MB03 - Sweet Rosie O’Grady

by Joan Jonker

  There was a smile on Molly’s face as she sighed. At least someone was happy with what she’d heard. The crafty little beggar always had her eye to business.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘You go and sit in yer chair by the fire, sweetheart.’ Bridie stacked the three dirty dinner plates and placed the knives and forks on top. Forever watchful of her husband, she thought he looked tired. ‘There’s only a few pots and pans, me and Rosie will have them done in no time at all.’

  ‘That we will, Uncle Bob!’ Rosie beamed at him. Over the months she’d lived with them, she’d grown to love them dearly and shared Bridie’s concern for her husband. ‘Sure we’ll be that quick the pans won’t even know they’ve been washed until they’re back in the cupboard.’

  As Bob watched her follow his wife into the kitchen, he tried to remember what their lives had been like without her. Oh, they had plenty of things to interest them, what with Molly coming round nearly every day and the grandchildren visiting them regularly. But it wasn’t the same as having someone to live with them as part of the family. Particularly when that someone was never without a smile on her face or a joke on her lips. She had made such a difference to their lives. Always bright and cheerful, she gave them something to look forward to each day. She reminded Bob of Molly, a good storyteller who could find humour in an ordinary, commonplace incident that most people would forget two minutes after it happened. Every customer she sold a pair of shoes to was worth imitating in words and actions. When you were doubled up with laughter it didn’t matter that she was stretching the truth to amuse them, that the woman trying on a pair of court shoes didn’t have legs shaped like milk bottles and most certainly didn’t stutter.

  Bob moved from the table to his favourite chair, but before sitting down he selected a book from the shelf running the width of the recess at the side of the fireplace. There was a cupboard on top where Bridie kept her best linen and china, that had been there from when the house was built, but Bob had put the shelf up himself a few years ago to house his collection of books on steam trains. They had been his hobby since he was a young boy, and his father used to take him train-spotting to the Exchange station or Lime Street. They’d spend hours writing down names and numbers whilst enjoying the noise of the bustling stations, the shuddering of the engines as they pulled up alongside the platform, the chattering of the passengers as they alighted, and the smell and hiss of steam as it bellowed from the chimneys. And to this day they still held a magic for him.

  Turning the pages, Bob’s mind went back to his childhood. The memories were so clear it seemed as if it were yesterday … in fact he imagined he could still hear the noise, still smell the steam. And to add to the excitement, if his father had a few coppers to spare they would go to the Kardomah cafe, and over a cup of tea and a toasted teacake they would discuss the new numbers and names they had gathered to add to their collection.

  ‘Uncle Bob!’ Rosie planted herself on the end of the couch, next to Bob’s chair. ‘Tell me about the trains.’

  Bob smiled. ‘That would take a lifetime, lass, it’s not somethin’ yer can learn in a few minutes. And you have to have the feel for them.’

  The grin on the bonny face widened. ‘Well now, aren’t I thinkin’ that I could very quickly get the feeling?’

  ‘But why?’ Bob’s eyebrows rose. ‘It’s not a hobby for a young girl, you’d soon be bored stiff.’

  ‘Sure aren’t I bored stiff listening to Tommy an’ Ginger talkin’ about them? When I do get the chance to be with them, which isn’t often, all I hear is trains and football. And although me mammy always says yer should never think ill of anyone, I’m pretty sure they do it on purpose to make me look stupid. At least Tommy does – it wouldn’t be fair to put any blame on Ginger.’

  There was a half-smile on Bridie’s face as she gathered the four corners of the tablecloth and shook it over the hearth. Her eyes were on Rosie as she folded it neatly back along its creases. ‘So all this knowledge ye’re after is just to impress Tommy?’

  ‘Not to impress him, Auntie Bridget, just so’s I don’t have to sit there lookin’ like an eejit.’ Rosie’s clear laugh rang out. ‘Sure if I wanted to impress Tommy I’m thinkin’ I’d have to do cartwheels all the way down the street holdin’ a glass of water in me mouth. And he’d not even be satisfied then, so he wouldn’t, unless I did it without spillin’ a wee drop of the water.’

  Bridie and Bob exchanged smiles. They were used to Rosie’s childlike honesty by now. There was no eyelash-fluttering or simpering with her – if she thought it, she said it. And she’d made no bones about having set her cap at poor unsuspecting Tommy.

  ‘Lass, you’d never learn enough about trains to impress Tommy,’ Bob told her gently. ‘He knows more about them than I do.’

  ‘Now me mammy always says that if yer don’t try, then yer don’t deserve to get.’ Rosie wasn’t going to be put off. ‘So tell me about the train on that page yer have open.’

  Bob looked down until he’d managed to wipe the smile from his face. By the time she’d learned enough about this particular train, her infatuation for his grandson would have faded and she’d probably be married to another bloke! Still, if that was what she wanted! He held the book towards her. ‘This particular locomotive is the oldest in this country, and probably in the entire world. See underneath the picture – it gives yer all the particulars.’ His finger pointed to the words as he read them aloud. ‘Wantage Tramway 0-4-OWT No. 5 Shannon. It was built in 1857 and is still in use today. It says a lot more, but if yer try to remember too much, yer’ll forget the lot.’

  ‘Well, did you ever!’ Rosie’s head wagged from side to side. ‘Eighteen fifty-seven, did yer say? Sure I wasn’t even a gleam in me mammy’s eye at that time.’

  Bridie spluttered. Where on earth did she get all these sayings from? ‘Rosie, that’s about eighty-three years ago! Your grandmother wasn’t even a gleam in her mother’s eye.’

  ‘Ye’re right, Auntie Bridget, so y’are.’ Wide blue eyes studied the train and the writing beneath it. ‘Sure that’s an awful lot, I’ll never remember it all, not in a million years.’

  ‘A little each night, sweetheart, that’s the way to do it. Just keep repeating in yer mind the name, number and when it was built. When yer know that by heart, yer can take more on board … like who gave her the name, when it was and which line she services.’

  ‘Isn’t there an easier one, Uncle Bob?’

  ‘I’ve got books full of them, lass, but if yer want to impress Tommy, that’s the one to do it with. Its name is magic to every train buff in the country.’

  Rosie took the book from him and buried her head in it. ‘I’ll read it a few times until me brain’s taken it in.’ She looked up, and with a smile that would melt a heart of stone, told him, ‘When I’ve enough knowledge of trains to keep up with Tommy an’ Ginger, yer can tell me the names of all the players at Liverpool Football Club, and what positions they play in.’ When she saw Bob’s brows nearly touch his hairline she began to giggle. ‘Yer see, Uncle Bob, I’ve got to be one step ahead of Tommy ’cos he’s as crafty as a leprechaun, so he is. Yer can bet yer life that if he finds out I know a little about his beloved steam trains, he’ll switch to football.’

  Bridie had a hard job trying to look serious. ‘But he’s not goin’ to get the better of you, is he, me darlin’?’

  ‘That he’s not, Auntie Bridget! I’ll not have it said that Tommy Bennett ever got the better of Rosie O’Grady!’

  ‘But a girl should never rim after a boy, sweetheart,’ Bridie warned. ‘He won’t think anythin’ of yer if yer do, an’ that’s the truth of it.’

  ‘Oh, I won’t be running after him, Auntie Bridget, that wouldn’t be ladylike.’ Again that disarming smile. ‘I’ll just be walking quick enough to stop him gettin’ away from me.’

  As she walked to the Bennetts’ house, Rosie was repeating over and over in her mind Wantage Tramway 0-4-OWT No. 5 Shannon, built in 1857. She was
so deep in concentration as she turned the corner by Maisie’s shop, that she didn’t see the figure looming towards her until they collided and she was sent sprawling on the pavement. It was pitch dark and she couldn’t make out who the figure was until she heard the gruff voice.

  ‘I’m sorry, but yer weren’t looking where yer were goin’.’

  ‘And neither were you, Tommy Bennett!’ Rosie tried to scramble to her feet but a sharp pain in her left ankle made her cry out. ‘I can’t get up, I’ve hurt me ankle.’

  ‘Oh, it’s you, I might have known.’ Tommy sounded disgusted. ‘Here, give me yer hand an’ I’ll pull yer up.’

  Rosie couldn’t see his face, but the tone of his voice told her he certainly wasn’t acting out of chivalry. She held out her hand and waited until she felt his fingers grip it, then she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. But the second her left foot touched the ground she moaned in pain. ‘I can’t put me foot down, it hurts.’

  ‘God’strewth! Ye’re nothin’ but a flamin’ nuisance, Rosie O’Grady!’

  ‘If I’m a flamin’ nuisance then you’re a ruddy menace! Yer knock me over, make me hurt me foot so I can’t walk, then put the blame on me! You are certainly no gentleman, Tommy Bennett, an’ that’s the truth of it! An’ if that’s not bad enough, yer sent me handbag flyin’ an’ I can’t even see where it is!’

  ‘Wiggle yer foot, it’s probably only a pulled muscle. I’ll see if I can find yer bag.’ Feeling a right fool, and cursing Rosie to all eternity, Tommy scraped his foot along the ground until he came into contact with a solid object. He picked it up and held it out. ‘Here’s yer bag, an’ yer haven’t lost anythin’ ’cos the clasp is still shut.’

  Rosie took the bag without a word. She didn’t see why she should thank him when it was his fault the bag was on the ground in the first place! She wanted to walk away with her head in the air, show him what she thought of him, but when she put her weight on her left foot she couldn’t stop the cry of pain. ‘It’s no good – I can’t walk.’

  ‘Holy sufferin’ ducks!’ Tommy was exasperated. Trust her! But he couldn’t just walk away and leave her, his mam would kill him. ‘D’yer want to go back home, or to our house?’

  ‘Your house is nearer. Sure it’ll probably be all right in a little while.’

  ‘Then take my arm an’ yer can hop on one foot.’

  And so Rosie linked Tommy’s arm for the first time. But she was in pain and didn’t appreciate it. Tommy’s pain was mental, and he certainly didn’t appreciate being in such close proximity to the girl who always rubbed him up the wrong way. I mean, look what she’d done now! If it had been any other girl he’d knocked over, she wouldn’t have hurt herself. But this one had to, just to be different.

  Molly opened the door and peered into the darkness. When her eyes became accustomed, she gaped when she saw the pair arm in arm. ‘In the name of God, when did you two start courtin’?’

  ‘It’s not funny, Mam, she fell an’ hurt her foot.’

  ‘Will yer not be tellin’ lies, Tommy Bennett! I didn’t fall, I was knocked over!’

  ‘Come in, come in, an’ let’s have a look.’

  ‘I can’t put me foot down, Auntie Molly, it hurts too much.’

  ‘Lift her over the step, Tommy, don’t stand there like a gormless idiot.’ There was a grin on Molly’s face as she held the door wide. Her son must be livid about this.

  ‘She can hop up,’ Tommy growled. ‘Or you come down an’ take her other arm and we can lift her between us.’

  Molly pushed him aside. ‘Get out of the way, ye’re as much use as a bucket with a hole in the bottom.’

  Molly put her arm around Rosie’s waist and lifted her over the step. ‘There yer are, sunshine.’

  ‘I’ll see yer later, Mam.’ Tommy made to walk away. ‘Don’t wait up for me, I’ve got me key.’

  ‘Oh, no you don’t!’ Molly pulled him back using some force. ‘You get inside until we see what’s wrong with Rosie.’

  While Rosie related what had happened, Tommy stood by the sideboard moving from one foot to the other. He should be at Ginger’s by now, his friend would wonder what had happened to him. Trust her to spoil the one night he wasn’t working overtime. And just listen to the way she was gabbling on … what a pity it wasn’t her jaw she’d hurt!

  Molly went down on her knees and lifted Rosie’s leg. The ankle was beginning to swell and she touched the puffiness gently. ‘Does that hurt, sunshine?’

  ‘No. It only hurts when I put me foot down on the floor.’

  “The best thing yer can do is go home and get me ma to put a cold compress on it, otherwise it’ll be like a balloon tomorrow and yer won’t be able to go to work. I’d come with yer, but as yer can see I’m on me own. Uncle Jack felt like a pint, and God knows he deserves it, the hours he’s puttin’ in at work. Our Doreen’s gone to Maureen’s and Jill’s up at Steve’s. I daren’t go out an’ leave Ruthie in bed in case she wakes up.’

  At that moment there was a knock on the door and Molly smiled with relief. ‘This is probably Jill and Steve now. They said they might come back for a game of cards.’ She struggled to her feet, glaring at Tommy. ‘Open the door, yer daft nit!’

  ‘It’s Uncle Corker, Mam!’

  ‘Well I never! Jack only goes for a pint every Preston Guild, an’ he has to pick tonight an’ miss all the excitement.’

  Corker lifted Molly off her feet and swung her round. ‘How’s my favourite girl?’

  ‘All the better for seeing you.’ Molly smiled down at the weather-beaten, hairy face. ‘Now put me down, yer daft ha’p’orth, and tell me when yer got home.’

  ‘A couple of hours ago. I had somethin’ to eat with me ma, then came down to Ellen’s.’ Corker’s expression told Molly he’d been hoping to find her and Jack alone. He winked before turning a smiling face to Rosie. ‘An’ how’s me little Irish colleen, then? Still as pretty as ever, I see.’

  ‘Her and Tommy have had a difference of opinion.’ Molly pointed to the girl’s ankle as she explained. ‘I’ve told her to get home an’ put a cold compress on it. The trouble is, she can’t put her foot on the floor ’cos it’s too painful.’

  ‘Well now, that’s no problem – we’ll have yer home in no time.’ Corker’s roar of laughter filled the room. ‘I’d carry yer in me arms, me darlin’, but if we bumped into any of the neighbours they might get the wrong idea and send for the police, sayin’ I’m abducting yer.’ He bent his huge frame until their faces were on a level. ‘With Tommy one side of yer an’ me the other, we’ll make a chair with our hands and carry yer home.’

  ‘Ah, heck!’ Tommy growled. ‘I’m goin’ to Ginger’s!’

  ‘Yer mean yer were goin’ to Ginger’s, before yer knocked Rosie down.’ Molly shot him daggers. ‘And when yer’ve got her safely home, yer can still go to yer mate’s.’

  Molly put her arm around Rosie’s waist and helped her hop along the hall. She heard Tommy behind, saying, ‘She looks like Hop-along Cassidy.’

  ‘If yer look in the mirror, sunshine,’ Molly called back, ‘yer’ll see his horse.’

  Corker was chuckling as he and Tommy laced the fingers of each other’s hands. ‘When are you two gettin’ married?’

  ‘Sure I’d not be marrying him, Uncle Corker,’ Rosie said. ‘He’s altogether too rude, so he is.’

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing!’ Tommy had fire in his voice. ‘I wouldn’t touch yer with a bargepole.’

  When Rosie sat on the makeshift chair and Corker told her to put an arm across each of their shoulders, Molly folded her arms across her tummy and pressed hard to keep the laughter at bay. She’d wait until she got back inside before enjoying the humour of the situation. Their Tommy must be really hating this, she thought. But he did ask for it – he was like a bear with a sore head whenever Rosie was around.

  ‘I’ll be back in twenty minutes,’ Corker called. ‘Have the kettle on the boil.’

  ‘Well?’ Molly asked, closing t
he door behind Corker. ‘Did she get home all right?’

  ‘She’s gettin’ fussed over like a baby and loving every minute of it. Yer ma and da are running around like scalded hens, tearing a sheet into strips to make a cold compress, putting a cushion on the stool for Rosie to rest her leg on, an’ making her a cup of hot sweet tea to settle her tummy after the shock.’ Corker leaned back on the couch and laid his peaked sailor’s cap at the side of him. ‘She’ll be as right as rain by tomorrow.’

  ‘Is our Tommy still there?’

  ‘Are you joking?’ Corker dropped his head back and let out a hearty chuckle. ‘He couldn’t get out quick enough!’

  ‘I don’t know what it is, but he can’t stand the sight of Rosie. He’s never been like this with anyone else.’

  Corker winked knowingly. ‘I wouldn’t be puttin’ all the blame on Tommy, me darlin’. He’s young, and not used to the wiles of you women. And for all Rosie’s tender years, I have the impression she can be a mischievous little minx when the mood takes her.’ He let out a loud guffaw. ‘Nellie would have appreciated her acting when Tommy gave yer ma a kiss and made a bolt for the door. Rosie called him back, but he wasn’t havin’ any; just shouted to ask what she wanted. And as sweet as honey she said, “I forgive yer, Tommy, even though I’m in agony.”’

  Molly shook with laughter. ‘What would yer do with them?’

  ‘I think ye’re goin’ to have an interesting few years with the pair of them, an’ I hope to be around to see how it ends up.’

  They heard the key in the front door and Molly said, ‘This will be my feller. I knocked at Nellie’s after yer’d gone and asked Steve to nip down to the pub and tell Jack yer were here.’

  Corker rose from the couch to shake Jack’s hand. ‘I’d have come down an’ had a pint with yer, but I told Ellen I wouldn’t be long.’

  Molly briefly told Jack what had happened, then went to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. She could hear the two men laughing and knew Corker was filling in the parts she’d left out. They got on really well, the big man and her husband. They were good mates, and had a lot of respect for each other.