine? Ye’re always saying yer can’t get a word out of him. In fact yer call yer poor husband fit to burn ’cos he’s so quiet. Now yer say he makes so much noise the house shakes! I think ye’re telling fibs, Nellie, ’cos ye’re too blinking lazy to make a pot of tea for yer neighbours and friends.’
Her lips pouting, Nellie gave in and nodded. And her chins felt sorry for her as well, so to show they were on her side they swayed very gently. ‘Ye’re right, girl, as usual. I’m no flaming good at being a hostess without you. I never know what to say, and another thing, I always spill tea in the saucers, what you never do. So can we be best mates again, and let me come here tonight? I’ll be as good as gold, I promise.’
‘I will, sunshine, as long as yer come clean over George. Admit that he doesn’t snore, and that he’s a smashing husband.’
Nellie had to think about that for a few seconds. ‘That’s not something I can easy answer, girl, ’cos it’s half and half. George doesn’t snore, but when we’re in bed he does breathe very heavy, if yer know what I mean.’
Molly waved a hand in the air. ‘Yer don’t need to give me chapter and verse, Nellie, I get yer drift.’
A cheeky grin covered the chubby face. ‘I thought yer would, girl, ’cos ye’re quick on the uptake, you are. And George is a smashing husband, and I do love the bones of him. I wouldn’t swap him even for Clark Gable.’ She ran her finger along the tablecloth. ‘I might have to think twice if Cary Grant came on the scene, though, ’cos he’s not half handsome. And he’s funny with it, so me and him would get on like a house on fire.’
Molly let out an exaggerated sigh. ‘I feel sorry for your feller, he can’t win. He should have married a girl who appreciated him.’
‘I don’t know so much, girl, ’cos he did well for himself when he picked me. I mean, how many other women have got a voluptuous body like mine? I think he did very well for himself. He doesn’t need a hot water bottle in bed in the winter, not when he’s sleeping next to me. He’ll tell yer himself I’m better than an eiderdown and two blankets any day.’
‘I don’t think that subject will come up in any conversation I have with George, sunshine, for neither of us would want to embarrass the other.’ Molly watched her mate’s face changing expressions, and she could almost read her mind. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but if she was a betting person, she’d put a tanner on at ten to one that Nellie was holding something back. But her mate couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it, so it wouldn’t be long before Molly was let into the secret. At least that’s what Molly thought. But when the mates left the house to go to the shops, whatever the secret was, it stayed in Nellie’s head.
When Corker called that night at eight o’clock, Nellie was already seated at the table in her carver chair. And when Corker greeted her with the words, ‘Nellie, me darlin’, it’s a hero yer are,’ well, her bosom rose to the occasion and stood firm and proud, while she gave Molly a sly look which said th
at she was being treated by the big man as though she was special, and her mate wasn’t in the meg specks.
‘Sit down, Corker,’ Molly said. ‘I’ve got the kettle on, tea won’t be a couple of minutes.’ On her way to the kitchen, she had to pass Nellie’s chair and she bent down and whispered, ‘Don’t push yer luck, sunshine, ’cos sometimes it runs out.’
But Nellie’s Cheshire cat grin stayed put. She wasn’t going to allow anyone to steal her spotlight, not even her best mate. ‘Did yer hear that, girl?’ she asked, trying to rub salt in the wound. ‘Corker said I’m a hero.’
Molly resisted the temptation to cup the chubby face in her hands and kiss it. ‘No, yer can’t be a hero, sunshine, I’m sorry.’
‘Ye’re only jealous, Molly Bennett, because it was me what saved Rita from being run over. My George said I might get a medal for it, seeing as I’m a hero.’
After giving Corker and Jack a huge, exaggerated wink, Molly stood her ground. With her hands on her hips, she looked down at her mate. ‘I’m sorry, sunshine, but there’s no way you can be a hero.’
The little woman was getting her dander up now. Her nostrils were flared and her cheeks red. She glanced up to the ceiling, but her friend St Peter wasn’t offering any help. So she turned to the man who had started this confrontation. ‘Corker, will yer put Molly straight, before I clock her one.’
Corker, however, had guessed what Molly had in mind, and he shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t like to take sides with one mate against another, Nellie, but in this instance, to save any more argument, I’ll have to take Molly’s side. For she is right when she says you can’t be a hero.’
Nellie looked so let down and disheartened, Molly couldn’t bear to keep it up. ‘What yer can be, sunshine, and you are, is a heroine.’
Suspicion was in Nellie’s eyes. ‘Don’t you try and kid me, girl. I might be cabbage-looking but I’m not green. What’s a bleeding heroine when it’s out?’
‘It’s a lady hero, Nellie,’ Corker told her. ‘A hero is a man, and a heroine is a female. And yer should be very proud of yerself.’
Nellie appealed to her mate. ‘I’ve never heard that word, girl, so why can’t I just be a hero? Everyone knows what that means.’
‘Nellie, yer should be very proud because as a heroine ye’re in very exclusive company. Florence Nightingale was a heroine, and yer know who she was, and the good work she did for the sick when there were no hospitals like the ones we’re lucky to have today. She had to work in dreadful conditions.’
Nellie’s head and chins were nodding knowingly. ‘I know her ’cos I’ve seen her on the pictures, and she’s always carrying a lamp.’ With a look of innocence on her face, she asked Corker, ‘Ay, does Florence live round here, lad? I mean if I’m a heroine, like what she is, then we should be mates, shouldn’t we? Molly could invite her here for a cup of tea, and I’d let her sit in me chair. D’yer think yer could arrange that, Corker? I’d like to meet her, to see if she was as brave as what I was.’
There was a ten second silence, then laughter filled the room, causing the little woman to wonder what she had said that was funny. ‘Ay, what is funny about me and Florence meeting up? I mean, if she couldn’t come here, I’d go to her house, as long as it wasn’t too many tram stops away.’
‘Oh, dear, oh, dear.’ Molly wiped the tears from her eyes. ‘I’m afraid even Corker can’t bring about a miracle, sunshine. Unfortunately ye’re doomed never to see Florence Nightingale, to see whether she was as brave as you were.’
‘That’s all your fault, Molly Bennett, ’cos ye’re jealous, that’s why. I saw the way yer looked at Corker, telling him to put me off. Well, I’m not soft yer know, I’m up to yer tricks.’
Molly attracted her husband’s attention. ‘Jack, be an angel and see to the tea, please. There’ll be no backside left in the kettle if it’s not taken off the stove. I’ll be out in a minute, I just want to explain to Nellie why she can’t meet Florence Nightingale.’
‘Oh, yer don’t need to explain anything to me, girl, ’cos I know without yer telling me why I can’t meet Florence. It’s because ye’re eaten up with jealousy, that’s why.’
‘Nellie, will yer watch my lips, please?’ Molly leaned closer. ‘I don’t want yer to meet Florence, because I’d have to lose a mate to let yer do that. Yer see, sunshine, Florence Nightingale has been dead for about fifty years.’
‘Go ’way, fancy that, now! Nobody told me she died.’ Then Nellie saw a bright light in the darkness. ‘Well, it’s an ill wind that doesn’t blow somebody some good.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Did I say that right, girl, or did I get it back to front?’
‘Yer got it right, Nellie, and now we’ve cleared the air and yer know ye’re a heroine, I’ll give Jack a hand in the kitchen.’
As Molly turned away, Nellie winked at Corker before calling, ‘You come and sit down, girl, and I’ll give Jack a hand in the kitchen.’
Molly was back like a shot. ‘I’ve got every faith in my husband, Nellie Mac, but I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw yer. So stay where yer are, and keep reminding yerself that ye’re very lucky not to be on yer way to having tea with Florence Nightingale.’
Nellie wagged a finger, inviting her friend to come nearer so she could whisper in her ear. ‘Life’s a bugger, isn’t it, girl?’
While Molly patted her mate’s cheek, Corker’s loud guffaw filled the room, and the living rooms of neighbours in the nearest six houses. ‘Nellie, me darlin’, it’s a treasure yer are, as well as a heroine. You and Molly make a good pair, and yer’ve filled our lives with laughter for the last twenty years. Mates like you two don’t come along very often.’
‘It’s just as well, Corker.’ Jack came through carrying the wooden tray. ‘I can’t keep up with these two, so I’d be lost with two more added on. Me heart wouldn’t stand the excitement.’
‘I’m still waiting to be told about the excitement you and Corker had last night, lad,’ Nellie told him. ‘Your wife said she couldn’t tell me what happened because she didn’t know, but I find that hard to believe. If yer were my husband, I’d have found a way of wheedling it out of yer in bed. My George is a sucker for wheedling, he gives in every time.’
Molly was putting Corker’s tea down in front of him when she told her mate, ‘That’s nothing to brag about, Nellie! The poor man probably gives in for the sake of peace.’
Nellie’s sly grin told Molly she’d been too hasty to criticize, and should have kept her mouth shut. It was too late now, and she had no way of stopping the words that came from her mate’s lips, or the laughter in her voice. ‘Oh, my George doesn’t give in for the sake of peace, girl. He knows which side his bread is buttered on, and he gives in for pleasure. I mean, why would anyone go to the trouble of inventing beds if they weren’t to serve a purpose? And if someone did go to the trouble, then it’s only right we should use them for what they were intended. That’s the way I look at it, anyway. I wouldn’t want the poor man to think he’d wasted his time.’
Corker thought Nellie was hilarious, but then Corker had spent most of his life going to sea, and sailors did have very open minds. So to spare Molly’s blushes, he turned the conversation away from beds and bedrooms. ‘Do yer want to know what Jack and I were up to last night, Nellie, and how it came about?’
Nellie leaned forward so fast, she bumped her bosom on the edge of the table and grimaced. ‘Bloody things, always in the way. If God had given a little more thought when He was making us, He’d have put them on our backs, out of the way.’ Then she changed her mind. ‘No, God was right. We couldn’t have fed the babies if they’d been at the back.’ She grinned across the table. ‘Go on, Corker, lad, what are yer waiting for? Ye’re not half slow for the size of yer.’
‘It’s been hard to get a word in edgeways, Nellie, but I have to admit it’s been interesting in a strange sort of way. I’d never given much thought to Florence Nightingale before, or to the man who invented beds, but I’ll be passing all
I’ve learned on to Ellen. I’m sure she’ll be very interested.’ Corker was being very tactful. For if he told his wife half of the things Nellie had come out with, she’d either say he was making it up, or laugh herself sick. ‘Anyway, let me tell you what happened last night. Jack can add things as we go along.’
The tale took half an hour in the telling, and for the first time in living memory, Nellie never uttered one word. She was as quiet as a mouse. But her expressions and gestures spoke volumes. When Corker talked about how he pulled the robber down off the wall, Nellie’s arms did a pulling down movement, and she curled her hand into a fist and punched the air as though belting the man. Her movements distracted Corker and Jack for a while, but they soon got used to it and thought it funny. In fact they found themselves waiting for her reaction to their words and gestures.
‘Well, that’s about it, ladies,’ Jack said, putting a hand on his wife’s arm. ‘Due to my dear wife’s intuition, me and Corker were able to prevent Mrs Reagan’s house from being ransacked. Don’t yer think that makes us heroes, Nellie? You, me and Corker, we should form a club.’
‘Yer would have been a hero if yer’d done the job proper, lad, but yer didn’t. Yer let the bugger go free, instead of taking him to the police. He’ll be out robbing someone’s house tonight, all because yer let him get off with it! He must be laughing his bleeding head off ! If I’d have been there he wouldn’t have got off scot free.’
‘We couldn’t take him to the police, Nellie, because the first thing they’d do would be to visit Mrs Reagan, check her entry door for any marks, or signs on the wall. And we didn’t want the old lady to know anything about it. She’s had a bad shock and we didn’t want her to get another one. At least we put the fear of God into the bloke. He’ll not come within a mile of here in the future.’