by Joan Jonker
‘Then pull it down,’ Molly said. ‘Gently though, I ’aven’t got no money to be payin’ out for a new window.’
But the window hadn’t been opened for years and it refused to budge. Tommy grunted and groaned as he pushed and pulled, but to no avail. ‘It’s no good, Mam, it’s stuck.’
‘I wish Harry was here,’ Mary wailed. ‘He’d know what to do.’
‘Well, he’s not ’ere, so forget it.’ Molly stroked her chin. ‘The flamin’ window’s probably been painted over while it was closed and now it’s stuck fast.’ She thought for a few seconds then patted her son’s bottom. ‘Tommy, give a few bangs on the side of the frame, that might do the trick.’
He banged and pulled until his hands were sore. ‘Ah, ray, Mam, I’ve got splinters in me ’ands!’
‘Just once more for luck,’ Molly coaxed. And when the window dropped an inch she had reason to smile for the first time that day. ‘Ooh, yer clever kid! Now see if yer can get it down lower.’
His fingers in the narrow gap, Tommy put his full weight behind the next pull. He was rewarded when the frame rattled, then shuddered down a further twelve inches. After that, though, no amount of coaxing or pulling would shift it.
‘Could yer get through there, son?’
Tommy eyed the narrow aperture. ‘Yer won’t blame me if I break anythin’, will yer?’
Molly watched his head and shoulders disappear before closing her eyes. ‘I can’t look, Mary, tell us what’s goin’ on.’
Mary’s hand was over her mouth as she gave a running commentary. ‘His legs are goin’ in now. I can see ’is hand on the inside of the window. There’s a lot of clatterin’ goin’ on, like pans and dishes, but I can’t see anything.’
Molly opened her eyes when she heard the bolt being drawn back. Then the door opened and Tommy stood there grinning from ear to ear. The last half hour had been more exciting than going to the Saturday matinee to see Tom Mix. He wished his mates had been there to see him ’cos he knew when he told them on Monday they wouldn’t believe him.
‘Good work, son.’ Molly ruffled his hair. ‘Now wait ’ere while me an’ Mary ’ave a look-see. Don’t go away in case we need yer.’
Mary was so close on Molly’s heels she collided with her when Molly came to an abrupt halt. ‘Oh, my God!’ Molly rushed across the room to where she could see Miss Clegg stretched out on the couch. The old lady’s eyes were closed and her body was so still it caused the blood in Molly’s veins to run cold. She bent down and put one hand to the cold forehead while feeling for a pulse with the other.
Behind her, Mary cried, ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’
Molly silenced her with a withering look. Then she knelt down and stroked the thin, snow white hair. ‘Miss Clegg, it’s Molly.’
The old lady’s eyelids flickered briefly, then her lips moved. Molly bent closer. ‘What was that, Miss Clegg? Yer want a drink? I’ll make yer one right now.’
Molly scrambled to her feet, grabbed Mary’s arm and marched her through to the kitchen. ‘Run up to the corner shop an’ ask Maisie to phone for the doctor. Tell ’er it’s urgent, then get back ’ere quick.’
‘D’yer want me, Mam?’ Tommy asked.
‘Yeah, run ’ome and get me a cup of milk.’ Molly held the kettle under the tap. ‘And don’t hang around, d’yer ’ear?’
The tea was made when Mary returned to say the doctor would be there as soon as he could. ‘Maisie said if yer need a hand, let her know.’
‘Raise Miss Clegg’s head while I give ’er this drink,’ Molly said. ‘I’m frightened to move ’er until we know what’s wrong.’
She held the cup to the parched lips and nearly jumped out of her skin when a thin hand covered hers to stop the cup being taken away. Within seconds it was empty. ‘Well, I never! Yer must ’ave been thirsty, Miss Clegg.’
The old lady dropped her head back. ‘Three . . . days.’ The words were as soft as the rustle of a leaf. ‘No . . . drink.’
‘I’ll make yer another one, then.’ Once again Mary was marched through to the kitchen. Molly opened her mouth to speak then realised her son was watching and listening, taking in everything. ‘Tommy, go ’ome an’ put a match under the pan of scouse. Leave it on a low light so it doesn’t burn.’
She waited till her son was out of earshot. ‘We’ll ’ave to clean ’er up before the doctor comes. The poor thing’s wringin’ wet, an’ she’s dirtied ’erself. The couch is soakin’, too, but we can’t do much about that.’ Molly gave a deep sigh. ‘Now yer not goin’ to go all weepy on me, are yer, Mary? ’Cos if yer are, yer’ll be neither use nor ornament.’
Mary squared her shoulders. ‘I’ll be all right. What d’yer want me to do?’
‘We’ll ’ave to see what’s wrong with ’er first, she seems to be in a lot of pain. But if we can, we’ll change all her clothes ’cos she smells to high heaven.’
Molly knelt down by the side of the couch. ‘Miss Clegg, can yer tell us what’s wrong with yer? The doctor’s comin’ an’ we’d like to clean yer up a bit before ’e gets here.’
‘My foot . . . terrible pain.’ The words came slowly as though the old lady didn’t have the energy to talk. But with a bit of coaxing from Molly they heard that she’d been standing on a chair cleaning the inside of the windows when she fell. She’d managed to crawl to the couch before passing out with the pain. When asked by Mary why she hadn’t knocked on the wall for help, Miss Clegg said it was dark when she came to, and she didn’t like to knock in case they were in bed. After that she’d been too weak even to try to move.
‘It’s too dark in ’ere to see anythin’, we need some light on the subject.’ Molly stood on a chair before striking a match and pulling on one of the chains hanging either side of the gas fitting. She held the match to the gauze of the gas mantle and the room flooded with light. ‘That’s better, we can see what we’re sayin’ now.’
As she was stepping down from the chair, Molly heard Mary’s gasp. ‘Just look at the state of ’er leg.’
‘Oh, dear God!’ Molly gazed with horror at the old lady’s leg. The foot and ankle were swollen to three times their normal size and the swelling reached halfway up her leg. ‘Yer don’t do things by half, do yer, sunshine?’ Molly forced a smile to her face. ‘It probably looks worse than it is, so don’t be worryin’. We’ll get yer changed an’ lookin’ pretty for the doctor comin’, okay?’
The old lady’s embarrassment was obvious as she tried to say she was sorry for putting them to so much trouble, but Molly brushed her words aside. ‘What are neighbours for, eh? Yer might ’ave to do the same for me one day.’
There was a sad smile on Molly’s face as she collected clean clothes for Miss Clegg. Everything was exactly where she said it would be. Knickers and stockings neatly folded in one drawer, nightdresses and vests in another.
‘It’s to be hoped she never ’as to do the same for me,’ Molly chuckled to herself. ‘If she saw the state of my drawers she’d ’ave a duck egg.’
‘Shout out if I hurt yer.’ Molly gently removed the garter, stretching it as wide as she could to avoid touching the swelling. Next came the stockings. ‘There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ She could see the shame in the faded eyes and had to bite on the inside of her lip to keep the tears at bay. She was such a proud old lady, this loss of dignity must be tearing at her heart. ‘I’ll close my eyes if you close yours,’ Molly said as she reached under the sopping wet dress for the equally wet knickers.
Twenty minutes later Miss Clegg had been washed down and dressed in fresh clothes. And they’d managed to get a thick blanket under her to save her clean nightdress getting wet. She’d had two cups of tea and a slice of bread and butter. Her face was still creased in pain, but she looked a lot better than when they’d first come into the room.
When the doctor came, Molly and Mary retired to the kitchen while he examined the patient, and stayed there until he called them in.
‘I’m going back to the surgery to ca
ll for an ambulance. Can someone wait with Miss Clegg until it comes?’ He was a man in his sixties, with thinning white hair, kind eyes and a gentle smile.
‘I’ll wait,’ Molly said, following him to the door. ‘Is it bad, Doctor?’
‘I think she’s broken her ankle, but because of the swelling it’s hard to say for sure. If it wasn’t for her age I’d leave it until tomorrow to see how it goes, but a fall at her age can be very dangerous and I’d rather she was in hospital. A shock like she’s had can bring on a stroke or a heart attack, and the best place for her is hospital.’
Molly slipped home to make sure the dinner was ready to serve up, and after telling Jill briefly what was happening, asked her to make sure her dad’s meal was put on the table for him. Then she went back to sit with Miss Clegg while Mary nipped home to see to her family.
Molly sat at the side of the couch holding the old lady’s hand. ‘Yer know, we’ve been neighbours all these years an’ I don’t even know yer first name.’
‘Victoria.’
‘Ooh, er, aren’t we posh!’ Molly grinned. ‘I’ve never known a Victoria before, only the old Queen.’
‘I was named after her.’ Miss Clegg turned her head on the pillow and smiled. ‘My mother was a school teacher at Saint Clement’s in Toxteth before I was born, and Victoria was on the throne then. I had good parents, Molly, and a very happy childhood.’ The old lady turned her head away, but not before Molly had seen her eyes fill with tears. ‘I never thought I’d come to this.’
‘Now don’t be worryin’ that lovely little head of yours, sunshine, ’cos when yer get to ’ospital they’ll soon ’ave yer up an’ about, you’ll see. Won’t keep yer any longer than they ’ave to. An’ don’t worry about the ’ouse, I’ll take the key and pop in now an’ again to make sure everything’s all right an’ keep it aired, ready for when yer come ’ome.’
‘I’m frightened of hospitals.’ The voice was a whisper. ‘Always have been.’
‘Yer’ll be fine!’ When the knock on the door came, Molly patted the old lady’s hand and kissed her cheek. ‘Mark my words, yer’ll be as right as rain in no time.’
The two ambulance men were pleasant and gentle, but the fear on Miss Clegg’s face pierced Molly’s heart. She tried to keep a smile on her face, but when the ambulance men lifted the stretcher she knew if she let the old lady go in the ambulance on her own she’d never forgive herself. Someone had to show they cared what happened to her.
‘Hang on a minute till I get me coat.’ The family could see to themselves for once, Molly told herself, it wouldn’t hurt them. Patting the old lady’s hand and throwing a smile to the ambulance men, she hurried from the room, calling, ‘I’m comin’ with yer.’
Chapter Two
Jack Bennett folded the Echo and pushed it down the side of the chair when Molly walked through the door. ‘Where the heck ’ave yer been? I’ve been worried sick about yer.’
‘I stayed until Miss Clegg was settled in the ward.’ Molly slipped out of her coat and threw it on the couch. ‘She hasn’t broken her ankle, but they’re worried about her, she’s very poorly.’ Molly banged her clenched fist down on the table. ‘Fine bloody neighbours we are! An old lady’s lyin’ in her house for three days, not able to move, an’ nobody missed her! We deserve to be hung, drawn and ruddy quartered!’
‘What did they ’ave to say at the hospital?’ asked Jack, a worried expression on his face as he leaned forward.
‘Oh, yer know what they’re like, don’t tell yer nothin’. An’ when they do yer can’t understand the words they use. From what I could make out, they’re concerned about any effect the shock of the fall might have, an’ ’er not ’avin’ anythin’ to drink or eat for three days hasn’t helped.’
Molly fell heavily on to the couch and kicked her shoes off. ‘It’s been one hell of a day, I know that much. What with Miss Bond, an’ then Miss Clegg, I’ll be glad when I’m in bed an’ the day’s over.’
‘What did Miss Bond want yer for?’
‘It was about our Jill.’ Molly’s head was splitting and she pressed her fingers to her temple. ‘She said Jill is very clever and she wants her to go to high school.’
Jack was quiet for a while, then he asked, ‘What did you say?’
‘That it was out of the question, that’s what!’ Molly shivered, her teeth clenched. ‘And don’t start, Jack, ’cos I feel bad enough about it as it is. I cried me eyes out all the way ’ome, so don’t go on about it.’
‘It’s a bloody shame, though, isn’t it? The rich get richer an’ the poor get poorer. It’s always been the same. Kids like our Jill don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell.’ Jack’s face was flushed with anger. ‘If I’d had a better education I’d be earnin’ a decent wage now, instead of the pittance I get each week.’
Molly stood up, a weary droop to her shoulders. ‘I’d better get yer socks darned or yer’ll ’ave none to wear tomorrow.’ She opened the drawer of the sideboard and took out her box of sewing materials. ‘I’ll ’ave a word with our Jill in the mornin’, she’ll understand.’
Jack stretched out his legs and clasped his hands behind his head. He was a fine-looking man, six foot tall with a shock of dark curly hair, deep brown eyes and a set of strong white teeth. ‘I’m not ’alf proud of her, she’s a credit to us.’
Molly licked the end of a piece of wool and narrowed her eyes as she threaded it through the eye of the darning needle. ‘I’d be proud of ’er even if she was as thick as two short planks, ’cos she’s as pretty as a picture and she’s got a lovely nature.’ Her head bent over her darning, she added softly, ‘I’m proud of all my kids.’
Jack had never seen his wife go so long without a smile on her face, so now he tried to coax one. ‘Our Jill gets more like you every day, yer know, love. I can remember when you wore yer blonde hair down to yer waist, just like she does. She’s as slim as you were, got the same bright blue eyes, an’ a smile that would charm the birds off the trees.’
‘I’m glad yer’ve got a good memory, Jack Bennett, ’cos things ’ave changed a bit over the years.’ Molly lifted a lock of fine hair. ‘See all the grey strands? And,’ she patted her tummy, ‘in case yer hadn’t noticed, me eighteen-inch waist disappeared years ago.’
‘You’re still a fine-lookin’ woman, Molly. I wouldn’t swap yer for any of these film stars. Not even Jean Harlow, an’ she’s me favourite.’
‘Don’t be tryin’ to soft soap me, Jack Bennett.’ Molly’s lips curved upwards in the beginning of a smile. ‘Yer like all men, think we women ’ave got nothin’ between our ears. D’yer think we don’t notice every time the young one in number sixteen comes out to clean ’er windows that half the men in the street appear from nowhere to ’old the flamin’ ladder for ’er?’
Keeping his face straight, Jack tapped a finger against his cheek. ‘Number sixteen? Now who the heck lives there?’
Molly threw the finished sock and hit him in the face. ‘Come off it, Jack, yer as bad as the rest. Yer eyes come out on sticks every time yer see ’er.’
Jack threw back his head and let out a hearty chuckle. ‘There’s no law against lookin’, lass! But I wouldn’t swap you for her, she’s too skinny for my liking. I like my woman to ’ave a bit of meat on her, someone soft an’ cuddly. Someone to keep me warm in bed.’
‘Don’t be gettin’ any ideas, sunshine.’ Molly reached for the poker from the brass companion set. She slid it between the bars on the grate and poked at the dying embers, hoping to coax a flame, but the fire was past resurrection. ‘It’s not worth puttin’ more coal on, we’ll be goin’ to bed soon.’ She rubbed the back of her hands across her eyes, tired from the strain of darning black on black by gas light. If it hadn’t been for going to the school, she’d have done her mending in the afternoon while it was still daylight.
Jack reached in his pocket for his tin of tobacco, his face thoughtful as he rolled himself a cigarette. He ran his tongue along the edge of the rice paper before saying
, softly, ‘Even if I could get some more overtime in, it still wouldn’t be enough to pay for our Jill, would it?’
Molly clicked her tongue against her teeth. ‘Jack, if yer worked any more hours, yer may as well take yer ruddy bed to work with yer! An’ it’s not just what it would cost to send ’er to high school, it’s what we’d be losin’ with her not bringin’ any money in. I’ve been lookin’ forward to her startin’ work ’cos I’m fed up tryin’ to make ends meet every week. Fed up robbin’ Peter to pay Paul. I feel sad for our Jill, an’ if there was anythin’ I could do I’d move heaven an’ earth to do it. But I can’t, so let’s forget about it, eh? Our Jill’s got to pull ’er weight, just like the others will when they’re fourteen.’
Molly moved to sit on the arm of the couch, her hand ruffling his hair. ‘How long is it since you or me had anythin’ new, Jack? The kids are wearin’ second hand clothes from Paddy’s market, an’ the only pleasure they get is the Saturday matinee with a ha’penny to spend on sweets.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘Yer’ve no idea how I’ve ’ad to scrimp an’ scrape, Jack, or yer’d understand how I’ve been waitin’ for our Jill to start work so I could buy some of the things we haven’t been able to afford for years.’ Her hand swept around the living room of the small two-up-two-down terraced house.
‘Everythin’ in this room is sixteen years old. The springs ’ave gone on the couch, the lino’s torn, the curtains are practically in shreds an’ I’ve forgotten what the pattern on the wallpaper was, it’s been up that long. An’ it’s the same upstairs, everythin’ wants renewing.’
‘Not much of a husband, am I, Molly? It’s a poor man who can’t support his family.’
‘Don’t talk so daft!’ She was quick to defend him. ‘I wasn’t moanin’, I was just stating facts. I’m lucky compared to some women round ’ere whose husbands are out of work. I don’t know how some of the poor buggers manage. At least you’ve got a job an’ I’m sure of yer wages every week.’