MB03 - Sweet Rosie O’Grady

by Joan Jonker

  The boy looked down at his feet. ‘Me name’s Denis an’ I’m ten.’

  ‘Well, Denis, tell me why yer tried to pinch me purse?’

  The shame and guilt disappeared from the boy’s face, to be replaced with another emotion. ‘’Cos me mam’s got no money an’ she’s cryin’.’

  Molly and Nellie exchanged glances. ‘Have yer got a dad, Denis?’ Molly asked. ‘Or any big brothers or sisters?’

  ‘I haven’t got no dad, he died.’ Tears weren’t far away and Denis swallowed at the lump in his throat before continuing. ‘I’ve got two brothers and two sisters, but they’re all younger than me. I’m the oldest an’ I ’ave to try an’ help me mam.’

  ‘An’ do yer often go out stealin’?’ Nellie asked, her voice gentle.

  ‘I haven’t never done it before, an’ me mam will go mad if the police come to our ’ouse.’ A tear trickled down his cheek, and as he wiped it away he smeared the grime on his face. ‘I wouldn’t ’ave done it, but the baby was screamin’ with hunger an’ me mam’s got no money … that’s why she was cryin’.’

  ‘Are you tellin’ us the truth, son?’ Molly asked. ‘Or is it all a pack of lies to get yer off the hook?’

  ‘I’m not tellin’ lies, missus, honest I’m not! Yer can come to our ’ouse if yer like, and see for yerself.’ Then fear flickered across his face. ‘But yer wouldn’t tell me mam what I did, would yer? She’s always tellin’ me not to bring trouble to ’er door.’

  Nellie dug Molly in the side and jerked her head to indicate she wanted to whisper. ‘D’yer believe ’im?’

  Molly nodded. ‘Yeah, poor little bugger. I mean, have yer seen the state of him? Apart from the rags he’s got on, he’s far too thin for a boy his age, so he’s definitely not gettin’ enough to eat. But what’s puzzlin’ me is, what do they do for money other weeks?’

  ‘I don’t know, an’ I ain’t asking,’ Nellie hissed. ‘We’ll help him out now, but then I’m goin’ to forget he exists. With the best will in the world, we can’t take everyone’s troubles on board. Just leave it to me an’ don’t take it to heart or yer’ll ’ave nightmares.’

  Ruthie was standing with her feet apart, gazing at the boy who had tried to steal her auntie’s purse. ‘You’re a naughty boy, you are.’

  Denis Latimer looked at the small girl’s warm coat and scarf, her sturdy shoes and the knitted gloves keeping the cold from her hands. She doesn’t know how lucky she is, he thought. I bet she doesn’t have to try and keep warm at night wrapped in old clothes. She won’t ever be hungry and I bet there’ll be a roaring fire in their house when she gets home.

  He screwed his eyes up tight. They used to have all those things when his dad was alive. Now they had nothing. His mother had had to pawn everything they had, bit by bit, to keep the wolf from the door. Now there was nothing left to pawn.

  Molly had been watching the boy’s expression and it was almost as though she could read his mind. Here was a boy who wanted to help his family, who felt he should be the man of the house, but his tender years were against him. Nellie was right, of course, they couldn’t take everyone’s troubles on board, but it wouldn’t be Christian to ignore their plight.

  ‘How old is the baby, Denis?’ Nellie was also weakening. ‘Is she on solid food?’

  ‘She’s fourteen months.’

  ‘Right! Come on, we’ll go to the shops an’ get yer somethin’ to take home to feed the family.’ Nellie put an arm across his thin shoulders. ‘It won’t be much, mind, but anythin’ is better than nothing.’

  ‘I haven’t got that much money left,’ Molly said as she took Ruthie’s hand and followed her friend across the street. ‘I’ve only got a bob or two.’

  ‘That’s all right, girl!’ Nellie stopped outside the Co-op. ‘I left the knickers on the stall so I’ll use that money and get the knickers another day.’

  A short time later, they were to see the difference in Denis’s face when he smiled. Cradled in his arms he had two large tin loaves, a half of marge, half a pound of corned beef, a pound of sugar, a quarter of tea and a tin of conny-onny. And stuck in his pocket was a block of carbolic soap. He couldn’t believe fate had been so kind to him. He’d never forget these two women, not as long as he lived. And never again would he try to steal something that didn’t belong to him.

  ‘Where can I tell me mam I got all this from?’

  Nellie smiled at him. ‘It’s a sin to steal, son, an’ a sin to tell lies. But sometimes God doesn’t mind yer tellin’ a little white lie if it’s to help someone. So you tell yer mam that two big fat women with loads of rings on their fingers asked yer to run a lot of messages for them, an’ they gave yer half a crown each for yer trouble.’

  Molly’s mind hadn’t been idle. ‘If yer come to the market at the same time next week, I might ’ave some cast-off clothes that’ll fit yer brothers an’ sisters. They won’t be anythin’ to get excited about, but they might do a turn.’

  Denis was lost for words. He couldn’t believe it was happening and thought if he pinched himself he’d wake up to find it was all a dream. But these two women in front of him were no dream. He wanted to tell them how grateful he was, and how he was dying to see his mother’s face when she saw the food. But he was too young to know the right words. All he could say was, ‘Thanks, missus.’

  ‘Go on, off with yer.’ The joy on his face was all the thanks Molly and Nellie needed. ‘See yer next week.’

  The two women watched as he walked away. They were silent until he turned a corner and disappeared from view, then they faced each other. Sniffing loudly, Molly wiped a tear away with the back of her hand. ‘It could only happen to us two, yer know that, don’t yer? Someone steals yer purse, we nearly kill ourselves chasin’ ’im to get it back, then yer spend the flamin’ money on him! Jack will never believe this, not in a ruddy month of Sundays.’

  ‘Ay, hang on a minute!’ Nellie rubbed the side of her nose. ‘You’re talking as though it’s been all my doin’ an’ you only went along for the ride! You fell for ’is sob story just the same as me!’

  ‘I know I did! I felt sorry for the poor bugger, an’ I believed every word he said!’ Molly glanced sideways to see if her friend knew she was being teased. ‘But let’s face it, Nellie, it was your ruddy purse he stole … if yer’d been more careful, none of this would ’ave happened!’

  ‘I don’t bloody believe I’m hearin’ this!’ Nellie exploded. ‘Who’s the one who’s arranged to meet him again next week? An’ where the ’ell are yer gettin’ the clothes from that yer promised him?’

  ‘Off meself, the girls, Mary an’ you!’

  ‘Yer can go an’ take a running jump, girl!’ Nellie looked down at herself and an impish grin appeared. ‘It would ’ave to be some baby to wear this coat.’

  ‘If the mother is any good, she’ll be able to unpick the clothes and make use of the material.’

  ‘Bloody hell! Yer don’t half let yer imagination run away with yer, girl! The mother’s a seamstress now!’ Nellie took hold of one of Ruthie’s hands and started walking. ‘Anyway, yer ain’t gettin’ this coat, it’s the only one I’ve got to me name. I’m lucky it still fits me after that drenchin’ I got.’

  ‘Another thing,’ Molly said, ‘you’ve got a flamin’ cheek sayin’ two fat women! I’m not fat, just cuddly.’

  ‘If ye’re goin’ to be like that, girl, then I’m not fat either! I’m just pleasantly plump.’

  Ruthie walked quietly between the two women. Their raised voices didn’t alarm her because her mam and auntie Nellie were always arguing. In a few minutes they’d be laughing their heads off. But they should have punished that boy because it’s wrong to steal. If her teacher had been there, he’d have got six strokes of the cane. She got three last week and that was just for pulling Sadie Moore’s hair and making her cry! Where was the justice in that?

  Chapter Ten

  It was only eight o’clock, but the lounge bar and the snug were full to capacity. The corner p
ub did a roaring trade on a Saturday thanks to the regular singer, Joe Pennington, who performed there every week. The landlord of the pub kept him supplied with beer for the night and considered it a small price to pay for the extra custom the singer brought in. Joe was an insignificant man: small, thin, receding hairline and very few teeth in his head. But on a Saturday night he became a celebrity as he enthralled the people with his fine voice.

  ‘It’s a good job we came early,’ Molly said, glancing around. ‘The place is chock-a-block.’

  ‘They’ve all got the same idea as us, Molly me darlin’.’ Corker used the back of his hand to wipe the beer from his moustache. ‘After eight and it’s standing-room only.’

  ‘I see Joe’s by the bar enjoying his usual two pints.’ Jack smiled as he took stock of the little man. ‘Yer wouldn’t think, just by looking at him, that he’s got a belting voice, one of the best I’ve ever heard.’

  ‘It goes to show yer can’t go by looks,’ Nellie said, nodding her head knowingly. ‘Take me, for instance. I mean, look at me! Yer wouldn’t think, judging by me appearance, that I’ve got the voice of a lark, now would yer?’

  Her husband put his glass on the table, knowing that what he was going to say would earn him a dig in the ribs. ‘I would if the lark was dying of a cold.’

  Nellie glared at him. ‘Oh, ye’re there, are yer? An’ who turned the little key to wind you up, might I ask?’

  ‘Only passing a comment, dear,’ said mild-mannered George. ‘Just passing a comment.’

  ‘Well keep yer comments to yerself in future.’ Nellie was good at feigning anger. ‘Otherwise I’ll belt yer one.’

  ‘Listen who’s throwin’ her weight around!’ Molly grinned. ‘Anyone would think she’s tough, but she’s really as soft as a marshmallow!’

  ‘You’re a fine one to talk!’ Nellie vaguely remembered her and Molly making a pact not to tell the men about the events of the day. But two glasses of sherry had loosened her tongue and she threw caution to the wind. Not that Nellie needed two drinks to throw caution to the wind, but it would be handy as an excuse when Molly had a go at her. ‘D’yer want to know what the pair of us got up to today? Honest to God, yer won’t believe it.’

  ‘Go on, Nellie, tell us.’ Ellen’s thin face was eager. ‘What did yer get up to this time?’

  ‘I’ll believe it,’ Corker roared, his weather-beaten face stretched in a smile. ‘I wouldn’t put anything past you two.’

  Nellie was having second thoughts. After all, yer shouldn’t break a promise to a mate. She looked at Molly. ‘Shall I tell ’em, girl?’

  ‘Ay, go on!’ Molly knew there was no point in objecting because after another sherry, Nellie would tell it whether she liked it or not.

  Jack raised his brows at George. ‘D’you know anythin’ about this?’

  George shook his head. ‘I’m as much in the dark as you. Nellie doesn’t tell me half the things she gets up to.’

  ‘Well, just get an earful of this.’ Nellie pulled her dress down over her knees then leaned forward, an action which had the dress riding high again to expose her stocking tops. But she was into her stride now and not in the frame of mind to worry about showing her legs off. ‘Me an’ Molly went to the market today, an’ we had young Ruthie with us.’ With her hands and mouth going fifteen to the dozen and her chins doing a jig, Nellie started at the stall where they bought the wire, and finished with the boy disappearing round the corner, his arms full of groceries. Her face and actions were so animated, her recollection so colourful, she held her audience spellbound.

  When the story ended, Nellie took a deep breath and folded her arms. ‘An’ me mate here has got the cheek to say I’m as soft as a marshmallow! Talk about the pot callin’ the kettle black!’

  The group was silent, wondering whether this was one of Nellie’s jokes, when Molly started to clap. ‘Yer can’t half tell a good tale, Nellie! Honest, listenin’ to yer was better than being there!’

  Ellen’s eyes swivelled from Nellie to Molly. ‘Yer mean it didn’t really happen as Nellie said?’

  ‘Oh yeah, it happened all right,’ Molly said, noting Jack and George shaking their heads. ‘I admit I fell for the boy’s sob story, an’ I still believe he was tellin’ the truth. But if I was daft, then Nellie was a damn sight dafter, ’cos it was her money that bought the groceries.’

  ‘That was a nice story, that,’ Corker said. ‘It had everything from humour, anger and sadness to a happy ending. What yez did was a fine thing, and God will pay yer back for it.’

  ‘Well I hope He hangs on for a while, ’cos we’re not finished yet an’ He may as well pay us back all in one go.’ Nellie nodded across at Molly. ‘Big-hearted Annie here has arranged to meet the boy again next Saturday in the market. She’s promised to take him some clothes for the family, but heaven only knows where she’s goin’ to get them from.’

  ‘I’ve already got some, so that’s one in the eye for you.’ Molly stuck her tongue out. ‘I met Mary Watson when I went up to the corner shop, an’ she said she’s got some dresses that Bella’s grown out of, and a coat. She said it was a good chance to have a clear-out and by the weekend she’ll have a bit more stuff for me. An’ our Ruthie’s got clothes that don’t fit any more, so they can go as well.’

  ‘I’ve got no clothes to give yer,’ Corker said. ‘But I can let yer have a couple of bob for food for them.’

  ‘I wish I could help.’ Ellen knew only too well what it was like to be penniless. ‘But I don’t see how I can.’

  Corker patted her knee. ‘Don’t you worry, love, I’ll give Molly an extra couple of bob for her to buy something from you.’

  Nellie chuckled. ‘I’ve told her she can have me old coat. The whole family could fit into that.’

  ‘You little liar!’ Molly wagged a finger. ‘Yer said I couldn’t have yer coat … proper miser you are.’

  ‘Right,’ said Nellie, squaring her shoulders and thrusting her vast bosom forward, ‘if that’s all the thanks I get, I’m not goin’ anywhere with yer in future. Ye’re on yer own from now on, girl!’

  Molly rubbed the side of her nose, thinking of the amount of clothing she’d have to carry on her own if her friend didn’t come with her. ‘So ye’re not comin’ to the market with me next Saturday?’

  ‘Uh-uh! Like I said, girl, ye’re on yer own from now on.’ Nellie stuck her nose in the air. ‘What I might do is follow yer down, just to see yer makin’ a fool of yerself. But yer won’t know I’m there ’cos I’ll hide meself.’

  Molly gazed at her friend, all eighteen stone of her. With laughter bubbling inside she spluttered, ‘Nellie, King Kong would stand more chance of goin’ unnoticed in the market than you would.’

  Looking at the smiling faces around her, Nellie’s mouth gaped with feigned surprise. ‘Fancy you sayin’ that, girl, when it was just runnin’ through me mind! It just goes to show that great minds do think alike.’ She put her arms across her tummy and laced her fingers. ‘I’m goin’ to hide behind King Kong. He’s a mate of mine … yer didn’t know that, did yer? Oh aye, he’s married to one of me cousins. You know our Sadie, the one with the moustache an’ hairs on her chin? She tried to grow a beard so Kong wouldn’t feel out of place, but it didn’t work. Not enough hairs, yer see.’

  While the others doubled up with laughter, Molly left her chair. She leaned across the table full of glasses, and it was only quick thinking on the part of Corker and Jack that prevented the whole lot ending up on the floor. She grasped Nellie’s chubby face in her hands and planted a noisy kiss on her mouth. ‘Nellie McDonough, ye’re a cracker an’ I love yer to pieces.’

  ‘Yer can soft-soap me as much as yer like girl, but I’m not comin’ with yer next Saturday.’

  Molly sat back with a smile on her face, knowing her friend wouldn’t miss it for the world … she was far too nosy.

  ‘Ay out, here’s the singer.’ Corker started to collect the empty glasses. ‘Let’s get a round in before he starts. I ha
te makin’ a noise when he’s in the middle of a song, it’s not polite.’

  Jack jumped up. ‘I’ll give yer a hand, Corker.’

  Joe Pennington walked to his usual spot at the end of the bar. For six days a week he was a five-feet-four nobody, but on a Saturday he was a star, he was somebody. He watched the barmen serve the customers, waited until they’d returned to their seats, then coughed before opening his mouth and letting out a sound that was deep and rich in quality.

  ‘She’s an old-fashioned lady, with old-fashioned ways, And a smile that says welcome to me …’

  ‘Oh, God, I love this,’ Nellie said. ‘It always makes me want to weep buckets.’

  George whispered to Jack, ‘I know we’ve said this before, Jack, but how can women say they love somethin’ that makes them cry?’

  ‘Beats me, George.’ Jack scratched his head. ‘But then we don’t know how a woman’s mind works.’

  Corker leaned across Ellen to add his views. ‘There’s not a man been born who can understand women. So just enjoy them an’ don’t try.’

  There was loud applause as the song came to an end. Nellie swivelled on her stool. ‘Give us somethin’ lively, Joe! How about “Swanee River”?’

  Joe was so good, if you closed your eyes you would think you were listening to Al Jolson himself. But Nellie didn’t want to close her eyes and listen, she wanted to stand up and sing. Punching the air, she belted it out: ‘Swanee, how I love yer, how I love yer, my dear ol’ Swanee.’

  ‘She’s a case,’ Corker said.

  While George answered, ‘Is that what she is?’

  Four happy young people stepped off the tram, laughing as they linked arms to walk abreast. ‘It’s been the best day of me life.’ Doreen looked up at the sky and even the stars seemed to be winking at her. ‘I wish we could do it all over again, don’t you, our kid?’

  ‘I’ve got another eight days’ leave yet,’ Phil said, smiling down at her and squeezing her arm. ‘We’ll think of something to outshine today, won’t we, Steve?’