Molly, however, knew she really should make an effort and get up off her backside a bit sharpish and help her mum before she was asked. Still having failed to do what she knew she really should – choose between Bob and Simon – Molly had enough potential trouble brewing without adding to it by being lazy, further antagonising her mum and risking being kept in over the weekend. That was a complication she didn’t need. So Molly hauled herself up from the table and went over to the sink where Katie was digging away at the porridge-encrusted bottom of the big black enamel stew pan.
‘Shove over, Mum,’ Molly said. ‘I’ll do that.’
‘I’d rather yer went down Chris Street for me,’ said Katie wearily, her words coming out in jerks as she dug at the pot.
‘Course,’ Molly said, putting on a smile. ‘I’ll get Liz to come with me, we’ll get it done in no time. And tell yer what, we’ll take them little ones with us and all. Get ’em out from under yer feet for a couple of hours.’
‘I ain’t going shopping with no girls,’ Michael sneered indignantly.
‘Good,’ puffed Katie, still trying to loosen the hardened oats. ‘That means you and Timmy can go and fetch the coke from Levens Road for me. We’re down to the last few bits and I don’t want that Kitchener going out in this freezing weather.’
‘Aw, Mum!’ Michael wailed. ‘Yer know I hate going down Levens Road.’
‘Cheek yer mother and yer’ll be sorry,’ said Pat, snapping his morning paper back into a neat fold. Just because he and Katie weren’t exactly on good terms, didn’t mean he’d tolerate the kids being lippy to their mother.
Michael paid no heed to his father’s warning. ‘Why can’t Sean do it?’
‘Because she didn’t ask me, that’s why,’ Sean snarled.
‘Who’s she, the cat’s mother?’ Michael replied, adding a curl of his lip at his big brother for good measure.
Michael would have been better served keeping his eye on his dad, because then he might have dodged in time to avoid Pat’s hand as it flicked across the table and caught him squarely on the ear.
Molly rolled her eyes at her mum in a gesture that she hoped would unite them against all the male bickering that was going on, then she turned to face her brothers and proclaimed nobly, ‘I’ll get the coke for yer, Mum, when I’ve finished the shopping.’
Katie frowned at this sudden spate of goodwill. ‘What you after?’
‘Do I have to be after something, just ’cos I’ve offered to run a couple of errands for yer?’ Molly asked without a trace of shame.
Katie was going to reply that from her experience lately it seemed more than likely, but she was interrupted by the kitchen door being opened and Nora walking in.
‘For goodness’ sake,’ Nora said, throwing up her hands in a dramatic double wave. ‘I’ll do it. I’ll go to Levens Road for yer.’ She sat herself down at the table and weighed the teapot, checking if there was enough left in it for a decent cupful. ‘Yer do know I could hear all yer rowing from next door, don’t yer? And me doors and windows are all shut tight against the cold. Thank God yer live on the corner and have got no next-door neighbours but me.’ She emptied the grounds from Timmy’s cup into the saucer then filled it with tea for herself. ‘Now, how much will yer be wanting, Kate?’
Katie gave a warning glare at Michael. ‘You don’t wanna be pushing that old pram full of coke round the streets, Mum. Michael’s gonna do it.’
It wasn’t Michael who protested this time, it was Nora. ‘I’m in me fifties, me girl, not in me nineties.’
‘I didn’t mean nothing like that, Mum. I just thought—’
‘I know what yer thought, yer thought that I’m incapable. What d’yer want, for me to wind up all old and bent like Phoebe and Sooky? Old and cranky before me time? Creeping about next door like an old crone? That suit yer, would it?’
Katie slapped her dishcloth into the basin of water, sending a shower of greasy bubbles splashing up into the air, then spun round and addressed her suddenly quiet and attentive family. ‘For Christ’s sake,’ she yelled, ‘what’s wrong with everyone in this house? Can’t we stop rowing and squabbling and going on at each other for just five minutes? Can’t we have our breakfast in peace? Maybe talk to each other instead of screeching at the top of our lungs? Be like normal people?’
Molly held out her hands to the two youngest. ‘Come on, Michael, Timmy. You two are coming with me to get the shopping. Now.’ She grabbed hold of their wrists in a tight, relentless grip then nodded at Sean. ‘And you,’ she said, ‘if yer’ve got any sense, yer can go and fetch the coke for Mum. And without being asked again.’
Sean let out a loud puff of air. ‘Not me,’ he said and was gone from the kitchen, off down the passage and out of the front door.
Molly turned to Danny who shook his head and shrugged. ‘Sorry, I’ve gotta see someone.’
Pat very deliberately and very noisily shook out his paper before rolling it into a tight cylinder and whacking it down on the table. ‘I’ll get the sodding coke,’ he said, shoving back his chair. ‘Happy?’
Katie said nothing as she turned back to the sink to get on with the washing up, but she listened to Pat as he stomped out into the passage and then swore angrily to himself while he fought through all the old shoes and coats and boxes and bags that filled the toot cupboard under the stairs, struggling to drag out the old pushchair from all the accumulated junk.
Michael went to say something but Nora shook her head, warning him to be quiet. ‘You lads had better run back in next door and get your coats and mufflers,’ she said to her grandsons. ‘It’d freeze the drippings off yer nose out there.’
Despite their disinclination to go shopping with their sister – they could just guess what their friends would say if they saw them – Michael and Timmy had the sense to hurry off to get their things. They were back in less than two minutes and while Katie went over what shopping was wanted with Molly, the boys stood with their backs to their nanna while each of them went through the humiliating process of being ‘got ready’ to go out.
First they had their coats pulled on over the already thick layers of shirts and coarse, hand-knitted jumpers, then Nora wound each boy’s bulky scarf tightly around his neck, before crossing the scratchy wool over his chest and finally fastening the ends tightly behind his back with a safety pin. She then jammed each boy’s cap hard down over his ears, so he could barely see out from under the peak, and leant back to appraise her work.
‘Right. Off yer go,’ she said to the two squat bundles that only moments before had been a pair of lively, slightly skinny boys. ‘Yer ready for anything now.’
‘I’d be better off in longs,’ grumbled Michael, in what had recently become his ritual whine about being too old for short trousers.
‘Go ’way with yer,’ roared Nora, pinching him affectionately on the little bit of cheek that still showed between his scarf and cap. ‘Sure, yer barely out of calico gowns with lace frills on. Now kiss me and yer mammy byebye or Molly’ll be fed up of waiting for yers.’ As she leant forward and kissed the now puce-faced Michael, she slipped a coin into his hand. ‘Don’t tell yer mam,’ she whispered with a wink, ‘but tell Molly there’s a good show on at the flea pit that you and young Timmy might like to see this morning while she does the shopping.’
Molly was surprised at the sudden change in Michael’s attitude as he practically dragged her into the passage to get her coat, then steered her out of the house and raced across the street to number nine, where he hopped around impatiently as they waited inside the doorway for Liz Watts to put on her outdoor things.
It all became clear when Michael whispered to her about the money. Molly was relieved. She had only said she’d take them with her so they’d be far enough away to ensure that they wouldn’t upset their mum; the last thing she had actually wanted was for them to be trailing along after her moaning and fighting all the time.
As they left the boys to join the rowdy gaggle of youngsters queueing
outside the flea pit for the Saturday morning programme that promised two films, a newsreel, the weekly serial and a cartoon, all for a threepenny ticket, Liz didn’t seem unhappy either.
‘Good, now we can have a chance to talk without them two earwigging,’ said Liz, slipping her arm through Molly’s as they walked back towards Chrisp Street market.
‘If this is gonna be about what I think it is, Lizzie Watts, yer can save yer breath.’ As she spoke, Molly looked fixedly in front of her, spurning Liz’s every attempt to catch her eye. ‘I have enough of you going on every day on the way to and from work without having it at weekends and all.’
Liz yanked Molly to a rough halt, making her face her. ‘What exactly d’yer reckon I’m gonna say then, Moll? What is it yer don’t wanna hear, eh?’
Molly pulled her arm away from her friend and stuck her hands into her waist, not caring that she was blocking the pavement and causing passers-by to step into the busy traffic on the East India Dock Road. ‘You know very well. It’s all I hear from yer. Yer’ve turned into a proper nagging old bat. I dunno how our Danny puts up with yer.’
Liz took a deep breath, linked arms with Molly again and led her gently but determinedly on. ‘The way yer acting, Moll, yer’d think I was enjoying it. D’yer really think I wanna waste me time going on and on at yer?’
Molly shrugged non-committally.
‘Course I don’t, and you know it. It’s just that I’m worried about yer. This Bob and Simon business, it’s getting ridiculous. Yer’ve been playing this game for nearly six months now.’
She felt Molly stiffen beside her.
‘I know yer think it’s nothing to do with me, but yer me mate, and I care about yer. I just don’t wanna think of yer letting either of ’em . . . well, let’s put it like this, I don’t want yer to let either of ’em take yer for a mug ’cos then yer’d be in a right state, wouldn’t yer, with two of ’em to sort out?’ She paused then added quietly, ‘Yer won’t, will yer, Moll? ’Cos the way yer acting I ain’t sure what to think no more.’
‘I ain’t stupid, Liz, no matter what yer think. And I mean it, I honestly don’t know why yer keep going on about it all the time.’ She shrugged casually. ‘Me nanna thinks it’s all a bit of a laugh.’
Liz was stunned. ‘You told yer nanna about ’em?’
‘Yeah. She’s known for ages.’ She paused then added pointedly, ‘She won’t split on me.’
Liz shook her head in wonder. ‘When yer say yer told her about ’em, did yer tell her all about ’em?’
‘What you on about now, Liz?’
‘Well, neither of ’em’s a Catholic for a start, now is he? I’d have thought that that might be a little point yer might not have felt like mentioning.’ Liz shook her head again at the very idea of what she was about to say. ‘I can just imagine how yer mum’d be if she found out.’
‘Just leave off, can’t yer, Liz?’ Molly snapped angrily. ‘I ain’t exactly planning on marrying either of ’em, now am I?’
‘There’s no point shouting at me, Molly.’
‘Nanna’s even said she wants to meet ’em,’ Molly added with tight-lipped defiance.
‘I just hope yer know what you’re doing, Moll, that’s all.’
Without any notice, Molly’s mutinously aggressive expression was suddenly transformed into a broad, self-satisfied smile.
‘I don’t see anything to laugh about.’
‘Don’t yer? Well, do yerself a favour and have a look at his boat.’ She nodded along the street at Danny who was walking towards them from the Barking Road. ‘He looks even humpier than you, and that’s saying something.’
They waited on the corner of Chrisp Street – Liz straight-faced and Molly grinning – for Danny to reach them. When he did so, he bent forward and pecked Liz on the cheek; neither of them smiled. Molly on the other hand laughed out loud.
‘Blimey, what a pair. You just suit one another, you do. Miserable buggers.’
Still Danny didn’t smile. ‘Good job some of us take the world seriously, Moll.’
Molly’s eyes widened and she spluttered all over him. ‘Hark at you. You’ve changed your tune lately, ain’t yer, Dan? Taking the world seriously, my eye!’
‘It wouldn’t hurt if you was a bit more serious at times, Moll,’ Liz said, clasping Danny’s hand.
‘Lizzie’s right,’ Danny agreed. ‘I was only thinking that meself. The way you act – I dunno, it ain’t right.’
‘What?’ Molly didn’t understand.
‘It’s like with Bob,’ Danny said. ‘There’s a good bloke yer’ve got there, but the way you fart about, it’s a wonder he can put up with yer. It’d be a shame to lose him ’cos yer was always playing the fool. Blokes like him don’t take kindly to having their girl making a show of herself.’
‘I don’t believe this. What, am I on trial for smiling or something?’
‘Just don’t mess Bob around, that’s all. He’s a mate, a good mate. And, like I said, I don’t want yer upsetting him. Gawd knows why, but he really likes yer. He likes yer a lot. All right?’
Molly flashed a worried glance at Lizzie. She hadn’t said anything to Danny about her seeing Simon, surely? Her friend’s stony stare was giving nothing away. If Liz had already split on her, Molly knew there was nothing she could do about it; but if she hadn’t – and Molly hoped and prayed that was so – then Molly definitely wasn’t going to give her the opportunity to say anything now.
‘Come on, Lizzie,’ said Molly hurriedly, pulling her away from Danny. ‘We’ve gotta go.’ She held her basket up to show her brother. ‘We’ve gotta get all this shopping done for Mum, and then go and fetch the boys. And we don’t wanna take all day about it, now do we?’ She dragged Liz towards the market. ‘Some of us take our responsibilities seriously. See yer later, Dan.’
Molly and-Liz did the shopping in, what was for them, record time, and in almost complete silence. Molly was too busy worrying whether Danny knew about Simon to bother herself with browsing around the market, cracking jokes with the stall holders. She desperately wanted to know if Liz had said anything to him, but Liz was her best friend, so how could Molly ask her that? It would be like accusing Liz of letting her down, of splitting on her.
It was obvious to Liz that there was something up with Molly, but she thought it best to keep quiet and wait for Molly to speak when she was ready, otherwise Liz might go and say the wrong thing. Knowing Molly as she did, Liz knew she was quite capable of flying off the handle and making a loud, crowd-pulling scene right there in the packed market, in front of everyone, and Liz, coming from a much quieter lot than the Mehans, couldn’t cope with that sort of thing.
It wasn’t until they were almost back at the pictures to collect the boys, that Molly eventually spoke.
‘Have you mentioned anything to our Dan, Liz? Anything, say, like about me seeing Simon? Anything that would, you know, make him wild with me?’
‘So that’s what’s up with yer.’ Liz turned to face her friend. ‘Molly, I’m yer mate, ain’t I? I’d never do anything I thought would hurt yer or get yer in trouble. Yer know that.’
Molly shrugged, ashamed that she had even said it. ‘I just thought, sort of, well, what with you and Danny getting so close lately, yer might have mentioned it, like.’
‘Molly, I ain’t said nothing. Not to no one.’
‘Well, what was Danny going on about then?’
‘You know how Bob feels about yer, Moll. Right stuck on yer, he is. And Danny’s his mate. You know how fellers stick together.’
‘He wants to mind his own business.’
‘That ain’t the point, is it, Moll? The point is what you think yer up to and whether yer can handle all this, ’cos, d’yer know something, I don’t think yer can. I think yer getting in a right mess, and yer won’t admit it to no one, not even yerself, ’cos yer such a stubborn cow. You always have been. And if you ain’t careful, yer gonna find yerself in so deep, you ain’t gonna be able to do nothing about it.’
‘Shut up, can’t yer, Liz. I wish I’d never said nothing.’
‘So do I,’ Liz snapped back at her.
They walked the rest of the way to the flea pit in an even uneasier silence. To make matters worse, when they got there, the boys weren’t waiting outside as arranged.
‘Well, this is fair, innit?’ fumed Molly, looking up and down the street for any sign of her two little brothers. ‘This’ll all be Michael’s fault. Yer can’t trust that little sod as far as yer can throw him. Always up to something. I’ll skin him when I get hold of him. I swear I will.’
While Molly worked herself up into a knuckle-whitening temper, Liz did something more practical.
Grabbing hold of a startled-looking boy as he stepped out of the darkened cinema into the bright December sunshine, Liz stared down at him. ‘You seen Timmy and Michael Mehan?’ Her intentions might have been sensible, but, unlike Molly, she wasn’t used to dealing with youngsters, and the child, terrified that he would somehow be involved in whatever no good the Mehans were up to this time, gave a single turn of his scrawny body and wriggled easily out of her grip. He would have made a clean escape, had it not been for Molly’s more experienced hand reaching out and snatching hold of his collar.
‘Not so fast, you,’ she told him, giving him a shake for good measure. ‘Now, let’s start again, shall we? Have you seen Timmy and Michael Mehan?’
He knew when he was beaten. ‘Micky’s fighting in the lavs,’ he answered sulkily, his shoulders hunched up round his ears.
‘He’s what?’ demanded Molly.
‘With that kid from Upper North Street again.’ The boy flinched, half expecting Molly to clout him one for being the bearer of bad news, but, much to his relief, she let him go.
The girls didn’t say anything to each other. They just stormed straight inside the cinema through the filthy, fingerprint-smeared, glass panelled doors – it wasn’t called the flea pit for nothing – dumped their shopping at the feet of the elderly, scruffily uniformed commissionaire with an order to keep an eye on their bags, and headed for the foul-smelling men’s lavatories at the front of the tatty little auditorium.
Just Around the Corner Page 18