Strolling With The One I Love

by Joan Jonker

  Kate intended to turn the tables on her mate. ‘I don’t think either of us should be the judge, it should be someone impartial. How about you, Winnie, are yer any good at spelling big words?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that, queen, it’s forty-five years since I left school. Besides, I don’t want to be piggy in the middle with you two.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, girl,’ Monica said, convinced the older woman wouldn’t be able to spell the word, not after leaving school forty-five years ago. ‘We’re not kids, neither of us will cry if we lose. Tell her, Kate.’

  While her friend’s eyes had been off her, Kate had sneaked a look at the paper, and trying to sound as if she couldn’t care less, said, ‘Don’t let that worry yer, sunshine, we’re big girls now. But I wouldn’t like to put yer in a spot if yer don’t know how to spell it, ’cos it is a big word. So if yer don’t want to get involved then we won’t mind.’

  ‘Oh, I know how to spell it, queen! I used to be top of the class in English, and yer seldom forget what ye’re taught at school. Besides, me hobby is doing crosswords, and yer have to know how to spell to get them right.’

  Monica’s heart sank. She had only her own knowledge of the English language to rely on, and she was no good at school and had never done a crossword in her life. But then neither had Kate so they were level pegging there. ‘Pass the paper over, Kate, and let her have a look. And don’t worry, Winnie, we won’t be tearing each other’s hair out.’ Just for bravado, she added, ‘I won’t, anyway, ’cos I know I can’t lose.’

  ‘Here yer are, sunshine, see what yer think.’ Kate was determined not to smile yet even though she was certain she’d won. ‘Take yer time, to make sure.’

  Winnie took a look at the paper, her eyes instantly seeing the mistake but her head not wanting to. ‘I’m not sure . . . I think yer’d be better asking someone else. Anyway, why do yer play these stupid bleeding tricks? What difference does it make whether yer know how to spell it or not? It’s not going to change yer ruddy life, is it? Why don’t yer just tear the piece of paper up and forget all about it?’

  ‘No!’ Monica’s voice was high. ‘That would only spoil our fun! If Kate and me didn’t act daft, we’d never get a laugh out of life. And seeing as we’ve had a good morning out, got what we went out for, nobody’s going to get in a paddy if they lose.’

  ‘Oh, okay then, but don’t blame me.’ Winnie looked at the slip of paper again. ‘I think there’s a letter missing.’

  Kate allowed her smile to appear as she nodded her head. ‘Yes, there is a letter missing, sunshine, but don’t say what it is or she’ll say we’re in cahoots with each other.’

  ‘How do you know there’s a letter missing?’ Monica demanded. ‘Yer haven’t even seen what’s on the paper!’

  ‘Yes, I have, so there! I sneaked a look when yer head was turned. And so yer won’t think there’s anything dodgy going on, before Winnie says what she thinks is the missing letter, I’ll write it down on a piece of paper. Then yer can’t say we cheated.’

  When it came out that both Kate and Winnie said the letter ‘O’ had been missed out, Monica wouldn’t have it. She kept repeating the word slowly, to prove she was in the right. ‘Preposterus . . . that’s how yer say it, and that’s how yer spell it. I don’t care if yer bring the cleverest bugger in Liverpool here, I’m not going to change me mind.’

  ‘If I knew the cleverest bugger in Liverpool, sunshine,’ Kate said, ‘d’yer think I’d be living next door to you!’

  The two women were laughing so much they didn’t hear the knock at the door. It was Winnie who cocked an ear. ‘There’s someone banging hell out of yer door, queen, and it sounds urgent.’

  Kate put a hand on Monica’s arm. ‘Shush, for a minute! Winnie said there’s someone at the door.’

  Her neighbour’s loud guffaws ceased and she wiped the back of a hand across her eyes. ‘Whoever it is means business, girl, they’ll have the door in if yer don’t get out there and answer it. And if it’s someone selling pegs, tell them we don’t need none.’

  ‘Put those bags in the kitchen for us, in case I have to ask whoever it is in. I don’t want the whole street to know I buy me clothes from Paddy’s Market.’ As Kate reached a hand out to open the door, she heard Monica say, ‘She’s proper posh is my mate. Yer can take her anywhere and she won’t make a show of yer.’

  So there was half a smile on Kate’s face when she opened the door to the woman who lived opposite. ‘Hello, Maggie, have yer been knocking long? Me and me mates were . . .’ She suddenly noticed the woman was agitated. Her hands were being clasped and unclasped, and her face was drained of colour. ‘What is it, sunshine?’

  ‘It might not be anything, Kate, and I’m sorry to bother yer, but I didn’t know who else to turn to.’ Maggie Duffy glanced back to the opposite side of the street. ‘I was standing at the sink peeling potatoes when I saw a man on Miss Parkinson’s yard wall. It happened so fast, I didn’t get a proper look at him before he’d dropped down into her yard. But he must be up to no good, otherwise why didn’t he knock on her front door? And at her age, the shock of seeing a stranger in her yard, or in her house come to that, well, it would kill her.’

  Maggie’s next door neighbour was a spinster of eighty years of age. Her name was Audrey Parkinson, but to everyone in the street she was Miss Parkinson. She was a very refined, well-spoken lady, who was respected by everyone. She still kept her house like a little palace, and the only time she allowed anyone to help her was when she needed something from the corner shop and there were children playing in the street. She would ask them kindly if they would go on a message for her.

  By this time, Monica and Winnie had come to stand behind Kate. ‘Are yer sure, Maggie?’ Monica asked. ‘It wasn’t the coalman, was it?’

  Kate tutted. ‘The coalman, in this weather? And can yer see Tommy climbing over a wall?’ She shook her head. ‘No, we’d better do something. Yer hear some terrible things these days, he might be breaking in to rob her.’

  Monica pushed herself to the front. ‘The only way to find out what’s really going on is to go over and see. Standing here yapping is not going to get us anywhere. I’ll go the back way with Maggie, and you and Winnie go to the front, Kate, and knock on the door. Whoever he is, he’s bound to make a run for it, through the front or the back.’

  ‘I’ll get me rolling pin, just in case,’ Kate said. ‘If he tries anything, I won’t hesitate to use it. I’ll clock him one over the head.’

  It was easy to talk bravely, but not so easy when it came to the crunch. Kate watched Monica and Maggie disappear down the side entry, and when she’d given them enough time to get to Miss Parkinson’s yard door, she took Winnie’s arm and they crossed the street. She was holding the rolling pin tightly in her hand. ‘I won’t have the nerve when the time comes, sunshine, I’ll probably run a mile.’

  ‘Then pass that over to me, I won’t be afraid to use it,’ Winnie told her. ‘If it is a robber in there, I’ll break his bleeding neck for him. If he’s frightened the old lady, or harmed her, I’d swing for the blighter.’

  Kate looked down at the other woman who was about six inches shorter than her, and as thin as a rake. Especially after the bout of sickness she’d just had, she wouldn’t have the strength to wield the rolling pin. She had the guts and the will to do it, but not the power.

  ‘No, I’ll be all right, sunshine. If I see a strange bloke running out of this house, me temper will boil over and I’ll forget I’m frightened.’ Kate was about to lift the knocker when she heard a sound from within and pressed her ear close to the letter box. ‘I can hear Miss Parkinson shouting at someone to get out, so here goes.’ She raised her hand to the knocker and whispered to Winnie, ‘Be on yer guard, sunshine.’

  No sooner had the sound of the knocker died away than the front door burst open and a burly man charged out. He was so quick, Kate was taken aback and not fast enough with the rolling pin. The man would have got clean away if Winn
ie hadn’t stuck her leg out and tripped him up. He fell face forward, and before he knew what had hit him, Winnie was sitting on his back. He was struggling violently and Kate could see her friend was no match for him, that he could easily shift her off his back. So she lifted the rolling pin and hit him on the head with it. She didn’t hit too hard, she didn’t want to kill him and go to jail. At the same time she was shouting for Monica. She always felt safer when her mate was with her, as though she would be protected from harm.

  As Monica and Maggie came running from the entry, doors were beginning to open along the street and women, alerted by the urgency in Kate’s voice, were running towards them. ‘In the name of God,’ Monica said when she saw the size of the man Winnie was sitting on. ‘The size of him to her! She’s a bloody hero!’

  ‘I only tripped him up, queen, it was Kate who knocked him out.’

  Maggie stepped over the man who was slowly coming round. ‘I’m going to see how Miss Parkinson is. Will one of yer go for the police?’

  Two of the neighbours volunteered while the rest stayed put, hoping that the man would make a move and they’d have an excuse for kicking him. They had no time for robbers in this neighbourhood where money was scarce and many people were living hand to mouth. They’d share their last penny with someone who was starving, but a robber would get little sympathy from them.

  The man was slowly coming round. His eyes were open and he tried to twist his body over, but there were many willing hands and feet to teach him that if he knew what was best for him, he’d stay still. One of the women took the rolling pin from Kate’s hand and waved it in front of his eyes. ‘One wrong move out of you, yer thieving bastard, and yer’ll be getting another taste of this.’

  Maggie came to the front door. ‘Miss Parkinson is real shook up, but he never laid a finger on her, thank God. He’s got her purse, though, and some jewellery she kept in a box in the sideboard. What she’s most upset about is that one of the rings belonged to her mother, it’s nearly a hundred years old. Crying her eyes out she is over that ring.’

  There were angry murmurs from the women. ‘Tell her we’ll get everything back off him,’ Kate said, feeling heartbroken for her. If he hadn’t been caught, the man would have got away with the thing that probably meant more to the old lady than anything else in the world. He’d have sold it, or pawned it, for coppers, when to Miss Parkinson it meant more than anything money could buy. Never once would he have thought of the heartache and misery he’d brought her. Kate looked at Monica. ‘Keep yer eye on him, sunshine, while I feel in his pockets for his ill-gotten gains.’ The first pocket in his jacket gave up the old lady’s purse which was quickly handed to Maggie to take into the house. There was nothing in the other pocket of his jacket and Kate sat back on her heels, reluctant to reach into his trouser pockets. ‘Has anyone ever seen this bloke around here before?’ She watched each head shake. ‘I wonder if his wife knows what he gets up to, putting the fear of God into old people and stealing their belongings? If she does, then she’s worse than he is.’

  ‘What about the jewellery, girl?’ Monica asked. ‘It must be in his pockets.’

  ‘There’s nothing else in his jacket pockets, sunshine, and I don’t feel inclined to put me hand down his trouser pockets.’

  This brought forth a few titters. But not from Monica. ‘Get up, girl, for heaven’s sake, and let me have a go. My stomach isn’t as delicate as yours.’

  One woman bent down to whisper what else Monica could do while her hand was in his trouser pocket, to punish him, like. But her suggestion wasn’t acted upon. ‘I’ll be in and out before yer know it, girl, I’m fussy where I put me hands.’

  There were gasps of astonishment when Monica’s hand reappeared clutching a gold chain and a string of pearls. On the gold chain there hung a heart-shaped locket which caused one of the women to say, ‘The swine! I bet there’s photies in there, of her mam and dad, and he was going to pinch them off her.’

  ‘I haven’t got the ring, but he must have it somewhere because he didn’t have time to stash it away. But I can’t reach down to the very bottom of his pocket because his whole weight is on it. So would a couple of yer lift this side a little, just enough for me to get me hand in? Not too much, or yer’ll topple Winnie off.’

  ‘Nothing would topple me off, queen, I’m here till the bobby comes and puts handcuffs on him. And I hope he doesn’t do it gentle, either!’

  There were more gasps when Monica’s hand emerged holding two gold watches, a gent’s and a lady’s. ‘Ay, girl, just look at these! Will yer go and ask Miss Parkinson if she had a gent’s watch?’

  Kate was back within seconds. ‘She didn’t have any watches, sunshine, so God knows where he got them from.’

  ‘Some other poor bugger’s house.’ One woman, Tessie by name, was bending down to shake her fist in the man’s face. ‘I wish the men were home from work, they’d soon teach yer a lesson.’

  ‘I still haven’t got Miss Parkinson’s ring,’ Monica said. ‘It’s definitely not in any of his pockets, but where the hell could he have put it?’

  ‘I used to know a robber once.’ This came from a neighbour of Winnie’s whose name was Sally. ‘He used to live in the same street as me before I got married. And I remember someone saying that robbers usually have pockets sewn on the inside of their jackets. So it’s worth a try, lass.’

  And Sally was right. The robber did have a pocket on the inside of his jacket, and in it were nestling two rings and a bracelet. Monica looked down at them in the palm of her hand, and said, ‘My God, he must have robbed a few houses to get this lot. I wonder which ring belongs to Miss Parkinson?’

  The man lying flat out on the pavement felt a lightening of the weight on his back and knew Winnie was leaning forward to look at the rings. His luck was in, this was the perfect opportunity. He’d lose the loot which had been going to keep him on Easy Street for a few months, but at least he’d be away from these women who frightened him more than any man he’d ever had to tackle. None of them knew him because he didn’t live in this neighbourhood so they wouldn’t be able to give the police his name.

  Instinct or second sight warned Winnie the prisoner was about to make a run for it. She was ready for him. He rolled his body from side to side to try and shake her off, but little as she was she clung on, even if she did end up lying face down across his stomach.

  Sally raised her foot. ‘You try that again, buggerlugs, and yer’ll feel this. I’ve got steel toe-caps, so yer can imagine what harm a hard kick from them would do.’

  ‘Ay, if he tries that again, I want the lot of yer to pin him down.’ Monica couldn’t believe she was holding in her hand jewellery worth hundreds of pounds. She’d never owned anything in her life that was worth more than a few bob. Except for her wedding ring which she remembered had cost ten bob, a lot of money in 1920. ‘I’ll take these in to show Miss Parkinson, so she can pick out hers.’

  ‘I thought the police would be here by now, sunshine,’ Kate shouted after her. ‘I wish they’d hurry up, this feller is giving me the creeps.’

  Monica turned at the front door. ‘I don’t think he’s very fond of you, either, girl, ’cos I can see a swelling on his head.’

  ‘If it wasn’t for getting into trouble with the police, I’d give him a few more swellings,’ Tessie said. ‘In places where he’d be too bleeding well ashamed to show to anybody. He’d not be able to sit, stand nor lie.’

  There were murmurs of agreement, and as more women joined the group, the chattering became louder, making the robber sorry he’d ever set foot in the neighbourhood. He’d be in for a slanging match with his wife, too, if he ever got home. She’d be expecting money from him so she could go to the shops. He never, ever hung on to any of the stuff he stole but took it straight to a pawnshop whose proprietor was as dishonest as himself. He’d hand the goods over and the pawnbroker would take out his magnifying glass to satisfy himself the articles weren’t paste before passing the cash over t
he counter. He never asked questions, didn’t want to know where anything came from.

  ‘Miss Parkinson’s got everything back that he stole. The necklace with the locket on and the string of pearls were hers, and one of the rings is the one that belonged to her mother. She feels a lot better now she’s got them back, but it’ll take a while before she feels safe in her own bleeding home again.’ Monica aimed a kick at the man’s thigh. ‘I won’t repeat what I’d like to do to you, yer slimy excuse for a man, but yer can tell us where yer robbed the other stuff from and we’ll get it back to its rightful owner.’

  When he didn’t answer, Monica held out both hands to show the other women what he’d taken from some other poor soul. ‘Just look at these! Two solid gold watches, the most beautiful bracelet I’ve ever seen, and a diamond ring. Somewhere in the city of Liverpool, right now, there are heartbroken people missing these, and I think the queer feller, that piece of scum on the ground, should be made to tell us where he got them from, so we can return them and put the owners out of their misery.’

  ‘Ay, out, here come Grace and Tilly, and they’ve got a bobby with them.’

  The group fell silent and shuffled back a few steps. They’d been brought up to respect the police, the same as they did doctors, priests or ministers. And this particular policeman had stripes on his uniform which meant he was no ordinary bobby. The women were impressed.

  Sergeant Geoff Bridgewater was in his mid-forties, and had been in the police force for twenty years. At six foot two inches, and broad of build, he was a man it would be foolish to pick a fight with for you would never win, as many a member of the criminal world had found out to their cost. He had seen many sights in his years of being a policeman and thought nothing would surprise him any more. But the picture before him now would stay in his memory for a long time. A man of probably the same height and weight as himself was stretched out, face down, on the pavement, and there was a slip of a woman sitting on his back. Ten other women hovering nearby were standing guard. It was like a scene from a Laurel and Hardy film, and if he’d been watching it in a picture house, he’d have laughed his head off. But from what he’d been told, this was no laughing matter.