My Mam Shirley

by Julie Shaw

  ‘But isn’t she in her thirties?’ Shirley asked him, bewildered by this.

  Keith laughed. ‘Well into,’ he said. ‘But that didn’t stop her going on a date with him once – strictly out of pity, of course, but he’s never stopped going on about it ever since. Still can’t understand why she married her Bob and not him.’

  Shirley followed Keith, as there didn’t seem much else to be done. ‘Well, I obviously don’t know anything about Bob,’ she whispered, as Bobby Moran raised an arm and waved at them, ‘but I imagine your sister made the right choice.’

  She meant it, too; Keith’s friends looked like they’d come to the Ideal straight from a jumble sale – well, via the Red Lion, of course. Bobby Moran was wearing a funny little hat that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Charlie Chaplin, and the other one – Titch Williams – was in a blue drape jacket with a black collar, which wouldn’t have been too bad on its own – well, if it had fitted him – except that sticking out of the bottom were a pair of horrible brown trousers.

  Titch wolf-whistled as they reached them, looking her up and down as he did so. ‘You’ve done all right for yourself, young Hudson,’ he said, treating Shirley to the sort of smile that made it clear he thought his get-up was the bees knees, even if no one else did. ‘She looks like bleeding Betty Boop!’ he added brightly.

  Shirley wasn’t sure whether this was supposed to be a compliment or an insult, though she was sure of one thing; that this wasn’t quite how she expected her and Keith’s first date to be panning out. She hoped it wasn’t indicative of how the rest of it was going to go. Nothing to drink, and having to stand around with a pair of gawping idiots. Where was the romance in that?

  ‘Leave her alone, Titch, or I’ll bleeding bop you one,’ Keith said, equally brightly. ‘Anyway, where’s your birds, then? Mislaid them somewhere, have you?’

  Shirley stood by Keith, keeping her arm tucked in the crook of his, and wondered what sort of girls would want to go out with either of them. ‘As it happens,’ Titch answered, puffing himself up importantly, ‘Jayne Mansfield was tied up tonight and I told Doris Day I was having a night in. Thought I’d come and check out some local talent for a change.’

  ‘Course you did,’ Keith said, squeezing Shirley’s arm. ‘And fortunately for the rest of us, the local talent know an ugly little bleeder when they see one.’

  This little quip seemed to invoke some sort of laddish primeval instinct, because she was then forced to step aside as the three of them started shadow boxing with each other, and right in the middle of the bar queue as well. She scanned the room, hoping that Anita might be in too, but she wasn’t – not yet, anyway. And this wasn’t at all the sort of night out she’d had in mind with her new boyfriend.

  Perhaps reading her thoughts, Keith stopped messing about with his friends and finally got her a milkshake but, to her surprise, ordered nothing for himself. Did that mean he was sloping off to the Red Lion now? If so, what was she supposed to do?

  ‘Aren’t you having a drink?’ Shirley asked him. She sincerely hoped he wasn’t about to up and leave her there.

  He shook his head. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘I’ll get one in a bit. Later on, once I’ve got a bit of money.’

  Shirley felt dismayed all over again. Didn’t he have enough money now? Had he really come out with only enough money to pay for them both to get in and buy one measly drink? She wasn’t sure what to do – she did have a few bob of her own tucked into her bag, but she hadn’t expected to have to spend it. And he might be offended if she suggested it, anyway. ‘I’ve got enough for us both to have one,’ she decided to suggest anyway, wondering where he imagined he might be getting this ‘bit of money’ from, exactly.

  Keith shook his head a second time. ‘Don’t need it,’ he said, smiling. ‘Thanks, but no thanks. Just wait a bit – till the band gets going – and then I’ll have plenty. Just wait and see.’

  The band duly started and the floor began filling up. ‘Come on,’ Keith said. ‘It’s the Four Pennies. I like this one, don’t you?’

  Shirley didn’t have a clue what he was on about, but now the music was playing and they were up and dancing along to it, she didn’t care. They danced to that song, then the next, then jived to Buddy Holly, and, at last, she felt entirely in her element. Anita had been right – Keith really was good enough to show them how it was done, and before long she was aware that a space had cleared around them, not so much to watch, exactly, just to give them sufficient room. And she was loving it, feeling a million dollars in the lemon blouse and polka-dot skirt she’d made herself, loving the way the colours blurred into one as she danced, and the swish of the frilly underskirt that peeked from under the hem. Loving how, when Keith sent her into a spin, it mushroomed out so prettily all around her. But what she most loved was how Keith was such a brilliant, brilliant dancer and how she was getting such envious looks from all the other girls. Keith Hudson, she realised, must be a bit of a catch.

  All good things had to come to an end, however, and when she spied Bobby Moran waving at them both about half an hour later, she knew their turn on the dance-floor was done. At least for the moment. ‘Quick!’ Keith whispered to her as Bobby acknowledged that he’d seen him. ‘What’s your favourite song?’

  Shirley was confused. ‘Um, er … I don’t know. Why? What do you mean?’

  ‘Your favourite singer? Your favourite song? Both, if you like. What is it?’

  ‘Um …’ Shirley began, wondering what the hell was going on. ‘Er, how about “Why” by Anthony Newley?’ she suggested. ‘But Keith, why d’you want to know, anyway?’

  Keith grinned at her. ‘Right then,’ he said, not answering her question. ‘You go stand over there and you’ll see.’

  ‘Over where? And what about you? Where are you going, then?’

  ‘Go on. Go over by Titch,’ he said nudging her in the general direction. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t be long.’ Then, to her dismay, Shirley found herself left alone in the middle of the dance-floor as her new date turned around and marched off.

  What the hell’s going on? She thought crossly as she stomped back towards the bar. Titch, indeed. What kind of a name was that, anyway? Yes, he was tiny – really tiny – but he had a not-at-all titchy nose. Which looked like it was broken. And though she was willing to concede that he had a friendly enough smile, she was in no mood to be friendly in return. ‘What’s Keith’s bloody game?’ she demanded when she reached him.

  Titch laughed. And that was another thing. Why did they all seem to find everything so funny? Why did there seem to be this permanent joke that she wasn’t allowed in on? ‘Hark at you!’ he said, apparently not remotely concerned to have her scowling at him. ‘You sound like one of them posh birds off the films. Keep yer knickers on, love. He’ll be back soon enough.’

  He nudged her as well. Then he pointed towards the stage, where the band were setting up and testing their sound, and where – to Shirley’s horror – Keith was standing now as well, holding a microphone. What was he doing up there? She couldn’t imagine anything more excruciating. Standing up there, with everyone staring. But, from the look of him, he didn’t seem to be self-conscious at all. They were obviously about to start performing as well, because the music from the juke-box was starting to fade out.

  ‘Is he going to sing?’ she asked his friend, but the question was answered before he could. Keith was indeed going to sing. In fact, he was already singing. Singing ‘Why’ by Anthony Newley.

  Crooning the words, he smiled down at the growing cluster of girls at the front. The room had fallen silent, and those who had been dancing were now shuffling towards the stage, forming a semi-circle at the front.

  Good grief, Shirley’s thought, her mouth hanging open as she listened. He sang even better than most of her favourite singers, Cliff included. How had she not known this about him? How come he hadn’t said? She was so shocked, she even found herself smiling at Titch. ‘Shall we go up there to watch?’ she asked,
feeling a sudden urgent need to get to the front herself, so that he could sing to her.

  ‘Sure,’ he said, leading the way proprietorially as they threaded through the crowd. And it was a crowd, too. Keith Hudson was obviously very popular. He was definitely popular with Shirley right now. In fact she was almost bursting with pride at this new boyfriend of hers. Just getting up on stage and singing like that! Imagine! She couldn’t have done anything like that in a million years. And nor, more to the point, could John Arnold. And as they reached the front, Keith immediately began to sing directly at her.

  He could have carried on in that vein all night, Shirley decided, but the song came to an end and his turn on the stage was obviously done, to a deafening round of applause. Keith was obviously popular; Shirley noticed that his other friend, Bobby Moran, had taken off his silly hat and was now walking among the crowd, holding it out, and that they were actually putting coins into it as well. ‘Is that for Keith?’ she asked Titch, already half-knowing the answer.

  ‘What else do you think they’d be doing it for?’ he replied, as if she was mad. ‘Sings like a nightingale, our Tucker does, doesn’t he? That’s how it works, love. Bit for him, bit for Bobby – bit for me an’ all; he’ll always stand me a drink or two.’

  Shirley found this ‘Tucker’ thing as bemusing as she ever had. She recalled John Arnold telling her about it when they’d first got together; how all the Hudson boys, from Charlie down, had always been known as Tucker, and that it wasn’t complicated, because there was only one ‘top’ Tucker on the streets at any time, and if there was another, they were simply ‘young Tucker’.

  But why ‘Tucker’ anyway? She made a mental note to ask Keith sometime. He had so many brothers and sisters she was already all at sea without them all being called the same thing as well.

  ‘Don’t you worry,’ Titch continued, patting Shirley’s arm with a clammy hand. ‘He’ll treat you as well. Course he will. His little posh bird.’

  This brought Shirley up short. If there was one thing she hated more than her father telling her she didn’t know her own mind, it was anyone – anyone – referring to her as that. It had irritated her almost all her life. She had even been teased about it at school in Clayton, and it was simply because she was an only child and had that bit more than her friends with lots of siblings. ‘I’m not a bloody posh bird!’ she snapped. ‘I’m just the same as the rest of you.’

  Titch laughed out loud. ‘Yeah, course you are, love. And if me auntie had balls, she’d be me uncle.’

  ‘I am not posh!’ she persisted. Who was he to tell her what she was or wasn’t?

  ‘Where d’you live, then?’ he said.

  What did that have to do with it? ‘Clayton,’ she huffed.

  Titch swept his arm down and across his body and bowed his head for good measure. ‘Then I rest my case, Your Majesty. Anyway, there’s nowt wrong with posh. You want to have some pride in where you’ve come from, lass, you do.’

  Shirley didn’t know about that – it wasn’t as if she wasn’t proud of where she came from, exactly. She just didn’t want people making assumptions about her all the time, thinking she was stuck up and unapproachable when she wasn’t.

  And tonight, in her new role as Keith ‘Tucker’ Hudson’s ‘bird’, she suddenly felt like flavour of the month. She didn’t really know why, but she felt as if she’d suddenly been granted membership of an exclusive club. Once Keith had brought soft drinks for her and all his friends, and been congratulated by one and all – especially the girls – it began to feel like she’d known everyone for ever; girls and lads she’d never met before being so welcoming and friendly as, one by one, Keith introduced her to everyone. And it really felt as if he knew everyone, as well.

  The atmosphere was great, the music was great and, by the time the band broke again, she found she didn’t even mind when he said he’d be nipping over to the Red Lion for a bit.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ he promised. ‘An’ it’ll give you a chance to get to know some of the girls. I’ll just have a quick pint and I’ll be back before you know it.’

  Shirley wasn’t a nervous girl, in fact she loved nothing more than meeting new people and joining in, despite being an only child. Or perhaps because of it. She’d had a lifetime of practice in having to make friends. Even so, she didn’t want him running away with the idea that she’d be standing for any nonsense. She was never going to be like her mam, treating her dad like some sort of criminal for so much as speaking to another female, but she wasn’t having him thinking she was a pushover, either. ‘Okay,’ she said, nodding, ‘but don’t leave me too long. Don’t forget I have to be home for ten and my dad’ll be waiting for me.’

  ‘Ten minutes,’ he promised, planting a kiss on each of her cheeks in turn. Would tonight be the night when he properly kissed her? She hoped so. And as he headed off out of the front doors with Titch Williams and Bobby Moran, she caught another lingering whiff of his aftershave.

  Was this how it was for her mam? This jittery feeling? Was that why she gave her dad hell all the time? For a moment, though she knew she’d never be jealous like her mam, ever, she thought she understood how she felt.

  Chapter 4

  Shirley wasn’t on her own for very long. Before Keith had even left the dance-hall, two girls around her own age came straight over to say hello to her, introducing themselves as Doreen and Joan. ‘Your fella gone to the Red Lion?’ Doreen asked. ‘Ours as well. So you can stand here with us if you like. Help us fend off the chancers,’ she added, nodding towards the lads who hadn’t gone to the pub, and were apparently hoping to take advantage of the mass exodus by trying to impress all the now unchaperoned girls.

  The other girl, Joan, who had hair bleached almost as white as Shirley’s ankle socks, rolled her eyes as the last of the lads going to the pub had filed out. ‘If my Paddy comes back in and catches those idiots checking us out, he’ll go mad,’ she said, pointing to a group of cocky-looking lads who were now staring at the three of them, bold as brass.

  ‘You should be flattered, Joan,’ Doreen said. ‘My bloody Kenny wouldn’t notice someone trying it on with me if we were having it off in the middle of the bloody dance-floor!’

  Shirley was shocked at her being so graphic, but it was certainly an ice-breaker, and within minutes she felt she’d made two lovely friends; there was something so appealing about being with the sort of girls who said it like it was, rather than being all stuffy and buttoned up. And, between them, they fended off two or three hopeful advances – well, bar one lad with an enormous quiff, who seemed determined to keep chatting Shirley up, much to the amusement of the others.

  ‘Leave the lass alone,’ Joan kept telling him. ‘She’s taken!’

  ‘A new face,’ Doreen whispered. ‘And I’ll bet he’s been clocking you since you got here.’

  ‘I’m hardly that,’ Shirley said. ‘I’ve been coming here for ages!’

  ‘No, him,’ she corrected. ‘Which he must be, to be so stupid.’ She raised her voice then, and looked pointedly at the lad. ‘If he wasn’t, he’d know better than to make a pass at Tucker Hudson’s girl.’

  Shirley grinned, but the lad’s face suddenly fell. He might not have known who Keith was – he’d been away in the army, after all – but he obviously knew the name Hudson. And would doubtless have left her in peace at that moment, except he wasn’t going to be allowed to.

  ‘Here’s your Keith,’ Doreen observed, looking beyond Shirley.

  ‘And here comes trouble,’ Joan added. Shirley spun around. He was striding across the dance-floor, taking in the scene – she could almost see his mind working – and looking rather more animated – or rather, tanked up – than he had when he’d left.

  It had been more like twenty minutes rather than ten, but he’d come back alone, his mates having obviously decided to linger in the pub. Shirley thought fleetingly that she was pleased he’d taken his leave of them to rejoin her, but any pleasure in that was soon taken awa
y by the realisation that he’d veered off from his route to where the girls stood and was walking towards the lad, who was now heading back to his mates.

  The girls watched as he stopped dead in front of the group of lads. ‘Shit!’ Shirley said, feeling a ripple of anxiety in her gut. ‘He saw, didn’t he? And he’s going to say something to that lad, isn’t he?’ She took in the scene. ‘Oh God, and he’s on his own. And there’s bloody three of them.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Doreen said sagely. ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘Say something, Dor?’ Joan said. ‘He’s a Hudson, remember. I doubt he’ll waste energy on small talk. No, he’ll nut him, most probably,’ she finished, sucking the last of her milkshake up her straw. ‘Looks like it might be a lively kind of night after all.’

  ‘But there’s three of them!’ Shirley squeaked. ‘Why would he –’

  At which point, Keith did. Just as her brand new friend Joan had predicted, he landed a body-bending punch into the hapless lad’s chest then followed it up with the promised head-butt for good measure.

  She banged her own milkshake glass onto the bar and ran towards them.

  ‘Keith!’ she yelled anxiously. What on earth was he thinking? There were three of them! And even as she screeched at him, they were all jumping in.

  Not that it seemed to dampen Keith’s enthusiasm for defending her honour. ‘You think you can chat up my bird, do you?’ he screamed at the boy, simultaneously ducking from the blows raining down and launching straight back in with his fists. But however fearless he was, he was surely no match for three of them, and Shirley decided she’d better get stuck in as well, by trying to grab the smallest of the three of them. He shook her off as if she’d been no more than a gust of wind on his back, though, and as Keith saw her stagger backwards, it only served to rile him more. Back in he went, blood pouring freely from his nose now, kicking and punching past any resistance, and beginning – incredibly – to get the upper hand, as well.