MB02 - Last Tram To Lime Street

by Joan Jonker

  ‘But they must intend coming back for it, mustn’t they?’

  ‘I’m not a detective, Miss Clegg, but I think they intended comin’ back for it last night, when they thought everyone would be in bed. But Corker put a spoke in their wheel an’ they were probably too frightened to come for it. He told everyone in the street to watch their house, back an’ front, an’ he said it loud enough for the Bradleys to hear.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Victoria cried. ‘I’m not used to this, it’s a terrible way to live.’

  ‘There’s no need to get yerself upset about it, they don’t know you from Adam, wouldn’t know yer if they fell over yer. It was just pure chance that they picked on your place. An’ there’ll be no need for them to come back, I can put yer mind at rest on that score. Malcolm will get his bike back this afternoon an’ Corker will take great delight in telling the Bradleys.’ Molly rose to her feet. ‘I’ll ’ave to get back, but I’ll be over later with Jack or Corker, an’ we’ll take the bike.’ Using the towel, Molly carried the plate from the hob and set it in front of Victoria. ‘Yer’ve put a halt to the gallop of those thieves an’ they’ll think twice about tryin’ to pull a stunt like that again. Yer’ll be a hero in the street after this, you mark my words.’

  Victoria’s lashes fluttered coyly. ‘I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘Oh, but yes yer have! If you hadn’t been brave enough to go to the window to see what was goin’ on, heaven only knows whether we’d ever ’ave seen the bike again.’ Molly picked up the knife and fork and held them out. ‘Get on with yer dinner now an’ I’ll see yer later.’

  At the door, Molly turned. The old lady was cutting into a roast potato and she looked more contented than she had done earlier. But Molly didn’t feel contented, she felt angry. Those Bradleys certainly knew who to target. First Corker’s mother, now Miss Clegg. Something had to be done to stop them, but what?

  ‘Victoria!’

  Miss Clegg looked up in surprise. ‘Yes?’

  ‘It is Sunday, so I can call yer by yer Sunday name.’ There was tenderness in Molly’s smile. ‘D’yer want to know somethin’?’

  ‘Only if it’s something nice.’ The wrinkles deepened as Victoria returned Molly’s smile. ‘I’ve had enough unpleasant things happen to last me a lifetime.’

  ‘Oh, it’s nice all right. I just wanted to say that not only are yer a hero in my eyes, but a little love into the bargain.’

  Chapter Eight

  On Sunday afternoon Molly’s living room resembled a board meeting. The surroundings may have been less opulent, but to the neighbours sitting around her table the subject under discussion was as important to them as the fluctuating price of cotton would be to directors of an importing company.

  Two wooden chairs had been brought down from the bedrooms so all the grown-ups were able to sit around the table, while the children perched on any surface they could find. Only Ruthie was missing. For the first time in her life she had to be sent out to play under protest. She knew something was afoot and didn’t want to miss it. But she was a very talkative child and anything she heard would be all over the street in no time.

  Corker had called for Ellen on his way down, Nellie and George were there, and Barney Coleman and Malcolm had been sent for. The house hadn’t been built to accommodate such a crowd and Molly’s table wasn’t big enough for eight pairs of elbows to rest on in comfort. But no one cared about the crush or discomfort as they voiced their suggestions on how to deal with the return of Malcolm’s bike so it would have the maximum impact on the Bradleys.

  The bike was now propped up against the wall in Molly’s yard, brought there by Corker who had made a detour through all the back alleys so he wouldn’t be seen.

  ‘Why don’t we just walk up there, bold as brass, an’ tell them we know all about their little game?’ Nellie didn’t believe in messing around. Go straight for the jugular, that was her motto.

  ‘No! I don’t want to get Miss Clegg involved!’ Molly gave a determined shake of her head. ‘She’s frightened as it is, an’ I promised we wouldn’t let on where we got the bike from.’

  ‘They’ll flamin’ well know where we got it from!’ Nellie snorted. ‘They put the ruddy thing there!’

  ‘That doesn’t mean they know about Miss Clegg.’ Corker tapped his fingers on the table. ‘Like Molly said, her house was the only one without a light on, an’ I’ll bet a pound to a pinch of snuff that the young cocky feller had every intention of goin’ back for it when everyone was in bed. The only reason he didn’t was because he knew every eye in the street was on him.’

  Corker passed his cigarette packet to Jack, then after he’d lit both cigarettes, he turned to Molly. ‘When I was in the entry I noticed none of the yard doors ’ave numbers on them, an’ I wondered how he’d recognise the door again. I’d just come to the conclusion that he must have counted the number of doors as he went back up the entry, when something caught me eye.’ Corker drew hard on his cigarette as he gazed around the table. ‘It was a little chalk mark, in the shape of a cross, near the latch.’ He heard gasps from his audience and grinned. ‘He’s a cunning little bugger, that Bradley lad. Had it all worked out, or so he thought.’

  ‘Oh dear, that means he’ll go back to Miss Clegg’s.’ Molly bit on her bottom lip. ‘D’yer know, I’ll break ’is neck if I find he’s been near her.’

  ‘Not to worry, Molly me darlin’, he’ll ’ave a helluva job to find her house again.’ A deep throaty chuckle came from between Corker’s moustache and beard. ‘Young Bella was playin’ hopscotch outside her house, so I borrowed her piece of chalk. Now every door in that entry has a cross on it, in exactly the same place, under the latches.’

  When Nellie started to laugh, her enormous tummy lifted the table, and the legs hovered inches from the floor until the weight of her heavy bosom anchored it again. ‘Corker, yer a flamin’ genius! Yer deserve a bloody medal for thinkin’ of that!’

  The room was ringing with laughter and it was a while before order was restored. ‘Come on.’ Corker banged his huge fist on the table. ‘This isn’t goin’ to get the baby a new coat, so let’s get down to business. Anybody got any suggestions to make? If so, spit them out an’ we’ll see which one we think is the best. How about you, Barney?’

  ‘Anythin’ you decide will be all right with me, Corker. I think the Bradleys should be taught a lesson, and if it was up to me I’d belt the father, ’cos he’s the one should take the blame. Yer can’t tell me he didn’t know the bike was in his yard.’

  Malcolm was silent as he listened to the grown-ups. He’d spent most of the night crying, because the bike had been the first one he’d ever owned, and he loved it. It was second hand when his mother bought it him for Christmas, and it had been in a sorry state, all rusty and peeling paintwork. But he’d worked on it every spare minute he had, rubbing and polishing until his hands were sore. And just when he had it shining like new, it had been stolen from him. He never thought he’d see it again, so when he heard it was in the Bennetts’ yard it felt like Christmas all over again.

  Ideas were being aired and chewed over. Going to the police had been George’s suggestion, but that was turned down because if the police were called Miss Clegg would be involved. And confronting the Bradleys was dismissed for the same reason. They couldn’t make accusations without mentioning what the old lady had seen.

  ‘What about you, Jack?’ Corker asked. ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘I can’t see how we can do much about it, certainly as far as punishing them goes. I know what I’d do if it was up to me, but I don’t think any of yer would agree with me.’

  ‘We’ve not come up with anythin’ so far that we’re all in agreement with, Jack, so let’s hear what you think.’

  Jack lowered his head and laid his palms flat on the table. ‘I’d give Malcolm his bike back and let ’im ride it in the street.’

  ‘What?’ every voice cried in unison, registering varying degrees of surprise and shock. Even the child
ren seemed stunned as they scrambled from their seats to stand by the table.

  ‘Let them get away with it, Jack?’ Corker asked, his voice quiet. ‘Just like that?’

  ‘No, Corker, not just like that. Listen …’

  ‘As soon as we’ve gone, will yer take these chairs upstairs an’ call our Ruthie in?’ Molly struggled into her coat. ‘An’ don’t let her out no matter how much she creates.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mam, I’ll see to her.’ Jill smiled. ‘I wish you luck.’

  ‘And I’ll help tidy up.’ Doreen’s eyes were shining. Fancy her dad being so clever! ‘Hurry back an’ let’s know what happens.’

  Jack tied the woollen muffler around his neck. ‘Are we ready then?’

  Corker nodded before glancing at Malcolm. ‘Are yer sure yer know what to say, son?’

  ‘Yeah, Sinbad! I think it’s a great idea.’

  ‘Not frightened of them, are yer?’

  ‘Nah!’ Knowing that this giant would be watching every move gave Malcolm the courage of a lion. ‘They don’t scare me.’

  Barney took his son’s arm. ‘We’ll go down your entry to the main road, up the next street, then down the top of our entry so we won’t have to pass their house. Give us a quarter of an hour, then Malcolm will wheel his bike out and ride it up and down.’

  ‘I’ll come with yez and call at Ginger’s.’ Tommy found all this cloak-and-dagger stuff very exciting. ‘I’ll stand by the window an’ the first sign of trouble I’ll be out like a shot.’

  ‘Ay, you!’ Molly shook a warning finger. ‘Don’t you dare start anythin’ or yer’ll have me to answer to.’

  ‘Come on, get a move on.’ Jack sounded impatient. ‘It’ll be dark before we know it.’

  The look of happiness on Malcolm’s face as he gripped the handlebars was a joy to behold. And as he preceded his father into the entry he appeared to grow six inches in stature. He’d learned his lesson the hard way. Never again would anyone get a chance to steal his beloved bike. He’d save all his pocket money and buy a lock and chain.

  ‘This is where we part company.’ Molly closed the entry door behind her. ‘We’ll see yez later.’

  ‘Okay and thanks, Molly.’ Barney nodded to where his son was walking ahead with Tommy. ‘Yer’ve put the smile back on his face.’

  ‘Away with yer! It’s Miss Clegg yer should be thankin’, not me.’

  ‘And I’ll be doing that too! Get today over, an’ I’ll give her a call.’ Barney set off after his son. ‘See yer later.’

  Nellie linked her arm through her husband’s as they set off in the opposite direction. ‘Ay, this is like one of them Edward G. Robinson films.’

  ‘You an’ yer flamin’ film stars!’ Molly, walking behind with Jack, chuckled. ‘Ay, George, yer wife likes tough guys, like James Cagney an’ Edward G. Robinson. Yer want to try knockin’ her around, she’ll think more of yer.’

  ‘I wouldn’t try if I were you, George.’ Corker was bringing up the rear with Ellen. ‘One swipe off Nellie an’ yer’d be out for the count.’

  George turned his head, a wide smile creasing his face. ‘I only ever hit her once, an’ she belted me back.’ He touched his thinning hair. ‘I’ve still got the scar to prove it. I know when I’m beat, so I never tried it again.’

  The look of astonishment on Lizzie Corkhill’s face when they all trooped in turned to one of dismay. Oh dear, she wasn’t expecting visitors and didn’t have enough cakes to go around this lot. Then she remembered the nice boiled ham she had on a plate in the larder, and cheered up. At least she could offer them a sandwich and a chocolate wafer biscuit. ‘Sit yerselves down,’ Lizzie fussed, shaking cushions and pulling chairs forward. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’

  Ellen felt most uncomfortable. This was the first time she’d been in Corker’s house and her nerves were gone. She knew his mother, of course, hadn’t they lived in the same street for years? But they’d been neighbours, nothing more. And although Corker said his mother had no objection to him being friends with her, Ellen had her doubts. What mother would want her son to be knocking around with a married woman? ‘I hope you don’t mind us barging in on yer like this, Mrs Corkhill?’ Ellen sounded as nervous as she felt. ‘We won’t stay long.’

  ‘You’ll stay an’ have a cup of tea.’ Lizzie Corkhill couldn’t help feeling sorry for Ellen. She was a nice little thing, but if only she weren’t married! ‘I’m glad to see you, and you’re all more than welcome. But I don’t need a crystal ball to tell me there’s more to this than meets the eye.’

  ‘You’re right, Ma, as usual.’ From his position by the window, Corker began explaining the plot they’d hatched. He was halfway through when he turned and grinned at them. ‘First part of the operation gone according to plan. I can see your Tommy standing by the window of ’is mate’s house.’

  Lizzie tutted. ‘You’ve seen too many detective pictures.’

  ‘There y’are!’ Nellie wriggled her button of a nose. ‘I told yez it was like a gangster film.’

  ‘I’d be glad to see the back of that family,’ Lizzie said. ‘They’re a bad lot.’

  ‘They won’t bother you no more, Mrs C.’ Jack winked at her. ‘Not now they’ve seen the size of yer son.’

  ‘Makes no matter,’ Lizzie huffed. ‘The street would be a better place without the likes of them.’

  ‘I agree, sunshine!’ Molly stood up. ‘Let’s you an’ me make a nice cup of tea, eh?’

  ‘Come here, quick!’ Corker jerked his head. ‘Malcolm’s just bringin’ his bike out.’

  The first one to reach the window was Lizzie. The last one was Nellie. She’d been daft enough to sit in a low chair and couldn’t get up. It took a hefty jerk from George to dislodge her.

  Joyce Bradley and her younger sister, Clare, were playing with a rubber ball, bouncing it from one to the other. Joyce was facing up the street and was the first to see Malcolm wheeling his bike out. She gaped in surprise, missing the ball Clare had bounced her way.

  ‘Why didn’t yer catch it, yer daft thing?’ Clare watched the ball speeding up the street, then stuck her tongue out at her sister. ‘Yer needn’t think I’m runnin’ after it, ’cos I’m not, so there!’

  ‘Oh, shut yer gob!’ Joyce said, before flying into the house as though the devil was on her heels.

  Malcolm pedalled down the street, turned and rode back. He was passing the Bradley house when the son, Brian, came out with his sister. They watched in amazement as Malcolm rode towards the top of the street then the boy bent his head to whisper something to Joyce, who turned and ran back into the house.

  Tommy’s friend Ginger had spread the word to all the neighbours, so behind every curtain eyes were watching the proceedings. Unaware that he had an audience, Brian lolled against the wall until Malcolm was on his way back down the street. Then, timing it nicely, he stepped into the road just as Malcolm came abreast of him and grabbed the handlebars. Anticipating what was going to happen, Malcolm tightened his hold on the handlebars and leaned to one side to gain a foothold on the ground.

  ‘Got yer bike back, eh?’

  The sneering expression on Brian’s face would have scared the younger boy if he hadn’t known Sinbad was watching and could be by his side in seconds. The knowledge gave him the courage to stay calm and remember exactly what he’d been told. ‘Not blind, are yer?’

  Enraged, the Bradley boy began to shake the bike violently. ‘Who told yer where it was, eh?’

  ‘What’s it got to do with you?’ Malcolm asked, struggling to keep his foot on the ground. ‘It’s none of your business.’

  ‘I asked yer who told yer, an’ if yer’ve got any sense in that thick ’ead of yours, yer’ll answer me question, or else.’

  ‘An’ I told yer it’s none of yer business.’

  ‘I’m makin’ it me bleedin’ business.’ Once more the bike was pushed and pulled. ‘If yer know what’s good for yer, yer’ll tell me what I want to know. Now, where did yer get the bike from?
’

  Before Malcolm had time to answer, Mr Bradley appeared by his son’s side. ‘What’s goin’ on?’

  Brian turned his head. ‘He won’t tell me where ’e got it from. Had the bleedin’ cheek to tell me it was none of me business.’

  ‘Oh, clever bugger, are yer?’ Mr Bradley’s tone was menacing as he put his hand on the crossbar. ‘Now, where did yer get it an’ who told yer?’

  Malcolm could feel his skin tingling with fear but he didn’t let it show. He did wish someone would put in an appearance, though, ’cos by the look on the man’s face he was in for a hiding. ‘It’s got nothin’ to do with you, so mind yer own business.’

  ‘Yer little bleeder!’ The man’s hand left the crossbar to grip Malcolm’s arm. ‘I’ve a good mind to …’ His words were cut off when his son elbowed him.

  ‘Watch out, Dad,’ Brian said under his breath, ‘we’ve got company.’

  Mr Bradley took his eyes off Malcolm and his jaw dropped when he saw Corker and Jack coming towards them, followed by Molly and Nellie. But it was the sight of the big man that brought about a rapid change in his attitude. The anger on his face was replaced by a smile that revealed yellow, rotting teeth. ‘I was just tellin’ the lad how glad we are he’s got ’is bike back.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Corker looked down from his great height. ‘I’ve been watching from the window an’ I could see how pleased yer were.’

  Feeling brave again, Malcolm glared at the boy, who was still holding on to the handlebars. ‘Take yer hands off me bike.’

  Brian removed his hands so fast you’d have thought the bike was on fire. ‘I was tellin’ ’im how lucky he was, like.’ Apart from the bad teeth, Brian was the spitting image of his father. Long greasy hair reaching down to his shoulders, a sickly complexion and shifty eyes. They looked as though they were used to living rough, like gypsies or tramps. ‘I was askin’ ’im who told … er … I mean, ’ow he managed to get it back.’