Stay as Sweet as You Are

by Joan Jonker

  Steve wasn’t made up at first, he was embarrassed. But with Lucy’s pretty face wearing a huge grin, and her big green eyes dancing, he soon felt at ease. ‘Have yer come to give us a hand? I’ll get another brush if yer like.’

  ‘I would if I could. But you’re miles taller than me, I couldn’t reach that far. I mean, look how long yer arms are to mine.’

  ‘I could always ask Mrs Aggie for a chair for yer to stand on.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, and I don’t think!’ The picture that came into Lucy’s mind brought forth a fit of the giggles. ‘I’d spill that much paint, she’d have a chair to match her yard walls.’ She gave a closer look to Steve’s work and thought he was very clever. There weren’t many boys of thirteen who could do the variety of jobs he did. ‘Have yer only got that one wall to do now?’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll be finished in an hour or so. But it needs another coat to cover it properly so I’m coming back tomorrow.’

  Lucy was in two minds whether to tell him about Rhoda, and how sorry she was. But if she did he’d think they’d been talking about him. Anyway, it was up to her friend to tell him herself. ‘I better go and let yer get on with it, or Mrs Aggie will be calling me for everything for stopping the work.’

  If Steve was asked who his favourite person was, after his mam, he would say Lucy. The girl always had a smile and a word for him, no matter how scruffy he looked. She always looked him in the face when she was talking to him, never at the rags he had on his back. And he would never forget that. ‘Perhaps I’ll see yer tomorrow?’

  ‘Could be. If not I’ll see yer in the street on Monday, after school.’ Lucy got as far as the kitchen door and turned. ‘Ye’re doing a real good job, Steve. It’ll look lovely when it’s finished. Ta-ra for now.’

  Aggie was standing by the kitchen sink peeling potatoes, and there was a delicious smell coming from a pan on the stove. Lucy wrinkled her nose and sniffed up. ‘Ooh, that smells lovely, Mrs Aggie. It’s started me tummy rumbling.’

  ‘It’s mincemeat, queen, with onions in. Titch said he felt like cottage pie, and his word is my command.’

  Lucy looked closer. ‘Have yer been crying, Mrs Aggie?’

  ‘No, queen, it’s the bleedin’ onions, they always make me eyes water. Titch has just told me that that’s how they make film stars cry in the films. They stick a bleedin’ onion under their nose and the tears flow.’ Aggie picked an eye out of the potato she was peeling, then threw it in a pan of water before resting her hand on the draining board. ‘He’s a mine of information, is Titch. If it wasn’t for him I’d be as thick as two short planks. Here was me, thinking what a marvellous actress Greta Garbo was because she could cry when there was a sad bit in the picture. While all the time, she’d just had an onion stuck under her bleedin’ nose. Yer see, queen, ye’re never too old to learn.’

  Titch came to lean against the wall. ‘What’s me ma saying about me now, Lucy?’

  ‘How clever yer are, Mr Titch. That if it wasn’t for you being a mine of information, she’d be as thick as two short planks.’

  ‘Don’t you believe it, sweetheart. When the day comes that I can outsmart me ma, then I’ll put the flags out. She might act daft, but believe you me, she’s all there on top.’

  ‘It’s just as well I’m one step ahead of yer, son, or yer’d have me out of me mind, the things yer come out with.’ Aggie swished the potatoes around in the pan, then emptied the dirty water off and replaced it with clean. ‘Now make yerselves scarce, the pair of yer, and let me get this dinner ready in time for me one and only to go out and get plastered with his seafaring mates.’

  ‘I better get home meself,’ Lucy said. ‘Me dad will wonder where I’ve got to. I’ll see yer, Mrs Aggie, and you, Mr Titch.’

  Lucy was humming as she walked through the front door she’d left open when Rhoda had beckoned her through the window. Life felt much happier than it had yesterday. Her and her mate were speaking again, Steve had a little job which would bring him a few bob to give his mam, and she had her birthday to look forward to. This time next week she’d be the proud possessor of a new coat.

  ‘Where did you get to, pet?’ Bob asked. ‘Yer mam made a pot of tea and I went out looking for yer to see if yer wanted a cup.’

  ‘I was talking to Rhoda, then I went in Mrs Aggie’s.’ Lucy plonked herself on the arm of his chair. ‘Guess what, Dad? Steve Fletcher’s painting their backyard wall, and he’s making a smashing job of it.’

  ‘Oh aye, whitewashing it, is he?’

  ‘That’s the same as paint, isn’t it? Yer put it on with a brush, just the same.’

  Ruby came through from the kitchen, drying her hands on the corner of her pinny. ‘That’s one feller I wouldn’t have near me house. Apart from being filthy and probably walking alive with fleas, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. It’s to be hoped Mrs McBride keeps her eye on her purse.’

  Bob could feel his daughter’s body stiffen, and looked up to see her face set. He pulled her down on his knee and put his arms around her comfortingly before saying, ‘Ye’re bang out of order saying that, Ruby. Steve Fletcher’s as nice a lad as yer’ll find. Because him and his mam are having a rough time, that doesn’t make him a thief.’

  ‘Go ’way, it sticks out a mile. He looks an absolute disgrace, no better than a tramp. And I think he’d nick anything he could get his hands on. He wouldn’t get over my door, that’s a dead cert, I’d chase him.’

  Bob patted Lucy’s hand to tell her not to interfere, he’d sort this matter out. ‘Has anyone ever said that Steve has pinched something from them? Have yer any proof that he’s a thief? Of course yer haven’t. D’yer think Joe from the corner shop would let him take orders out if he wasn’t honest? Or the milkman he helps? No, that boy’s as honest as the day is long, and if I were you I’d be very careful what I said. Yer could find yerself in a load of trouble.’

  Ruby threw her head back, a look of contempt on her petulant face. ‘Yer can talk till ye’re blue in the face, yer won’t change what I think. He’ll never set foot over my door and that’s the end of it.’

  ‘Over your door? What am I, Ruby, a flippin’ lodger? No, this is still my house, it’s my name on the rent book. So watch what yer say.’ Bob pushed Lucy gently from his knee. He wasn’t going to get involved in an argument in front of her. But he’d have plenty to say to his wife later. He’d never been as friendly with the Fletchers as Irene and George were, because of working shifts. But he remembered Jim being a fine, honest man, and Olive kind and friendly. Jim would turn in his grave if he’d heard what Ruby had said about his son. And apparently Olive was now a sick woman and couldn’t help the dire straits they were in. ‘Come on, pet, we’ll walk to the shop and see if the Echo’s in yet.’

  Lucy was glad to get out of the house, she felt as though she was suffocating. Holding on to her dad’s hand as they walked up the street, she said, ‘I don’t care what she says, I like Steve and he’s me friend.’ Her voice choked, she went on, ‘And Mrs Aggie and Mr Titch like him, they think he’s a lovely lad, and a good worker. I don’t know how me mam can say such terrible things about someone she’s never even spoken to.’

  Bob tried to appear calm, but he was anything but calm inside. His daughter had come in happy and smiling, and in a few minutes her happiness had disappeared, along with her smile. ‘The trouble is, yer mam speaks before she thinks. A bit like your friend, Rhoda. So I wouldn’t take much heed to what she says, pet, or get upset about it, it’s not worth it. You and I know that Steve’s a good lad, as do the McBrides and the Pollards. And that’s all that counts in the end, isn’t it? He’s not without friends.’

  When Lucy’s answer was a deep sigh, Bob tried to cheer her up. ‘Just think, pet, this time next week we’ll be back from town and yer’ll have yer new coat.’

  This went some way towards brightening Lucy up. ‘Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. I wonder what colour it’ll be?’

  Lucy had gone next door for a game of ca
rds with Irene and her sons, and Bob and Ruby were getting ready for their Saturday-night drink at the corner pub. Bob was struggling with the stud at the back of his collar as he looked in the mirror, and he was telling himself that next time he bought a shirt he’d get one of the new-style ones, with the collar attached. He finally succeeded in getting the fiddling stud through the hole and gave a sigh of relief. Most of the men in the pub wouldn’t have bothered with a collar and tie, they’d be wearing their silk scarves knotted over their Adam’s apple. But Bob didn’t go out very much so when he did he liked to make the effort.

  When he turned around it was to see Ruby putting more lipstick on a mouth that already looked as though it had been slashed with a knife and was pouring with blood. ‘D’yer have to put so much of that muck on? It must be an inch thick. And the bright rouge on yer cheeks makes yer look like a clown.’

  Ruby pressed her lips together and looked in the hand-mirror she was holding. She twisted her head from side to side to see the effect from all angles. ‘You dress as you want, and leave me to dress as I want.’

  ‘Yer won’t give an inch, will yer, Ruby? Yer’ll have yer own way and it’s to hell with what anybody else thinks. At least I try to be reasonable and meet yer halfway, but I’m fighting a losing battle. If it was only meself I had to think about, I’d throw me hands in the air and say to hell with everything, and let yer get on with it. But yer go out of yer way to upset Lucy, and yer do it deliberately. She can’t mention any of her friends, the people she likes, without you having to say something nasty about them. And the sad thing is, I think yer get a kick out of it.’

  ‘Sing us another one, will yer, Bob? It’s the same old tune over and over again. You and yer precious Lucy. Because she likes someone, it doesn’t mean I’ve got to. And I’m not bleedin’ well going to pretend, just to please her. Yer give in to her too much, she’s so soft-hearted she cries at the least thing. It’s about time she toughened up.’

  ‘Toughen up? Yer mean like you, Ruby? God forbid that she ends up as hard-boiled as you are. She’s kind and caring, and I hope she stays that way. I don’t want her to change in any way, I love her just as she is. And I feel sorry for you that yer can’t find it in yer heart to love yer own daughter.’ Bob’s eyes locked with his wife’s. ‘You don’t love her, do yer?’

  Ruby turned her head. ‘She’s all right, but I’ve never had much time for kids. Not like her next door, she devotes her whole life to her two boys. She doesn’t have a life of her own. Well, that wouldn’t suit me one little bit. I have a life to live, too, and I intend getting the best I can out of it while the going’s good. Lucy can do what she likes with hers when she’s grown up.’

  ‘A real mother helps her child to grow up. Is there when she’s needed, to give advice or comfort.’ Bob stared at his wife long and hard. Then he turned slowly and sat down in his chair. Crossing his legs, he said, ‘I have no appetite for a drink tonight. It would be hypocritical of me to sit with you in a pub and pretend there’s nothing wrong with our marriage. Not when yer’ve told me yer have no love for our daughter and don’t have one motherly instinct in yer whole body. At the moment I can’t even bear to look at yer.’

  ‘You can please yerself what yer do, but I’m not staying in on a Saturday night for you nor no one else.’

  ‘Then go on yer own.’

  ‘I’m not sitting on me own in that dive on the corner. It’s as miserable as sin there. And yer can’t expect me to sit in and look at your miserable gob all night. The least yer can do is give us a couple of bob so I can go for a drink with me mate.’

  Bob leaned sideways and took some money out of his trouser pocket. He picked out a two-bob piece and flipped it towards her with his thumb.

  Ruby slipped the coin in her pocket and left the room without a word. But when she’d banged the door behind her, a smile came to her face. She had two bob of her own, money she’d saved by scrimping on food. With four bob she could have a really good night out with people who knew how to enjoy themselves. For once in his life her husband had done her a favour.

  Bob was in a sombre mood as he lit a cigarette and inhaled the smoke like a dying man would gasp for breath. His brown eyes were troubled as he contemplated what life held in store for him. He was only thirty-six but felt like an old man. If he lived the three score years and ten which were reckoned to be the average lifespan, it meant he had another thirty-four years to go. Could he endure those years without a woman’s loving arms to find comfort in? Without a warm, happy home waiting for him after a day’s work? Once Lucy grew up and married, this place would hold nothing for him – only misery. He could hear the squeals of young laughter coming through the wall from the Pollards’, and occasionally George’s deep throaty roar could be heard above the others. He was a lucky man, was George, with a loving wife like Irene. It might be the men who brought the money in each week to run the house, but it was the woman who made the house into a home.

  The sound of the Pollards’ door banging told Bob his neighbour was on his way to the pub. And without even knowing he was going to do it, Bob leapt from his chair and rapped on the window as George came abreast. ‘Hang on a minute, wait for me.’

  There was surprise on George’s face when Bob came out of the house alone. ‘On yer own tonight, mate?’

  As the men fell into step, Bob said, ‘Yeah, but it’s a long story. I need a pint first, then I’ll bend yer ear back.’

  The pub was crowded and noisy. It was pay day, the one night of the week the families could afford a few bob for a night out. ‘Grab those two seats, Bob,’ George said, nodding his head in the direction of two spare chairs at one of the circular tables. ‘I’ll get this round in.’

  Bob waved and shouted greetings to the regulars he knew, but the din made it impossible for more. And it wasn’t the men creating the noise, it was the women. Saturday was the only time they met socially, and there was a week’s gossip to be told and savoured. As he watched the faces, Bob thought how much more expressive a woman’s face was, compared to a man’s. If a bloke was told that So-and-so did this or that, he would probably just raise a brow and promptly forget it. But not so the fairer sex. Their faces went through the whole range of expressions. While their heads were either nodding or shaking, their eyes would be popping out of their head, their lips would purse, their nostrils twitch and arms would be folded to hitch up their bosoms.

  ‘Get that down yer and yer’ll soon feel better.’ George put Bob’s pint down in front of him. ‘Alec could do with help, it’s murder trying to get served. I’m surprised Betty isn’t down to give him a hand.’

  ‘It’s filled up early tonight, she probably doesn’t know he’s got a rush on.’

  George picked up his glass, gazed at it with anticipation in his eyes, then took a long swig. ‘I needed that,’ he said, wiping the froth from his mouth. ‘Me throat was parched.’

  ‘That’s with all the laughing yer’ve been doing, I could hear yer through the wall.’

  George chuckled. ‘Those kids could leave us standing, yer know, Bob. They’re so quick off the mark, an answer for everything.’ He studied his neighbour’s face for a while, then asked, ‘You and Ruby fallen out, have yer?’

  ‘We never do anything else, George. Ruby’s not easy to live with, I can tell yer. I try to keep the peace, but as I told her tonight, I’m fighting a losing battle. She went too far today though, and I just didn’t want to be in her company.’ He explained briefly what his wife had said about Steve. ‘They were terrible things to say about the lad, and it didn’t half upset Lucy. In fact, Ruby goes out of her way to upset her. The girl just has to mention one of her friends and that friend is pulled to pieces. It really worries me.’

  ‘If she’d said that about Steve in front of me, I wouldn’t half have given her a piece of my mind. They were wicked things to say and totally without foundation. The lad is no more a thief than you or me.’ George would have said more, but Bob was feeling bad enough without him adding t
o it. ‘Anyway, yer’ve no need to worry about Lucy. She’s a sensible girl, got her head screwed on the right way. Of course she gets upset when a friend is called bad names, because she cares for them. And I’m sure yer wouldn’t have her any different. She’s loyal, too, and no one on God’s earth will turn her against someone she’s fond of. So stop worrying about her and just be proud that she’s yer daughter. I know I would be.’ This time, George emptied his glass in one go and set it down. ‘As for Ruby, well that’s between the two of yer, Bob. I know yer’ve had problems for a while, even a blind man could see that. And I know it’s through no fault of yours. But no one can help yer there, it’s something yer’ve got to sort out for yerself. In the meantime, have yer noticed me glass is empty?’

  This brought a smile to Bob’s face. ‘I don’t need a house to fall on me to take a hint.’ He picked up the glasses and looked towards the bar. ‘I see Betty’s down, everyone at the bar’s got a full glass in front of him. I’ll be back in sixty seconds flat, with two of the same.’

  ‘Tell Betty I said if she’s feeling generous, she can put a tot of whisky in mine and I’ll love her for ever more.’

  Bob laughed. ‘Some hope you’ve got.’

  ‘Hope is what life’s all about, mate. If yer lose that, what’s left?’

  As he watched Betty pulling a pint, Bob told himself George was right. Hope was all he had left and he’d better cling to it.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was eleven o’clock on the Sunday morning when Aggie carefully negotiated the step down into her yard. Over her arm was her shopping basket, the contents of which were covered over with an old cushion cover. She stopped by Steve, who had arrived an hour before and was busy applying a second coat of whitewash to the walls.

  ‘That’s a big basket for you to be carrying, Mrs Aggie.’ There was a look of concern on the boy’s face. ‘It looks heavy, too. Shall I come and give yer a hand with it?’