MB01 - Stay In Your Own Back Yard

by Joan Jonker

  ‘But that doesn’t help our Jill, does it? She’s got the brains to make somethin’ of herself an’ I’m holdin’ her back. How d’yer think that makes me feel? About two foot tall, that’s what!’

  ‘Listen to me for a minute, Jack, an’ see if I can knock some sense into that head of yours. We’ve got four kids, not one. An’ I’ll not make fish of one an’ fowl of the others. Our Doreen leaves school next year, God willing, an’ Tommy eighteen months later. Don’t yer think they’d be jealous if they were goin’ to work and turnin’ their money up, while our Jill was goin’ to a posh school?’

  ‘That’s different,’ he said. ‘They haven’t got her brains.’

  ‘Don’t yer ever let me hear yer say that in front of the others.’ Molly jumped up and wagged a finger in his face. ‘’Cos if yer do, I’ll break yer flamin’ neck. There’ll be no favourites in this ’ouse, d’yer hear?’

  ‘I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have said that. You’re right, of course you are.’

  Molly was standing in front of him, her hands on her hips and an angry glint in her eyes. ‘So we’ll hear no more about it, eh?’

  Jack reached for her hand. ‘Yer haven’t half got a temper, Molly Bennett.’

  Molly tried to keep her face straight, but she could never hold out against him for long. ‘Yer’d give anyone a temper you would, with yer pie-in-the-sky ideas. Can’t say no to anyone, that’s your trouble. Honest, if a tramp knocked on the door now, yer’d give ’im the shoes off yer feet, wouldn’t yer?’

  Jack looked down at his shoes. ‘Molly, even a tramp would turn his nose up at these.’ He lifted his foot to reveal a hole, an inch round, in the sole of his shoe. ‘It’s only faith, hope and charity holdin’ them together.’

  ‘Oh, dear God.’ A wave of tenderness swept over Molly. It wasn’t fair that a man who worked as hard as Jack should have to walk around like that. ‘I only owe me club woman a couple of pounds, I’ll ask ’er for a ten bob cheque when she calls next week an’ yer can get yerself a new pair.’

  ‘Nah, I’m all right for a while. See to yourself and the kids first.’

  ‘What do I need anythin’ for? I never go anywhere. An’ the kids can hang on for a while. There’s only our Tommy. The arse is nearly out of ’is kecks as usual, but I can patch them up an’ he’ll get a few more weeks out of them.’ Molly folded her arms, grinning. ‘Why the hell do I worry about a big strappin’ feller like you?’

  ‘’Cos yer love me, that’s why.’

  Molly smiled. She couldn’t argue with that. She loved every bone in his body and every hair on his head.

  Molly pulled Miss Clegg’s door shut and dropped the key in her apron pocket. The old lady was coming out of hospital tomorrow and Molly had lit the fire to warm the house up.

  As she crossed the street, she glanced over to where Ruthie and Bella were tugging at the ends of a piece of clothes line she’d given Ruthie to use as a skipping rope. She heard her daughter shout, ‘Gerroff! It’s my rope, so let go.’

  Bella’s lips were clamped together as she glared at Ruthie. ‘I let yer play with me top an’ whip.’ She stamped her foot in temper, her pale face set as she hung on to the rope like grim death. ‘I’m goin’ to tell me mam on yer.’

  Molly shook her head and sighed. ‘Less of that, d’yer hear?’ she bawled. ‘Any more of it, an’ I’ll take the rope off yez.’

  ‘Havin’ trouble, Molly?’

  She grinned when she saw Nellie McDonough standing on her step a few doors up. ‘The size of them, an’ at each other’s throats over a flamin’ skippin’ rope! That one of mine ’as a right little temper.’

  ‘I’ve been killin’ meself laughin’ at the antics of them,’ Nellie laughed. ‘They can’t get the hang of jumpin’ when the rope’s in the air, an’ not on its way down. Just look at your Ruthie now, she’s goin’ to end up arse over elbow if she’s not careful.’

  Molly grinned at the expression on her daughter’s face. Ruthie’s forehead was creased in determination, her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth. But still she couldn’t master it. She was finding skipping and doing crossovers wasn’t as easy as it looked when the big girls were doing it.

  ‘Roll on next year when she starts school,’ Molly said. ‘It can’t come quick enough for me.’

  Nellie walked towards her, a grin creasing her chubby face. She was a big woman, was Nellie, with a mountainous bust and half a dozen chins. But she had a pretty face, nice rosy complexion, clear blue eyes, dimples in her cheeks and a sunny smile. She and her husband George had moved into the street the same week as Molly and Jack, both couples newly weds. Nellie had been the first to start a family, followed a year later by Molly. The same thing had happened the following year, and the year after, causing Molly to joke that Nellie’s disease was contagious. Many’s the laugh they’d had over the day Molly told Nellie that, after a spell of six years, she was expecting again. Nellie had stared hard, shaken her head and said, ‘Not for me this time, kid, I’ll sit this one out if yer don’t mind.’

  ‘Your Jill leaves school today, doesn’t she?’ When Molly nodded, Nellie went on, ‘By rights, our Lily should be leavin’ today as well, but because she’s five weeks short of fourteen, they say she’s got to stay on till Christmas.’

  Nellie’s chins moved in the opposite direction to her shaking head. ‘Fancy, just for five ruddy weeks, some silly sod said she’s got to stay on for another six months! Barmy, that’s what they are.’

  ‘Our Jill starts at Allerton’s bakery on Monday.’ There was pride in Molly’s voice. ‘She’ll be servin’ behind the counter.’

  ‘So our Steve told us. Since he started work last year, ’e doesn’t half throw ’is weight about. Bosses the other two around somethin’ shockin’.’

  ‘He’s a nice lad, is your Steve.’ Molly pushed her hair back out of her eyes. ‘Nellie, I’ll ’ave to get crackin’ on the dinner. I’ll see yer later, ta-ra.’

  ‘Is that you, Jill?’ Molly was rolling out pastry to make a crust for the meat pie they were having for their tea while Ruthie stood watching, her eyes taking in every move her mother made. ‘I’m in the kitchen.’

  ‘It’s me, Mam.’ Tommy stood inside the kitchen door. ‘The rag man’s in the street, ’ave yer got anythin’ for him?’

  ‘The only old clothes I’ve got are the ones I’m standin’ up in.’ When Molly looked up there was a grin on her face. ‘If yer’d like to go to school tomorrow with a bare backside, give ’im yer kecks.’

  Tommy grinned back. ‘If I blackleaded me bottom, nobody would be any the wiser.’

  ‘I could do with blackleadin’ yer face, so no one would know yer belonged to me.’ Molly ran the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving a streak of flour in its wake. ‘Just look at the state of yer. Toes kicked out of yer shoes, socks around yer ankles, a flippin’ big hole in yer jersey an’ knees as black as the hobs of hell. If I didn’t know better, I’d think yer hadn’t seen soap an’ water for months.’ She sprinkled some flour on to the rolling pin. ‘Anyway, it’s the tin bath in front of the fire for you tonight, me lad, so don’t be tellin’ yer mates yer’ll see them after tea.’

  ‘Ah, ray, Mam! I can wash meself in the kitchen sink!’ Tommy was a big lad for his age, and the spitting image of his dad. ‘I’m too big for that tin bath.’

  Molly felt Ruthie pulling on her pinny. ‘What is it, sunshine?’

  Ruthie pursed her rosebud mouth. ‘Can I ’ave an ha’penny, Mam?’

  Molly looked down into her daughter’s pixie-like face which was framed by straight fair hair cut on a level with her ears, the thick fringe hanging to her eyebrows. ‘I don’t know, yer’ll ’ave me in the workhouse.’

  Molly sighed as she reached for the penny she’d put on the shelf, ready in case the gas went when her pie was in the oven. ‘Take ’er to the corner shop, son, an’ get a ha’porth of dolly mixtures. Yer can ’ave the other ha’penny for yerself.’

  ‘She’s a blinkin�
�� nuisance.’ Tommy’s face wore a look of disgust. ‘Me mates all call me a cissie ’cos I ’ave to drag her everywhere with me.’

  ‘That’s just too bad,’ Molly said. ‘Now, scoot, the pair of yez.’

  ‘Tell our Tommy not to ’it me, Mam.’ Ruthie was glaring at her brother. ‘He’s always pinchin’ and cloutin’ me.’

  ‘I’ve been generous with me money, an’ I’ll be generous with me ’ands if yez don’t get out of me sight.’ Molly’s tone was enough to send the pair flying, Tommy dragging Ruthie behind him. ‘I’ll be glad when they’re all workin’ an’ off me hands,’ Molly muttered aloud as she carefully picked up the pastry and placed it over the earthen basin. With quick movements she cut around the edge of the dish with a knife, letting the overlapping pastry fall on to the table. She would make a jam tart with it when the pie was in the oven. Her nimble fingers moved around the dish squeezing the pastry between two fingers to make a pattern before cutting some slits in the top and sliding it on to the top shelf in the oven.

  ‘Where’s our Tommy off to?’ Jill leaned against the door. ‘He was pulling Ruthie along as though the devil was after ’im.’

  ‘The devil wouldn’t worry our Tommy,’ Molly said dryly. ‘He’s a mate of his.’ She turned the knob on the stove to lower the gas. ‘How did yer last day go, love?’

  ‘All the girls were crying.’ Jill lowered her head, her long blonde hair swinging to cover her face. ‘Mam, d’yer think I could go to night school? Miss Bond said I could take a course in shorthand an’ typing.’

  Molly’s brow furrowed in concentration, then a smile spread across her face. Now why hadn’t she and Jack thought of that? Good old Miss Bond! ‘Of course yer can, sunshine, if that’s what yer want.’

  ‘Oh, I do, Mam!’ Jill flung her arms around Molly’s neck. Although she hadn’t shown it, she’d been very disappointed when her mother had told her she could have gone to high school if they could have afforded it. She understood how the family were placed, and bore no grudge, but it didn’t stop her crying herself to sleep at nights, thinking about what might have been. ‘Miss Bond said it’s only a couple of bob a term, so I can pay for it meself, out of me pocket money.’

  ‘Me an’ yer dad will see yer right, don’t worry.’

  ‘Thanks, Mam! I do love you.’

  ‘An’ I love you, too.’ Molly sniffed, rubbing the back of her hand across her nose. ‘Now do us a favour, there’s a good girl. Take a jug an’ get half a pint of milk from the dairy. Yer know ’ow yer dad hates conny-onny in his tea.’

  The following Monday Molly gave the children their tea early, sent Doreen and Tommy out to play and gave Ruthie a colouring book and some crayons to keep her quiet. Like a cat on hot bricks she kept going to the front door, eager for a sight of Jill to find out how her first day at work had gone. And when she saw her daughter turn into the street, she rushed through to the kitchen where Jill’s dinner was being kept warm on top of a pan of boiling water.

  ‘Well, how did it go, love?’ Molly sat facing her daughter across the table. ‘I’ve been that nervous, worryin’ how yer were doin’, I’ve been to the lavvy so many times I’ve worn a groove in the yard.’

  ‘Great, Mam, honest! The girls told me the names of the different loaves an’ cakes, an’ they showed me how to put the cakes in a box and tie it up.’ Her mouth full, Jill began to giggle. ‘I ’ad a job with the string at first, breaking off too much or too little, but they said I’ll soon get the hang of it.’ She swallowed hard before reaching down for her old school satchel which she’d taken to work with her carry-out in. ‘I’ve got a pressie for yer, Mam. The boss’s son, Mr John, gave us all a few cakes that were too squashed to sell.’

  Jill took a paper bag from the satchel and with a look of pride and pleasure, passed it to Molly. ‘There’s six cakes in there, one each.’

  ‘Well, I never!’ Molly tore at the bag then sat back gazing at the assortment of cakes. The chocolate eclair was squashed, with the cream oozing out of the sides, but it was enough to make Molly’s mouth water. ‘It’s bloody years since I ’ad a chocolate eclair. An’ look at that cream slice, it’s as good as new.’

  Jill roared with laughter. ‘It is new, Mam! It was only baked this morning! You wouldn’t ’ave got it if a loaf hadn’t fallen on it.’

  ‘Well, God bless the loaf,’ Molly said. ‘Let’s hope another one falls tomorrow.’

  ‘You have the eclair, Mam, before the others come in. Yer know what a seven bellies our Tommy is.’

  ‘I was goin’ to say I wouldn’t be selfish,’ Molly laughed, ‘but I think I’ll eat the cake first, then say I was selfish.’

  ‘What about me?’ Ruthie was eyeing the cakes, then having decided, pointed to the iced bun. ‘Can I ’ave that one?’

  ‘’Course yer can, sunshine.’ Molly handed the bun over before biting into the eclair. ‘Mmmm!’ Her tongue darted out to lick the cream from her lips. ‘Bloody lovely!’ In seconds the cake had disappeared and Molly sucked on her fingers, her eyes wide with the pleasure of such a luxury. She gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. ‘I’m beginning to like your Mr John. He sounds like a man after me own heart.’

  ‘I don’t have to take carry-out, either! Mr John gives all the staff a hot meat pie at dinner time.’

  ‘Now I know I’m goin’ to like ’im.’ Molly put the cream slice and jam doughnut on a plate and carried it through to the kitchen. ‘I’ll hide these before Big Chief Sittin’ Bull an’ Maid Marion come in. You an’ yer dad can ’ave them for yer supper.’

  With a feeling that all was well with her world, Molly grinned. ‘With a bit of luck, half a dozen loaves will fall tomorrow.’ Her eyes rolled to the ceiling. ‘I was only kiddin’, God, so don’t hold that against me. Mr John seems a nice bloke, an’ I don’t wish ’im no harm.’

  ‘Mam,’ Jill called through to the kitchen, ‘they take evening classes in that school in Rice Lane. I’ll go along on Wednesday, me half day, and make some enquiries.’

  ‘Okay, love.’ As Molly walked through to the living room there was the loud crash of glass breaking. ‘Oh, dear God, that’s someone’s window gone for a burton. Please don’t let it be our Tommy.’

  Molly dashed into the street to find Tommy standing in front of the Clarkes’ house next door, while legging it up the street hell for leather was his mate Ginger Moran, with a ball tucked under his arm.

  ‘I didn’t do it, Mam!’ Tommy’s eyes were wide with fright as he surveyed the broken window. ‘It was Ginger!’

  ‘You little flamer! How many times ’ave I got . . .’

  Molly’s words petered out as her neighbours’ door opened and Nobby Clarke came out, roaring like a bull. Pushing Molly aside, he grabbed Tommy by the neck of his shirt. ‘Yer little bleeder! I’ll break yer bloody neck for yer!’ He shook the terrified boy like a rag doll, until Molly moved into action.

  ‘Ay, yer can cut that out, Nobby Clarke, it wasn’t our Tommy.’ She put her hand on the arm of the angry man. ‘An’ if there’s any tellin’ off to do, I’ll do it.’

  But Nobby wouldn’t release his grip. ‘Tell ’im off! It’s a bloody good hidin’ he wants, an’ I’ll give it to ’im.’

  Jill entered the fray. ‘Take your hands off my brother, he hasn’t done anything.’

  ‘You stay out of it,’ Nobby growled, ‘unless yer fancy a go along.’

  Tommy was howling in fear. ‘I didn’t do it, honest I didn’t.’

  Molly, fearful for her son, beat Nobby about the arms and shoulders. ‘Let go of ’im.’

  But Nobby wasn’t in the mood to listen. He’d been in a bad temper since the horse he’d put his last shilling on, which was supposed to be a dead cert, had trailed in last, and now he had no money to do his nightly round of the pubs that stood on the corner of every street crossing Walton Road. And Tommy was the perfect outlet for his temper.

  Molly was worried, wishing Jack wasn’t working overtime. She was well able to stick up for herself, but was no match
for Nobby Clarke when he was in this violent mood. She whispered to Jill, ‘Go an’ get Nellie.’

  But Nellie was already on the scene, together with several other neighbours. ‘That’s enough, Nobby, leave the lad alone.’

  ‘You keep yer nose out of it an’ get back where yer belong.’ As he spoke, he was tightening his grip on the neck of Tommy’s shirt and the boy’s face was turning blue. ‘He wants teachin’ a lesson.’

  ‘Yer big bully!’ Mary Watson shouted from the step of the house opposite. ‘Pick on someone yer own size.’

  Nellie whispered a few hurried words in Molly’s ear, then, when her friend was standing behind Nobby, mouthed, ‘Ready?’

  Molly nodded, then put her arm around Nobby’s neck, across his Adam’s apple, and pressed as hard as she could.

  At the same time Nellie flexed her arms before bringing them up, full force, under the arms holding Tommy prisoner. The sudden two-pronged attack took Nobby by surprise, and when his grip relaxed Tommy took advantage and fled, rubbing his neck as tears streamed down his face. Molly released her hold and stepped back. She watched without sympathy as Nobby staggered a few steps before falling to the ground. Then she stood over him.

  ‘I’ll see Ginger’s mam an’ make sure yer window’s fixed tomorrow. An’ if it makes yer feel any better, I’ll make sure our Tommy gets a clip round the ear off ’is dad. But they’re only kids after all, an’ they didn’t do it on purpose.’

  She shook her head as she looked down on him with disgust. ‘You’re pathetic, Nobby Clarke, d’yer know that? Yer want to take a good look at yerself sometime. It’s a nightmare livin’ next to you, havin’ to listen to yer constant bawlin’ and shoutin’, an’ yer filthy language. Sometimes we can’t hear ourselves think because of the racket yer make when yer come ’ome from the pub with yer belly full of ale.’

  Nobby scrambled to his feet, conscious of the growing number of neighbours brought out of their houses by the commotion. Blustering, he said, ‘Yer better ’ad get the window fixed, or there’ll be trouble. An’ what goes on in my ’ouse is none of your business.’