by Joan Jonker
‘Same in my family, Nellie,’ Bob said. ‘Me mam died at fifty-eight, and we lost me dad when he was sixty. And like me darling wife, I’m living proof that the length of anyone’s life isn’t determined by their parents. So yer’ll still be here entertaining us for another forty years.’
Nellie’s eyes were lost to sight as she tried to work out how old she’d be in forty years. ‘Yer’ll be eighty-three then, sunshine,’ Molly said, coming to her rescue. ‘Roughly the same age as meself.’
‘Eighty-three! Bloody hell, girl, I’ll have white hair by then, and more wrinkles than a walnut. And I won’t be able to tell no dirty jokes to make yer blush, ’cos I’ll be too old to remember them.’ She grinned at Molly. ‘At least you’ll be happy, girl, ’cos I won’t be able to embarrass yer. I’ll be that forgetful, I won’t remember where the bedroom is, never mind what goes on in it.’
Molly tutted, embarrassed in front of her parents. But then looking at her friend’s chubby face, she chuckled. ‘Just listen to her, Ma. Eighty-three years old and the only thing she’s worried about is that she can’t find her way to the bedroom.’
‘I’ll see to the tea.’ Bridie decided she’d be better off listening to what Nellie had to say from the kitchen. No one could see her blushing then, or hear her soft laughter. And there would be laughter, for the little woman wouldn’t let Molly’s remark go without a quick cheeky reply. ‘The kettle will be boiling by now.’ But although the kettle was boiling, Bridie couldn’t attend to it for she was bent over the sink, doubled up with laughter.
‘I know how I could find me way to the bedroom, girl, and it’s not half clever.’
Molly scratched her head. ‘I know I’m a fool for falling for it, sunshine, but go on, tell me how yer could find yer way to the bedroom when ye’re eighty-three?’
‘I could put a bell round George’s neck, and I’d know where he was ’cos every time he moved, I’d hear the bell.’ Nellie nodded, and it was a nod that said she thought she’d been very clever in figuring that out. ‘Isn’t that a brainwave?’
‘It would be, if George was able to find his way to the bedroom,’ Molly said dryly. ‘Don’t forget, sunshine, George is a few years older than you. It’s you who should wear the bell, so he can find you.’
‘Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Silly old me, eh? Still, if we both had bells, we’d always be able to find each other.’ Nellie’s shaking bosom was the warning of what was to come. ‘Ay, girl, seeing as you and me are about the same age, that means yer’ll be needing bells for you and Jack. And if the four of us were looking for each other, and the bells were ringing, all the neighbours would put their coats on, thinking it was time for church.’
As Bob wiped away the laughter tears, Bridie had to put the tray down on the draining board for the tea was spilling over on to her hand-embroidered cloth. Molly was leaning her elbows on the sideboard, and Nellie was standing in the middle of the room with a smile as wide as a mile. There was nothing in life she liked more than making people happy. Well, there was one thing she liked more, but if she said so, her mate would have her guts for garters.
When the laughter had subsided, and Bridie was able to carry the tray in, there was a plate with half a dozen custard creams on it. And when Nellie’s eyes lighted on them, she rubbed her tummy. ‘Things look good, there, Bridie!’
‘Well, me darlin’, I thought yer deserved a couple of extra biscuits for brightening up the morning for me and Bob.’
‘Ma, ye’re not doing her any favours, yer know. She eats far too much sweet stuff. She’ll never lose any weight at the rate she goes on.’
Nellie groaned, ‘Oh, here she goes again, old misery guts. What harm can two fiddling little custard creams do me?’
‘Not much on their own, sunshine, I admit. But if yer add them to the two yer’ll expect in our house when we’ve finished our shopping, plus the cream slice yer’ve just got to have because yer mouth is watering, then they all add up to another pound of weight yer’ll put on. Yer have no willpower, Nellie McDonough, and yer should be ashamed of yerself.’ Molly looked at her mother. ‘Ma, I know yer think I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, but you aren’t with her all the time to see the amount of sweet stuff she gets through in a day. She’s like a kid with a penny in her hand, looking in the window of a sweet shop. That kid doesn’t know that if she keeps on eating sweet things, then when she’s older it will affect her health.’
Nellie was listening with interest, her head slightly tilted. ‘Which kid is that, girl? Does she live in our street?’
‘There is no kid, Nellie. I’m just trying to point out that too many sweets and cakes can be bad for yer health.’
‘Then why couldn’t yer have just said that, girl, instead of going all round the houses before yer make yer point?’
Bridie didn’t know whether to look serious or smile. It was always difficult to know when her daughter and friend were acting daft just for the fun of it. ‘Had I better take the biscuits out, then, so there’s no temptation?’
Molly took a deep breath. ‘If yer do that, Ma, then me mate will go back to being the little girl standing looking in the sweet shop window. She’s crying now ’cos someone has taken her penny off her.’
Nellie pretended to roll up her sleeves. ‘Ay, who is this flaming girl? She’s beginning to get on me nerves now, and I’d like to give her a piece of me mind. If someone did steal her penny, it was her own fault for taking so long to make up her mind what sweets she wanted.’
‘Yer still haven’t told me whether I should take the biscuits away,’ Bridie said, ‘or if I should leave them and let Nellie succumb to temptation?’
Nellie solved the problem, and restored humour, when she swiped two biscuits from the plate, before saying, ‘Yer better take the plate out now, Bridie, so Molly isn’t tempted. Yer see, she hasn’t got the same willpower as what I’ve got.’
For the next half hour the Jacksons’ living room was filled with laughter. Molly and Nellie made a perfect double act, just bouncing off each other. Bob thought his sides would split, and Bridie’s face was sore, all with laughter. And when the friends were leaving, to get their weekend shopping in, Bridie said she’d remember every word, so she could tell Tommy and Rosie what fun they’d had.
Tony saw the two mates standing on the opposite side, waiting to cross the busy main road, and he said to Ellen, ‘Yer mates are on their way over.’
‘Yeah, I’ve seen them,’ Ellen told him, before smiling at the customer she’d just served. ‘Here’s yer threepence change, Mrs Garrett. Try not to spend it all in the one shop.’
‘It’s not worth much now, Ellen, but when I was younger yer could buy the makings of a dinner with a threepenny bit.’
‘Yer don’t need to tell me that, Mrs Garrett, ’cos I’ve had to do it many times meself. Blind scouse they call it. Yer needed a magnifying glass to find the meat.’
Hetty Garrett sighed as she put her purse in the wicker basket on her arm. ‘They call them the bad old days, and in a way they were. But at least they taught us the value of money, and it was something yer had to work for. These days, the youngsters seem to get everything they want. And what gets me is, they believe they’re entitled to it!’
‘Not all youngsters are like that, Mrs Garrett. I know mine aren’t. They have respect for people, and for money. They know it doesn’t grow on trees.’
Nellie waddled into the shop ahead of Molly. ‘What doesn’t grow on trees, girl? Money, or a good man?’
‘Neither, Nellie!’ Hetty smiled at the woman whose back entry door faced hers. ‘My feller didn’t grow on a tree, and he never has any ruddy money.’
‘He’s no different to any other man,’ Molly said, placing her basket on the counter. ‘Ask any husband to lend his wife a shilling until pay day, and he’ll tell her he hasn’t got a penny to his name. And later, in the pub with his mates, he’ll down a few pints and never give a thought to where his poor wife is going to find the money for his di
nner the next day.’
Nellie pretended to play a violin. ‘This is like a scene from an old silent film, where the woman is being thrown out on the streets with her children ’cos she can’t pay the rent.’
Molly joined her mate in the middle of the shop, saying, ‘I remember that film, even though it’s many years ago. You pretend to be the wicked landlord, sunshine, and I’ll be the broken-hearted heroine.’
Nellie walked to the counter with her arms outstretched. ‘Here, Ellen, take this violin and supply the music while I go about my dastardly deed.’
Hetty wasn’t going to miss this, so she stood back to give the actors room, as did the two customers who had just come into the shop. They all knew Nellie, and although they wouldn’t like to cross swords with her, they were well aware she could put on a show worth watching. ‘We’re in no hurry, Tony, lad,’ the woman called Vera said. ‘We’ll wait until Nellie and Molly have been served.’
Since he had been going non-stop since eight o’clock, this suited Tony down the ground. A little light diversion, with a laugh thrown in, was more than welcome. So he folded his arms, leaned back against the chopping table, and prayed there would be no more customers for at least ten minutes.
Throwing her shoulders back, and coughing into her hand, Nellie geared herself up to give a fine performance. ‘Are yer ready, girl?’
‘Ready, willing and able, sunshine.’ Molly let her body go limp, her shoulders slumped in despair. She raised the back of a hand to her forehead, and cried, ‘I beg you, don’t throw me and the children out in the snow. We have no money and nowhere to go.’
Nellie, standing as upright as possible, pointed a stiffened finger towards the door. ‘Pay me the two shillings rent you owe, or get out.’
‘Oh, please, sir, I implore you.’ Molly fell to her knees and pulled on the pretend villain’s coat. ‘I beg you to take pity on me and the children.’
‘I gave you the chance to stay, woman, but you refused.’ There was a sneer on Nellie’s face as she stroked a pretend beard. ‘Out, before I have you thrown out.’
Molly sobbed, her two arms round the villain’s legs. ‘I couldn’t let you have your wicked way with me, not when my husband was laid to rest only yesterday.’
‘Take your filthy hands off me, woman! Be off, with your children and what bits of furniture you possess.’ There was a sneer as he went on. ‘Throw yourself on the mercy of the poorhouse. They’re the only ones who care for down and outs like you. Remove your arms from my legs before I set the bailiffs on to you.’
Unnoticed by the two actors, who were wrapped up in the roles they were playing, two regular customers had been about to enter the shop, chatting away to each other. Tony raised a hand to get their attention, then put a finger to his lips for silence. So they stood quietly just inside the door, their faces agog at what they were seeing. And a further three customers watched from the doorway. At first Tony was worried about keeping customers waiting, then he told himself it was daft to worry. These women were all regulars. They wouldn’t walk off in a huff and buy their meat elsewhere. Where else could they go and be served the best meat, and be entertained into the bargain? So he relaxed and enjoyed the funniest double act he’d ever seen. Oh, he’d seen Molly and Nellie doing all sorts of things that made him laugh, but they’d never put a play on before.
Ellen pretended to be playing the invisible violin, while humming a sad dirge. She really put her heart and soul into it. And when the villain kicked Molly to free his legs, her cry of pain was so realistic it brought forth a hearty response. Amid the loud boos and hisses, there were shouts of ‘Leave the woman alone, you swine’, and ‘Pick on someone yer own size, mate’. And the best was, ‘Let’s teach him a lesson and lynch him to the nearest lamp-post.’
‘Yer can’t do that, Vera,’ Tony called. ‘Yer need rope and we haven’t got any. Anyhow, it’s against the law and we’ll all end up in jail.’
‘Oh, I can’t let that happen,’ Hetty said. ‘My feller likes his meal on the table when he gets in from work. He wouldn’t be happy with me in jail and no dinner in the oven.’
Molly and Nellie did themselves proud. Nellie was fantastic as the rich landlord who had a habit of twisting the ends of an imaginary moustache, and her sneer was a masterpiece, contorting her chubby face. While Molly, surprising herself, played her part well. She did all the over-acting she remembered from the silent film her ma had taken her to see when she was a young girl. She could remember crying herself to sleep that night because the woman and her children would be out in the snow, with no roof over their heads.
When the scene came to an end, Molly and Nellie joined hands and were bowing to the applause when Tony came out of the storeroom carrying a piece of rope. ‘Here, I’ve found this rope, ladies, if yer still want to lynch the miserable skinflint. But don’t do it on the lamp-post outside me shop, ’cos it’ll be bad for trade.’
‘Here, give it to me,’ Hetty said, holding out a hand. ‘There’s been a few times in the last twenty years when I’ve felt like hanging Nellie McDonough. I’ve never had the rope before, or the opportunity, but now I have, I’ll make use of it.’ She curled the rope into a noose. ‘Come here, Nellie, and stick yer neck in this.’
‘Yer can sod off, Hetty Garrett, ’cos I know yer only want to see me dangling from the lamp-post so yer can look up me clothes and see if I’m wearing my knickers.’
Hetty clicked her tongue. ‘There’s only one thing in life I would find more distasteful than my feller’s underpants, and that’s a pair of your knickers.’
Nellie didn’t take offence at the insult, for she had known Hetty many years and got on well with her. ‘Me heart bleeds for yer, girl, it really does. I’ve seen your feller’s long johns on the line, wafting in the breeze, and they are not a pretty sight. At least my knickers are a nice shade of blue or pink, but I can’t say anything nice about those long johns. Except, of course, that it’s your line they’re on, and not mine. My George doesn’t wear those long kecks now, he wears short ones. And can yer guess the reason for him liking short ones better?’
Hetty shrugged her shoulders. ‘I dunno. I suppose they’re better in this warm weather.’
‘No, ye’re miles out, Hetty. He likes the short ones ’cos they’re quicker to get off when he’s in bed. He’s hot-blooded is my George, and he doesn’t waste time messing about.’
Hetty’s lips twitched. That last remark of Nellie’s had been a direct criticism of her husband’s virility, and she wasn’t going to stand for that! She might call him fit to burn, but she wasn’t having anyone else make little of him. ‘The people what have a big mouth and brag a lot are the ones whose life is so dull they have to make things up. It’s the quiet ones that don’t say much who have the best of everything in life.’
Molly stood by, listening, and wishing that Hetty wouldn’t keep on digging a hole for herself. She should know by now that no one ever got the better of Helen Theresa McDonough. Still, Molly told herself, it wasn’t up to her to interfere.
‘What d’yer mean, Hetty?’ Nellie’s voice was deceptively low. ‘I don’t understand what yer said, so explain it to me.’
Hetty was beginning to feel uncomfortable, but she couldn’t back down now, not when there were seven or eight people hanging on to every word. ‘Well, it’s like this, Nellie. Yer always talk about the bedroom, as though it’s the only room in the house. But the living room is as important, and what is on the table.’
Nellie gave an exaggerated gasp, and put a hand across her mouth. ‘Hetty Garrett, I’m surprised at yer. It’s a good job there’s no children in the shop.’
‘I haven’t said nothing that couldn’t be said in front of children,’ said an indignant Hetty. ‘I never use bad language, not like some I could name.’
Nellie shook her head slowly. ‘Yer do surprise me over your feller – I would never have thought that of him. It’s a good job your Letty is married. It would be terrible if she had to witness the wild go
ings on.’
Hetty appealed to those watching. ‘What is she on about? I think she must be going daft in the head. I haven’t said nothing out of place.’
The waiting customers shrugged their shoulders. They had no intention of letting Tony or Ellen serve them before they knew what Nellie was up to. Even if the dinner was late being put on the table.
However, Molly knew Hetty had bitten off more than she could chew, and thought it was time to interfere. ‘Don’t worry about it, Hetty; get off home and see to the dinner. Nellie’s in one of her funny moods, and yer could be here all day.’
‘I’m not moving from here until she tells me what she means by the wild goings on.’ Hetty put her basket down on the floor and folded her arms. ‘Out with it, Nellie McDonough.’
The little woman had trouble keeping her face straight, but she was determined she wouldn’t laugh. She spread out her hands. ‘I don’t know anything about the wild goings on in your house, ’cos I’ve never seen them. I wish I had, though – it sounds very interesting. But I wouldn’t have even thought of it if you hadn’t said it yerself. I mean, what would you think if someone said to you that the dining table was every bit as good as the bed? What crossed my mind right away was that your feller is so eager, he can’t wait to get to the bedroom, and the table is the first thing to hand. I’ll tell yer what, Hetty, I’ll be looking at your husband in a different light in future. And yer can thank him from me, and say I’ll be asking my feller if he wants his daily dose on the table or in bed.’
There was little Hetty could do but join in the laughter. ‘I’ll be telling my feller no such thing, or he’d never look yer in the face again. In fact, if he saw yer in the distance walking towards him, he’d run a mile.’ She picked up the basket from the floor.