Taking a Chance on Love

by Joan Jonker

  Beth hadn’t intended telling her daughter about getting the dresses from the market, not until they’d been washed and ironed and looked respectable. But she changed her mind now. Perhaps the market was also the place to get a neat skirt and blouse for Ginny to start work in. She might not like the idea, but it was Hobson’s choice. She could either wear her school clothes, or get some suitable second-hand ones. That’s all the money would stretch to.

  Beth took a seat next to her on the couch. ‘I didn’t mention last night that me and the gang had been down to the market in Great Homer Street. You know, where I got our Joey’s coat from. The reason I didn’t was because we’d all bought secondhand dresses and we wanted to wash them before anyone saw them. I’ve got two smashing ones for meself, and two for you. I put them in steep in the dolly tub overnight, and then through the mangle this morning. They’re dry now, but they need ironing.’

  Ginny’s blue eyes lit up. ‘Are the dresses yer bought for me grown-up ones?’

  ‘Of course they are! Yer’ll be a working girl soon, so there wouldn’t be much point in buying yer children’s clothes.’

  Ginny was excited now. ‘Will they do to wear for work?’

  ‘No, sunshine, they’re floral cotton. They’ll be nice for Christmas, and in the summer, but not suitable to wear for work. What I was thinking, though, is that yer might get a decent navy blue skirt from there. If yer did, it would tide yer over until we could afford to buy yer a new one. And yer’d feel better than yer would going to work in yer gymslip.’

  ‘Can I see the dresses?’

  Beth pushed herself to her feet. ‘I’ll get them. But don’t forget they’ll look a lot different when they’ve been ironed. And if our Joey comes in, then run up the stairs with them and put them on me bed. I want us to surprise him and yer dad on Christmas Day.’

  When Beth came back from the kitchen with the dresses over her arm, Ginny jumped to her feet. ‘Which are mine, Mam?’

  ‘The blue floral and the pink spotted are yours.’ Beth handed them over and waited for her daughter’s reaction. ‘Well?’

  Ginny was like a cat on hot bricks as she held one dress and then the other up to her neck and waltzed around the room. ‘Mam, they’re gorgeous! Oh, I’m going to be the belle of the ball in these. The blue for Christmas Day and the pink for Boxing Day. Oh, thank you, Mam, thank you. Ye’re the best mam in the whole world.’

  Beth caught a shadow crossing the window. ‘Here’s our Joey. Run upstairs with them and don’t breathe a word ’cos yer know what he’s like for repeating things. I suppose everyone in the street knows where his coat came from and how much it cost.’

  Joey came in rubbing his hands together, his nose bright red with the cold. ‘I hope there’s a pot of tea on the go, Mam?’

  ‘I haven’t been in meself for long, I haven’t had time to make tea. But I’ll put the kettle on to shut yer up.’

  ‘Yer’ve no right to stay out so long.’ There was a cheeky look on Joey’s face. ‘If yer were a good mother yer’d be home for yer children coming in from school, and yer’d have a roaring fire going in the grate and a pot of tea on the table.’

  ‘If it’s a servant yer want, son, then yer’ve come to the wrong house. It’s you what should be waiting on yer old mam, not the other way around.’

  Joey took his coat off with great care. It was his pride and joy and while he used to throw his old one on the couch, this one was hung on the hook properly, using the label sewn into the back of the neck. ‘Oh, yer poor old woman. You sit down and put yer tired feet up while I put the kettle on and make yer a cuppa.’

  Ginny came running down the stairs. ‘Was I hearing things, or did you just tell me mam to put her feet up and you’d make a pot of tea?’

  ‘Yeah, but I didn’t say there’d be a cuppa for you.’ Then Joey remembered it wouldn’t be long before his sister was working and he’d be earning pocket money. ‘Nah, I was only kiddin’. I’ll make a cup for you too.’

  ‘Well, wonders will never cease! Are yer sure ye’re feeling all right, brother? Ye’re not sickening for anything, are yer?’

  ‘Don’t knock it, sunshine,’ Beth said. ‘Never look a gift horse in the mouth.’

  ‘No, I won’t! I’ll sit back and enjoy me drink. I bet the tea will taste better ’cos it was made by me kid brother.’

  ‘Well, whoever makes it, get on with it or yer dad will be in before I’ve even started on the dinner.’ Beth flew up the stairs so she could remove the dresses from the inquisitive eyes of her son. After folding them on the bed, she opened the wardrobe door, thinking if she hid them on the bottom in the corner even Joey wouldn’t find them. It was a double wardrobe with a mirror in the dark oak middle panel, and because the children’s rooms were too small for a wardrobe, some of their best clothes were hanging in it next to hers and Andy’s. Not that any of them possessed what you would call Sunday clothes, but their spares were an improvement on the ones they wore daily.

  Beth knelt down, and after pushing the hanging clothes out of her face, leaned forward to put the dresses on the bottom. It was then her eyes lighted on a bundle stuck in the comer out of sight. She sat back on her heels, remembering the time she’d thrown the black skirt in there because it had got too tight around the waist for her. That was a few years ago, and she’d completely forgotten about it. At the time she had intended to let the waist out if she could, but she’d never got down to it and it had gone out of her mind.

  She pulled out the crumpled skirt and flung it over her shoulder out of the way. Then when she was satisfied she’d found a good hiding place for the dresses, she got to her feet and picked up the skirt which at one time had been her favourite. It had six shaped panels, which fitted neatly over the thighs before falling into folds. It had fitted her like a glove at one time, until she’d started putting on a bit of weight. She gave the skirt a good shake, and told herself that it would come up nice if it was washed and pressed. It probably wouldn’t go near her, but perhaps it could be altered to do Ginny a turn until they could afford a new one. But would her daughter think it was too old-fashioned for her? There was only one way to find out, and that was to ask. If Ginny didn’t want it, there’d be no harm done.

  So after nodding her head in agreement with herself, and giving the skirt another good shake, Beth folded it over her arms and tripped lightly down the stairs. ‘Look what I’ve just found at the bottom of the wardrobe. I haven’t worn it for ages ’cos it had gone too tight around the waist for me. I’d clean forgotten about it until I just spotted it.’ She held the skirt to her. ‘I didn’t half like it, it was me favourite. I used to think it gave me a figure like a film star.’

  The two children were sitting at the table with their hands around the cups of hot tea. There was a cup poured out ready for their mother. ‘Perhaps it’ll fit yer now, Mam,’ Ginny said. ‘Try it on and see.’

  Diplomacy was called for here, Beth told herself. It would be better for her daughter to want it herself, without having it pushed on to her. ‘I’ll try it on in the kitchen.’ She was only gone a matter of seconds, and when she came back there was a look of disappointment on her face. ‘Look, it won’t go near me. I’d need at least another two inches around the waist. It’s sad, really, ’cos I do like it.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s a nice skirt,’ Ginny said, feeling sorry that the skirt wouldn’t fit her mother when she liked it so much. ‘I love the way it flares out.’

  And who should come to the rescue but Joey? ‘Why don’t you have it then, Sis? It should fit yer ’cos ye’re thinner than me mam.’

  Ginny’s eyes showed interest. ‘I would do, but it would be too long for me.’

  ‘That would be no problem, if yer like it.’ Beth kept her voice casual. ‘Yer Auntie Dot is a dab hand at alterations, as yer know. If all it needed was taking up, then she’d have it done in an hour. That’s if yer asked her nicely.’ Beth turned to go back into the kitchen to take the skirt off. ‘I’ve just had a thought. If it’s
no good to you, sunshine, Dot would jump at it. She always liked it, and she’s thinner than me.’

  Once more Joey came to the rescue. Not that he knew it, mind, ’cos if he did he’d charge for his help. ‘Charity begins at home, Mam, so give yer own daughter the chance first.’ He jerked his head. ‘Go on, Sis, try it on before somebody else beats yer to it.’

  Ginny didn’t need telling twice. She ran out to the kitchen and Joey could hear her and his mam laughing. And it made him feel good. He was lucky having parents and a sister who liked to laugh, and whose faces were never far from a smile. Two of his mates who lived in the street had mothers who were always bawling at them. Yer never heard them laughing or being loving towards their children. And they used bad words, too, which his mam never did.

  Ginny came in, slinking like she’d seen film stars do. With a hand patting her hair, she did an impersonation of Mae West. ‘Come up and see me some time, big boy.’

  Joey’s eyes bulged out of his head. ‘Ay, yer don’t half look different, our kid. Yer look dead grown-up.’

  Ginny giggled. ‘It feels good. And it fits me except it’s miles too long.’

  ‘It needs about three inches taking off it, that’s all,’ Beth said. ‘If it was just a plain straight skirt, I could do it meself, but with it being flared I’d only make a mess of it. I’ll nip next door after we’ve had our dinner and ask Dot to do it for yer. Then I can wash and press it, ready for yer to start work in.’

  Ginny threw her arms around her mother’s neck. ‘Thanks, Mam! There’s such a lot of nice things happening, I think we’re very lucky.’

  And Joey, thinking of his new coat, endorsed that. ‘We sure are.’

  ‘How did yer find yer mam and dad, love?’ Andy asked, looking down the table at his wife. ‘Both well, I hope?’

  ‘Yeah, they seem fine. Glad to see me as always. I told them we’d try and get up to see them one Sunday soon. I don’t think they see many people with there being no houses for miles around. After living in a street like this for most of their married life, with plenty of friends and neighbours, they must feel lonely and isolated where they are.’

  ‘I think ye’re right. We should make the effort to see them more often. Perhaps when the weather improves, eh?’

  ‘Guess what, Dad?’ Ginny couldn’t keep still, her bottom was sliding back and forth over the seat of the wooden chair. ‘One of me mam’s old skirts fits me and I’m going to wear it for work.’

  ‘Go ’way! Yer mam’s always telling me that she gets so much wear out of her clothes, by the time she’s finished with them they’re only fit for the muck midden.’ Andy’s deep brown eyes sparkled. ‘Mind you, I never really notice what she wears, ’cos if she wore a coal sack, she’d still be beautiful to me.’

  Beth blushed. ‘Don’t act so daft.’

  ‘Me dad’s not daft, ’cos I think ye’re beautiful as well,’ Joey said. ‘Yer knock all the other women into a cocked hat.’

  ‘There isn’t a child in this street who doesn’t think their mother is beautiful, sunshine, don’t ever forget that. And there’s not a mother who doesn’t think her children are beautiful.’

  Joey lowered his eyes to his plate and kept his mouth shut. But his mind was asking how could Jimmy Bowling think his mother was beautiful when she had long hairs growing out of her chin and only two yellow teeth in her mouth? He didn’t voice his thoughts, though, ’cos the last time he’d mentioned Mrs Bowling, his mam had told him that God made everyone, and He gave everyone beauty of some kind. You couldn’t always see it, because it could be in the mind or the heart. He tried to think of that every time he called for his mate, but he still couldn’t understand why the woman couldn’t cut the hairs off. Surely God wouldn’t stop her from doing that? Otherwise, why were scissors and razors invented?

  ‘Any sign of Hannah’s family yet?’ Andy asked, changing the subject.

  ‘I think they should be there by now, but I couldn’t say for sure. If they’re not, Hannah will be a nervous wreck because she was bad enough this morning. Ginny wanted to go up when she came in from school, but I think they should be given time to settle down first. Hannah knows she can bring them up if she wants to, but I don’t want to push meself where I might not be welcome.’ Beth turned to her son and tutted. ‘Joey, will yer stop pushing that carrot around the plate, please, and put it in yer mouth?’

  With a cheeky grin, he speared the carrot and popped it into his mouth. ‘It was playing hard to get with me.’

  ‘I’ll play hard to get with you if yer don’t finish that dinner. I want everywhere tidied away, just in case Hannah does bring her family. And I want to nip next door to ask Dot to alter the skirt for Ginny. With a bit of luck she’ll do it tonight and I can have it washed, dried and pressed for Christmas. It’ll be one thing off me mind.’

  ‘Leave the place to us, Mam, we’ll tidy it up,’ Ginny said. ‘I’ll clear the table and shake the cloth out. Then our Joey can help me with the dishes. Me dad can supervise.’

  ‘I think I’ll take yer up on that. It seems to have been a long day, even though I haven’t done much. It’s that flipping long journey to me ma’s and back. So I’ll be glad to have a natter with Dot. I won’t stay, though, just ten minutes or so.’

  Andy’s guffaw was deep and throaty. ‘How many times have I heard yer say that? It’s always going to be only ten minutes, yet yer can bet yer bottom dollar we won’t see yer for at least an hour.’

  ‘You’re a fine one to talk,’ Beth said. ‘Every time yer go out with yer mates to the pub, it’s only ever going to be one pint. Except it never is.’

  ‘That doesn’t happen very often, love, so yer can’t throw that up in me face. It’s over a week since I had a pint.’

  Beth looked surprised. ‘It never is, is it?’

  Andy nodded. ‘More than a week.’

  ‘Well, why don’t yer go to the pub tonight, Dad?’ Ginny asked. ‘Me and our Joey can look after ourselves till me mam comes back.’

  Her father shook his head. ‘No, I’m saving me money until Christmas Eve. Then me and the lads are going to push the boat out.’

  ‘I’ve got a tanner to spare if yer feel like a pint,’ Beth offered. Her husband worked hard, never took a day off and always handed his wage packet over. He deserved some pleasure out of life. ‘D’yer want me to ask Bill when I take the skirt next door? And I’m sure Dennis and Paddy would be all for it.’

  ‘No, I’ve got more to do with me money with Christmas only days away. Besides, me and me mates made a pact a week ago that we’d save our money and have one really good night out to celebrate.’

  Beth stood behind her husband’s chair and put her arms around his neck. ‘Ye’re welcome to the price of a pint if yer want one, sunshine, yer know that.’

  ‘No, I’ll hang out until Christmas Eve, love, but thanks all the same. You poppy off next door and have a natter with yer mate. Me and the kids will sort this place out.’

  ‘Well, if ye’re sure yer don’t mind, I’ll just slip me coat on ’cos it’s bitter. And I won’t say I’ll only be ten minutes, then yer can’t throw it up in me face.’ Beth ruffled his thick, dark hair. ‘When I come back I expect to see a fire up the chimney and everywhere nice and tidy. You have been warned.’

  Joan Flynn opened the door to Beth, and her eyes looked either side for sight of her friend. ‘Hasn’t Ginny come with yer?’

  ‘No, she’s washing the dishes and tidying up for me.’ Beth shivered. ‘Ye’re not going to keep me standing on the step, are yer, sunshine?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Auntie Beth, come on in.’ Joan quickly closed the front door to keep out the cold. ‘I was just surprised Ginny wasn’t with yer.’

  ‘Her and Joey volunteered to wash up so I could come and have a natter with yer mam.’ Beth entered the living room and made straight for the fire. Holding her open hands out to the flames, she grinned at Bill and young David. ‘Good evening, gentlemen. I hope the weather is warm enough for yer?’

/>   Dot came through from the kitchen wiping her hands on a tea-towel. ‘We were just talking about you, and here yer are! That’s what I call a coincidence.’

  ‘Oh, aye, what were yer saying about me then?’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t about you, actually.’ Dot rolled the tea-towel into a ball, and not wanting to break the conversation, she threw it into the kitchen where it landed in the sink. ‘I was just asking Bill why he didn’t give Andy a knock to see if he fancied a pint.’

  ‘And what did yer say to that, Bill?’ Beth asked. ‘Did yer give the same answer as I got from Andy, that yer were saving yer coppers so yer could paint the town red on Christmas Eve?’

  Bill folded the Echo and laid it on his knee. ‘Something along those lines, love. But I don’t think I mentioned anything about painting the town red. Not in front of the Missus, anyway. It wouldn’t go down well, yer see.’

  ‘No, it ruddy well wouldn’t!’ Dot picked up the poker from the brass companion set and rattled it between the bars of the grate to liven up the fire. ‘I’m not having you and yer rowdy mates rolling home on Christmas Eve, staggering down the street shouting and singing.’

  ‘Yer can’t half exaggerate, love.’ There was fondness in Bill’s eyes when he smiled at his wife. ‘I have never in me life staggered home drunk. And I can’t sing for peanuts.’

  Joan was hovering in the background, waiting to get a word in. Then when she realised she could be waiting for ages, she butted in, ‘Auntie Beth, can I go down to see Ginny? Just for an hour or so?’

  ‘Of course yer can, sunshine, she’ll be glad to see yer.’ Beth wagged a warning finger. ‘But don’t stop her from getting the dishes done. I’d hate to have to start on those when I get back.’

  After the door closed on her daughter, Dot said, ‘She’s got an appointment for an interview at Dunlop’s tomorrow, and she can’t wait to tell Ginny. She’s a shivering wreck now, so God help her when her name’s called to go into the office tomorrow. They’ll be lucky to get a word out of her.’ She touched Beth’s arm. ‘What’s that ye’re carrying?’