by Jonker, Joan
‘Thank you, Bessie, I’d love to be with my friend. And I don’t think I’m being selfish, I know my daughter would much prefer to spend Christmas with you and your friends.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
On the Monday of Christmas week, Bessie spent her dinner break going into town to buy material for the two dresses she had to make for the holidays. If she didn’t put a move on they wouldn’t be made in time, and then she’d have no present for Milly or a decent dress for herself. There was no time for her to dawdle in the big store, so she headed straight to the material department. Thankfully there were few customers, for most people who were able to make their own clothes would have allowed themselves more time than she had. Still, she was working every day and couldn’t be in two places at once.
As she approached the long counter covered with bales of material of all colours, her eyes lighted on a roll of crêpe in a lovely warm deep wine colour. That’s for me, she said to herself, just what I had in mind. She beckoned one of the assistants over and asked her for three yards, which was ample for her with her small, slim figure. While the assistant was busy, she walked along the counter, eyes searching for a colour which would suit Milly. And then she spotted it. A soft green, the same colour as Milly’s eyes. It was in a linen material, medium thickness, which would be suitable for wear in summer or winter. She could make a small round collar in white, which would set it off nicely. So the assistant was asked to cut two yards off, and would she kindly wrap both materials together to make it easier for Bessie to carry?
Once out of the shop, she hurried to the tram stop. She’d be hard pushed to get back to her sewing machine before the buzzer sounded, but she wouldn’t get into trouble for she was otherwise always punctual and never took time off. Her tummy was rumbling with hunger, but it would have to rumble until she got back to work. She’d brought two sandwiches in with her and had left them on her machine, covered by a roll of cloth. She’d have to wait until her boss had his back turned or was out of sight in his office before she could eat them. Anyway, she was feeling so pleased with her purchases she wouldn’t be upset if she got told off.
Once settled on the tram, Bessie let her body sway from side to side with the movement, as her mind drifted over the latest events. Life was good right now with everything ordered for the hampers, which would be picked up by the very happy recipients on the morning of Christmas Eve, about ten o’clock, to give the butcher time to have them delivered. When Bessie had first told her neighbours in the street, a few days ago, their faces showed they didn’t believe her. They took some convincing at first, for nobody had ever offered them a helping hand before. Then she’d been hugged and kissed so much she expected to be bruised all over. But it would have been worth it just to see a smile on the thin faces of these careworn women who had been dreading Christmas without even money for food, let alone presents for their children. And what mother doesn’t want to see the happiness on their children’s faces when they think Father Christmas has been and left them a present?
Bessie was brought out of her reverie by the conductor dinging the bell to warn the driver there were passengers wanting to alight at the next stop. When she glanced through the window she saw it was hers. She picked up the paper bag with the material in, and clung to the back of each of the seats between her and the platform. She swung herself down on to the pavement with a smile on her face when she remembered there were only five more days to go. She’d have to move fast to have the two dresses finished, but she’d get there. Once she started she’d go like the clappers.
Rita was taking a flat iron off the gas stove when she heard the entry door latch slotting into place. ‘Oh, no,’ she groaned aloud, ‘I was hoping to get these finished and out of the way before the kids come in from school.’ Putting the iron back on the gas ring, she lifted the net curtain and saw Aggie walking up the back yard. But it wasn’t the same Aggie she was used to seeing, with untidy hair, stained pinny and stockings crumpled round her ankles. Oh, no, this Aggie was walking with the air of someone of note, her head held high and bust standing to attention. Rita didn’t bother opening the door, she knew her neighbour would walk in without knocking. So she quickly picked up the iron, pretending she hadn’t seen anything.
Aggie shut the door behind her and waited for her mate to notice her. ‘Busy are yer, queen? I see yer pressing the boys’ trousers.’
Rita didn’t look up. ‘Yeah, I want to get them out of the way before they come in from school. I’ve done the best I can with their shirts, and they look quite presentable, so that’ll be them finished.’ She was dying to look up, could imagine her mate getting all hot and bothered by this time. But Rita told herself to wait and see what Aggie would do to draw attention to herself.
‘I’ve pressed Kenny’s trousers and Kitty’s dress, and put them away in the wardrobe so they won’t see them. And I’ve done me own dress as well.’ Aggie was indeed getting all hot and bothered. She’d gone to the trouble of dolling herself up to the nines, and her mate hadn’t even looked at her! ‘Have yer pressed your dress yet?’
‘Yeah, I did mine first.’ Rita didn’t turn a hair, just kept on pressing even though she knew she wasn’t making a ha’porth of difference to the trousers because the iron had gone cool. ‘It’s come up a treat, looks really nice on me.’
That did it for Aggie. ‘Well, you miserable cow! I suppose yer’ve put yer dress away in the wardrobe without letting me see it on yer, have yer? That’s dead mean of yer, that is, seeing as I’ve gone to the trouble of coming to show yer what mine looks like on.’
Rita was chuckling inside. ‘It looks very nice on yer, sunshine, dead smart.’
‘How would yer know that, smart arse, when yer can’t even be bothered to turn yer head to see what I look like?’
‘I heard the entry door go, sunshine, and lifted the curtain to see who it was. And, to my complete and utter amazement, I see a stranger walking up the yard.’ Rita put the iron back on the stove. ‘I had to look twice, and it was only seeing the blue fleecy-lined bloomers that I realised it was me mate and not Ethel Barrymore.’
Aggie bent down. ‘My bloomers are not showing, clever clogs, ’cos I’ve put new elastic in the legs. So ye’re not so smart, after all.’
‘Take no notice of me, Aggie, ’cos I’m only jealous. Here’s me, looking like a scullery maid, and you dressed to kill. I was taken aback, I can tell yer, jealousy eating at the very heart of me. In fact it was worse than jealousy, it was envy. And as yer know, envy is one of the deadly sins.’
‘All right, all right, queen, yer’ve had yer twopennyworth of fun now so let’s have a bit of honesty out of yer. How d’yer like me dress, and does it look nice on me?’
‘Aggie, yer really look great. The dress suits yer, it fits yer curves as though it’s been made for yer, and it makes yer look a lot thinner. Ye’re never likely to get such a good bargain in yer life again. When yer go out in that, with yer new coat on, the neighbours will think there’s a new family moved into the street.’ Rita kissed her on the cheek. ‘Just wait until Sam sees yer, his eyes will pop out of his head.’
Aggie’s chuckle should have warned her neighbour. ‘It’s not his eyes I’m after, queen, my thoughts are a bit lower down.’
‘Don’t you say another word, Aggie Gordon, or yer’ll be sorry.’ Rita wagged a stiffened finger under her friend’s nose. ‘Ye’re likely to end up on yer backside in the yard, and that wouldn’t do yer posh dress much good.’
Aggie managed to look aggrieved. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Rita Wells. Ye’re a married woman, like meself, have had two kids, like meself, and yer husband must have got the same parts to his body as mine has.’ She stopped as a thought apparently entered her head, gave a little nod then went on, ‘Mind you, your feller might have the same number of parts, but it doesn’t mean his are the same size as my feller’s. And I’m just beginning to see why yer haven’t got no sense of humour, and never laugh when I tell yer a dirty joke. T
hat’s why there’s never a smile on yer gob in the mornings when I come in full of the joys of spring after a night of passion.’ Oh, how Aggie’s thoughts ran ahead of her. She’d bring a smile to her mate’s face if it killed her. ‘Yer know, I always thought we were good friends, helping each other out in times of trouble. So it makes me feel really sad that yer have suffered in silence instead of sharing yer troubles with me.’
‘What troubles?’ Rita asked, while knowing full well she was walking into a trap. ‘I haven’t got no troubles, what are yer on about?’
‘Yer can tell me, queen, yer know yer can trust me not to tell no one. And I’m the best person to ask about any problems ye’re going through in the bedroom department. Yer shouldn’t just lie there, gazing at the ceiling and thinking of England, when yer could be having the time of yer life. My feller sends thrills up and down me spine, has me crying out with desire, and takes me on a journey to heaven and back. Yer just don’t know what ye’re missing, queen, yer really don’t.’
‘Ah, but that’s the point, sunshine, I don’t miss it. Not one tiny cry or scream, not one plea for more, not one creak or twang of the bedsprings. And many’s the night me and Reg have lain there listening to Sam pleading, “Ah, not again, girl, I’m worn out! It’s all right for you, sitting on yer backside all day, but I’ve just put in a day’s hard work, I haven’t got the energy. Now turn on yer side and behave yerself until Saturday night.”’
But Rita should have known she couldn’t get the better of her mate. For as Aggie stood there with a look on her face that could have been anger or horror, she was actually using the time to think of a really good answer. ‘D’yer mean you and Reg lie there and listen to our private conversation? Yer have no right to listen in, queen, that’s being nosy.’
‘Aggie, sunshine, once you get in yer bedroom, nothing is private because yer’ve got such a loud voice. If yer don’t want to be heard, keep it down.’
‘Ah, is that why we never hear you and Reg enjoying yerselves? D’yer put gags in yer mouth, so we can’t hear yer?’ Aggie dropped her head. ‘It just goes to show, yer never really know who yer bleeding friends are.’ She began to click her tongue. ‘Yer’ve really taken me by surprise, queen, I’m cut to the quick. I mean, fancy your Reg lying there, listening to me pleading and not coming to my aid.’
Rita chuckled, ‘How could he come to yer aid when yer were in bed with yer husband?’
‘Yeah, I know all that, queen, but Reg knew my feller wasn’t up to it, and knowing I was desperate, he could have come and taken over. I mean, he’s a good mate of Sam’s, he could have helped him out. Sam would have appreciated it.’ Aggie saw Rita walking towards her with a very stern expression on her face, and tried to reason with her. ‘One man is as good as another in a dark room, queen, and you would have gained from it, too! I’ve got a few tricks up me sleeve I could have taught Reg, and yer’d be surprised how much more exciting yer love life would have been. You and your feller wouldn’t be lying there like dummies every night, listening to me and Sam enjoying ourselves, ’cos yer’d be too busy trying out the new tricks I’d taught him.’
Her face deadpan, Rita lifted the latch on the kitchen door. ‘On yer way, sunshine, I’ve got too much to do to listen to what yer get up to in yer bedroom. So yer can just poppy off.’
Aggie’s jaw dropped. ‘Yer mean I get all dolled up in me new dress, comb me ruddy hair, and I don’t even get asked if I want a cup of tea? Ye’re taking yer spite out on me ’cos yer don’t like hearing what goes on in me bedroom?’
Rita shook her head. ‘No, that’s not the reason I’m throwing yer out, sunshine, it’s because yer were prepared to tell my Reg the secret of your fantastic love life, instead of telling me.’ She couldn’t keep her face straight any longer, her cheeks were aching. ‘It’s me what’s supposed to be yer mate, not my Reg.’
Aggie pushed her friend aside and rushed into the living room before Rita could stop her. ‘For one cup of tea, with a spoonful of sugar in, I will sit here and tell yer everything yer want to know about how to make your feller a happy man.’
Rita closed the back door and faced her mate. ‘Yer know I don’t like bad language or crude words, don’t yer? So before yer get a cup of tea, I want yer to promise that what yer tell me will be really romantic, with no crude words about body parts.’
As she looked up at her neighbour, Aggie was thinking to herself that this cup of tea was going to be hard come by. How could she explain what went on in bed if she was stuck with making it romantic, and no crude words about body parts? Blimey, there was only one body part needed to give yer thrills of excitement, so if she couldn’t be crude, what could she call it? Oh, she’d think of something while the kettle was boiling. ‘All right, queen, yer’ve got yerself a deal.’
Rita was doubled up with silent laughter as she put the kettle on the stove. Many’s the night her and Reg, lying in bed, had been convulsed as they listened to the antics of their neighbours. Not so much Sam as Aggie, who didn’t know how to keep her voice down. And how she was going to tell Rita now about making love, without using crude words … well, she couldn’t wait to find out. Particularly one part of Sam’s anatomy that seemed to be Aggie’s favourite, and for which she had several names.
The kettle began to whistle and Rita reached for a cloth to cover her hand from the steam as she poured the boiling water into the teapot. Perhaps she shouldn’t encourage her friend, she might hear more than she’d bargained for. And it wouldn’t be fair to encourage her then tell her off if her language, natural to her, was objectionable to Rita. No, it wasn’t fair to do that to a good mate and neighbour.
‘Here yer are, sunshine, a cup of nice, sweet tea. And I managed to find two biscuits, so there’s one in yer saucer.’ Rita put the cups down on the table. ‘And I’ve decided not to charge yer, seeing as it’s Christmas week. And I don’t mean charge yer as in money, but as in yer telling me the story of yer love life. So drink up and enjoy yerself.’
When Aggie’s bottom hit the chair, her bosom hit the table at the same time. ‘Oh, thank God for that, queen, ’cos I’ve been racking me bleeding brain on how to tell yer something without using any bad words. And if I’d tried to describe things by using me hands instead of words, I know yer’d have clocked me one.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I can enjoy me cup of tea now, and me biscuit, even though it is two halves of a broken one. I’m not fussy, queen, I’m dead easy to please. And I’m not going to dunk the biscuit for long in case a piece drops off, like it usually does with me. I don’t want to get a stain on me good dress ’cos I won’t have time to wash it again before the big day.’
Rita watched with her heart in her mouth as Aggie picked up half a biscuit in her chubby hand and held it in the hot tea. Please God, don’t let her ruin her dress, she hasn’t got another one. I know she’s not always as pure as she should be, but she doesn’t mean no harm, she’s really got a good heart. Then came a sigh of relief as the biscuit was taken from the tea and carried to Aggie’s mouth with one hand, while her other was held below in case of an accident.
Aggie chuckled. ‘Yer can breathe now, queen, the mission was accomplished with no accidents. But I don’t think I’ll dunk the other one, it’s not worth the risk. It would break me bleeding heart if I messed me dress up before my feller sees it. It’s only once in a blue moon he sees me looking decent, and I can’t wait to see his face.’
‘I’ll bet yer a pound to a pinch of snuff he’ll grab hold of yer and hug yer so close yer’ll be gasping for breath.’
‘D’yer think so, queen?’ Aggie lowered her head a little so her friend wouldn’t see her lips twitching. ‘Ay, I don’t suppose yer’d do us a favour on Christmas morning, would yer?’
‘Oh, I don’t think so, sunshine, there’ll be too much to do here. Can’t it wait for some other time, like Boxing Day?’
‘Not really, queen, the mood would have worn off by then.’
Rita pursed her lips and wagged her head from side t
o side. ‘I don’t know why I always give in to yer, sunshine, but yer never fail to get round me. What is it yer want me to do for yer, and how long will it take? Don’t forget I’ve got the dinner to see to.’
‘Twenty minutes should do it, and I’d be really grateful to yer, queen.’
‘What do yer want me to do in that twenty minutes?’
‘Mind the kids for us. They wouldn’t be in the way, they’d play with your two.’
‘But where are you and Sam going? Yer didn’t tell me yer were going out.’
‘Oh, we wouldn’t be going far, queen, only up the stairs to the bedroom.’ Aggie banged the table so hard it lifted the cups out of the saucers. ‘Oh, if yer could only see yer face, yer’d die laughing. And I can tell, without yer saying, that yer won’t be minding the kids for us on Christmas morning. I’m surprised, really, ’cos I’d rather have twenty minutes with my feller, than the present yer’ve bought for me.’
‘I haven’t bought yer no present, Aggie Gordon, and well yer know it. Where would I get the money from to be buying you a present?’
Aggie spread her hands out as though asking for understanding, while inside she was having a good laugh. ‘Yer couldn’t buy me a better present than giving me twenty minutes alone with my feller. And it wouldn’t cost yer a farthing either. Won’t yer at least give it some thought? It would put me in a good mood for the rest of the day, and I’d go through me work like a dose of Andrews’ Little Liver Pills.’
Rita looked in Aggie’s cup to make sure it was empty before she spoke. Then she pushed her chair back and took her neighbour’s elbow. ‘I’ll help yer up, sunshine, then let’s see yer going through my kitchen door as fast as yer can, without the help of Andrews’ Little Liver Pills. That’ll get yer in practice for Christmas morning.’
With Rita helping her along, Aggie seemed to bounce across the living-room floor. ‘Call yerself a friend! I bet I’d get more sympathy from her in number twenty-two.’