One Rainy Day

by Joan Jonker

  ‘I’ll be on me best behaviour, queen, I promise. I won’t lick me fingers when I’m eating a cream slice, and I won’t drink me tea out of the saucer, either. I know when to use me manners, queen, so yer don’t need to worry on that score.’

  ‘Oh, well that’s a relief,’ Eva said. ‘If yer start to make a holy show of yerself, I’ll pretend I’m not with yer.’

  ‘Some mate you are then, if ye’re going to turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble.’

  ‘I thought the whole idea of going into town was to buy you a new coat, Marg?’ Poppy said. ‘You’re the only person I know who can go from buying a coat to getting into a fight with me mam over Robert Taylor! Not to mention your promise not to swear, lick your fingers in a restaurant, or drink tea out of a saucer. That takes some beating, Marg, even by your standards.’

  ‘It’s a habit I’ve got into, queen, and I don’t notice meself doing it. Yer see I started just after I got married. I got bored being at home all day, ’cos we didn’t have any children then. So I started going to the pictures every afternoon to pass the time away. But I never told Ally because there were lots of things we needed in the house, and he would have gone mad at me going to a matinee every afternoon when the money would have been better spent on buying sheets or towels, which we were short of.’

  When Marg told a tale, she really made a meal of it, and went into every little detail. Not that her audience ever minded, for not only were her tales funny, but so were her facial expressions. She could do more contortions with her face than any acrobat. ‘So when he used to come in from work and ask me what I’d been doing with meself, I used to make things up. And I’d keep on talking so he didn’t have a chance to get a word in edgeways. And it became such a habit, I’ve never got out of it.’

  ‘Have yer ever tried, sweetheart?’ Eva asked.

  Marg chuckled. ‘How can I stop talking non-stop after all these years? Ally would think there was something wrong with me if I sat with me mouth shut for any length of time. He’d think I was sick, or he was going deaf.’

  Poppy and her mother laughed at their neighbour’s expressions. Life was never dull when Marg was around. She had a fantastic sense of humour, and always saw the funny side of life. But there was a serious side to her as well. She was always ready to help in times of trouble, never asking if you needed help, but just getting stuck in. A true friend.

  ‘You don’t know how lucky you are with your husband, sweetheart,’ Eva told her. ‘There’s not many blokes as easy-going as Ally. He’s one in a million.’

  ‘Yes, I do know that, queen.’ Marg looked at the clock. ‘Oh, my God, I didn’t realize it was so late! Ally will be doing his nut. It’s nearly time for bed, and he won’t go up those stairs until he’s had a cup of tea, and a last cigarette.’ She pushed her chair back, nearly toppling it over. ‘Why didn’t you tell me how late it was?’

  ‘It’s hard to stop you when you’re in full flow, Marg,’ Poppy told her. ‘It would be easier to stop a twenty-two tram than it would be to stop you.’ She smiled when she added, ‘But we love the bones of yer.’

  ‘Well, before I go back and humour my feller, I’d better tell yer what I came for in the first place.’

  Eva and Poppy gaped. ‘You told us what yer came for, sweetheart, so hadn’t yer better get back to yer husband? I’ll be ready at half ten, when yer call for me on Saturday morning.’

  ‘No! I didn’t come especially for that! Yer know, sometimes me mouth takes over and I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. What I came for was to ask Poppy a favour for our Sarah. She’s a bit on the shy side, and she didn’t like asking you herself. She wants to know if she could come to the Grafton with you one night? She can dance, but she’s never been to a big dance hall like the Grafton. She wouldn’t hang on to yer all night, ’cos she knows yer’ve got a boyfriend, but she needs someone to walk in with. Would yer mind, queen? I know it’s a lot to ask when you’ve got this Peter feller with yer, but it would only be for the one night, just to get over her shyness.’

  ‘Of course I wouldn’t mind her coming with me, and I’m sure Peter wouldn’t mind. I know a couple of lads there, so I’d see she wasn’t left like a wallflower all night. Tell Sarah I’ll be going on Tuesday, and if that’s all right, I’ll call for her. It can’t be Monday, ’cos that’s one of the nights I go to night school, but Tuesday would be fine. And it’s a good night, not as crowded as it is at the weekend.’

  ‘Thanks, queen. Our Sarah will be over the moon. She’ll see yer herself before then, anyway. So I’ll love yer and leave yer now, and go and soothe my feller’s brow. Then I’ll put the kettle on and make us a nice cuppa to have with our last cigarette of the day. See yer on Saturday, girls. Goodnight and God bless.’

  Poppy saw their neighbour out, and came back to find her mother striking a match under the kettle. ‘Tea up in five minutes, sweetheart. Give the fire a poke, will yer, to brighten the room up. It’s no good putting more coal on – it would be a waste seeing as we’ll be going to bed soon.’

  Just then they heard a key in the lock. ‘Here’s your son and heir, Mam,’ Poppy said. ‘I’m sure he can smell tea a mile away.’

  David came in rubbing his hands. ‘It’s chilly out. I’ll be glad when summer comes, with the light nights.’

  ‘Been out with a girl, have you, brother dear?’ Poppy helped him off with his overcoat, and then carried it through to hang it on one of the row of hooks. ‘You’re a bit of a mystery where your female friends are concerned. You’ve never brought one home to meet the family.’

  ‘You’re a fine one to talk, sis! What about you and Peter? You’ve never brought him home to meet Mam. I’ve got a good excuse for not bringing a girl home, and that is because when I do finally bring one here, it will be the one I’m quite sure I want to spend the rest of my life with.’

  Eva had poured a cup of tea out for David, and when she carried it through to the living room she smiled at Poppy. ‘Your brother has got it all sorted out the way he wants it.’ She put the cup down before asking, ‘But what about you, sweetheart? Will you be bringing Peter to meet me? Is he the one for you?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, Mam, you’ll meet him on Saturday night, because he’s calling for me. But don’t read anything into it – or you, David – because calling for me doesn’t mean anything. Peter is as nice a bloke as you’ll ever come across, but I’m not sure what my feelings for him really are. I’m nineteen and he is six years older than me. He has had the time to do what all young people want to do, and that is to enjoy all the good things that life offers. When I’ve lived another six years I’ll know, through experience, what I want, and who I want it with, for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Don’t go out with anyone just because you are afraid to hurt their feelings, sweetheart; that wouldn’t be fair to either of you. Go out with boys by all means. Enjoy yourself while ye’re young enough to do the things all young people do. Youth is fleeting, sweetheart, so get the most out of it while yer can. But try not to hurt anyone in the process.’

  ‘I wouldn’t knowingly hurt anyone, Mam, I couldn’t do that. But neither do I want to marry a man who I don’t love, but will be tied to for the rest of my life.’

  You’re being sensible, Poppy,’ David said’. You’ve had the same boring, low-paid job since you left school. You haven’t lived yet, don’t know what life is all about. So give yourself a break and make up your mind to get as much enjoyment out of life as you can.’ He chucked his sister lightly on the chin. ‘Peter did seem to be a good bloke, steady and reliable. But perhaps it’s not steady and reliable you want at nineteen years of age. So don’t be talked or persuaded into doing anything you’re not happy with.’ He waved his hand. ‘Like me, wait until the right one comes along.’

  Eva was nodding in agreement as her son was speaking. She wanted the best for her beautiful daughter, and the best was true love. ‘Don’t dwell on it, sweetheart. You’ve got all the time in the world to worry abo
ut settling down. Just remember what I’ve told you many times. When the right man for you comes along, you’ll have no doubts, yer’ll know right away. And it’ll be the most wonderful experience yer’ll ever have in yer life.’

  ‘I’ve never forgotten what you told me about the first time you met Dad. And I’ll never settle for anyone who doesn’t measure up to him. As soon as I get that tingle down my spine, and go weak in the knees, you’ll be the very first to know.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was Poppy who opened the door at half past ten on the Saturday morning, to find their neighbour looking up at her. And she had to smile when Marg pushed her aside with a cheery, ‘Top of the morning to yer, queen. I hope yer mam is all titivated up and raring to go. If she’s not, I’ll have a cup of tea with yer while I’m waiting.’

  Poppy was still in her dressing gown, for she didn’t work on a Saturday and always indulged herself with a lie-in, followed by a leisurely breakfast, then a lovely soak in the bath. ‘I’m not long up, Marg. I’ve still got sleep in my eyes. Saturday is an easy day for me; I don’t get dressed until the afternoon. So if you’re after a cup of tea, you’re going to have to make it yourself. Mam is upstairs getting ready; she won’t be long.’

  ‘I’ll leave the tea, then, queen. I couldn’t be bothered putting the kettle on.’ Marg pulled out a chair from the table, and plonked herself down. ‘Anyway, it’s coming to something when a visitor is told to make their own tea. It’s not very welcoming, queen, or polite. It’s enough to make anyone feel unwanted, like. Could even give them an inferiority complex. If I was the timid type, I’d be cut to the quick.’

  ‘Then I’m glad you’re not the timid type, Marg, because Saturday is the day I get to lounge around in me dressing gown, before having me breakfast. I have a routine, you see, and I stick to it.’

  ‘Oh, aye, queen, and what is your routine? If I like it, I might even copy it, ’cos I’m bleeding hopeless when it comes to planning. I promise meself every day that I’ll do so-and-so the next day, but I never stick to it. I’ve got no willpower, yer see, queen. I’m away with the fairies half the time.’

  Poppy pulled out a chair and sat facing her neighbour. ‘What will Ally have for his dinner when he gets home from work? Have you left anything for him?’

  ‘Of course I have, queen. I wouldn’t let him come home from work to fresh air sandwiches. My Ally is easy-going, but he’s not that easy-going. The air would be blue if there was nothing to eat, and I’m gadding about town, spending his money. He’d have a duck egg.’

  Poppy waited to hear what Marg had left for her husband to eat, but her neighbour appeared to think the subject had been dealt with. So, being curious, Poppy asked, ‘What have yer left for Ally’s dinner, Marg?’

  A pan of stew on a low light, queen. Lucy said she’ll keep an eye on it so it doesn’t burn. She’s good like that, is our Lucy.’ Marg lowered her voice, and her eyes surveyed the room as though what she had to say was for Poppy’s ears only. ‘I hate to admit it, queen, but our Lucy is a better cook than me. When the stew is ready, half an hour before Ally gets home, she’s going to put some dumplings in, and my feller will get a meal fit for a king. When I make dumplings, they’re as heavy as lead, but our Lucy’s are so light they could float.’

  Marg had been so busy talking she hadn’t heard footsteps on the stairs, and she was startled when a voice behind her said, ‘Don’t you ever run out of topics to talk about?’

  With a hand on her heart, Marg said, ‘You silly beggar! Yer nearly gave me a heart attack, sneaking up on me like that.’

  ‘Oh, I’m glad yer didn’t have a heart attack, sweetheart,’ Eva said. ‘Just think of the shock Ally would get, if I had to be the bearer of such bad news. He wouldn’t enjoy the stew, and it would be wasted. It would have to be thrown in the bin with Lucy’s dumplings.’

  Marg kept the stern expression on her face. ‘How long have you been standing there? I bet you haven’t been as thoughtful as me, and you’re probably feeling guilty about your David coming home to find no nice smell of dinner coming from the kitchen.’

  ‘Ah, well, now.’ Eva smiled. ‘Stew is a lovely smell, I agree, and it does take a couple of hours to cook. Whereas bacon, sausage and egg have an equally inviting aroma, and they only take twenty minutes to cook. So Poppy will be serving David and herself an appetizing meal, with fruit and cream for afters.’ Eva held up an open palm. ‘Before yer say anything, sweetheart, I’ll admit the fruit will be out of a tin, and the cream will be evaporated milk, also out of a tin.’

  ‘That’s what I like about your mam, Poppy. She can’t tell a lie.’ Marg pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘Or at least if she does tell a lie, she can’t get away with it because her face goes the colour of beetroot.’ She eyed up her friend. ‘I have to say you look very smart, queen. I see yer’ve got make-up on, as well. It suits yer, and makes yer look a lot younger.’

  ‘Only you could pay someone a compliment with one hand, and take it back with the other,’ Eva said. ‘I look very smart, but without the aid of powder, rouge and lipstick I’d look as old as the hills.’

  ‘There’s only months difference in our ages, queen, so if I insult you, I insult meself at the same time. More, come to think of it, ’cos I’ve got twice as much powder on as you.’

  Poppy tutted. ‘If you two don’t stop talking, and go out, you’ll be little old ladies before you get to the bus stop. So be on your way, vamoose, skedaddle, scram.’

  Marg linked Eva’s arm. ‘I think yer daughter wants to see the back of us, queen, and I don’t need the bleeding house to fall on me to take a hint. So, let you and me hit the road, eh? You can take me to the shop where you bought that coat, and keep our fingers crossed there’s one there to suit me.’

  Poppy went to the door with them, but she stayed inside the hall. They had a neighbour opposite, Florrie Lawson, who was eighteen stone of trouble. She had a husband and two teenage daughters who were as quiet as mice, but Florrie loved causing trouble, and no one, man or woman, was safe from her tongue. She was common, her language was filthy, and she hadn’t a friend in the street. When she stood on her step, arms folded across her enormous tummy, people would take a detour and use one of the entries rather than pass her house. So as soon as Eva and Marg stepped on to the path, Poppy closed the door behind them. She didn’t go back into the living room, but climbed the stairs and turned the bath tap on. She would indulge herself by lying back in the warm water and think ahead to when she was competent enough to apply for a job with a firm she could be happy working for. Then, after daydreaming for half an hour, she would get dressed and see to the dinner when David was due home. They’d probably have the house to themselves for the afternoon, for she couldn’t see her mam and Marg coming home until about five o’clock. Or perhaps a little earlier if her mam’s feet were tired, or they ran out of money.

  Luxuriating in the warm water, Poppy’s mind went through her wardrobe to choose the dress she would wear tonight. It didn’t take long because she only had a couple of decent dresses. That would change though when she was on a better wage, for she could add to her wardrobe as she went along. Then, with clothes still in her mind, she thought of Charlotte, who always looked smart and attractive. If she did go to Andrew’s office for a cup of tea, as she’d promised Charlotte she would, then a new dress was essential. Not for the world would she turn up like a poor relation. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking she wasn’t as good as him. Charlotte was different. Poppy got on well with her and would like to keep on seeing her, to be a friend. But not Andrew. She’d go to his office, not because he’d invited her, but because of Charlotte’s persuasion. She wouldn’t let the girl down, but the visit would be a one-off.

  David opened the front door and was met by the aroma of bacon and sausage. ‘It smells good,’ he called as he took off his coat and hung it in the hall. ‘I didn’t realize I was hungry until I put the key in the door.’

  ‘You have timed i
t well, David,’ Poppy shouted from the kitchen. ‘Any later and the egg would have been fried too long, and I know you like the yolk runny.’

  David was rubbing his hands as he stood in front of the fire and watched his sister putting the plates down on the table. ‘Chief cook and bottle-washer today, are you?’

  ‘Chief cook is right, brother dear, but bottle-washer I most certainly am not! I’m going to leave that privilege to you.’ Poppy tilted her head and her curls hung loose around her lovely face. ‘On second thoughts, because you’re my brother and I love you, I’ll go easy on you. I’ll wash and you can dry.’

  ‘Suits me, Poppy. It will do me good to do a household task. It’s a very small one, I know, but little chores like that will stand me in good stead when I get married.’

  Poppy feigned surprise. ‘You can’t get married before me, David! Daughters always get married first.’

  ‘In that case I could be walking down the aisle when I’m an old man if you hang about. Don’t be too fussy, our kid, ’cos I’ve been thinking about twenty-three or four being a good age for a bloke to get hitched.’

  ‘Have you got anyone in mind? You’re very mysterious about your girlfriends, David. You never mention a name, or whether you date anyone regularly. Why is that?’

  ‘Because I don’t date anyone on a regular basis. I haven’t met anyone yet who sets my pulses racing. I’m too fussy. Still, better to be single than married to the wrong one.’

  ‘I’m not even thinking of tying myself down until I’m turned twenty-one,’ Poppy said. ‘I want to see a bit of life first. Until then I’m going to love them and leave them. Unless what happened to our mam happens to me. She was younger than me when she met our dad, yet they fell in love with each other right away. One look, one touch, and that was it! Nothing like that has happened to me. Of all the blokes I’ve been to the pictures with, or danced with, not one has had me seeing stars.’