Try a Little Tenderness

by Joan Jonker

  ‘Because she likes to throw her weight around, that’s why.’ Laura decided her best policy would be to make herself scarce before awkward questions started to be asked. ‘I’m going out to see Cynthia, but I’ll only be in the street if yer want me.’ She was smiling as she walked away with a jaunty air, feeling very proud of herself as she remembered the look of suspicion on the headmistress’s face as she tried to find fault with her work. But she couldn’t because it was faultless. And that was all down to good old ‘brainbox’ Helen. She was as dull as ditchwater, but she had come in useful today. Without her, Laura would have been in real trouble and her hands would now be stinging from six strokes of the cane.

  Laura saw her friend, Cynthia, coming towards her and waved. In a couple of months she’d never have to worry about the cane again; she’d be a working girl who could buy her own clothes, go to the pictures if she wanted, stay out late and go with boys.

  Chapter Three

  Mary sat at the table with her Christmas club cards spread out before her. She’d been adding up how much she’d paid into each and there was a smile of pleasure on her face because she was better off than she thought she was. There was enough in the greengrocer’s to pay for the potatoes, the vegetables and fruit, and what she had in the butcher’s should cover her for a small turkey and a chicken. She had been hoping to buy a Christmas tree this year, but it wouldn’t run to it. Next year, though, with a few bob coming in from Laura they’d definitely have a tree, and all the trimmings.

  She saw a shadow pass the back window and the next minute Amy’s face was pressed against the glass pane, her nose squashed flat like a prize-fighter’s. Mary lowered her head pretending she hadn’t seen, and feigned interest in the cards while chuckling to herself. But two seconds later she regretted her action when Amy’s knock on the window was so hard it seemed that not only was the glass pane in danger of coming in, but the whole window frame with it. She sprang to her feet, telling herself it served her right for trying to play a prank on her neighbour.

  ‘Good God, Amy, yer almost put the flamin’ window in!’ Mary held the back door open and her friend hurried past, rubbing her arms briskly to warm them up. ‘Apart from making me nearly jump out of me skin.’

  ‘It’s too cold to hang about outside, girl, it’s bleedin’ freezing. If I was a monkey I’d have had me you know whats frozen off by now.’

  ‘Get over by the fire, then, and let me close this door to keep the draught out.’

  ‘Blimey, girl, do yer call this a fire? I’d get more heat if yer breathed on me.’

  ‘Ye’re lucky I’ve got a fire at all, yer moaning so-and-so. I’m trying to save coal so we can have a bit extra for over the Christmas holidays. Anyway, if you’ve got a fire roaring up the chimney, why didn’t yer stay in yer own house?’

  ‘’Cos it’s like the frozen wastes of Siberia in there, girl, that’s why. Yer see, I haven’t got no fire at all, that’s why I came in here to get a warm and scrounge a cup of tea.’

  Mary’s blue eyes were laughing as she pointed a finger. ‘Yer might not have any fire, Mrs Woman, but yer’ve got plenty of cheek to make up for it. The nerve of yer, telling me ye’re saving yer coal and tea, then having the brass neck to moan at me because me fire’s low! I suppose yer’d like me to put a shovelful of coal on the fire before I make yer a cup of tea, would yer? And while ye’re at it, why not go the whole hog and ask me for a round of toast to go with it?’

  ‘That’s neighbourly of yer, girl, I must say.’ Amy folded her chubby arms across her tummy so her friend couldn’t see it shaking with laughter. Adopting an innocent expression and adding a plaintive catch to her voice, she asked, ‘I don’t suppose yer’ve got an egg yer could put on the toast, have yer? Now that would be what I call real neighbourly.’

  ‘Sod off, Amy Hanley! I’m beginning to think I can’t afford you for a friend, yer friendship is costing me too much money.’

  ‘Bloody hell, girl, yer get yer money’s worth out of me. For a lousy cup of tea and round of toast, yer’ll get all the gossip of the neighbourhood. I’ve a good mind to take me business elsewhere, where I’m appreciated.’

  ‘Like yer neighbour on the other side, I suppose, the nosy Annie Baxter?’

  ‘That’s a thought, girl. I’d definitely get a poached egg on me toast if I went to her with the juicy gossip I’ve got in my possession.’ Amy’s lips were pursed as she nodded her head. ‘Hot off the presses, it is. Hasn’t had time to get around the street yet.’

  Mary pulled out a chair. ‘Yer’ve got me curious, now, sunshine, so sit yerself down and tell us what this hot news is.’

  ‘Uh, uh! Ye’re not soft, are yer, girl? Not a word passes me lips until me tea and toast is on the table in front of me. I want to see what I’m getting for me information. And if I think yer’ve been skinny with the margarine, I’ll only tell yer half the story. I’ll leave the best bit out.’

  ‘Ye’re a hard woman to do business with, Amy Hanley, and I’m a ruddy fool for falling for it.’ Mary clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. ‘I’ll make a pot of tea, and do yer a round of toast, but this gossip better be good. Something like Elsie Blackburn’s husband catching her in bed with the milkman. Now that wouldn’t be news, but it would be gossip.’

  Amy’s brows drew together. ‘What d’yer mean? I know everything what goes on in this street and I’ve never heard that about Elsie Blackburn. How come you know about it and I don’t?’

  ‘How come I know what, sunshine?’

  ‘About Elsie Blackburn.’

  ‘What about Elsie Blackburn?’

  ‘So help me, I’ll strangle yer in a minute, Mary Nightingale. Yer know damn well what I’m talking about – her husband catching her in bed with the milkman.’

  Mary let her mouth gape in feigned horror. ‘He didn’t, did he? Ooh, he wouldn’t like that, would he? Did he give her and the milkman a good hiding?’

  Amy’s face was set for a few seconds, then her infectious laughter filled the room. ‘Yer had me going for a while, there, girl. I thought to meself, aye aye, she must be pinching me job off me ’cos her gossip’s better than mine. Me own common sense should have told me yer were having me on. I mean, the state of Elsie! A feller would have to be blind to go with Elsie, and the milkman’s not blind. He’s flat-footed, got a squint in one eye and yer can count the hairs on his head, but blind he ain’t.’

  ‘May God forgive us, Amy Hanley, for talking about them like that. Elsie’s a nice woman, wouldn’t say boo to a goose, and the milkman, Harry, is a decent bloke and a happily married man. Neither of them are bad-looking, either! Anyone would think we were Jean Harlow lookalikes, to hear us talk.’

  ‘It’s only in fun, girl, we’re not doing no one any harm. I know I don’t look like Jean Harlow because I haven’t got blonde hair.’ Amy pinched on her bottom lip, her eyes narrowed in thought. ‘No, I’d say I’m more yer Joan Bennett type – slim, sultry and dark-haired.’

  Mary grinned. ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on and leave yer to yer wishful thinking. Yer’ve got such a vivid imagination, sunshine, can’t yer imagine Joan Bennett sitting at the table in her big Hollywood mansion, saying, “I’m a dead ringer for that Amy Hanley what lives in Liverpool. I’m lucky she doesn’t live in Hollywood, or she’d be pinching me job off me”.’

  Amy waited until her friend had filled the kettle and lit the gas-ring before calling through to the kitchen. ‘Many a true word is spoken in jest, girl, remember that. One of these days I will catch the eye of one of them talent scouts, then I’ll be on me way up in the world. The new sex siren, that’s what they’ll call me. But I won’t let it go to me head, girl, I’ll always remember me friends. Yer’ll always be welcome in my mansion, and there’ll always be a cup of tea and a round of toast for yer.’

  Mary popped her head around the door. ‘D’yer mean I’ve got to wait until ye’re a film star before I get a cup of tea off yer?’

  A
my’s face took on what she thought was a haughty expression. ‘Sarcasm does not become you, Mary Nightingale. And have you forgotten that cup of tea you had in my house last Pancake Tuesday?’

  ‘I most certainly have not! It was such a red-letter day, I made a note of it.’ Mary gave a low cry. ‘Ooh, I’ve forgotten yer flippin’ toast – it’ll be burnt to a cinder.’

  ‘Put plenty of marge on it, girl, and I won’t notice.’ Amy picked up one of the cards lying on the table. ‘Counting yer club money, were yer, girl?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Mary put a plate down in front of her neighbour and hurried back for the two cups of tea. ‘I’ve done better than I thought and I’m dead pleased with meself.’

  ‘That’s what I came in for, to talk about Christmas, but yer put me off me stroke talking about Elsie Blackburn. A right bit of useless information, that was.’

  ‘You cheeky beggar! Yer came in here to do a deal, that’s what. A cup of tea and a round of toast in exchange for the latest gossip. I’ve kept my part of the bargain, so start talking, sunshine, and make it good.’

  Amy folded the round of toast and took a big bite. She grinned as she chewed, her short legs swinging backwards under the chair. ‘I did that so yer couldn’t take it back off me if yer thought what I’ve got to tell yer wasn’t worth it.’

  ‘It’s such a long time ago, Amy, I’ve lost interest, anyway.’

  ‘I know how yer feel, girl, ’cos I’ve lost interest meself. I thought it was funny when I first heard it, but now it’s as stale as this piece of bread.’ When Mary’s mouth opened to protest, Amy raised her hand. ‘Only kidding, girl, don’t get yer knickers in a twist. I’ll tell yer quick, then we can talk about me plans for Christmas.’ She finished the last of the toast and licked her fingers. ‘Sammy Cooper staggered home last night, dead drunk. And Aggie did no more than hit him over the head with a rolling pin. I believe he’s gone to work this morning with a lump on his head as big as an egg.’ Amy’s tummy rumbled with laughter. ‘The part that tickled me was, he couldn’t remember anything and asked Aggie if he’d fallen out of bed. She told him she didn’t know because she was sound asleep, but if he had fallen he must have picked himself up again because she certainly didn’t.’

  ‘Ah, she shouldn’t have done that, the poor man hardly ever goes out. She’s twice the size of him, too, she could have killed him.’

  ‘Don’t worry, she won’t do it again. Frightened the life out of herself, she did. And to make it up to him, she’s giving him his favourite meal – liver and onions. The silly cow doesn’t realise he’ll twig something’s up. He’ll be sitting at the table wondering how he came by this ruddy big lump, and she’ll put a plate of liver and onions in front of him. That’s never been known on a Tuesday night before, so he’s bound to put two and two together. And if he does we can expect to see Aggie with a black eye tomorrow.’ Amy rested her elbows on the table. ‘Now that’s out of the way, let’s get down to business. How about us having a party on Christmas night? We could go halfy-halfy with the food and it wouldn’t cost that much. We’ve never had a real knees-up, jars out party, on account of the kids. But they’re old enough now, so let’s have a bit of fun and enjoy ourselves.’

  ‘I won’t have any money to spare, Amy, I’ve only got what’s in me clubs.’

  ‘That’s all yer’d need, girl! We could do some turkey sandwiches, make a jelly and blancmange and bake some fairy cakes. Yer don’t need a lot of food to enjoy yerself, just some good company.’

  Mary’s face lit up. ‘Yeah, ye’re right, sunshine, let’s go for it. We’ll share what we’ve got and I’ll give yer a hand with the table and everything.’

  Amy curled a fist and rested her chin on it. ‘How d’yer mean, girl, yer’ll give me a hand? I thought we were having the party here?’

  Mary gasped. ‘Amy Hanley, even by your standards, that’s barefaced cheek, that is. It was your idea to have a party, I wouldn’t have thought of it.’ ‘Ah well, yer see, girl, the idea was my contribution to the party. Your contribution is to have the jollification in your house. Now yer can’t say that’s not fair, can yer? Without me, there wouldn’t have been no party.’

  ‘I’m speechless! Why can’t we have it in your house? They’re exactly the same size, it’s not as though I’ve got more room.’

  ‘No, yer haven’t got more room, girl, I’ll grant yer that. What yer have got, though, is more nous. Ye’re very good at arranging things, doing them proper, like.’

  ‘Don’t you be buttering me up, Amy Hanley, I know when I’m being taken for a sucker. How soft you are! Let’s have a knees-up, jars out party, yer said. Let’s have some fun and enjoy ourselves. And soft girl here fell for it! I must want me bumps feeling for listening to yer.’

  Her face as innocent as a baby’s, Amy asked, ‘So it’s all settled, is it, girl? Christmas night at the Nightingales’? Ay, hasn’t that got a nice ring to it? Christmas night at the Nightingales’. It sounds proper posh. Just wait until I tell my Ben he’s been invited to a party, he’ll be over the moon. I’ll have to make sure I get his suit out of the pawnshop so he’ll look the part.’

  ‘Just hang on a minute, sunshine! I don’t remember agreeing to it.’

  ‘Of course yer agreed to it, girl. Yer just weren’t listening to yerself when yer said it. And I’ll say here and now, with me hand on me heart, that I think it’s real magam … er, manig … er, real good of yer.’

  ‘What yer were trying to say, sunshine, is that it’s magnanimous of me.’

  ‘There yer are, yer see, you think ye’re that as well! And that’s another reason why yer make a better hostess than me – yer know all the big words.’

  ‘For the life of me, sunshine, I can’t see what big words have got to do with a party.’

  ‘Well, it’s like this, yer see, girl. They say God made everybody good at something. To you He gave the gift of words, to me He gave the gift of craftiness. And they’ll both come in useful at our party. When you’re handing the plates of sandwiches around, all yer’ve got to do is throw in a few of those big words and they’ll be that flabbergasted they won’t notice the sandwiches are brawn, and not turkey.’

  Mary couldn’t hold out any longer and she shook with laughter. What could you do with someone who had an answer for everything? With tears running down her cheeks, she answered herself. You could have a party for her, that’s what.

  The knock on the front door had Mary pushing her chair back as she wiped her eyes. ‘Who on earth can this be?’

  ‘Unfortunately, girl, God didn’t give me the gift of seeing through walls, so I’m afraid the only way yer’ll find out is to open the bleedin’ door.’

  When Mary saw who her visitor was, her smile widened. ‘Hello, Molly, get yerself inside out of the cold.’

  ‘It’s yerself, then, Mary? Sure, haven’t I been knocking so long I was beginning to think there was no one at home.’ It was ten years since Molly Moynihan left the shores of Ireland but the lovely lilting accent was as strong as ever. She was a tall woman, well built, with a shock of light gingery hair, pale blue eyes and a face that was never far from a smile. As she stepped into the hall she peered down at Mary, concern in her blue eyes. ‘Have yer been crying, me darlin’?’

  ‘I’m having an attack of hysterics, Molly, which means I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.’ Mary winked at the woman who had lived in the house opposite for ten years and was a good friend. ‘And as yer might know, it’s me mate what’s brought about this state of affairs. She’s in there now, but take my advice and don’t mention the word Christmas if yer know what’s good for yer.’

  Amy’s voice came through to them. ‘Ay, I heard that! Don’t you be blackening my name, Mary Nightingale, or I’ll have yer up for slander.’

  Molly was laughing as Mary pushed her into the living room. ‘Oh, it’s yerself, Amy Hanley. And what mischief has the good Lord allowed yer to be up to now?’

  Amy spread out her hands, a real hard-done by look on her f
ace. ‘I can’t believe anyone can be as ungrateful as this one. I did her a big favour by sharing me great knowledge and experience with her, and do I get any thanks in return? Do I heckerslike! A load of abuse, that’s what I get. I tell yer what, Molly, it puts yer off helping people. They take yer kindness and throw it back in yer face.’

  ‘Me heart bleeds for yer, so it does.’ Molly pulled out a chair and sat facing Amy. ‘And it’s surprised I am that yer best friend doesn’t appreciate yer kindness. What was it yer were offering that she threw back in yer face?’

  ‘Don’t ask, Molly, or yer’ll live to regret it.’ Mary got in quickly before her friend. ‘I’ll tell yer how crafty this one is. She’s sitting there looking all angelic, as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but behind that mask she’s dead devious. I’ll tell yer the story, word for word, and yer can judge for yerself. It started off with her coming in to scrounge a cup of tea and get a warm by my fire because she’s too mean to have one of her own …’

  Molly and Amy leaned their elbows on the table and waited to be entertained. They knew how good Mary was at imitating her neighbour, she had the voice and facial expressions off to perfection. And they weren’t disappointed. Their giggles turned to chuckles, and then loud guffaws as Mary took them from the round of toast to Elsie Blackburn and the milkman, Sammy Cooper with the lump on his head and the meal of liver and onions his wife was going to set before him as a peace offering. But when it came to the Christmas party, and how Amy had skilfully worked it around so that Mary, thinking she was being invited as a guest to the Hanleys’, was inveigled into becoming the hostess, the Irishwoman was banging the table as she rocked back and forth with laughter. ‘Holy Mother of God, Amy Hanley, is there no end to yer trickery?’

  Amy was sitting back with her arms folded, looking extremely pleased with herself. She found Mary’s version of events very funny, and thought she herself came out of it very well. ‘I didn’t trick her, Molly Moynihan, she walked straight into it. She’d fall for the cat, she’s that gullital.’