by Joan Jonker
‘We’ve talked to her until we’re blue in the face, Betty, but she’s determined. She says she’s got to go back sometime and the longer she leaves it, the worse it’ll be. And she’ll need a pram for the baby to sleep in.’ Dot pursed her lips and shook her head. ‘Can yer just imagine what it’ll be like? Her sleeping on the couch with a pram at the side of her, and the queer feller coming in drunk from the pub, falling all over the place and ranting and raving? Oh no, it wouldn’t do for me. I wouldn’t swap places with her for all the tea in China.’
When there was a knock on the door, Betty grinned mischievously. ‘This sounds like that lodger of yours.’
Dot bent down to put her cup on the floor at the side of her chair. ‘Betty Mason, if you don’t stop saying that, so help me I’ll clock yer one. John is not me lodger, just a friend. The same as he’s a friend to you, and Mary and the O’Connors.’ She turned at the door and wagged a finger in warning. ‘So you just knock it off and behave yerself.’
John smiled as he stepped into the hall. ‘I know it’s not Colin you’re talking to because he’s playing ollies in the street, so who are you telling to behave themselves?’
‘I’ll give yer one guess,’ Dot said, closing the door after him. ‘Who is it that we both know who’s always misbehaving and making a ruddy nuisance of herself?’
‘There’s only one person I know who fits that description,’ John said as he entered the living room. ‘Ah, yes, the redoubtable Mrs Mason.’
Betty’s chubby face was set. ‘Ay, you just watch it! A flamin’ dictionary on legs, that’s what you are.’ She appealed to Dot. ‘Did yer hear what he just called me?’
‘I heard, sunshine, but don’t ask me what it means because I haven’t a clue. As thick as two short planks, I am. I can’t even say the word, let alone know what it means.’
As Betty’s head and chins shook, the tea was spilling over the rim of her cup and filling the saucer. ‘Yer’ve got ten seconds to tell me what it means, Mr Clever Clogs. And if I don’t like it, I’m going to stand on a chair and belt yer round the ears.’
John raised his arm as though defending himself against an onslaught. ‘Oh, please don’t hit me! It wasn’t an insult, missus, honest!’
‘Right, well let’s be having yer.’
‘Now let me see.’ John stroked his chin. ‘Redoubtable means, er, how can I put it? It can mean many things, really.’
When Betty’s tummy started to shake, the tea slopped over the saucer on to her dress, making a dark stain. But she was laughing so much inwardly she didn’t feel the dampness. ‘Does it mean I’m so bloody gorgeous that ye’re out of yer mind with burning desire for me beautiful, voluptuous body?’
‘In the name of God, Betty Mason, have yer no shame?’ Dot tutted. ‘Talk about having a one-track mind isn’t in it. There are times when I don’t know where to put meself, when I wish the floor would open and swallow me up.’
‘I keep forgetting that yer were brought up in a strict convent, girl, and that yer’ve got a sensitive soul. So rather than offend those delicate lugholes of yours, why don’t yer go in the kitchen and pour John a nice cup of tea, while he tells me how he lies awake at night filled with longing for me. And take yer time pouring the tea out, girl, because that miserable gob yer’ve got on yer is enough to put him off his bleedin’ stroke.’
John put his hands together as though in prayer. ‘Don’t leave me alone with her, Dot, I beg you. If she’s determined to have her wicked way with me, I’d be putty in her hands.’
‘Will you two grow up, please? I don’t know which one’s the worst, yer both as bad as one another.’ Dot’s hands went on her hips and her head dropped sideways. ‘Just tell her what the flamin’ word means and get it over with.’
John knew the signs by now. As far as Dot was concerned they’d gone far enough. So he made his answer short and simple. ‘It means bold, or daring.’
‘That’s me, down to the ground.’ Betty’s smile had her cheeks moving upwards to cover her eyes. ‘At least, I would be daring if I had someone willing to be daring with me.’ She leaned forward so quickly the cup fell on its side and deposited the remainder of the tea on her lap. ‘Oh, bloody hell, I’ve wet meself!’
‘Serves yer right, I’ve no sympathy for yer.’ Dot relieved her of the cup and saucer. ‘Go and dry yerself off with the towel.’
‘I’ll have to go home and get changed, girl, I can’t go out with me dress all wet. People will think I’ve wet me knickers.’
‘Ye’re not going home ’cos we’ll never make it to the shops if yer do. Dry yerself as much as yer can and no one will notice.’
Muttering and groaning, Betty waddled to the kitchen. They grinned when they heard her saying, ‘I bet she makes me walk six steps behind her, pretending she’s not with me. The way she treats me it’s a wonder I haven’t got one of those . . .’ Her head appeared around the door. ‘Ay, John, what’s the words I’m lookin’ for, when someone’s always pulling yer down, making little of yer?’
‘Would it be inferiority complex, Betty?’
‘That’s it! That’s what me best friend is giving me – an infroroty complex.’
‘I’ll give yer more than that, sunshine, if yer don’t shift yerself. I’m not a lady of leisure with every day free to walk around the shops choosing what to buy for the day’s dinner. I’ve got a couple of hours on a Saturday afternoon to do the lot. And on today’s list, along with me groceries, potatoes, veg and meat, I’ve got a second-hand pram to get.’
‘I’ve told you to get a new pram for Mary,’ John said. ‘I don’t fancy putting Trudy in a pram that might have been used for half a dozen babies.’
‘Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it, John Kershaw? My children had second-hand prams and it hasn’t done them any harm.’
Like a streak of greased lightning, Betty threw the towel back in the kitchen and took a seat. If there was going to be an argument she wanted to be in on it. To hell with the wet dress, the sun would dry it in no time. If anyone was bad-minded enough to think she’d wet herself, that was their lookout. She wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. So folding her arms under her bosom, and with a look of innocence on her face, she asked, ‘What’s going on? Are you two going to have cross words?’
‘No, we’re not going to have cross words, because John’s not getting his own way over this.’ Her hands still on her hips, Dot sat on the arm of the couch. ‘He wants to buy Mary a brand-new pram. And not just any new pram, but a Silver Cross one! I can’t get it through his thick head what a stupid idea it is.’
Betty screwed her face up and pinched the end of her nose to keep the smile off her face. ‘There’s no one in this street ever had a Silver Cross pram, so they’d be coming from miles around to gawp at it. Apart from the fact that they’re far too dear for anyone to buy, they’re also too ruddy big! She’d never be able to get it through the living-room door and then through the front door – there’s no room for manoeuvre. So she’d have to come in and out the back way all the time.’
John looked sheepish. ‘I can see now that a Silver Cross wasn’t a good idea, but I still think Mary should have a new pram. It’s my present to her and I’d feel terrible giving her an old second-hand one.’
‘Then yer’ll have to go on feeling terrible because that’s what she’s getting.’ Dot’s face was determined. ‘Everyone in the street knows the state her house is in – they’d think she’d gone stark staring mad if they saw a new pram outside her door.’
‘Yeah,’ Betty nodded, ‘it would be one thing laughing at the other. Like wearing a fur coat and having no knickers on. So I’m afraid I’m going to have to go against yer, John, because I think me mate is right.’
‘It’s not only me,’ Dot said heatedly, ‘it’s Mary as well! I mean, how would she explain it away to the queer feller? As it is, he’ll be wondering where she got the money from for any sort of pram. So to keep the peace, she’s going to say it belonged to one of her brothers. Other
wise, she reckons, if he knew John had bought it he wouldn’t think twice about taking a pick-axe to it.’
‘It must be a barrel of laughs being married to a bloke like that, mustn’t it? Never a dull moment, anyway.’ Betty fingered the dimples in her elbow. ‘The Silver Cross pram wasn’t a bad idea, though, John. I mean, Mary could have sold tickets and made a few bob. A halfpenny for a peep and a penny for a little wheel.’
‘Don’t you be making yerself comfortable, sunshine, because I’m just going to get me basket and then we’re off.’ Dot put a hand on the damp stain on her neighbour’s dress. ‘You don’t care how yer go out, do yer? Where’s yer pride?’
‘Can’t afford to have none, girl. But if ye’re ashamed of me, I can always stay in and keep John company.’
‘Not on your life, yer can’t. Besides, John is coming with us. He’s paying for the pram so it’s only right he should have some say in choosing it.’
John’s face lit up. ‘Do you mean that you’re actually going to let me walk down the street with you? In full view of all the neighbours?’
Dot gave a throaty chuckle. ‘No, I’m going to let yer walk six steps behind me, with Betty. That should confuse the nosy-parkers; they’ll think yer’ve got two fancy women on the go.’
Smiling broadly, Betty pushed herself up. ‘Suits me, girl. In fact, I’ll even link him to make it look authentic.’ She tucked her arm through John’s, her eyes full of devilment. ‘I always fancied being called a scarlet woman.’
John pleaded with Dot. ‘Rescue me, please?’
‘Just keep yer eyes straight ahead and let everything she says go in one ear and out the other.’ Dot picked up her wicker basket and placed it in the crook of her arm. She was following them out when she heard Betty say, ‘D’yer know before, when I said all that about fur coat and no knickers? Well, how do they know that everyone wearing a fur coat hasn’t got no knickers on? I mean, they haven’t got no dirty bugger going around lifting women’s clothes up, have they?’
John grinned down at her. ‘Do you know what I think? I think that if I said they did have a dirty bugger going around lifting women’s clothes up, you would go out and buy yourself a fur coat.’
Dot giggled silently. If John was in her mate’s company for long he’d be swearing like a trooper. ‘What did I tell yer, John?’ she called. ‘Keep yer eyes straight ahead and yer ears closed. Otherwise she’ll be corrupting yer.’
Hanging on to John’s arm like grim death, Betty gave a beaming smile to a passing neighbour whose eyes were popping out of her head. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Munro. And what a beautiful day it is, don’t you think?’ The neighbour, weighed down with bags of shopping, fled without answering, causing the big woman to turn and wink at Dot. ‘Well, that should give me reputation a kick up the backside. There’ll be plenty of curtains twitching when we come back.’
‘I should think there will be,’ said John, ‘especially as you’ll be pushing a pram.’
‘Don’t you be encouraging her,’ Dot said, prodding him in the back. ‘She’s bad enough without you egging her on.’
‘Ay, girl, don’t you be punching my escort. And don’t be such a long string of misery, either! If yer don’t behave yerself, me and John won’t bring yer out with us next time.’
What am I going to do with her? Dot thought, walking a short distance behind. She’ll never change, that’s a dead cert. But do I really want her to change? The answer came quickly. No, she wouldn’t want her friend any different. She was generous, always on hand when you needed help, and never failed to cheer you up when you were down. You couldn’t ask for more from a friend than that.
The three of them stood at the junction of Stanley Road and Linacre Lane, hot and tired. They’d been in three secondhand shops and still hadn’t come across a pram worth buying. The ones they’d seen had really only been fit for the scrapheap. The hoods were torn, the insides dirty and stained, the body paintwork peeling and the wheel-spokes broken. ‘You look tired, Dot, so let’s call it a day.’ John was feeling fed-up himself. He thought of Trudy and couldn’t imagine putting her in any of the dirty carriages they’d seen. ‘I’ll take a couple of hours off work one day and have a scout around.’
Dot sighed. ‘I’d love to go home because me feet are killing me, but Mary needs a pram before next Saturday. Although God alone knows where we’re going to get one from.’
‘There’s another shop in Marsh Lane,’ Betty said. ‘It’s only two stops on the tram so we may as well try there while we’re at it. And next to it is a sweetshop that has cards in the window that people pay to put in if they’ve got anything to sell. I’ve seen prams advertised in there so we might just be lucky.’
Tired and weary, the three stepped off the tram and followed Betty across the busy main road. They stopped outside a second-hand shop where the goods on display seemed of a better quality than the other shops they’d visited. ‘You two look in here while I have a gander in the window next door.’ Betty walked away, saying over her shoulder, ‘If yer see anything worth having, give us a shout.’
John stood on the pavement with the basket and shopping bags at his feet. ‘You go in, Dot, I’ll stay here. It’s no good carting this lot in there unless you see something worthwhile.’
But before Dot had time to walk through the shop door, Betty was calling and beckoning them over. She pointed to a small glass-fronted display case in which there were cards and bits of paper stuck on with drawing pins, all advertising various items for sale. ‘See the white card halfway down? It says, A small pram in excellent condition. Only ten months old. Bargain. £3.’ Reading the words aloud cheered Betty up no end and her round chubby face was beaming as she said, ‘Doesn’t that sound just the job?’
‘It sounds ideal,’ Dot said, ‘but there’s no address.’
‘Yer have to ask inside for the address, but it can’t be far away. Only local people put adverts in here because only those living around here would read them.’
‘I’ll keep me fingers crossed,’ Dot said, ‘but with our luck it’ll be sold by now.’
‘Oh, my God! Go on, girl, put the bleedin’ mockers on it!’ Betty rolled her eyes at John. ‘While I go in for the address, will you tell her a dirty joke and see if yer can bring a smile to her face?’
‘I don’t know any dirty jokes, Mrs Mason.’
‘My God, ye’re a fine pair you are. D’yer know what? If you were her lodger, and I’m not saying yer are, mind, but if yer were yer’d get on like a ruddy house on fire.’ Betty shook her head in mock disgust as she transferred her basket from one arm to the other. ‘If yer don’t know any dirty jokes, tell her a clean one but throw in plenty of dirty words.’ With that she squared her shoulders and pushed the shop door open.
Dot and John looked at each other and burst out laughing. ‘She didn’t give me a chance to say I didn’t know any dirty words,’ John said. ‘I know them, of course, because I work in a factory and would have to be deaf not to hear them. But I would never use them in front of a woman, especially you.’
‘I’d crack yer one if yer did.’ Dot was still chuckling. ‘What would yer do with that friend of mine? She shames me to death sometimes, but I love the bones of her.’
Betty came out of the shop waving a piece of paper triumphantly. ‘Here yer are, girl, not five minutes’ walk away. And if this doesn’t put a smile on yer bleedin’ face then there’s something wrong with yer and yer should go and see yer doctor.’ Her bosom thrust out and her eyes shining with excitement, she told them, ‘The card was only put in a couple of hours ago and the man behind the counter said it would be a miracle if it had been sold so quick.’
‘Ye’re a little love, that’s what yer are.’ Dot gave her friend a hug. ‘Now, what’s the name of the road?’
‘Hornby Road, off Strand Road.’ Betty put the piece of paper in her pocket. ‘They’re big houses down there, girl – some of them have six bedrooms.’ She did a little jig. ‘Aren’t I clever for bringing yer down here
?’
‘You certainly are, sunshine. I wouldn’t have thought of it.’ Dot linked her arm and they set off, John walking by Dot’s side and carrying the bags. ‘If we’re lucky and we get the pram, I’ll buy yer a nice cream slice to have with a cup of tea when we get home. Now, what d’yer say to that, eh?’
‘What I say to that, girl, is that yer can sod off! This is worth a Victoria sponge sandwich at least.’ Betty huffed and puffed as she tried to keep up with their pace. ‘A cream slice me backside. I could devour one of them in one bite and wouldn’t even know I’d had it.’
They stood outside the gate of the house in Hornby Road and their hopes were raised when they saw the neatly-kept garden, the white net curtains hanging behind the shining windows and the polished woodwork. ‘I’ll stay here,’ John said. ‘We can’t all go in.’
‘Of course we can!’ Betty grinned. ‘They’ll think the pram is for you two, ’cos yer look like a married couple expecting a happy event.’
John roared with laughter as Dot went the colour of beetroot. ‘I’d be more than prepared to go along with that, Betty, but I don’t think D.D. appreciates your suggestion.’
‘I’ll wring your neck for you, Betty Mason,’ Dot hissed. ‘If you say that to whoever opens the door, so help me I’ll walk away.’
‘God, ye’re a misery-guts, you are.’ Betty had to bite hard on the inside of her cheek to stop the laughter. ‘All right, I’ll be the expectant mother if it makes yer feel better. They won’t know that I always look ten months’ pregnant.’
John stayed by the gate while the two women walked up the path and knocked on the door. It was opened by an attractive woman who looked to be in her late twenties. Her hair was nicely set, her face expertly made-up and her clothes were obviously expensive. What was also very obvious, was the fact she was very heavily pregnant. She looked down at the two surprised faces and smiled. ‘Can I help you?’