After Hours
Page 36
Duke slung a teatowel over one shoulder. He stuck his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets and took his time. He winked at Annie. ‘What’ll it be?’ he inquired.
‘A pint of best, please, Duke.’ Walter enjoyed every syllable. He watched the action of the pump handle as the old man-drew the clear, amber liquid from the barrel.
‘It’s on the house,’ Duke said, ‘and a Happy Christmas to you.’
‘Down the hatch.’ Walter grinned.
There was another cheer. Grace darted out of the crowd and began to dance around the guest of honour. Soon Rosie O’Hagan followed, and the formality of the welcoming group broke up. Walter found his hand shaken right, left and centre. All the regulars were there: Joe and Arthur, Tommy with another new girl, Charlie talking ten to the dozen about his college course. There were newcomers from the co-op swelling the crowd, and ever more customers walked in off the street at the sound of cheerful celebration.
George and Duke worked as a team, serving pint after pint. Ernie put in a marathon washing-up stint, while Annie and Hettie went round clearing empties. Dolly insisted on music.
‘Scott Joplin!’ one of the girls from Dickins and Jones cried out.
‘Scott who?’ Dolly dug deep into the box of pianola rolls.
‘No, the hokey-cokey!’
‘Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!’
‘Give a girl a chance,’ Dolly muttered. ‘How about this one, “Abide With Me”?’
‘God save us!’ Annie came and turfed her to one side. She delved into the box. ‘“Tipperary”, “Sister Susie”.’ One by one, the wartime favourites were discarded.
‘“Ragtime Infantry”!’ Tommy leaned across and pulled out the roll he wanted. Before anyone could stop him, he slotted it into position and set the pianola playing. He began to march in and out of the tables, followed by Mo, Grace and Rosie, leading them in a raucous chorus, with the pianola thumping out the tune in the background.
‘We are Fred Kjarno’s Army, the ragtime infantry,
We cannot fight, we cannot march, what bleeding good are we?’
‘Tommy!’ Jess stood up to protest, but Maurice grinned and held her back.
‘And when we get to Berlin, the Kaiser he will say,
Hoch, hoch, mein Gott, what a bloody rotten lot
Are the ragtime infantry!’
‘That ain’t nice, Tommy!’ Dolly pretended to be shocked. ‘You little ones, you cover up your ears, you hear!’
Mo clapped both hands to his head and marched on. ‘Hoch, hoch, mein Gott,’ he chanted, while Grace and Mo filled in the rest.
New music soon took over. Sadie, Amy and Frances brought down food on large wooden trays: cheese-straws, sandwiches, pies. The party was in full swing. Soon Walter drifted across to chat to Sadie. She slid her arm around his waist and gave his cheek a kiss, bold as anything. Walter blushed, but he looked like a man whose dreams had come true.
Looking on from across the room, Rob thought that Sadie seemed different; less cocksure somehow, and more gentle. She was still pretty enough to turn heads, though.
He turned to Amy. ‘Is Bobby asleep?’
She nodded. ‘In Sadie’s old room, with Meggie. They’ve got their heads on the pillow like two little angels. Come up and take a look.’ She could tell he wanted to.
They crept upstairs hand-in-hand to view the sleeping children, and afterwards stayed in the old living-room, listening to the laughter and music rise.
Duke had taken his eyes off Walter and Sadie for a moment to watch Rob and Amy go upstairs. He glanced round the bar at the joking, laughing crowd, caught sight of Frances and Billy sitting talking to Edith Cooper. He spotted Jess, and remembered the family would soon have to bear another split when Maurice took them off to Manchester, and good luck to them. Sadie caught his eye and smiled. She passed more empty glasses to Ernie. ‘Here,’ Annie said, shoving Ernie along. ‘Let a dog see the rabbit.’ Soon she was up to her elbows in soap suds, helping him get through the work.
George went down and tapped two new barrels. He rolled the old ones off the gantry and stood them on end. At this rate they’d need to re-order before the end of the week. He came up from the cellar and grinned at Duke.
‘You seen the time, Duke?’ Annie finished at the sink and glanced at the clock above the till. ‘Time for last orders.’
‘Let’s give them just a few more minutes,’ he suggested, reluctant to break things up. The music was still in full swing, the party at its height.
‘Duke Parsons!’ Annie gave him the full force of her most severe stare. ‘If you don’t go and put them towels over them pumps, I’ll do it myself!’
He grumbled, but he knew she was right. ‘Time, gentlemen, please!’ he called in his gravelly voice.
Slowly they drank up and wished Duke and George goodnight. ‘Never thought we’d live to see the day.’ Arthur shook Duke’s hand and slapped his shoulder.
‘O ye of little faith!’ Dolly quoted. She pulled him from the bar: ‘Bleeding limpet,’ she complained. Then she hooked her arm through Arthur’s and turned for a final say. ‘We all knew you’d get back where you belong, Duke!’
He turned and thanked them. ‘Come along now. Time, gents!’
The noise died. The doors swung and closed until the pub stood empty. The family left Duke to lock up and went upstairs. He slotted the bolts into position, taking a moment to look around the old place, hearing last orders echo down the years.
Copyright
First published in 1996 by Macmillan
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After Hours