MB02 - Last Tram To Lime Street

by Joan Jonker

  ‘Look, there’s the Bradley woman,’ Nellie said, ‘an’ that must be her husband, the one shoutin’ and swearin’.’

  The neighbours not in the crowd that had gathered were standing at their doors, shaking their fists at the Bradleys and shouting their support for Barney. Most of them had lived in the street nearly all their lives and never had they witnessed a scene like this.

  The three women edged closer, in time to hear Corker say, ‘Calm down, Barney, and tell me what it’s all about.’

  ‘I’ll tell yer what it’s about, Corker, it’s about that crowd of thieving swines.’ Barney was beside himself with rage. ‘There’s all sorts of things gone missing since they moved in, but no one could prove anythin’. But this time they were seen takin’ our Malcolm’s bike.’

  ‘Yer a liar!’ Mr Bradley was average in height, but it was hard to see his features in the darkness, except that his black hair was long and straggly and he was dressed like a tramp. ‘None of mine touched yer bleedin’ bike!’

  Mrs Bradley joined her husband. ‘Call any o’ mine a thief an’ I’ll scratch yer bleedin’ eyes out.’ She started towards Barney but Jack stood in front of her, blocking her path. ‘Get out of me way, yer bastard, let me get me hands on ’im.’

  ‘Your son did take me bike.’ Barney’s twelve-year-old son, Malcolm, was nearly in tears. ‘I was at the top of the entry an’ I saw him take it out of our back yard an’ put it in yours.’

  ‘Yer lyin’ bastard!’ Mrs Bradley darted around Jack before he knew what was happening and went for Malcolm. ‘Little bugger!’ Her hands were around the terrified boy’s throat and she was shaking him like a rag doll when Jack came up behind her and lifted her off her feet. ‘That’s enough of that, Mrs Whatever-yer-name-is!’ He carried her, kicking and screaming, to deposit her on her front step. ‘If yer know what’s good for yer, yer’ll stay there.’

  As Jack turned away the woman lunged at him. She jumped on his back, wrapped her arms around his neck and began to head-butt him, her feet kicking wildly into the backs of his knees. He tried to shake her off but she hung on like a leech, her arms threatening to cut off his air supply.

  ‘I’ll kill her!’ Molly darted forward, followed quickly by Nellie and George. ‘So help me, if she hurts ’im, I’ll swing for her.’

  ‘Don’t do that, girl, yer’ll only make it worse,’ Nellie said as Molly tried to pull the woman off Jack’s back. She was so angry she didn’t realise her attempts were only making the woman hang on tighter. ‘Step aside, Molly.’

  Nellie did no more than grab the woman’s feet and lift them up backwards, higher and higher until they were on a level with her head. She got such a shock she relaxed her grip on Jack as she tried to free her feet. ‘Keep these up,’ Nellie said, jerking her head at George to indicate he should take one foot and Molly the other. When she was sure they had a firm grip, she moved away. ‘Don’t let go until I tell yez.’ The shouting stopped as everyone watched Nellie’s actions. Even Mr Bradley seemed too mesmerised to go to his wife’s aid. They saw Nellie stoop until she was under Mrs Bradley’s chest, then she stood up and shouted, ‘When I say “go”, drop them an’ move out of the way.’

  Jack felt the weight being taken off his back and, rubbing his throat, he turned to witness the most amazing sight he’d ever seen. The woman who’d been clinging to him seconds before was now horizontal in mid-air, supported under her chest by Nellie’s head and with her feet held up by Molly and George.

  ‘Okay, yez can let go now!’ As soon as Nellie felt the woman’s body slipping backwards, she moved away and Mrs Bradley fell to the ground.

  But although the woman was down, she certainly wasn’t out. She could hear the sniggers of the crowd and the sound fuelled her anger. ‘I’ll get yer for this, yer big fat cow!’

  Nellie stood over her, shaking a fist. ‘Yer’ll get this in yer face if yer touch one of me friends again! Mind you, if yer ’ad yer face bashed in it’d be an improvement.’

  Corker didn’t have time now to appreciate what he’d seen, but he knew when he got to bed he’d relive that scene over and over again. He led Barney over to stand by the wall. ‘Are yer sure about this, Barney?’

  ‘As sure as God is my judge, Corker. The bike was there one minute and gone the next. I’d sent Malcolm to the corner shop for two ounces of baccy, and he wasn’t away more than five minutes. He came runnin’ in to say he’d seen one of the Bradley lads wheeling the bike out of our yard and taking it into theirs. He ran after him an’ banged on the yard door, but no one answered an’ when he tried the door it was bolted.’

  ‘Hey, Dad!’ A young lad of about sixteen came out of the Bradleys’ house to lean against the wall. He had a smug smile on his face, as he said, ‘If they’re so sure we took the bleedin’ bike, why don’t yer let them search the ’ouse, see if they can find it?’

  Corker didn’t miss the look exchanged between father and son. They must think we were born yesterday, he thought. Still, I’m wised up to them now. He whispered to Barney, ‘They’ve shifted it somewhere else. Proper cocky young feller that one, too clever for his own good. Go along with me, Barney, don’t let them rile yer. Tell young Malcolm I’ll get ’is bike back for him, one way or t’other. If I don’t, I’ll fix him up with another one.’

  ‘Okay, Corker, thanks. But they shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.’

  ‘They won’t, Barney, just trust me.’ Corker walked over to Mr Bradley and looked down at him. ‘We won’t come in, it’d be a waste of time. But tell that cocky son of yours not to try an’ move the bike from where he’s stashed it, ’cos every eye in the street will be watching him, and the rest of yer family. Yer won’t be able to blink without us knowing about it.’

  ‘We didn’t take it, mister,’ Mr Bradley whined, his head back as he gazed up at Corker. Getting on the wrong side of this big bloke could land them in real trouble. ‘Honest!’

  ‘That’s a funny word comin’ out of your mouth.’ Corker threw him a look of scorn before turning to the crowd. ‘A kid’s bike ’as been stolen an’ we’ve got a good idea who took it. Yez all know the saying that thieves never prosper, well these won’t. I can promise yez that! But we can’t do anythin’ tonight, it’s too late and tempers are frayed. So away home to yer beds an’ we’ll see what tomorrow brings.’

  Miss Victoria Clegg had been in bed for an hour when she was awakened by the sound of raised voices. At first she thought it was a crowd passing on their way home from the pub, but when the sound didn’t go away she got up to peep out of the bedroom window. There wasn’t a soul in sight. ‘I must be hearing things,’ she muttered, climbing back into bed and pulling the clothes up to her chin. ‘They say you lose the run of your senses when you get older.’

  Victoria was eighty-six years of age, and a spinster. She’d been born in this house, an only child. And when her parents had died over forty years ago, she’d been left alone in the world, without kith or kin. She hadn’t minded living on her own, even after she’d retired from Crawford’s biscuit factory when she was sixty. There was plenty to keep her occupied, what with the housework, washing and shopping. She’d looked after herself, too, never going a day without making a hot dinner even though there wasn’t much fun in sitting down to eat on her own. But lately she worried about growing old and not being able to do the things she was used to doing. Like pulling the furniture out to clean behind, or changing the curtains. Last year she’d fallen off a chair while cleaning the windows, and if the neighbours hadn’t broken into the house when they became worried because they hadn’t seen her for three days, she’d probably have died.

  Victoria turned on to her side, sighing. She was lucky with her neighbours, particularly Molly and Nellie from across the street, and Mary next door. They’d been marvellous since her accident, taking it in turns to do her shopping, helping with the cleaning and making sure she got a hot dinner every single day.

  Victoria sat up in bed. She definitely wasn’t imagining t
hings, there was shouting going on somewhere. Once more she felt her way around the dressing table to the window and pulled the curtain back. The street was completely deserted, not a sign of a living soul. ‘I wonder if it’s coming from the entry?’ Victoria asked herself. ‘Might be a couple of drunks having a fight.’ With her arms outstretched feeling her way, she made for the back bedroom. No one ever slept in there so the curtains were never drawn. It had been her bedroom from when she was a baby until her parents died. Her mother had passed away just two years after her father, and Victoria had moved into the larger, brighter bedroom overlooking the street.

  It took several seconds for Victoria’s eyes to adjust to the darkness outside. There was a gas lamp at the end of the entry but its glow didn’t reach as far as her house, which was in the middle of the terrace. ‘Oh my God!’ Victoria’s hand went to her mouth. ‘There’s someone sitting on the yard wall!’ It was too dark to make out who it was, but it had to be a man, a girl couldn’t have scaled the high wall. As she watched, the shape dropped down into her yard, then she heard the bolt on the entry door being drawn back.

  Rigid with fear, Victoria was rooted to the spot, her hand covering her mouth to stop herself from screaming. She thought of running downstairs and out the front door, but she was afraid. What if there was someone already in the house? Oh, dear God, don’t let them come into the house, please! The shape was moving silently, first into the entry, then back inside the yard. He seemed to be pushing something but before Victoria could make out what it was he had disappeared from view into the space beside the coal shed. There came a faint scraping sound, then the back yard door was closed and the bolt shot back into place. Before she had time to wonder why the man had locked himself in, Victoria saw his shape on top of the wall again for a fraction of a second before hearing the soft thud of his feet landing in the entry.

  Victoria’s heart was thumping like mad. Why should someone want to come into her yard? There was nothing there for them to steal, and why go to all the trouble of unbolting the door, then bolting it again after them? It just didn’t make sense! Slowly she made her way back to her bed, but not to sleep. All night she lay awake trying to make sense of what she’d seen. ‘It was probably a big dog!’ she said aloud. ‘I’ve let my imagination run away with me.’ She was comforted by the thought until a voice in her head told her it would have to be a clever dog to open and close the door, and slip the bolt.

  Victoria pulled the sides of her hairnet over her ears. ‘Oh, dear, I’m all mixed up. It all happened so quickly. I’m not really sure now whether I saw anything or not!’

  One thing she was sure of, though, was that the kitchen door would stay firmly bolted tomorrow until Molly came over. Thank goodness Nellie had filled the two coal scuttles, because she wasn’t going down that yard on her own, not for all the tea in China.

  The next morning in the Bennett house, breakfast was a noisy affair. The children were firing questions across the table, first at Jack then at Molly, wanting to know every little detail of the exciting events of the night before. Jill and Doreen had been told briefly that there’d been trouble, but Molly had been so tired by the time they got home, all she wanted to do was go to bed. Tommy had been to the second house pictures with Ginger and had missed the lot. By the time he got in everyone was in bed.

  ‘That’s enough for now.’ Molly’s head was beginning to ache. ‘It’s time yer got yerselves ready for Mass.’

  ‘Mam, tell us again about what Auntie Nellie did.’ There was porridge running down Ruthie’s chin. ‘Just once more, Mam, please?’

  ‘Not now, sunshine. I’ve got a splitting headache. Ask yer dad.’

  ‘No, I want you to tell me,’ Ruthie banged the handle of her spoon on the table, sending splashes of porridge all over the place. ‘You tell it better than me dad.’

  ‘Yeah, go on, Mam,’ Tommy coaxed. ‘I think it’s dead funny.’

  ‘Yer wouldn’t ’ave thought it funny if yer’d been there! That flamin’ woman nearly strangled yer dad!’ The memory of Mrs Bradley hanging on to Jack’s back was enough to send Molly’s pulses racing. ‘Anyway, Corker’s comin’ this afternoon, so yer’ll hear it all over again.’

  Jack shook Ruthie’s arm. ‘Eat up, love, or you’ll be late for Mass. And you three put a move on.’

  ‘Do I ’ave to go to Mass today?’ Tommy knew he was fighting a losing battle, as he did every Sunday, but nevertheless he tried. ‘Can’t I skip it, just this once?’

  Molly glared. ‘Get goin’ before me patience runs out.’ She stood up and began to clear the table. ‘I want to get the dinner over early an’ this place tidied up before Corker comes, so come straight ’ome from church to give us a hand.’

  Jack stood by the kitchen door watching Molly dish the dinner out. ‘What time is Corker coming, did he say?’

  Molly shook her head. ‘As soon as he’s ’ad his dinner, I suppose.’

  Jack was eyeing the plates. ‘Yer’ve got one too many, love.’

  ‘No, it’s my turn for Miss Clegg.’ Molly spooned gravy over the dinners then put the pan back on the stove. ‘Start takin’ them in, love, while I see to Miss Clegg’s.’

  Jack picked up a plate in each hand. ‘Which is which?’

  ‘They’re all the same, except Ruthie’s.’ Molly picked up a plate she had put on one side. ‘I’ll nip over with this.’ She covered the plate with another one, then wrapped a towel around to keep it warm. ‘I won’t be long.’

  Miss Clegg answered the door so quickly Molly guessed she’d been watching from the window. ‘Here yer are, sunshine, a nice bit of shin beef, carrots and turnip and roast tatties.’

  A small card table stood in front of the fire, covered with a white cloth with embroidery at the corners, and beside a knife and fork stood a glass of water. ‘I see yer all ready!’ Molly removed the towel and top plate. ‘Now eat every bit, d’yer hear? Got to keep yer strength up.’

  ‘You’re very kind, I don’t know what I’d do without you and Nellie and Mary.’

  ‘Kind me backside!’ Molly grinned. ‘We only do it so we can swank about our cookin’. Now sit down an’ get stuck in while it’s hot.’

  But Miss Clegg made no move towards her chair. Wringing her hands, she asked, ‘Have you got a minute, Molly?’

  Molly thought of her own dinner going cold, but didn’t let it show on her face. ‘For you, sunshine, I’ve got all the time in the world! Why, is there somethin’ on yer mind?’

  The old lady had been asking herself all morning whether she should tell Molly or not. She’d half convinced herself that she’d been dreaming, but there was that niggle of doubt at the back of her mind that wouldn’t go away. What if it hadn’t been a dream and the person came back? There was no one else she could tell, because once Molly closed the door behind her she wouldn’t see another soul until tomorrow, and it might be too late then. ‘A funny thing happened last night, Molly, and it’s got me worried.’

  ‘Oh, there’s no need to worry, Miss Clegg! There was a fight at the top of the street an’ yer probably heard them shoutin’ and screaming.’

  Victoria nodded. ‘Yes, it was the noise woke me up. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.’

  Molly gazed at the dinner which wasn’t going to be fit to eat if it was left much longer. ‘Let’s put this on the hob, keep it warm for yer.’ She put the extra plate on top and set the dinner down on the hob, near the fire. ‘Now, sit yerself down and tell Auntie Molly all about it.’ Molly’s mind was on her own dinner as Victoria started to speak. It was to be hoped Jack had the sense to put it back in the oven. But as the old woman’s words began to sink in, Molly forgot everything else, her gaze riveted on the lined face. ‘Have yer been in the yard this mornin’, to look?’

  ‘No fear! The door’s been barred and bolted all morning.’

  ‘There’s only one way to find out.’ Molly jumped to her feet and hurried from the room. Victoria heard the two bolts being drawn back, then saw Moll
y passing the window. The seconds ticking away slowly on the big Westminster chiming clock on the sideboard was the only sound breaking the silence. Then Molly came running up the yard, her face agog.

  ‘Well, was there anything?’ Victoria asked. ‘Or am I just a crazy old woman?’

  ‘Yer far from crazy, sunshine!’ Molly sank to her knees and put her arms around the frail shoulders. ‘Yer brilliant, that’s what yer are.’ She kissed the fine white hair before struggling to her feet. ‘Just listen to what I’ve got to tell yer.’

  Victoria wore her hair parted right down the middle from forehead to the nape of her neck. Each side was plaited and wound into a bun at either side of her head, like large earphones. And as Molly explained the reason for the fighting the night before, Victoria kept fingering the buns nervously.

  ‘An’ the bike that caused all the fightin’ is now propped up against your coal shed!’ Molly ended on a high note. ‘It’s unbelievable, bloody unbelievable! Wait till Malcolm Coleman knows he’s got his bike back, he’ll be over the moon!’

  But Victoria didn’t share Molly’s excitement. ‘What if the boy comes back for it? And what made him choose my yard? I don’t even know the family, so why pick on me?’

  Molly frowned. She hadn’t thought of that. Why had they picked on Miss Clegg’s house? She answered her own question. Because they probably know she’s old and lives on her own. The type they are, they’ve more than likely got the whole street sussed out by now. But she couldn’t tell the old lady that, she’d never sleep in her bed again.

  ‘What time did yer go to bed, sunshine?’

  ‘I went early because there was nothing worth listening to on the wireless. I’m not sure, but it must have been before ten.’

  ‘That’s why, then! Your house would be the only one with no lights on!’ Molly tried to keep her tone light, but inside she was filled with mixed emotions. Pleasure for Malcolm getting his bike back, anger at the Bradleys for being thieves, and sadness that they’d upset this dear old lady. ‘They were in a hurry to get rid of the evidence, an’ with your place bein’ in darkness they must ’ave thought the family was out for the night.’