by Joan Jonker
‘Yes, but don’t forget that Christmas is not just about giving presents, son, it’s a celebration.’
‘Yeah, I know that, Mam. And I won’t half be in trouble for not going to Mass today. I’ll likely get the cane for it.’
‘No you won’t, son, ’cos I’ll give yer a note to take to school with yer. Me and Katy are going to eleven o’clock Mass, and if Father Kelly’s on the altar I’ll make it me business to see him afterwards and explain.’
‘Mam,’ Katy said, ‘can I get washed in the sink before you start out there? I can’t wait to get meself all dolled up. I’m spoilt for choice on what to wear. I think I’ll put the blue blouse on this morning, then change into the other for this afternoon.’
Dot smiled, happy for her daughter. She was a pretty girl and she deserved to have pretty clothes. ‘You get washed and see to yerself, sunshine. I’ll need the kitchen to meself when I start ’cos I’ve got the chicken to clean, so it’s ready to stick in the oven before we go to church. We’ll just have a round of toast for breakfast because we’ll be having a big dinner about one o’clock.’
Colin was propped up on the couch reading his book. His mam had placed a chair at the side of him and on it sat a cup of tea and a plate with a mince pie on. He was wearing his new shirt and feeling very pleased with himself and very contented. It was almost worth having a sore foot when you got waited on like this. He had just taken a bite out of the mince pie when a knock came on the door and his eyes rolled from side to side. Oh dear, what should he do now? He’d better call out and tell whoever it was to come back when his mam was in.
‘Who is it?’
Through the letter box came the reply, ‘John Kershaw.’
‘Hang on a minute, Mr Kershaw.’ Colin wasn’t going to tell him to come back, even if he had to crawl on his hands and knees. He liked the big man and wanted to show him all the presents he’d got. Putting the book down at the side of him, the boy then pushed the chair back and swung his good leg over the side of the couch. Scratching his head, he looked down at the foot that was encased in a piece of sheeting. If he could hop to the end of the couch he could reach the door and hold on to that for support. ‘I’m coming, Mr Kershaw. Don’t go away, will yer?’
‘Oh dear, oh dear.’ John looked down from his great height at the boy who was grinning from ear to ear. ‘Isn’t your mother in? You really shouldn’t be moving about because if you get another knock on that ankle you’ll know about it.’
‘I haven’t been moving about, Mr Kershaw, I’ve been lying on the couch. But me mam’s gone to Mass with our Katy, and there was no one else to open the door.’
‘I could have come back later, Colin.’
‘I didn’t want yer to do that, Mr Kershaw. I wanted to show yer me presents now.’ Hanging on to the door, the boy hopped back a step. ‘Come on in, Mr Kershaw.’
‘I’m not sure I should, Colin, not with your mother being out. She might not take kindly to the idea and send me packing with a flea in my ear.’
‘Nah, me mam’s not like that, she’ll be made-up ’cos I’ve got someone to sit with me. Honest, she won’t mind at all.’
‘On your own head be it, Colin.’ John was carrying a large canvas bag with handles of thin rope slotted through brass eyelets, and this he held in front of him as he mounted the top step. ‘You go through and I’ll close the door after me.’
Colin was sitting on the edge of the couch holding his book when John came in. ‘Look what I got off our Katy. Aren’t I lucky? It’s me bestest present.’
The big man smiled as he set the bag down carefully on the floor at the side of the couch. ‘You are indeed very lucky. When I was your age, the Beano was always my favourite present, too. Look after it and you’ll get years of enjoyment from it. I’ve still got all my copies and they’re all in excellent condition even though they’re well over twenty years old.’
‘Go ’way! How many have yer got?’
‘Six copies. When I was fourteen my mother decided I was too old for children’s books. My dear mother wasn’t often wrong, but she was on that score because I still get them out occasionally and I find them as funny now as I did then.’
‘Wow!’ Colin looked at his Beano and it suddenly became more precious to him. And it also increased his liking for John now they had something in common. ‘I will look after it and I’ll put it away and keep it, like you did.’
John was still standing and now he said, ‘Get back to the couch properly, Colin, and rest that leg, otherwise it’ll never get better.’
‘Yes, Mr Kershaw.’ Colin made himself comfortable then let his eyes travel the full length of the man standing before him. ‘Ye’re not half a big man, Mr Kershaw. How tall are yer?’
John chuckled. ‘Six feet four and a half inches.’
Colin whistled through his teeth. ‘D’yer think I might grow to be that tall?’
‘How old are you now – eleven?’
‘I’ll be twelve in three weeks.’
‘Well, you’re certainly not small for your age, so I’d say there’s a fair chance of you growing into a tall man.’ John could see a question forming in the boy’s mind, and before it reached his lips, he quickly added, ‘You’ll have to wait a few years to know for sure, though.’ He pulled a chair near the couch. ‘Now, I haven’t seen this year’s Beano Annual, so how about you and me reading it together?’
Dot linked Katy’s arm as they came out of the church. ‘I’m glad we hung back to let the crowd go first, it’s given Father Kelly time to get round.’ The priest was shaking hands with his parishioners and mother and daughter joined the small queue that had formed.
‘A merry Christmas to yer, Mrs Baker, and to you, Katy.’ Father Kelly shook their hands, his face beaming with good cheer. He was a fine figure of a man, tall and slim with a mop of pure white hair and rosy cheeks. With his soft lilting accent and that quick humour of the Irish, he was very popular in the parish. Not that he was always sweetness and light, far from it. Once he was in that confessional box, or taking the children for their catechism, he became the man who had taken holy orders to lead his flock on the road to righteousness, and take them he would, come what may. ‘Is yer son with yer, Mrs Baker?’
‘No, Father, he’s laid up on the couch.’ Dot explained what had happened and said she hoped Colin wouldn’t be punished for missing Mass. ‘There’s no way he could have made it, his foot’s out like this.’ She held her hands about fifteen inches apart and when she heard the laugh that rumbled in the priest’s tummy, she burst out laughing herself. ‘Perhaps I exaggerated a bit, Father, but it is the truth, he is laid up.’
‘Sure, I know yerself wouldn’t be telling me a lie, Mrs Baker. It’s sorry I am to hear about the boy’s misfortune and you can tell him I’ll remember him in my prayers tonight.’ He smiled at Dot and patted Katy on the head. ‘God bless you both.’
‘Thank you, Father.’
They were walking through the church gates when Dot heard her name being called. She turned her head. ‘It’s Mrs Mason and Doreen.’
After greetings were exchanged, Betty told her daughter to walk on with Katy. ‘I couldn’t keep up with you two, so get going. Me and Dot can have a natter on the way.’
‘But no one’s had any breakfast yet.’ Doreen’s voice always seemed to have a wail in it. ‘Me dad will go mad if we don’t get back soon.’
‘No, he won’t, ’cos you’ll be there to make him a pot of tea and some toast. Yer’ve got two hands, the same as me, so start learning how to use ’em.’
Doreen tossed her head. ‘Tut, come on, Katy, it’s no good arguing.’
Dot knew it would take her twice as long to get home because, carrying so much weight, Betty walked at a snail’s pace. ‘Katy, look at the chicken when yer get in and see if it’s done,’ she asked hastily.
‘How will I know if it’s done, Mam?’
Betty spluttered, ‘Ask the bleedin’ thing. Open the over door and say, “Are you ready yet, Mr Chick
en?”.’
Doreen pulled on her friend’s arm. ‘Come on, Katy, yer’ll not get any sense where me mam is. Everything’s a joke to her.’
‘Well, it has been since you were born, girl, I’ve got to admit. I never used to laugh much before that, but the minute you were born and the nurse put yer in me arms, I started laughing and haven’t stopped since.’
‘Go on, girls, take no notice of her. Tell each other what yer got off Father Christmas.’ Dot waited until they were out of earshot then said, ‘Yer were a bit hard on your Doreen, weren’t yer?’
‘Not as hard as I’d like to be.’ The smile left Betty’s face as she waddled from side to side. ‘She won’t do a thing in the house, won’t lift a finger to help. All she’s fit for is standing in front of the mirror titivating herself up. I’m hoping she gets a job soon and finds out what it’s like to get her flamin’ hands dirty. That’s if she can stick a job – she’s a lazy bleedin’ cow.’
‘Betty, it’s Christmas Day! Will yer stop swearing?’
‘I haven’t said no swearwords, girl, what are yer on about?’
‘You, with yer bleedin’ this, and yer bleedin’ that.’
Betty stopped waddling and rested her face on a chubby hand. She was thoughtful for just a few seconds. ‘That’s not a swearword.’
‘Oh, yes it is!’
‘In that case, your Colin’s not half starting young. Last time I was in your house he came running in after he’d fallen over, and I distinctly remember him saying, “Mam, me leg’s bleeding”.’
Dot bit on her bottom lip. She could tell the other woman was bursting with laugher inside, and didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she saw the funny side of it. ‘Yeah, but he was bleeding, wasn’t he?’ she said obstinately. ‘That was real blood running down his leg.’
‘Oh, I see what ye’re gettin’ at, now, girl! It’s the real thing yer want! Oh, what a pity I don’t carry me bread-knife around with me. I could have slashed me wrists and said, “Oh dear, Dorothy, look at me bleedin’ arm”.’
Dot shook her head and linked her arm through her friend’s. ‘OK, you win, I give up.’ She tried to speed up Betty’s walking pace but she’d have had more luck pulling a number 22 tram. ‘I’m surprised yer didn’t hear the commotion last night. Tom Campbell was giving Mary a hiding and we heard it through the wall. The bloke that knocked our Colin over was in our house and heard it.’
‘Hang on a minute, stop right there. What’s this about your Colin gettin’ knocked over? No one told me nothin’ about that.’
‘Well, it was late last night, too late to be picked up by the grapevine. I’d sent him to the chippy because I was too tired to cook and . . .’ Dot carried on with the story and didn’t let Betty’s ‘Ooohs, aaaahs and bloody hells’ distract her. She was up to the part where John had dragged Tom Campbell off the step, when they reached the corner of Edith Road. ‘I’ll tell yer in more detail another time, but the upshot was, this John feller gave Tom Campbell a bloody good hiding.’
‘If yer think yer can leave me swinging at the most exciting part, Dot Baker, then yer can just sod off. Whether yer like it or not, I’m coming up to yours to hear the rest of it. I’ll just give my feller a knock and let him know where I am.’ Betty’s way of letting her husband know, and everyone else in the street, was to bang on the window and yell, ‘I’m goin’ to Dot’s, I won’t be long.’
‘Ye’re right there, Betty, yer won’t be long. I want to see to the dinner ’cos I’m starving. We only had a round of toast for breakfast.’
‘Ah, yer poor bugger, me heart bleeds for yer.’ Betty cocked an ear as she watched her neighbour turn the key in the lock. ‘Can’t be much wrong with your Colin, he’s laughing his blinkin’ head off.’
Dot pushed the door open but didn’t mount the step immediately. A man’s laughter had joined that of her son and daughter. ‘Oh Lord, I’ve got a visitor.’ She turned to her friend. ‘If it’s who I think it is, Betty, will her behave yerself and watch yer language, please?’
Betty’s chins did a dance when she shook her head. ‘Would yer like me to go home and put me best party dress on? The one with the frill around the bottom, what shows off me shapely legs? And when I bend down it shows off me shapely backside which my feller says reminds him of the rising sun?’
Dot grinned. ‘No, I love yer just as yer are.’ She had recognised the man’s voice, but what the hell? If John Kershaw didn’t like her friends that was just too bad; it was his worry, not hers. And anyway, what was he doing here?
Chapter Seven
John jumped to his feet when the two women entered the room. ‘I’m sorry to intrude on Christmas Day. I really only knocked to see how Colin was, but he insisted I come in and see his presents. Particularly his Beano Annual.’
‘That’s all right.’ Dot sensed his embarrassment and found herself feeling sorry for him. God knows why, because he was big enough to look after himself. And she could also tell by her son’s face that he’d been a welcome visitor. She waved her hand. ‘Betty Mason, this is John Kershaw.’
Betty pumped his hand up and down, her chubby face creased in a wide smile. ‘So you’re the one who gave the queer feller next door a good hidin’, are yer? My God, when he saw the size of you he must have done it in his kecks.’
‘Yer’ll have to excuse my friend, John, she’s inclined to say exactly what comes into her mind without thinking it through first. She’ll get me hung one of these days.’
John had trouble keeping his face straight. ‘At least you know where you are with someone who says what they think to your face, and doesn’t go behind your back.’
Betty pulled a face at Dot. ‘There yer are, a man after me own heart in more ways than one. Tell him to sit down so I can hear the rest of the story from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.’
John shook his head. ‘No, I won’t intrude any longer. I’m sure Dot has a thousand and one things to do.’
‘She’s not going to get them done while I’m here,’ Betty told him, ‘and I ain’t moving until I’ve heard all the gory details.’
Dot could see the eagerness in her son’s eyes and knew she was outnumbered. ‘Put the kettle on, Katy, please, and make a pot of tea. Oh, and take the chicken out of the oven for us, there’s a good girl, or it’ll be burned to a frazzle.’
‘That’s more like it.’ Betty chose one of the dining chairs so her backside could hang over the sides. ‘Sit down, John, and make yerself at home. Pretend ye’re at yer grandma’s.’
But John remained standing. ‘There was another reason for me coming this way today, apart from calling to see how Colin was. I intended to knock next door to see Mrs Campbell.’
Dot’s eyes travelled the length of him. He was wearing a beautifully tailored suit in light grey that most definitely hadn’t come off the thirty-bob rail at Burton’s. His white shirt was immaculate and his dark blue tie perfectly knotted. ‘I wouldn’t recommend yer to do that,’ she said. ‘If her husband saw yer there’d be blue murder, and we don’t want the street up on Christmas Day.’
‘I’ve bought something for her.’ John moved from one foot to the other, obviously ill at ease. ‘With you saying she’d have no food in, it’s been playing on my mind. No one should go hungry today.’
‘So you’ve bought food for her?’
John nodded. ‘I get a turkey given to me every year by my boss and I never eat it all, it goes to waste. So I got up very early this morning and cooked it.’ He made a gesture towards the canvas bag. ‘It’s in there, with a few other things.’
Betty had been listening intently, her chin cupped in her hand. ‘Ye’re a kind man, John, but where the hell can she say she got a ruddy turkey from?’
Dot laced her fingers and stared down at her clasped hands. He was a kind man, no doubt about that. Kind and generous. ‘Colin, have yer heard any sounds from next door while we’ve been out?’
‘I heard the grate being raked out, but I haven’t heard no v
oices.’
‘The queer feller’s probably still in bed.’ Dot pinched her bottom lip. ‘I wonder if I could get Mary to come in here and see what she has to say. I don’t see why she should go hungry because her dear husband spends all his wages on booze.’
Katy popped her head around the kitchen door. ‘Mary’s in the yard now, getting coal.’
Dot flew off her chair. ‘I’ll nab her before she goes back in the house.’
Mary was halfway up the yard with a shovelful of coal when she heard Dot call her name. Her nerves were shattered and every bone in her body ached, but Dot was one of the few friends she had and she couldn’t ignore her. ‘Yes, Dot?’
‘Is your feller still in bed?’
‘Yeah. He’ll probably stay there all day with the pubs being shut.’
‘Well, I’ve got something to show yer. Come over for a minute.’
‘I don’t want to see no one, Dot. I look a mess.’
‘Mary, if yer slip out of the entry door, no one will see yer. Yer’ve got a choice – either yer come under yer own steam or I drag yer round.’
‘I’ll come, but just for five minutes.’
When Mary saw John and Betty, she turned to flee, but Dot held her around the waist. ‘These are friends, Mary, and there’s no need to fear yer friends.’
Betty gasped when she saw the state of her face. ‘The bloody swine!’ She left her chair to gather the trembling woman in her arms. ‘There, there, don’t cry.’ When she held the frail body all she could feel were bones. If anyone wanted feeding up, it was Mary Campbell. And if anyone deserved to rot in hell it was her husband. ‘Come and warm yerself by the fire, ye’re shakin’ like a leaf.’
Dot felt a lump form in her throat. Apart from the bruised and swollen face, and the far too thin body, her neighbour was dressed in rags. No one would believe her husband had a full-time job and earned a decent wage. With only the two of them, they should be living in style with a nice home, plenty of clothes and a full larder. Instead, the Campbells’ house was bare of all creature comforts, the larder was empty and Mary was dressed like a tramp.