The Cobbler's Kids

by Rosie Harris

  ‘Don’t be like that!’ Di exclaimed indignantly. ‘I’m going to turn over a new leaf. I’ll even give you a hand around the place! I might even do the cooking now and again. Anything except the cleaning …’

  ‘Oh yes. You told me you never did cleaning.’

  Di Deverill smirked. ‘I know, I’m a lazy slut, but I can change. I promise you, Vee.’

  Vera shook her head, determined to stand her ground now that she had the upper hand.

  ‘Think what it will do to your dad if you tell him,’ Di wheedled. ‘I’ll deny it, if you do. He thinks the sun shines out of my arse so he’ll believe me, not you.’

  ‘I’ve got a witness. Someone saw you down on the Dock Road trying to pick up a sailor.’

  ‘Oh is that what you’re on about!’ Di Deverill looked at Vera in astonishment then she started to laugh again. A loud, hysterical laugh that set her double chins wobbling.

  ‘All? What did you think I was talking about?’

  Di shrugged. ‘You may as well know the rest. I thought you were talking about my nicking things from C&A’s, Frisby Dyke’s and all the others.’

  ‘Stealing? You’ve been stealing from all those shops?’ Vera gasped.

  ‘Stealing. Helping myself. Call it what you like. How else do you think I manage to have all the smart clothes I wear?’

  ‘I thought my dad was buying them for you.’

  ‘Huh! He stopped doing that a long time ago. He’s as mean as sin these days, as you should know. He buys me booze when we’re out, but other than that he never coughs up a penny piece. He says all his money’s gone, but it doesn’t stop him buying new shirts and stuff for himself.’

  She laughed bitterly. ‘You thought he was buying me clobber instead of giving you the money to put food on the table?’

  Vera looked at her quizzically. ‘Are you telling me the truth?’

  ‘I most certainly am. In fact, it’s a laugh and a half. Mean old bugger! These days he wouldn’t part with a fart if he could sell it.’

  ‘Then why do you stay here with him?’

  Di shrugged. ‘Because I like him, I suppose. He’s a kindred spirit. He enjoys being involved in a good fiddle. Anyway, as I said, I like the place.’

  ‘My dad’s not a thief like you,’ Vera defended hotly, her cheeks burning.

  ‘Don’t come that with me,’ Di sneered. ‘He’s the biggest fiddler I’ve ever met. That’s how I got involved with him in the first place! Remember? I found out about his fiddle with Tom Gray at Coombes’s, didn’t I …’

  ‘I know all about that,’ Vera told her dully.

  ‘Clever bastard, using that kid brother of yours as a go-between. Everything seemed to be so above board that no one would suspect there was any pilfering going on. Got to admire his nerve, and Benny’s, for that matter.’

  ‘Benny didn’t know,’ Vera said quickly, ‘he was only doing what he was told.’

  ‘The same as when he used to carry betting slips? Did you know about that? Poor little bugger, he’ll end up in an approved school if you’re not careful, you see if I’m not right. He’s been lucky up until now, but he’ll get caught! Young lads like him always do. The scuffers aren’t daft you know. They sniff out wrongdoers.’

  ‘You’ve been very lucky then,’ Vera told her scathingly. ‘How come you’ve not been caught?’

  ‘Because I’m a pro. Years of experience,’ Di told her confidently.

  ‘Pinching clothes, working as a prossy, what other tricks have you been up to then?’

  Di tapped the side of her nose with her forefinger. ‘That would be telling. I’m not giving away all my secrets.’

  ‘I think you should go,’ Vera repeated. ‘I don’t want you living with us. We mightn’t have much, but we’ve always managed to keep on the right side of the law. I don’t want to be mixed up in any of your shady dealings.’

  ‘You might be poor, but you’re honest,’ Di sneered. ‘You’re forgetting about your father, though, aren’t you? If I told you about all the swindles he’s been mixed up in then it would make your hair curl.’

  ‘Go! Go now. I’ll pack up your clothes, and the rest of your belongings, and bring them to you tomorrow, or you can come back for them. I want you out of here now, though. This very minute.’

  Di Deverill shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so. You’ve opened a can of worms this time, luv. I know I’m a bad ’un, but I like it here. As I’ve already told you, in my own way I’m fond of your old man and he’s bloody besotted by me as you’ve probably noticed.’

  ‘My mam must be turning in her grave. She was worth twenty of you,’ Vera told her heatedly.

  ‘Your mam might have been a lovely woman, but I don’t reckon she gave poor old Mike anywhere near as good a time as I do,’ Di told her, lighting up a cigarette.

  Vera turned away in disgust. ‘Please, I don’t want to hear any more! I want you to leave.’

  ‘I’ve already told you, I’m staying put whether you like it or not!’ She took a long pull on her cigarette and laughed smugly.

  ‘When I tell my dad what you’ve told me about you nicking clothes and going with other men he’ll chuck you out, bag and baggage.’

  ‘Tell your dad and I’ll deny every word of it. Keep your trap shut and I’ll give you a hand around the place, make your life easier.’

  ‘Trying to blackmail me the same as you did him, are you?’ Vera sneered.

  ‘I’ll even nick some decent clobber for you. Think about it. Smart skirts, snazzy blouses, silk stockings, a bit of flashy jewellery! All the things a girl of your age dreams of having, but can’t afford to buy for herself.’

  ‘Don’t you dare! I wouldn’t touch anything you gave me with a barge pole.’

  ‘Please yourself, but you’re not all that bad-looking, you know. Tarted up a bit, you might even find yourself another fella.’

  ‘I’d sooner dress in rags than take anything from you,’ Vera told her hotly.

  Di shrugged resignedly. ‘That’s up to you!’ Casually, she stubbed out her cigarette. ‘Now, are we going to be friends? Are you going to keep your mouth shut? Or are you going to stir up a hornet’s nest by telling your dad what you’ve found out about me? If he doesn’t believe you, and I know he won’t, then you might be the one who finds herself out bag and baggage as you put it.’

  ‘He can’t turn me out, this is my home.’

  ‘He will if I ask him to,’ Di told her softly, lighting a fresh cigarette. ‘I have ways of persuading him, remember.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare!’

  ‘I most certainly would.’ She breathed out a cloud of smoke. ‘Say one word about any of this and I’ll turn him against you. I’ll make sure that he sends you packing. Think what life will be like then for young Benny without you to stand up for him when your dad is in one of his foul tempers.’

  ‘I’ll take Benny with me,’ Vera declared hotly.

  Di laughed. ‘And where would you go? You can’t afford to put a roof over your heads let alone feed him, not on the paltry wages you earn.’

  ‘I’ll find a way,’ Vera vowed.

  ‘There would only be one way, and that’s by going on the game,’ Di smirked. She drew hard on her cigarette before blowing out a long stream of blue smoke. ‘You didn’t seem to approve, though, when you heard about me doing that sort of thing!’

  ‘Of course I don’t approve, or of you stealing.’

  ‘Quite right,’ Di told her. ‘Given time you might see things differently, though …’

  Vera buried her face in her hands. She knew she was defeated. This woman twisted everything she said. Di also knew too much about her dad and Vera didn’t doubt that she would use it against him if it suited her purpose.

  Vera wished Eddy was still at home so that she could talk to him, but she didn’t even know where he was or when he would be in port again. He’d told her to go to Rita if she needed any help, but if she did that then she’d have to take Rita into her confidence. How could
she tell her what had happened and why she wanted to move in with her. If she did that, it might even turn Rita against Eddy when she heard the whole story.

  She was aware that Di had stubbed out her half-smoked cigarette and stood up. Di had won; she held all the trump cards. She was wicked and vindictive, but she had the power. Vera knew that for the moment, at any rate, all she could do was fall in with her plans.

  ‘Come on, you’d better accept the situation and start getting a meal ready. Your dad will be closing up at any minute and he likes to find his food ready on the table for him when he comes through from the shop, now doesn’t he,’ Di told her smugly.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Benny Quinn was bored. For the last three months he had been top of the class whenever they had tests in English, or arithmetic. He could reel off the names of all the kings and queens from William the Conqueror to their present king, George V. He knew the names of the ten most important cities and the six longest rivers in Britain. He liked school, he liked reading and he enjoyed lessons, but just lately he felt as if he knew everything there was to know.

  When he’d taken the eleven-plus exam a few months back he’d found it so easy that he’d finished ages before the rest of the class. He’d even wondered if he’d missed some of the questions, but when he’d looked through the paper and checked again he found that he had done them all. He’d sat and daydreamed until the time was up, all the papers were gathered in and they were free to go out and play.

  They hadn’t had the results yet, but that didn’t matter. Even if he passed his dad wouldn’t want him to go to a grammar school, he thought gloomily. He’d already said that he expected him to work in the shop when he finished school.

  Benny couldn’t think of anything more boring. He hated the smell of leather, and the stink of the polish that his dad used to finish off the boots and shoes after he’d hammered on the new soles. Even worse was the stinky glue he used for the stick-on soles when people wanted a cheap job.

  He’d been delivering boots and shoes ever since he could remember. Vera used to load them all into the pram beside him, or sometimes on top of him, when he was too small to walk. Now he delivered them on his own, as well as doing all sorts of other errands for his dad.

  His dad always told him not to say anything about the messages he sent him on because he didn’t want Vera knowing all his business.

  For some reason his dad didn’t seem to think he was capable of being able to work out how dodgy many of these errands were. First there’d been the betting slips. He’d only been about seven then and he’d been scared stiff when he knew he’d lost one and what could happen if it got into the wrong hands.

  The trips to and from Coombes’s shop with bags of soles and heels had been another risky one. Di Deverill had caught him out over that! She’d never told his dad how she’d got wind of it, thank goodness.

  It had all happened because he’d left a bag full of them lying on the pavement whilst he played footie with a crowd of boys from school. She’d come round the corner and tripped over it and threatened to skin him alive.

  He’d never be able to forget what happened next. It still went through his brain over and over again, especially when he was in bed at night. It was like watching a newsreel at the flicks!

  ‘I nearly broke my bloody neck tripping over that bag,’ the brassy blonde screeched at him, clinging onto a lamppost for support. ‘Look at that!’ She pointed with a painted fingernail to her leg. ‘Laddered my sodding silk stockings. Have you any idea how much they cost a pair?’

  ‘Sorry, missus,’ he said quickly, crossing his fingers and hoping she’d go away.

  She stood there glaring at him, a fag dangling from the corner of her mouth. ‘What’s in it, anyway. A pile of bricks?’

  He grinned up at her. ‘No, just some odd soles.’

  ‘You taking the bloody mickey?’ she snapped, blowing smoke into his face as she spoke.

  He grinned again and muttered, ‘Ace, King, Queen, Jack,’ and flippantly crossed himself. ‘Not those sort of souls, missus, but the sort that go on the bottoms of boots and shoes.’

  She looked puzzled. ‘What the hell are you doing with a bag full of those?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve just collected them from Coombes’s in Great Homer Street.’

  ‘So where are you taking them?’

  ‘Back to my dad. He’s got a cobbler’s shop in Scotland Road.’

  She nodded as if she understood. ‘You’d better get a bloody move on then, hadn’t you, he’s probably waiting for them.’

  ‘Yes, missus!’ His heart did a tap dance in his chest. She wasn’t going to make an issue of it after all. ‘I’m on my way,’ he added with a cheery grin.

  To his dismay she started walking along the road with him, keeping pace, but not saying anything.

  ‘I know me way home, missus, I don’t need an escort,’ he piped up at last.

  ‘I’m coming with you all the same,’ she told him.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘None of your bleeding business.’

  The nearer they got to his dad’s shop the more worried he became, wondering what she had in mind. He’d said he was sorry about laddering her stockings so surely she wasn’t going to tell his dad about what had happened. If she did he’d get his skull thumped and probably a good thrashing as well for playing around.

  He kept looking at her sideways, wondering how he could explain all this to her. She wasn’t like any other woman he knew. His sister Vera was young, dowdy and skinny. His mam had been short and cuddly and her hair had been fair, not a brassy yellow like this woman’s.

  Neither his mam nor Vera smoked, whereas this woman puffed away like a chimney. His brother’s girlfriend, Rita, sometimes smoked, but she took little short puffs, like a bird pecking at a crumb. This woman smoked like his dad, taking big long draws on her fag, holding in the smoke and then blowing it out in a blue cloud.

  Benny waited for his chance. As soon as they reached the corner of the next street, he decided, he would bunk off and make his way home through the back jiggers. She’d never catch him, not in those silly shoes with the spiked heels that she was teetering along in. He’d lose her easily enough.

  As if reading his mind the woman’s hand shot out and caught hold of his ear. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust you, sunshine, but I ain’t taking any chances. How far is it now?’

  ‘Next block.’ He wriggled uncomfortably. ‘Ouch,’ he muttered. ‘You’re hurting me.’

  ‘Tough!’

  ‘Look, missus, if I promise that I won’t run off will you let go of me?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘Give me that bag you’re carrying first,’ she ordered.

  ‘What for? It’s only got soles in it, and it’s too heavy for you to carry.’

  The sudden sharp twist to his ear brought a yelp from him.

  ‘Hand it over!’

  Sulkily he did as she asked. He’d still hoped he would be able to manage to give her the slip and nip down one of the back jiggers. He’d tell his dad that he’d been accosted and had his bag pinched, he decided, which meant that he’d probably get a hiding anyway.

  Taking the bag in one hand the woman released her hold on his ear. Before he could dart away, though, she’d grabbed him by the shoulder, her fingers digging into him like talons.

  ‘Right! Now, quick march. Straight to your dad’s shop. OK?’

  Benny knew when he was beaten. He gave in with as good a grace as possible.

  When they reached the shop door he tried to make one last plea. ‘My dad’ll kill me if he sees you have that bag,’ he said uneasily. ‘Hand it back, missus. I’ve said I’m sorry that you fell over it and hurt yourself …’

  ‘Come on, don’t argue. You won’t be in any kind of trouble.’

  ‘You don’t know my dad …’

  It was too late. They were at the door and she was already pushing it open. She thrust him inside so hard that he almost fell in a heap at his dad’s
feet.

  ‘What the bloody hell’s going on here?’ Michael Quinn asked, his face darkening.

  ‘I had a bit of an accident, Dad …’ Benny gabbled, hoping that if he got his story in first it wouldn’t be so bad.

  The woman laughed and pushed him to one side. ‘I’ll talk to your dad. You can bugger off.’

  ‘Hey! Lay off my kid! If there’s something wrong then let him tell me about it.’

  The woman ignored him. ‘Bugger off, kid,’ she ordered.

  He darted for the door that led into their living room, but made sure that he left it open just a crack when he came through it so that he could hear what was being said.

  ‘I know all about you, Michael Quinn,’ the woman said. ‘We drink in the same boozers up and down Scottie Road, don’t we.’

  ‘Possibly, if you say so. I can’t recall that we’ve ever met,’ he said cautiously. He picked up a boot, fitted it in position on the last and began stripping off the old sole.

  ‘Well, we have now!’ She shook the bag noisily. ‘This is yours isn’t it?’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘Your kid was carrying it, until I snatched it off him.’

  His face remained stony. ‘Go on.’ He concentrated on the boot he was repairing.

  ‘Nice little racket you and Tom Gray are running. I bet his bosses would be interested in hearing all about it.’

  Michael Quinn removed the tacks he’d been holding between his lips and spat onto the floor. ‘What the hell are you on about, missus?’

  ‘Don’t waste your breath, Mike Quinn. I’ve been watching what’s been going on for weeks. As I said, nice little racket. I admire a fellow with a brain, someone who can think up an underhand plan and knows how to put it into action.’

  ‘So what are you going to do about it? Shop poor Tom Gray, him with three small kids to feed and clothe,’ he sneered.

  She pursed her vivid red lips. ‘Depends!’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On how you treat me. Look after me and I’ll keep my trap shut. Send me packing and I’ll blow your game wide open.’

  ‘What does treating you right involve?’ he asked cautiously.