by Joan Jonker
Chapter Eighteen
It was hunger that took Tom Campbell downstairs at midday on Sunday. He’d been in bed since the doctor had called the day before, nursing his aches and pains, but his bruises weren’t as sore now and he was starving with hunger. When he found the cupboards in the kitchen bare of food, he tried the sideboard, hoping to find something to satisfy his rumbling tummy. But that cupboard was also bare, apart from a half-tin of condensed milk. ‘The bloody bitch!’ he snarled, his top lip curling upwards. ‘Not a bleedin’ thing in the house. I’ll have her for this, just wait until she comes home.’
Then he remembered he had his wage packet in his trouser pocket, still intact. That brought a smile to his face. She could whistle for it now; she wouldn’t get a penny from him even if she crawled on all fours. He rubbed his hands in glee. The corner shop was open on a Sunday, he could get a loaf of bread and a quarter of brawn, that would see him through today and there’d be enough over for his breakfast and carry-out. The rest of his wages he could do what he liked with. And he knew exactly what he’d do. A whole night with Esmée cost four bob. He could afford that now, and still have his two bob’s worth later in the week. He licked his lips in eager anticipation of the treat he was in for tomorrow night.
Tom rubbed his chin which was rough with stubble. He’d better have a shave before he went to the corner shop in case he bumped into anyone he knew. They’d be getting out of eleven o’clock Mass now, so there’d be plenty of people about. That set his mind thinking. It was probably all over the neighbourhood by now that he’d been beaten up by that fat cow from down the street, and he’d be a laughing stock. The best thing he could do was use the back jiggers and go to the small shop in Springwell Road, where he wasn’t known.
He struck a match to warm some water for a shave but when he turned the knob on the stove there was no plop, which meant there was no gas. Once again he cursed his wife, forgetting he was the one who had taken the coppers she kept for the gas-meter. And he knew there was only silver in his wage packet, so he’d have to go out as he was and hope no one saw him. Anyway, to hell with everyone. If the men only knew where he went twice a week, and what the whores were prepared to do for their money, they wouldn’t laugh at him, they’d envy him. He’d heard them talking in work about how their wives allowed them their conjugal rights once a week, and that under duress. One bloke even said his wife lay as stiff as a board, counting the cracks in the ceiling. Poor buggers, they didn’t know what they were missing.
John walked past Dot’s house and knocked on the next door. When there was no answer, he knocked harder, and was rewarded by the sound of the latch being turned before the door was opened a crack and a surly voice asked, ‘What the hell do you want?’
‘What I do not want, is to talk to a piece of wood.’ John raised his foot and pushed the door wider. ‘And unless you want the whole street to hear what I’ve got to say, you will have the good manners to invite me in.’
It was on the tip of Tom’s tongue to tell him to go to hell, but he bit the words back. He’d learned the hard way that this bloke wasn’t one to mess around with. ‘Yer can come in, but just for a minute. I’m making meself something to eat.’
John stood in the middle of the dark, shabby room and mentally compared it with the O’Connors’ bright and welcoming living room. To think Mary would have to leave that to come home to this. ‘I’m here to get some money off you,’ he said bluntly. ‘The rent-man will want paying, and on top of that Mary needs a few shillings.’
‘Some bleedin’ hope you’ve got! If she wants money, let her come home for it. She should be here now, the bitch, cooking me Sunday dinner.’ Tom’s bubble had burst and with it his temper. He shook his head. ‘No, ye’re wasting yer time, Mister Whatever-yer-name-is. I’m not forkin’ out for a wife who’s not doing her job.’
He doesn’t know Mary’s had the baby, John thought. And he doesn’t even care enough to ask how she is. Well, I’m not going to enlighten him – let him stew in his own juice. ‘You made rather a mess of Mary when you beat her up – she’s had to stay in bed,’ he said quietly. ‘So as she’s unable to come for herself, I volunteered to get the money off you. Personally, I think you’re being let off lightly. I would ask for far more, but I’ve been told that ten shillings will suffice.’
His dreams of sexual fantasy shattering around him, Tom made one last act of bravado. He started for the kitchen, saying over his shoulder, ‘I’m seein’ to me dinner. Close the door on yer way out, Mister.’
He’d only taken a couple of steps when John collared him. Dragging him back into the centre of the living room, the big man sighed. ‘You really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you? I’m beginning to think you like being beaten up.’
‘Ye’re nearly choking me, yer stupid bastard. Take yer bleedin’ hands off me.’
‘As soon as you hand the ten shillings over, I’ll be glad to take my hands off you. It makes me feel quite sick, actually, just touching you.’
‘I’ve told yer, ye’re wasting yer time. I’m buggered if I’m handing money over for a wife what’s not here.’
‘Oh dear,’ John sighed. ‘This is becoming quite a ritual. Do you want me to fight you in this room, or would you prefer the street?’
‘I don’t get you, Mister.’ Tom stopped struggling when he realised he wasn’t getting anywhere, only making things worse for himself. ‘What interest have you got in my wife, and why? She’s none of your business.’
‘Oh, I’ve made her my business. As, indeed, has Paddy next door. Neither of us like to see a nice woman being used as a punch-bag. If you would prefer to hand the money over to Paddy, I’ll willingly stand aside. But you can rest assured that one way or another, we will get the money off you. So instead of tempers being frayed and punches thrown, why don’t you save us all this bother and pay up quietly?’
Tom Campbell wasn’t a small man by any means, but the six-inch difference between him and John meant his eyes were on a level with the big man’s chin. ‘Yer don’t even know her! She’s a lousy bleedin’ wife, won’t work for love nor money. Just look at the state of this place! How would you like it if yer were married to a lazy cow?’
‘Don’t say another word.’ John’s voice was low and threatening. ‘Not one word, if you know what’s good for you. Just hand over the ten shillings or be kicked from one end of Edith Road to the other. The choice is yours.’
There was no choice, and Tom knew it. He had no doubt the bloke would carry out his threat. ‘Let go of me an’ I’ll give yer the bleedin’ money.’ He stepped back when John released his grip and pulled the wage packet from his pocket. ‘Here’s the ten bob, now hop it, out of my house.’
John folded the ten-shilling note and put it in his breast-pocket. ‘The word for this place is not house, but hovel. And the reason it’s a hovel is because you prefer to spend your money in the pub, instead of giving your wife sufficient housekeeping.’ He waved his hand around the room. ‘This seedy room, with its broken furniture and torn lino, is down to you, not Mary. Given a decent husband who cared and shared, she’d have this place like a little palace.’ John eyed the man in front of him up and down, a look of contempt on his face. ‘I’ll call again next week for the same amount of money, so have it ready.’
‘Ay, and she’d better be back here before next week. It’s a wife’s duty to have a meal ready for her husband, see to his carry-out and wash and iron his clothes. So you tell her from me that she’d better get back bleedin’ sharpish.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t bank on that, if I were you.’ John walked into the hall and opened the front door. ‘But you can bank on me coming back next week, that’s a certainty.’
‘Me mam’s not in, Mr Kershaw, she’s gone to sit with Mrs Campbell.’ Colin’s face, as always, lit up when he saw John. ‘But yer can come in.’
It was very quiet in the living room; the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Isn’t Katy in?’
&nbs
p; ‘No, she said it was too nice to sit in the house, so she’s gone for a walk to the park with Doreen.’
‘It’s a beautiful day, Katy’s right,’ John said. ‘Why aren’t you out playing with one of your friends?’
‘I called for Danny, but his mam opened the door and chased me.’ Colin pulled a face. ‘She said he’s not playing out because the Sabbath is a day of rest.’
John grinned. ‘So you’re all on your lonesome?’
‘Yeah, I can’t play ollies or footie on me own.’
John studied the lad’s crestfallen face and took pity. ‘Look, how would you like to come out with me? We could get a tram down to the Pier Head and watch the ferries coming and going. On a day like this they’ll be very busy.’
The change in Colin’s face was nothing short of miraculous. ‘Ooh, yeah! That would be the gear, Mr Kershaw! I’ve never seen the ferries.’
John was about to voice his disbelief when he remembered the straitened circumstances in which the family had lived since the father died. A father this boy had never known. ‘I’ll have to ask your mother first, but I can’t see her objecting.’
‘Yer’ve no need to ask me mam, Mr Kershaw, she won’t mind.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of taking you out without her permission, Colin – that would be very irresponsible of me. Besides,’ John chuckled, ‘she’d probably give me a clip around the ears if I did.’
‘You like me mam, don’t yer?’
‘Yes, of course I do. She’s a lovely lady and it would be hard not to like her.’ John knew the boy was noted for repeating everything he heard, so he chose his words carefully. ‘In fact, I like all the ladies I’ve met since I started coming here.’
That didn’t satisfy Colin, it wasn’t definite enough. ‘But yer like me mam the best?’
‘Is this a man-to-man talk, Colin, or are you just being nosy?’
Being treated like a grown-up caused the boy’s chest to expand with pride. ‘Man-to-man, of course, Mr Kershaw. I won’t tell no one, honest.’
‘In that case, yes, I do like your mother best. But if you tell her, she’ll send me packing and you won’t ever see me again. You don’t want that to happen, do you?’
The very idea had Colin shaking his head vigorously. ‘My lips are sealed, Mr Kershaw. It’s our little secret, eh?’
‘Yes, our little secret.’ John smiled as he ruffled the mop of dark hair. ‘And now I’ll nip down to the O’Connors’ to see how Mary and the baby are, and ask your mother’s permission for our voyage into the unknown.’
‘Yeah, like in the comics, where the hero slashes his way through the jungle to rescue the girl being held prisoner.’ The boy’s eyes were agog with excitement. ‘And he fights with lions and tigers, and even crocodiles. And he always wins, doesn’t he, Mr Kershaw?’
John’s head fell back and he roared with laughter. ‘Don’t get carried away, son, I don’t think we’ll see any lions or tigers down at the Pier Head. Would you be satisfied with an ice-cream cornet?’
Colin’s mind was too busy to speak, so he answered with a nod. Mr Kershaw had called him ‘son’, and it was the first time he’d ever done that. I wish I was his son, the boy thought wistfully. I’d be made-up to have him for me dad.
‘You get yourself ready while I’m gone.’ John turned to leave. ‘I’ll be about fifteen to twenty minutes.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘If I’m not back by half-past, give a knock on the O’Connors’ door.’
Next door, Maggie greeted him with a smile. ‘Mother and baby are doing well, John. I know you’ll be glad to hear that.’
‘Yes, I am. It’s just what I wanted to hear. I’ll say hello to your husband, then slip up and see them.’ John popped his head around the living-room door. ‘How is Uncle Paddy on this fine sunny day?’
‘On top of the world, so I am. I’ve been nursing the baby while Mary was getting washed, and didn’t the wee thing steal me heart? It’s contented I’d be to sit with her in me arms all day, and that’s the truth of it. And although my Maggie doesn’t believe me, I’ll swear she smiled at me.’
‘Paddy, yer great daft thing, it was wind!’ Maggie grinned at John. ‘The next thing, he’ll be saying she spoke to him. And this time next week, won’t she be having long conversations with him?’
‘I can’t have your husband taking advantage of the situation by worming his way into her affection, that wouldn’t do at all,’ John said. ‘I’m going to cadge a five-minute cuddle to let her know she’s got an Uncle John as well as an Uncle Paddy. And if he got a smile, I’m going to demand a bigger one.’
‘Would yer be after taking yerself up there, John? I want to get me feet up for an hour, while I’ve got the chance. I didn’t get much sleep last night with listening for the baby. Mary told me she could manage but the poor girl’s in agony with her back, so she is. That wicked husband of hers nearly punched the life out of her. And God help the baby when she takes her home, it doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘He’d be a very silly man to lay a finger on the child, Maggie, because I’d break every bone in his body if he did.’ John remembered Colin would be knocking in fifteen minutes and he wanted to spend some time with Mary and the baby. And Dot. Oh yes, especially with Dot.
‘I won’t stay up there long because I’ve promised to take Colin out for a few hours, if his mother agrees. I’ll give you a shout when I’m leaving.’
As John’s long legs took the stairs three at a time, he could hear Dot laughing. She had an infectious laugh and it never failed to bring a smile to his face. He rapped lightly on the door and waited for an answer before opening it to see Mary propped up with pillows and looking comfortable and contented. ‘You look very well, Mrs Campbell, I’m glad to say.’
‘I feel a darn sight better than this time yesterday,’ Mary told him, a look of embarrassment on her face at the memory. ‘I made a right fool of meself.’
‘Nonsense! I think yer were a ruddy hero.’ Dot was sitting on the side of the bed with the baby cradled in her arms and she gave John a broad wink. ‘Here’s your Uncle John, sunshine, checking up on us to make sure we’re looking after yer properly.’
‘And to claim my right to a cuddle. Paddy is one ahead of me and I’m not having that, I’m claiming equal rights.’
‘My God, ye’re worse than a couple of kids.’ Dot glanced at Mary. ‘Is it all right if he has five minutes?’
‘Of course it is, but I don’t want her to get too used to being nursed, or she’ll be spoilt and expect it all the time.’
As Dot made to stand up, John put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Hang on a minute, D.D., I’ve got something for Mary.’ He took the ten-shilling note from his pocket and handed it over. ‘This is off your husband, for the rent and whatever.’
Mary gasped as she sat bolt upright. ‘When did yer get that off him?’
‘About twenty minutes ago.’
‘It’s not like Tom Campbell to hand money over just like that. Did he offer it, or did yer have to force it out of him?’
‘I asked him for it and he gave it to me.’ John believed if he told the truth it would take the contentment from Mary’s face. ‘No problem, really.’
Mary held the note between her two fingers. ‘Does he know about the baby?’
‘I don’t think so. From the way he was talking I got the impression he had no idea. And I thought it best not to tell him in case he came barging in here. It wouldn’t be fair on the O’Connors, you, or the baby. You are both being well looked after and if you can stay for the two weeks, you’ll feel stronger and you’ll also have a routine with Trudy.’
‘There speaks a man after me own heart,’ Dot said. ‘Yer won’t take any notice of me but perhaps yer’ll listen to John.’
‘I’m sure Mary is sensible enough to do what’s best. And now, before I have my five minutes’ cuddle, D.D., I’ve got something to ask you.’
‘If it’s a loan ye’re after, ye’re out of luck. I’m boracic lint, skint.’
‘Nothing like that, my Delightful Dorothy, I just want to know if I can take Colin out for a couple of hours. He’s sitting in the house on his own and it’s such a shame on a beautiful day like this. I thought I’d take him down to the Pier Head to see the ferries.’
Dot’s eyes were like saucers. ‘He’ll make a holy show of yer! He’s not dressed for going anywhere on a Sunday.’
John tutted. ‘Dot, don’t be such a snob! The lad looks perfectly respectable, and I’ve checked his ears are clean and his neck.’
Dot stood up and handed him the baby. ‘He’s not going anywhere until I’m satisfied he won’t make a show of yer. I’m not having people wondering what sort of a mother he’s got.’ With a curt nod of her head she vacated the room at speed, leaving John holding the baby and Mary with a smile on her face.
‘What a woman!’ John smiled down at the sleeping child. ‘A woman and a half, your Auntie Dorothy is.’
Mary settled back on the pillows, a glint of amusement in her eyes. ‘Ye’re right there, John. I’d say Dot had everything. She’s got a heart of pure gold, a marvellous sense of humour that never fails to cheer me up, and on top of all that she really is a very pretty woman. Don’t you agree with me?’
‘Oh, most definitely! She’s all of those things, and more. I find her most attractive when she’s in a temper. She really is quite adorable then, and I could eat her.’
Mary knew she’d caught him offguard when he was wrapped up in the delight of holding the baby, but she was pleased with herself because she was convinced more than ever that she’d been right all along. He was head over heels in love with Dot. She won’t have it, just laughs it off, but anyone with half an eye can see he’s crazy about her, Mary thought to herself.