by Joan Jonker
‘You might be pleased with yerself, but did yer see the look on the face of the girl behind the counter?’ When Nellie laughed, her tummy rose and lifted the table off the floor, rattling the cups and saucers. ‘I thought she was goin’ to have a duck egg when she saw yer list. An’ you, cool as a ruddy cucumber, practically lookin’ down yer nose at her, sayin’ in yer posh voice that yer usually save for Sundays, “There’s fifty curtains altogether, love, but would you be kind enough to wrap each lot separately, so I know where I’m up to? My friend an’ I will pick them up when we’ve had a cup of tea.”’ Nellie raised her eyebrows, and lifting her cup, stuck her little finger out. ‘All la-de-dah.’
‘Sod off, Nellie, yer don’t half exaggerate!’ Molly grinned. ‘Lookin’ down me nose, usin’ me posh voice … I don’t know, yer tell bigger fibs than our Ruthie.’
‘I should bloody well think I do, the size of me to her! If I couldn’t tell bigger lies than a seven-year-old girl, I’d pack in.’
Nellie stood on the pavement looking up at Molly on the tram platform. ‘How can I get on with these ruddy things? If I tried it, I’d end up arse over elbow.’ She gazed down at the heavy parcels she had in each hand. They were tied with string and it was biting deep into her palms. ‘It takes me all me time to get on meself, never mind carryin’ these weights.’
Molly glanced down the tram for the conductor, but he must have been on top collecting fares. And she could see the driver looked impatient, wanting to be on his way. ‘Hang on a minute.’ She threw her parcels in the space under the stairs and reached out to relieve her friend. ‘Here, give us them, an’ get on before the driver goes without yer.’
Nellie pulled herself aboard, red in the face with the exertion. ‘Next time yer want to go shoppin’ for the whole ruddy street, yer can go on yer own. I don’t mind doin’ a good turn for anyone, but this is bloody ridiculous!’
The driver, tired of waiting and worried about keeping to his timetable, turned his head to ask, ‘Can I go?’
Nellie glared. ‘Yer should ’ave gone before yer left the ’ouse.’
The driver looked puzzled. ‘Gone where?’
‘To the lavvy of course! Yer just asked if yer could go! In our ’ouse they put their hand up, but I suppose everyone ’as their own way.’
The driver’s laugh was so hearty it even brought the glimmer of a smile to Nellie’s woebegone face. He clanged his bell, turned the brake handle and set the tram in motion. ‘Yer can leave that shoppin’ under the stairs,’ he grinned, ‘I’ll keep me eye on it for yer.’
Molly struggled down the aisle to an empty seat. ‘I’ll put these on the floor an’ we can put our feet on them.’ She threw the packages down before sliding along the seat and squashing herself up against the side of the tram to make room for her friend. ‘Thank God for that!’
‘Yer should ’ave put those with the others,’ Nellie said, one cheek of her backside on the seat, the other hanging over the side. ‘He said he’d keep ’is eye on them.’
‘Just give over, Nellie!’ Molly was all hot and bothered. ‘Honest, yer’d cause trouble in an empty house, you would!’
‘Oh, pardon me for breathing!’ Nellie bent her head to look into Molly’s face. ‘Got a cob on, have yer, girl?’
‘Me got a cob on? Well I like that! It was you who started it!’
‘Yeah, I admit, I did ’ave a cob on,’ Nellie and her chins agreed, ‘but it’s gone now. Shall I kiss yours better?’
Just then they heard the conductor’s voice. ‘Fares, please!’
‘I’ll get them … I’ve got change in me pocket.’ Nellie leaned sideways to reach into her pocket and nearly pushed Molly through the window. ‘Two twos, please.’
The conductor threw the coppers into his leather bag, pulled two tickets from a roll and punched them in his machine. Handing them to Nellie, he asked, ‘Been spendin’ your feller’s hard-earned money, have yer?’
There was a wicked glint in Nellie’s eyes. ‘Yeah! I went to the pictures last night to see Jean Harlow, an’ she was wearin’ one of those lacy see-through negligée things. An’ I said to meself, “Yer want to get yerself one of them, girl, yer’d look the gear in it! An’ it would do your feller the power of good, too! He’d think it was ’is birthday.”’
The conductor didn’t know whether to blush or to laugh. The driver had told him the fat woman was a caution, and he was right. But from the look on the face of the woman sitting behind Nellie, she didn’t appreciate the conversation one little bit. And she looked the prim and proper type, just the sort who would report him. So he contented himself with whispering in Nellie’s ear, ‘I hope he likes it.’ Then he went on his way, clinking the arm of his punch machine and calling, ‘Any more fares, please?’
‘What would George say if he’d been here an’ heard yer talkin’ like that?’ Molly asked.
‘He’d pretend he wasn’t with me.’ Nellie’s guffaw travelled the length of the tram. ‘He’d have got off at the next stop.’
‘I wouldn’t blame him, I know the feeling,’ Molly muttered. But as she gazed out of the window there was a smile on her face.
Doreen gaped when she saw the material piled high on the sideboard. ‘Ah, ray, Mam! That’s a bit much, isn’t it?’
Molly had considered the possibility of some opposition and she had a sweetener ready. ‘We’ll each buy yer a pair of stockings if yer make them. That’ll keep yer goin’ in stockings for a few weeks.’
That cheered Doreen up somewhat. She could do with some decent stockings, especially this week with Phil being home. Every pair she possessed had ladders in, like the ones she was wearing now. They’d do her a turn for work: no one could see the blobs of red nail varnish she’d dabbed on to stem the runs, but she was desperate for new ones. ‘When do I get the stockings?’ There was a calculating gleam in her eyes. ‘Next pancake Tuesday, I suppose?’
‘Ye’re a crafty article, you are,’ Molly said, putting a plate down in front of her daughter. ‘Yer’ll get the stockings when yer’ve done the job.’
Doreen’s mind ticked over. The curtains only needed a straight hem top and bottom, she’d have them done in no time. ‘I’ll get the machine out when the table’s cleared, I can get some done before Phil calls for me.’
Molly grinned to herself. She was a cute one all right, was Doreen. ‘Suit yerself! But if yer do, I’ll make sure yer get yer stockings at the weekend. Me an’ Nellie are goin’ to Cazneau Street on Saturday to get the wire runners, so I’ll get yer half a dozen pairs.’
That bit of news took the gilt off the gingerbread. ‘Mam, I’d rather get me own stockings! You’ll only get the wrong colour.’
Molly had also prepared herself for this eventuality. ‘Give me a pair of yer old ones an’ I’ll get the exact same colour.’ She was ready to argue with her daughter on this point. Stockings in the market could be had for sixpence a pair while they were elevenpence-halfpenny in the shops. ‘An’ don’t knock it, sunshine, just count yerself lucky.’
‘Mam!’ Ruthie piped up. ‘Can I come to the market with you an’ Auntie Nellie on Saturday?’
Oh, why didn’t I keep my big mouth shut, Molly asked herself as she gazed at the eager look on the pixie-like face. Dragging a child around a busy market was no joke. You needed eyes in the back of your head to keep them from wandering off and getting lost in the thousands who thronged to the market every Saturday in the hope of picking up a bargain. And you couldn’t browse in peace with a little one hanging on to your coat, asking you to buy them everything that took their eye.
‘Go on, Mam!’ The rosebud mouth puckered. ‘Please?’
Molly sighed. Her youngest child could be a holy terror at times, but right now she looked like a little angel. And how could you refuse an angel? ‘We’ll see what the weather’s like, sunshine, OK?’
‘The gear!’ Ruthie went happily back to eating her dinner. With a mouth full of mashed potato, she gloated, ‘Wait till I tell Bella, she won’t half be j
ealous.’
‘If you start braggin’ and upsetting Bella, then I won’t take yer. Do yer understand?’ But Molly knew she was wasting her breath. The two friends were always looking to score points off each other and Ruthie wouldn’t pass up an opportunity like this. And you couldn’t blame her: she didn’t get many outings.
Chapter Nine
‘In the name of God, where do they all come from?’ Nellie viewed with amazement the mass of people milling around all the stalls in the market. ‘We’ll never get through that lot!’
Molly was grinning as she gazed at the width of her friend. ‘Tell yer what, Nellie, you go first an’ me an’ Ruthie will follow.’
Nellie puffed out her cheeks. ‘Oh ay, soft girl! Don’t worry about me getting bashed and bruised, will yer?’
‘It was your idea to come, so don’t be moanin’.’ Molly clung tight to her daughter’s hand. ‘Just look for a stall sellin’ stockings, and we want some wire for the blackout curtains.’
‘An’ I want to get meself a couple of pairs of knickers.’ Nellie bent her elbows in readiness. ‘Right, let’s go.’
Following in the wake of her friend, Molly and Ruthie had an easy passage. But as Nellie marched forward regardless, Molly felt sorry for the people who got in the way. She could see them rubbing the parts of their bodies that had come into contact with her friend’s elbows, and knew many of them would be sporting bruises when they got home. There were a few dark looks thrown Nellie’s way, and several people muttered that she should look where she was going, but the size of her put them off a direct confrontation.
‘Here yer are, girl!’ Nellie came to a halt where she could see shovels and hammers hanging on display outside a stall. ‘We can get the wire here.’
‘I’ll get it in one piece, save the man messing,’ Molly said, as Nellie pushed her way through the crowd around the stall. ‘Jack can cut it to size with a pair of pliers.’
When it was their turn to be served, Nellie haggled with the stallholder. ‘Don’t we get a discount for buyin’ so much?’
‘I’m sellin’ it dirt cheap as it is … practically givin’ it away!’ The man had jet-black hair, a swarthy complexion and a set of pure white teeth which gleamed when he smiled. ‘Would yer take the bread an’ butter out of me kids’ mouths?’
‘Butter? What’s butter?’ Nellie opened her eyes as wide as they would go. ‘My poor family haven’t never ’ad no butter.’
‘Go on, missus, get the violin out an’ play on me heart-strings.’ The man laughed as he began to measure out the wire. ‘Yer’ll be tellin’ me next yer’ve got a chronic sick ’usband at home who ’asn’t worked for years, and twelve children to feed.’
‘Yer know, the minute I laid eyes on you I knew there was gypsy blood in yer.’ Nellie’s face was deadly serious. ‘It’s the dark colouring that did it, that’s how I knew.’
‘What are yer on about, missus? I’m no gypsy!’
‘Oh, come off it, yer must be! Yer’ve just told me fortune and yer hit the nail right on the ’ead.’
The man looked at Molly to see if this was a joke, but Molly had turned her head away. She wasn’t getting involved in this! ‘Are you tellin’ me that yer’ve got a sick ’usband at ’ome and twelve children?’
‘No, love, I’m not goin’ to lie to yer, that wouldn’t be fair.’ Nellie looked all contrite. ‘I’ve only got ten children.’
Molly spluttered and backed into the crowd, taking Ruthie with her. The little girl’s eyes were popping out of her head … she didn’t know Auntie Nellie had ten children!
The man made the mistake of taking his mind and his hand off the wire. A point not missed by Nellie. He gazed at the people crowded around the stall, all deeply interested in the conversation, and with a feeling of dismay realized they believed he could tell fortunes. He glared at the big woman. ‘Is this a wind-up?’
‘Is what a wind-up, love?’ Nellie peered over the counter. ‘Have yer got a gramophone with a handle back there? I’m sorry I can’t help yer, I’m no good with these mechanical thingumajigs. Now if me ’usband was here, he could help yer … his mother ’ad a wind-up gramophone.’
The man scratched his head. ‘I give up!’
Nellie beamed. ‘Does that mean yer’ll give us a discount on the wire, seein’ as how we’re buyin’ so much?’
He raised his brows. ‘No sick husband? No ten children?’
Nelly’s beam widened. ‘Healthy husband, three kids … but skint.’
The crowd roared with laughter. This was as good as a pantomime. ‘Go on,’ shouted one man, ‘knock a few coppers off for ’er, she deserves it.’ His call was joined by others. ‘Go ’ed, don’t be so ruddy tight!’ And, ‘Give it ’er for nowt, yer skinny beggar!’ It was all cheerful banter and the stallholder forgave Nellie for making him the butt of her joke.
‘I’ll knock thru’pence off an’ no more, ’cos I’ve got more ruddy kids to feed than she has.’ He looked down at the wire. ‘I’ve lost track of where I was up to.’
‘I was watchin’ yer,’ Nellie said, helpfully, ‘yer’d counted ten yards out.’
Molly waited on the edge of the crowd, and when Nellie came pushing her way towards her, she shook her head. ‘Nellie McDonough, do yer always ’ave to cause a scene?’
‘Oh, don’t be such a long string of misery, girl, it was all good, clean fun! We saved ourselves thru’pence and the man’s got more customers now than he would ’ave had … so everyone’s happy.’ Nellie passed over the wire which was wrapped in a piece of newspaper. ‘Stick that in yer basket, girl, an’ let’s find a stall that sells knickers.’
Ruthie pulled on Nellie’s coat. ‘I didn’t know yer ’ad ten children, Auntie Nellie! Do they all live in your ’ouse?’
Nellie bent down to gaze into the questioning eyes. ‘God love yer for yer innocence, sweetheart!’ She took the child’s face in her hands. ‘No, I haven’t got ten children, I was only pullin’ the man’s leg. It was a joke, just for a bit of fun.’
The child lowered her eyes as she thought things over. When she looked up she was smiling. ‘I think it was funny, Auntie Nellie.’
‘Well I’m glad somebody does,’ Nellie huffed, ‘’cos yer mam’s got a face on her as long as a fiddle.’
‘Shall I let yer into a secret, Nellie?’ Molly gripped Ruthie’s hand ready to move off. ‘Me an’ Jack will laugh ourselves sick over this little escapade of yours. It’s one of the best yer’ve pulled this week.’
‘Aye, well, that’s all right then!’ Happy now, Nellie took the child’s other hand. ‘Let’s look around for me knickers.’
They found a stall that sold women’s underwear and Molly picked out the six pairs of stockings in the colour Doreen wanted, and Nellie chose two pairs of pink fleecy-lined knickers. ‘I’ll pay for these,’ Molly said, ‘you pay for yer own.’
Nellie was rooting through her purse when a hand appeared from nowhere and snatched it from her hand. She gaped as her eyes followed the disappearing figure of a young boy. ‘The little bugger, he’s pinched me purse!’
Molly chased after the boy, but he was small and fleet of foot, able to push his way through the crowd with ease. Puffing loudly, Molly told herself she was wasting her time, she’d never catch him. But she’d reckoned without Ruthie. With her tongue poked out of the side of her mouth and a determined expression on her face, the child was even quicker than the boy. She caught up with him and grabbed hold of the back of his jersey. No matter how hard he pulled and twisted, the little girl hung on like grim death with her two hands. No one was going to steal from her auntie Nellie!
Gasping for breath, Molly appeared and grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck. ‘Yer little thief!’ She noticed a small crowd was gathering and explained, ‘He’s just pinched me mate’s purse! Look, there it is!’ She whipped the purse from the struggling boy’s hand as the crowd muttered dire threats. ‘Give ’im a belt,’ one man shouted, while a woman went even further, ‘He wants horsewhippin�
��.’
Nellie came on the scene looking distraught. Her chest heaving, she gasped, ‘Thank God yer’ve caught ’im. Every penny I’ve got in the world is in that purse.’
Molly put her hands on the boy’s shoulders and turned him round to face her. ‘It’s the police station for you, me lad.’
Nellie came to stand beside her friend, intending to give the boy a clip round the ear for frightening her like that. But all the fight went out of her when she took stock of the lad. Poor bugger looked as though he hadn’t washed or eaten for a month. His face, neck and ears were filthy, and although it was a cold day, he had no shirt or vest on under the moth-eaten jersey. Her eyes travelled down past his torn and patched trousers over filthy legs to his bare feet. My God, in this day and age – a barefoot child! She thought that was a thing of the past!
Nellie sighed. How the hell could you be angry with a kid who looked as though a good feed would kill him, and was dressed in rags? He looked terrified, and the mutterings of the hostile crowd weren’t helping. ‘Let’s take him outside, Molly, we’re causin’ an obstruction here.’
While Molly led the boy through the stalls to the street, Nellie smiled at the crowd who looked disappointed at not seeing the thief punished. ‘Thanks for yer help, folks. We’ll sort him out.’
‘What’s your name, son?’ Molly looked at the boy. When she saw the fear in a face that looked far too old for its years, her heart turned over. ‘I’m not goin’ to hurt yer, so don’t be frightened.’ She turned her head when Nellie appeared with Ruthie. ‘I was just sayin’, we’re not goin’ to hurt him, are we?’
‘Not if he tells us the truth,’ Nellie said. Her motherly instincts were rising and she felt like taking the boy home, giving him a good wash, dressing him in decent clothes and putting a good feed in front of him. But he was a thief and it would be wrong to let him think you could steal and get away with it. ‘What’s yer name an’ how old are yer?’