The Flower Girl

by The Flower Girl (retail) (epub)

  He turned away and started back towards the door, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. He spun round to see what further shame the man wanted to heap on him. But it wasn’t the man, it was Cissie. She was standing behind him with young Joyce still gripping her hand.

  ‘Why don’t you all leave the kid alone?’ she said flatly, her eyes fixed on the surprised-looking boy. ‘Yer know the poor little bugger’s only doing it to earn a few shillings to help out his mum since his dad…’ Cissie’s words were barely audible as she continued. ‘… since his dad got killed down the docks.’

  Cissie ushered the boy back towards the bar, lifted her chin and stared about her. ‘What, don’t no one wanna know how the dogs done today?’

  Big Bill Turner stepped forward from the crowd at the bar. He sank his hand deep into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of coins.

  ‘Here y’are, kiddo,’ he said loudly, picking out a shiny half-crown. ‘Here’s a tosheroon for yer, and I’m sure there’s plenty of other fellers in here what’ll be only too glad to buy all the rest of them results off yer.’ He looked about him, watching as men rummaged through their pockets for loose change. ‘And,’ he added meaningfully, ‘I reckon they’ll give you a couple of bob extra for yer to take home to yer mum and all.’

  Without a word, wallets were taken from inside pockets as, to a man, Turner’s friends and colleagues hurriedly made sure they didn’t look cheap in front of him. The man who had thrown the cigarette carton being particularly careful to make sure that Turner saw him hand over a crisp ten-shilling note.

  The delighted, if astonished, child hastily stuffed his loot into the pockets of his ragged jacket and made a run for it before they all came to their senses and demanded their money back, only pausing at the door to call a hurried thank you to Turner. Just wait till he told his mum and his little brother; there’d be fish and chips all round tonight.

  Cissie also wanted to express her gratitude to Turner. ‘Thanks, Mr Turner. That was kind of yer,’ she said, averting her eyes as she sat back down and settled Joyce next to her on the bench.

  ‘It’s Bill. Call me Bill,’ Ethel Bennett, her ears practically, flapping with amazement, heard Turner reply before he went back to the counter to speak to the barmaid.

  Ethel watched his progress with open-mouthed fascination as he finished his business at the bar then returned to where Cissie was sitting.

  ‘Like I said before, I’m sorry for your trouble, Mrs Flowers,’ Turner said as the barmaid appeared at his side.

  ‘Here’s the drinks you ordered, Mr Turner.’

  ‘All right if she puts ’em down there on the table?’ Turner asked Cissie.

  Cissie nodded distractedly.

  The barmaid put the tray in front of Cissie and disappeared back to the bar.

  ‘That’s what me old Irish granny used to say at times like these, yer know, Mrs Flowers. “I’m sorry for your trouble,” she’d say. And I wanted to say it too, cos what else can yer say at a time like this?’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Mind if I join yer for a bit?’

  Cissie said nothing, she just lifted Joyce on to her lap, making space for him on the bench next to her.

  Matty, who had just fought his way back from the lavatory in the barmaid’s wake, stood watchfully by his mum’s side, wondering what new turn of events this could be. He had never seen this big, red-faced man before, and he didn’t know if he liked him being so friendly with his mum. But he knew he wasn’t allowed to interrupt when grown-ups were talking, so he said nothing.

  ‘I hope I got the right drinks for the kids,’ Turner said, handing Matty and Joyce each a green bottle with a straw poking from the top. He smiled, making his face crease into deep folds. ‘Mind you, all little chavvies like a drop of lemonade, don’t they?’

  ‘Say ta,’ Cissie said automatically.

  Cautiously, Matty drew his bottle towards him. He looked at his mum to make sure it was OK to start, but she wasn’t even looking at him, so he just thanked the man, as he had been told, and then clamped the straw between his lips.

  ‘That’s all right, son, yer don’t have to thank me.’

  Matty pulled away as Turner reached out to ruffle his hair.

  ‘I’d have killed for a bottle of lemonade when I was a nipper,’ Turner said, not seeming to notice, or maybe to mind, Matty’s wariness.

  ‘Did yer see that, Myrtle?’ Ethel gasped, jerking her head towards Cissie’s table. ‘Did yer? Bold as bleed’n brass, if yer don’t mind.’

  ‘Disgusting,’ Myrtle agreed. ‘And at her husband’s funeral.’

  The two women, glasses of stout gripped firmly in front of them, shook their heads disapprovingly at the sight of the young widow and her two children barefacedly accepting hospitality from the likes of Big Bill Turner.

  ‘What, jealous because the man’s decent enough to show his respects to me daughter-in-law, are yer?’ Lil hissed into Ethel’s ear as she made her unsteady way past them towards where Cissie and Turner were sitting. She turned her head and looked her neighbours up and down. ‘Or is it cos yer know he wouldn’t look twice at anyone in your sodding ugly crew of a family?’

  With a final sneering appraisal of her two elderly neighbours, Lil turned her back on them and concentrated on her goal.

  ‘Hello, Mr Turner,’ she simpered, shoving Matty out of the way and plonking herself unceremoniously on to the bench. ‘We’re right chuffed yer found time to come.’ She dropped her chin and added pitifully, ‘It helps to know that people are around at sad times like this.’

  Feeling unable to bear the company of her mother-in-law, who always found a way to upset or annoy her at the best of times, Cissie tried to stand up but, with Joyce on her lap, she could hardly move let alone escape from Lil’s whining voice. She could have got out if Turner had moved, but he appeared to have no intention of shifting himself. To make matters worse, Ethel and Myrtle, who had been hovering close by, had now made their way right over to the table and were standing there, gawping at her with undisguised interest.

  Cissie rubbed her face with her hands. What on earth did those two old cows want with her?

  Ethel smiled, a rare and not very pleasant sight, showing her uneven brown teeth. ‘Hello, Mr Turner,’ she began, ‘me and me old mate Myrtle here was just saying what an honour it is for young Cissie to have you at her husband’s funeral like this.’

  Matty, the straw still firmly clenched between his lips, frowned to himself. A funeral? Wasn’t that when people were dead? He’d have to remember to ask his mum about it later on. He’d have asked her now but his nan didn’t look very happy, and he knew better than to do anything that might upset her such as asking questions.

  Lil, in fact, wasn’t so much unhappy as furious. She was scowling, scowling horribly at Ethel, narrowing her eyes at the woman’s effrontery for daring to interrupt when she was speaking to Turner. But Lil would have her back later on all right, she was sure of that. She’d find a way to get the old bag. Pasting a grieving look on her face, Lil dabbed at her bone-dry cheeks with her handkerchief and whispered in a cracked little voice, ‘Yes, she’s right, Mr Turner, it’s a real honour to have yer here.’

  ‘And yer do know, Cis,’ Ethel went on, reaching across the table and patting Cissie’s hand, ‘if there’s anything you ever need, love, anything at all, you’ve only gotta ask me or my Dick and it’s as good as done, darling. Good as done.’

  ‘That’s right neighbourly of yer, Ethel,’ Lil sighed pathetically. ‘We’ll bear that in mind, won’t we, Cissie?’ Lil would have smacked the stupid grin off the old trout’s gob if Turner hadn’t been there.

  ‘Being good to yer neighbours,’ Turner said with an approving nod. ‘I like that. I like to see people looking after their own.’ He raised his hand in the air and gestured with an almost imperceptible flick of his fingers. A tall broad-shouldered man immediately appeared by his side.

  ‘Yes, boss?’

&nb
sp; ‘Take these two ladies,’ he said, indicating Ethel and Myrtle with a lift of his chin, ‘over to the bar, Bernie, and make sure they have whatever they fancy.’

  The two delighted women followed their new-found benefactor with much proud fluttering of their eyes and hands, making sure that everyone in the pub got a good look at them being treated by a friend of Big Bill Turner’s.

  Turner took a swallow from his glass and shook his head. ‘I reckoned you didn’t need them pair giving you earache on a day like this, Mrs Flowers.’

  Cissie slowly raised her eyes and looked levelly at Turner. ‘I can look after meself, ta. I don’t need no one sorting me out.’

  Lil slid her hand under the table and squeezed hard on the soft flesh of Cissie’s inner thigh. She smiled winningly at Turner. ‘Yer don’t wanna mind me daughter-in-law, Mr Turner. Only she’s upset like, ain’t she?’

  ‘If yer don’t mind, Lil,’ Cissie said evenly, ‘I’d like you to get yer hand off my leg and stop pinching me. Now.’

  Lil flashed Turner another smile. ‘Upset,’ she mouthed silently.

  Turner appeared totally unperturbed by the obviously uneasy relationship between Cissie and Lil, and made no effort to move away from the table and leave them to it. ‘Looks like there’s a few people wanna speak to you, Mrs Flowers,’ he said smoothly, indicating the group of people lurking around the table with his now almost empty glass.

  Lil gave another simpering smile. ‘That’ll be you treating Ethel and Myrtle like that. They’ll all be offering my Cissie all kinds of help just to impress you, Mr Turner.’

  Cissie closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands. Why was she sitting here listening to Lil carrying on like this when all she wanted to do was go home and go to bed? She wanted to get away from all of this.

  She turned to ask Turner to move when a woman’s voice said softly, ‘Cis, I don’t wanna disturb yer, or nothing.’

  ‘Not much,’ sniped Lil sarcastically, glaring up at Gladys Mills.

  Gladys wouldn’t let Lil get to her. Instead of responding to her nastiness, she just kept on speaking to Cissie. ‘I only wondered, Cis, you know, if there’s anything, anything at all I can do for yer.’

  Cissie looked up, pleased to see her friend from number four. ‘Yer all right, Glad. Thanks for asking, but I’ll be fine.’

  Gladys tipped her head towards Matty. ‘How about the little ones?’

  Cissie looked at her children as though only just registering that they were still there with her.

  ‘Let me take them and get ’em a bite to eat eh?’ Gladys flashed a look at Turner as she held out her hands to Matty and Joyce. ‘There’s loads of food over there, but I’ll bet neither of ’em has had a thing past their lips ’cept that lemonade, have they? They must be starving.’

  Turner leant back in his seat and watched, eyebrows raised, as the children clambered down from the bench to go with Gladys. He wasn’t used to being treated like that. He didn’t like it. But now wasn’t the time to react. The kids seemed only too pleased to be going off with their mum’s friend, so he wasn’t going to cause trouble and risk having them bawling their heads off. Lil, he noted with interest, obviously wasn’t so impressed by the woman as her grandchildren had been. She’d stood up and was hissing something into Gladys’s ear. He couldn’t make out the words but it was obvious that she was wild about something.

  ‘Don’t worry about me having no grub, will yer, Gladys Mills?’ she was sniping spitefully. ‘I mean, I’m only Davy’s bloody mother, ain’t I?’

  Gladys didn’t rise to it, she just led the children away, chattering encouragingly to them about all the tasty bits of food they could have.

  Turner smiled inwardly as Lil sat down. She was defeated for the moment, but she had a look on her face that he recognised all too well. He knew, as plain as night followed day, that Gladys had been marked down for future reference by Davy’s vindictive old cow of a mother. She was a woman after his own heart.

  ‘She seems a decent sort of a person,’ Turner said to Lil without a trace of irony, before swallowing the last of his drink. ‘I always approve of people looking out for one another. Good to see it. Very good.’ He sat back to see what his bait attracted. He didn’t have to wait long.

  ‘Looking out for one another?’ Lil gasped incredulously, forgetting for the moment her poor grieving mother act. ‘Do me a favour. What could she do to help anyone? Ernie, that old man of her’n, ain’t done a stroke of work in bleed’n years, and she’s having to work her fingers to the bone, sodding early morning cleaning. Can’t even help herself, that one, let alone no other bugger!’

  ‘It ain’t Ernie’s fault there’s no work about,’ Cissie said quietly. ‘And Gladys has been a good friend to me over the years.’

  ‘Fat lot of good friendship is when there’s no money coming in,’ Lil snorted.

  ‘I’ve always appreciated friendship and loyalty, as a matter of fact,’ Turner said.

  ‘Aw yeah,’ agreed Lil hurriedly, coming back to her senses and realising what she’d said. ‘Me too, Mr Turner. I mean, there’s nothing like friendship, is there now? I’ve always said that, you ask Cissie if I ain’t. Ain’t that right, Cissie? I’ve always said it.’

  ‘Have yer? I dunno about that.’ Cissie shook her head in wonder at her mother-in-law’s gall. ‘But I know something. That girl ain’t got a pot, but she’d still give anyone the last slice of bread off her table if they asked for it.’

  Cissie picked up her bag and pushed the table away from her to make room so that she could stand up. ‘Now, if you don’t mind…’

  ‘Something wrong?’ asked Turner, reaching out his arm to block her way. He wasn’t used to people leaving until he decided it was time for them to go.

  ‘No, nothing’s wrong. Apart from me husband being dead and buried.’ Cissie had had enough of this farce.

  ‘Don’t be like that, sweetheart. I only wondered if something was up.’

  ‘And if something was up, why would I tell you, a complete stranger? Now, like I said, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get out.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If you must know, I’m gonna thank everyone for coming, and tell them that I’m sure they’re all very kind but, before anyone else starts offering me any help, I want ’em all to know that me and my kids can manage just fine.’

  ‘Don’t be so hasty, Cis,’ Lil said, lowering her voice and grabbing Cissie by the arm. ‘You don’t know yet how we’re gonna manage, do you? How we’re gonna get by.’

  Cissie shook off Lil’s grip and again tried to get past Turner.

  ‘Hello there.’ A bleary-eyed, brassy-looking woman in her late thirties, with unnaturally orange-red hair, stuck her hand across the table at Cissie. ‘I was sorry to hear about Davy.’

  Frowning, Cissie took the offered hand and nodded her thanks. Who was this woman who knew her husband? She stank of booze and stale perfume, and her nails looked like scarlet painted talons. ‘I don’t think I know yer, do I?’

  ‘Sorry. Course yer don’t. I’m Eileen, Eileen Clayton. I’m a friend of Bill’s. Ain’t that right, Bill?’

  Without warning, Turner slipped his arm along the bench, took Cissie’s hand from Eileen’s, and jerked Cissie roughly back down on to the seat.

  Furious at such presumption, Cissie tried to pull her hand away, but Turner wouldn’t let go. He held her hand – and her gaze – for a long, tense moment.

  Cissie’s mouth went dry. What the hell did this man think he was doing?

  Then, just as unexpectedly, Turner let her go.

  He stood up and leant across the table towards Eileen. In a menacingly low voice he said, ‘If you know what’s good for you, sweetheart, I reckon you should keep that trap o’ your’n shut. Now why don’t yer just clear off and leave Mrs Flowers in peace? Go on, there’s a good girl.’

  Eileen opened her mouth as if to speak, then, thinking better of it, she shrugged defeatedly and, with a falsely carefree laugh, she stepp
ed away from the table. But she didn’t move far, she just leant back against the wall close to Cissie and sullenly sipped at her drink.

  Turner didn’t sit back down, he just stared at Eileen, his curled lip showing his distaste. ‘That’s it, yer silly cow, pour more of that gear down yer gullet. You’ll only need a few more and you’ll be flat on yer back, then we can all get a bit of peace.’ Ignoring Lil completely, Turner pushed past her and made his way over to the bar without a word of apology or explanation to any of them.

  Looking nervously about her to see if anyone had witnessed the way Turner had treated her, Lil made a great show of patting her hair into place. ‘I’m just gonna go to the lavvy, Cis. You can fetch me a nice little drink while I’m gone. Something to steady me poor old nerves.’

  Cissie didn’t even bother to reply. She just sat there feeling angry; and lonelier and sadder than ever.

  With both Turner and Lil out of the way, Eileen sidled back to the bench. She looked Cissie up and down. ‘Yer not a bad-looking girl,’ she slurred, leaning unsteadily against the table. ‘Nice black hair. Dyed is it?’

  ‘No. It’s not.’ Cissie wouldn’t meet the woman’s gaze, she just stared into her still-full glass of port and lemon. Why couldn’t all these people just leave her alone? Why, if they felt they had to do something, couldn’t they be like Gladys and just do things that would actually help? Why did they all keep pestering her? Going on at her? Why?

  Either Eileen wasn’t very sensitive to other people’s moods, or she was simply choosing to ignore Cissie’s patently obvious wish to be left alone. She sat down and pressed herself close to Cissie, as though she were about to tell her a secret. She went to open her mouth to speak, but then changed her mind and looked nervously over her shoulder at Turner. Being a good six inches taller than everyone around him, Eileen could see him clearly as he stood at the crowded bar, surrounded by a mob of grovelling hangers-on. She hesitated for just a moment, then, with a shrug of resignation, she returned her attention to Cissie.