MB07 - Three Little Words

by Joan Jonker

  ‘Tempmental, girl,’ Nellie said, looking proud of herself. ‘Ye’re getting forgetful in yer old age.’

  ‘And will George know what tempmental means, d’yer think?’

  ‘Of course he will. He’s not daft, my feller. Any fool knows what tempmental means. And now, if yer’ve got it all off yer chest, girl, I’ll go in the kitchen and run through a short rehearsal, make sure me singing voice is in order. So if yer hear me going up and down the scales, don’t think yer’ve got a skylark in the yard, it’ll only be me.’ As Nellie turned to go to the kitchen, she stopped by Victoria’s chair and, in a loud whisper, said, ‘There’s one born every minute, girl.’

  ‘Oh, one what, Nellie?’

  ‘A temperamental fool, girl, that’s what. And I should know, I’ve been mates with one for God knows how long.’ Nellie kept her voice above a whisper. ‘Don’t let her see yer looking or she’ll know we’re talking about her. But the blonde one sitting on the couch, to look at her yer’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but take it from me, Victoria, yer can’t go by looks. If you were to knock on her door at twenty-nine past ten in the morning, she’d leave yer standing on the pavement until the big finger on the clock was dead on ten thirty. She wouldn’t care if yer were standing in two feet of snow, she still wouldn’t let yer in. So if that’s not being temperamental, then I’ll eat me bleeding hat.’

  Nellie swayed her way to the kitchen with laughter ringing in her ears. And the loudest laugh came from Molly, who was telling herself she’d never get the better of her mate. ‘Nice one, sunshine,’ she called. ‘I got me eye wiped there, and I deserved it.’

  Nellie leaned back against the kitchen sink, her arms folded beneath her mountainous bosom. She was racking her brains to remember which song Two Ton Tessie was most famous for. There were three she could think of, but which one was the best? Still, it wasn’t a matter of life or death, ’cos she could sing all three if it came to that. But she’d need a bottle of milk stout after the first, just to oil her throat. If Molly hadn’t started that rigmarole, they could have had at least two bottles each by now, and they’d all be in a happy frame of mind. Still, she’d soon have them singing their heads off.

  As she pushed herself away from the sink, the washing on the clothes rack hanging from the ceiling caught her eye. It was mostly baby clothes, nappies and bibs, but Nellie noticed a towel and a tablecloth hanging on the back rail. And a grain of an idea worked its way into her head and started to take root. With her imagination working overtime, Nellie’s eyes glinted with mischief. It was only an idea, but she’d bear it in mind for consideration after she’d seen how her Tessie O’Shea act went down. She coughed to clear her throat, then holding up the front of her dress she made her entrance, belting out at the top of her voice a well-known song which was a favourite in many a local pub on a Saturday night just before closing time.

  ‘Oh, my old man said follow the van, and don’t dilly-dally on the way,

  Off went the van with me old man in it, I followed on with me old cock linnet,

  I dillied and dallied, dallied and dillied, lost me way and don’t know where to roam

  And yer can’t trust a Special like the old time copper, When yer can’t find your way home.’

  The skirt of Nellie’s dress was lifted as she copied the actions of the singer, showing her elastic garters, an expanse of bare leg and a glimpse of blue bloomers. And as her audience clapped and sang along, she put her heart into the song. She was so good, if you closed your eyes you could picture Two Ton Tessie entertaining the audience at the Liverpool Empire.

  ‘That was very good, sunshine,’ Molly said, when her mate finished and was bent over trying to get her breath back. ‘Well worth the sixpence we paid for these seats in the front row of the stalls. But I do have one little, teeny-weeny complaint.’

  Nellie straightened up and glared at her. ‘And what’s that, then, girl?’

  ‘Well, yer looked like Tessie O’Shea, and yer sang like her, but to my knowledge that is not one of her songs. At least I’ve never heard her sing it.’

  Nellie shook her head, and her chins agreed that she had a right to be upset. ‘Trust you to find something wrong, yer long string of misery. Honest to God, if yer were walking down the street and saw a sixpence lying on the ground, yer’d moan because yer had to bend to pick it up. And then yer’d moan again because it wasn’t a shilling.’

  ‘Oh, I wasn’t being critical of yer, sunshine. I only thought yer should know, so yer could leave it out of yer repertoire.’

  Victoria was quick to put a hand across her mouth to keep the laughter at bay. For Nellie’s face was going through the most unbelievable contortions as she tried to decide whether to clock her mate, or act daft and pretend she knew what that long word meant. In the end she opted for the safest way out. ‘I won’t sing it no more then, girl, if you say it isn’t one of Tessie’s songs. Just to be on the safe side, like.’

  ‘There’s nothing to stop yer singing it, sunshine, ’cos it’s a free country. Just don’t say that it’s one of Tessie’s.’

  ‘I won’t do any more of her, not tonight, anyway. I’ll do something new for a change.’ To get to the kitchen, Nellie had to pass Doreen, and she winked at her. ‘Yer can’t please some people, can yer, girl? Honest, it makes yer feel like going to the nearest funeral parlour and giving yerself up.’

  Before closing the kitchen door, Nellie said, ‘Nobody is to come out here. I want to prepare meself for the second part of the show.’

  Once in the kitchen, Nellie gazed up at the clothes rack. If she was a bit taller, she might have been able to reach the things she wanted, but even on tiptoe she was nowhere near. But she wasn’t one to give in without a fight, and she looked round the kitchen for something that would be of use to her. Her eyes lit up when she saw the long-handled brush leaning against the wall in the corner. Ah, she thought, that is just the job. Now I’ll give Molly Bennett something to cry about. Then she slapped a hand across her cheek, muttering, ‘Silly bugger, I haven’t got a pin.’ Hand on chin, and eyes narrowed, she wondered how to get round her problem. ‘Me bloomers,’ she told herself softly. ‘I’ve got a pin in me ruddy bloomers!’

  ‘What’s Nellie doing out there?’ Ellen asked. ‘She’s been ages.’

  ‘She’ll be thinking of some way to get her own back on me,’ Molly said. ‘So batten down the hatches – yer never can tell with my mate.’

  Just then a knock came on the kitchen door. ‘Are yer all sitting comfortably, ’cos here I come.’ The door burst open and it was hard to say who was the first to gasp in surprise, and who was the first to bend double with laughter. For Nellie had taken the tablecloth from the rack, folded it into a nappy and was wearing it over her clothes, held together with the safety pin from her bloomers. And she had one of the baby’s bibs tied around her neck. She skipped into the room like a young girl, singing one of Shirley Temple’s songs, ‘On the Good Ship Lollipop’. What a sight she was, with her clothes sticking out from the sides of the nappy, her chubby, dimpled legs on show, and her stockings crumpled round her ankles. And to top it, her round face was beaming as she skipped around the room with her arms waving, imitating the child film star.

  The three women on the couch were in convulsions as they clung to each other, their laughter loud. Doreen had her head in her hands, her elbows resting on the table as her shoulders shook, and Victoria was pressing at the stitch in her side. Before they had time to recover, Nellie stopped in front of Molly and said, ‘Now don’t try telling me Shirley Temple never sang this song, girl, ’cos I’ll marmalise yer.’

  It was about this time that the men came out of the pub, all happy and hail fellow well met. Tommy was the first to leave the group as he lived at the top of the next street, then Archie and Steve said their farewells. Corker took a deep breath of the cool night air, then led the men down the street. ‘I enjoyed meself,’ he said, stroking his large moustache. ‘A night out with good mates does yer the po
wer of good.’

  Derek said, ‘I’m glad yer offered to let me sleep on yer couch, Corker, ’cos I don’t think I could make it home.’

  ‘Me and George are lucky, we only live a few doors down.’ Jack chuckled. ‘And at least I can see the number on the door tonight. Many’s the time I’ve been out with Corker and would have ended up getting into a strange bed if he hadn’t been with me.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think yer’d have got as far as getting into a strange bed, Mr B.,’ Phil laughed. ‘The man of the house would have sent yer packing.’

  ‘Shush!’ Corker cocked an ear. ‘Just listen to the noise coming from your house, Phil. The ladies seem to be enjoying themselves.’

  There came a loud burst of laughter from the house opposite, bringing a smile to the faces of the men. ‘I bet that’s Nellie, up to her tricks.’

  They could hear the sound of merriment, but if they could have seen the cause of it, they would probably have felt a pang of regret. It was nice to have a drink with your mates at the pub, but nothing could come up to Nellie when she was in good form. And from the sound of it, she was in excellent form. ‘Next time yer come down, Derek,’ Corker said, ‘we’ll stay in and have a party with the two best hostesses in Liverpool.’

  Chapter Ten

  Frances Bradley was watching from her front window when the taxi drew up outside. She slipped on the coat she had ready, hanging over the back of a chair, then picked up her handbag. Her tummy was turning over with excitement as it always did at the prospect of seeing her son and her grandson. And she had the door open before Molly had time to knock.

  ‘That was quick, Frances,’ Molly said, smiling at her. ‘Yer must have been watching out for us.’

  ‘Oh, I haven’t been waiting long, queen, just a few minutes.’ Frances pulled the door behind her, then pushed to make sure it was firmly closed. Then as she walked down the path, she waved to Nellie, who was spread out on the back seat of the taxi. ‘Hello, Nellie. I see yer haven’t got yer nappy on today.’

  ‘No, I’m back to me fleecy-lined bloomers, girl, ’cos I find them more comfortable. It’s what yer get used to, isn’t it?’ Nellie moved along the seat to make plenty of room for Frances, while Molly sat on one of the pull-down seats opposite. ‘Ye’re looking well, Frances. Yer’ve got a bit of colour in yer cheeks today.’

  ‘Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing,’ Molly said, as the taxi pulled away from the kerb. ‘It’s probably the nice weather, making yer feel better.’

  Frances shook her head. ‘No, the weather’s got nothing to do with it, ’cos I never go over the door only to our Phil’s. I’ve had colour in me cheeks since Saturday, and I’ll tell yer why. I keep seeing Nellie in me mind, with that tablecloth on like a nappy, and the bib round her neck. I’ve never seen anything so funny in me life. Ye’re a hero, queen. I wouldn’t have the guts to do anything like that.’

  ‘Thank you, girl, it’s nice of yer to say so. Not everyone appreciated my artistic talent, though, but I suppose that’s the price I have to pay for being famous.’

  ‘What are yer talking about, sunshine?’ Molly asked. ‘Everyone thought yer were a scream. They all enjoyed it. In fact we were laughing so loud the men could hear us as they came down the street from the pub.’

  Nellie’s eyes narrowed as she leaned forward in her seat to get her face as close as possible to her mate’s. ‘Oh, aye, clever clogs. Well, in that case, why did your Doreen stick the tablecloth under me arm when I was leaving, and tell me to take it home and wash it? She had the nerve to say it wasn’t going on her table after it had been on my backside, not until it had been washed.’ With a plaintive expression on her chubby face, she turned to Frances. ‘I’d understand if I was a dirty beggar, but I wash me backside religiously once a month. If I could reach it meself I’d wash it every fortnight, but because me figure is so voluptuous, I can’t get to it and have to wait until George feels like helping me out.’

  Molly gasped, and gave her mate daggers before turning her head to see if the driver had heard. When she saw him grinning, she shook her fist. ‘Nellie McDonough, yer’ll be the death of me. Have yer no pride at all?’

  Nellie wasn’t the least bit concerned. ‘Everything you’ve got, girl, I’ve got. The only difference is, I’ve got more of it.’

  ‘I don’t mind yer having more of it, sunshine, but do yer really have to share it with everyone, even strangers?’

  ‘You and Frances are not strangers, girl, so don’t be coming all prim and proper with me.’

  ‘We’re not strangers, no, but the taxi driver is. And right now he’ll be wondering what sort of women he’s got in the back of his cab.’

  Without lowering her voice, Nellie said, ‘Oh, I know he’s watching, girl, ’cos I could see his eyes all over me when he came to pick us up. But I’m used to men ogling me, and I don’t mind ’cos they can’t help it. It’s not often they see a figure like mine, and I bet they don’t half envy my George.’

  Molly could hear the driver chuckling and she knocked on the pane of glass separating them. ‘Take no notice of me mate. She’s usually as quiet as a lamb, and butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But when there’s a man around, she has to show off. So take my advice, keep yer eyes on the road and whistle a happy tune.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll whistle a happy tune, missus, ’cos I’m going home to someone twice the size of yer mate. And believe me, I wouldn’t swap her for anyone … except perhaps Mae West. Yer see, I like a woman with plenty of flesh on her.’

  Molly could see the gloating expression on Nellie’s face and wished she’d kept her mouth shut. As sure as eggs, she’d never hear the end of it. And how right she was. For while she was paying the taxi fare, Doreen had opened the door and been pushed aside by Nellie.

  ‘She’s in a hurry, isn’t she, Mam?’

  Molly had a hand cupping Frances’s elbow. ‘I’ll tell yer when we get in, sunshine, if I get the chance. But I’ve got a horrible feeling that Victoria is being told something she would rather not hear. There’s nothing on God’s earth that will stop my mate from saying something she wants to say. That taxi driver has lots to tell his wife when he gets home.’ She waited until Phil’s mam was in the hall before laughing. ‘He didn’t hear all the story, so he’ll only be able to tell her that he had an eighteen-stone woman in his cab who wears a nappy.’

  Doreen put a hand to her mouth. ‘She didn’t tell the driver that, did she?’

  ‘Not in those words, sunshine, but she was telling Frances about you giving her the tablecloth to wash because yer weren’t going to put it on your table after it had been on her backside.’ Molly couldn’t keep the laughter back as she followed Frances into the living room. ‘She also let it be known that she isn’t as dirty as you seem to think, for she washes her backside every month. She’d do it every fortnight if she could reach it, but with her voluptuous body she can’t manage and has to rely on George helping her out.’

  Nellie was looking her mate up and down, her lips clamped together and her chins swaying rhythmically. ‘D’yer have to tell them me business? Yer always want to get there first, even though it’s my tale, not yours.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, sunshine. I keep forgetting yer like to be centre stage. So me and Frances will sit on the couch and our lips will be sealed while yer bring Victoria and Doreen up to date with yer latest antics.’ Molly plumped a cushion and put it behind Frances. ‘We’ve both heard it, but we’ll be quiet and see what interpretation you put on it. Go on, I’m sure it’ll be very interesting.’

  Nellie glared. ‘Yer’ve told them everything now; there’s nothing left for me to say. Why don’t yer tell them about yer own carryings on, and leave me to do me own thing?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to steal yer thunder, sunshine. I wouldn’t want to do that. Not to me very best mate. Anyway, I’ve hardly said anything! There’s bags they haven’t heard yet. What about a woman who’s twice the size of you?’

  Nellie’s face beamed. ‘Oh, yeah,
I forgot about that, girl. Thanks for reminding me. And I wasn’t really mad at yer, I was only pretending.’

  ‘Before yer start, though, can yer hang on until Doreen makes us all a cuppa?’ Molly smiled at her daughter. ‘Be an angel, me throat is as dry as a bone.’

  Doreen jumped to her feet. ‘It won’t take two ticks – the water’s been on the boil for about ten minutes. Not a word out of yer, Auntie Nellie, until I’m back in the room. I don’t want to miss out on anything.’

  Nellie pulled out a chair from the table. ‘I don’t mind waiting, girl, not when I’m going to get two custard creams with me tea.’

  Molly gasped. ‘Nellie, don’t be so flaming hard-faced! If Doreen hasn’t got any biscuits, she’s going to be really embarrassed.’

  ‘She’s no need to be, girl, ’cos if she gives me the money I’ll nip to the corner shop to get some for her. I don’t mind doing her a favour.’

  Victoria grinned behind her hand, Frances and Doreen laughed, but Molly kept her face straight. ‘Don’t yer mean doing yerself a favour? Yer’ve got some cheek, Nellie McDonough. I don’t know how yer’ve got the nerve.’

  ‘It’s all right, Mam, I’ve got biscuits in,’ Doreen said. ‘I don’t know about custard creams, but there’s ginger snaps and arrowroot.’

  The chair groaned when Nellie sat down without giving any warning. As one leg said to the other, if she’d let them know, they could brace themselves. ‘Yer see, girl, all that fuss over nothing.’ There was a smug smile on the chubby face. ‘Yer’d cause trouble in an empty house, you would.’

  Molly was ready with a quick retort. ‘I never have the luxury of being in an empty house, sunshine, you’re always with me. Most people have a shadow, but I’ve never seen mine ’cos yer stick to me like glue.’