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  Down Our Street

  Joan Jonker

  Copyright © 1999 Joan Jonker

  The right of Joan Jonker to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2011

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  eISBN : 978 0 7553 9030 4

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  338 Euston Road

  London NW1 3BH

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Author

  Also by Joan Jonker

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Joan Jonker was born and bred in Liverpool. Her childhood was a time of love and laughter with her two sisters, a brother, a caring but gambling father and an indomitable mother who was always getting them out of scrapes. Then came the Second World War when she met and fell in love with her husband, Tony. For twenty-three years, Joan campaigned tirelessly on behalf of victims of violence, and it was during this time that she turned to writing fiction. Sadly, after a brave battle against illness, Joan died in February 2006. Her best-selling Liverpool sagas will continue to enthral readers throughout the world.

  Joan Jonker’s previous novels, several of which feature the unforgettable duo Molly and Nellie, have won millions of adoring fans:

  ‘Wonderful … the characters are so real I feel I am there in Liverpool with them’ Athena Tooze, Brooklyn, New York

  ‘I enjoy your books for they bring back memories of my younger days’ Frances Hassett, Brixham, Devon

  ‘Thanks for all the good reads’ Phyllis Portock, Walsall

  ‘I love your books, Joan, they bring back such happy memories’ J. Mullett, Lancashire

  ‘I’m an ardent fan, Joan, an avid reader of your books. As an old Liverpudlian, I appreciate the humour. Thank you for so many happy hours’ Mrs L. Broomhead, Liverpool

  Also by Joan Jonker

  When One Door Closes

  Man Of The House

  Home Is Where The Heart Is

  The Pride Of Polly Perkins

  Sadie Was A Lady

  Walking My Baby Back Home

  Try A Little Tenderness

  Stay As Sweet As You Are

  Dream A Little Dream

  Many A Tear Has To Fall

  Taking A Chance On Love

  Strolling With The One I Love

  When Wishes Come True

  The Girl From Number 22

  One Rainy Day

  Featuring Molly Bennett and Nellie McDonough

  Stay In Your Own Back Yard

  Last Tram To Lime Street

  Sweet Rosie O'Grady

  Down Our Street

  After The Dance Is Over

  The Sunshine Of Your Smile

  Three Little Words

  I'll Be Your Sweetheart

  Non-fiction

  Victims Of Violence

  With love to my family, Edna, Elsie, Enid, Joseph, Griff and Vincent.

  And to friends who were so supportive of my charity work:

  Margie and staff at Lucy In The Sky cafe in Cavern Walks.

  Alfie and customers at The White Star pub in Rainford Gardens, Matthew Street.

  Pat, John and Josie of Solitaire Fashion House.

  June Lornie at the Liverpool Academy of Art.

  A friendly greeting to the readers.

  This book has been written in response to the many requests from readers who were eager for more news on the Bennett and McDonough families. Molly and Nellie certainly captured people’s hearts, as they did mine. If I have made any slip-ups on ages, etc, I crave your indulgence as I have written five more books since I said farewell to Molly and Nellie in SWEET ROSIE O’GRADY. Enjoy DOWN OUR STREET as much as I enjoyed writing it. I guarantee you many hours of laughter.

  Take care.

  Love

  Joan

  Chapter One

  Molly Bennett threw the sheet on the draining board and looked down at her hands which were red raw with wringing the washing out. One of the nuts on the mangle had worked itself loose and the handle wouldn’t turn properly, so rather than wait until her husband came in from work, she’d decided to wring the clothes out by hand. ‘Serves yer blinking well right,’ she said to the empty room. ‘Yer should have waited until Jack came in.’ Then she answered herself. ‘It would have meant leaving the dolly tub in the middle of the kitchen all day, and there’s not enough room to move as it is.’

  A knock on the front door had her wiping her hands on a corner of her pinny before picking her purse up from the sideboard and making for the door. ‘This should be Tucker. I hope he’s got some decent coal on for a change.’

  ‘Good day to yer, Molly.’ White teeth shone from the face blackened with coal dust. ‘Have yer recovered from yer hangover yet?’

  ‘I have, Tucker, but me ruddy mangle hasn’t. The damn thing’s conked out on me.’ Molly poked her head out of the door and gazed up and down the street which was still festooned with coloured bunting left up from the street party they’d had last week to celebrate the end of the war in Japan. ‘I still can’t believe it’s all over, can you?’

  ‘It takes some getting used to after nearly five years of war, Molly. We won in the end, thank God, but paid a very heavy price for the victory.’

  ‘I know. I’ve prayed that much, I’m sure God must be fed-up listening to me. Prayed for our lads that got killed, the ones who’ll come home wounded and the lucky ones, like my Tommy. By the time he got called up, the worst of the fighting was over. I count me blessings, Tucker, I know how lucky I am.’

  When Molly saw a smile come to the coalman’s face, she turned her head to see a neighbour, three doors up, step into the street. Nellie McDonough, all eighteen stone of her, folded her arms under her mountainous bosom, hitched it up and swayed towards them. ‘I’ll tell yer what, girl, yer can’t half talk.’ She nodded to the horse standing between the shafts of the coalcart and tutted. ‘The poor bloody horse got so fed-up with the sound of yer voice he’s gone to sleep on his feet.’

  ‘Oh, ye’re there, are yer?’ Molly tried to keep a smile back, but it was impossible. She only had to look at her best mate and her face took it upon itself to widen into a smile. Nell
ie was better than a dose of medicine any day. ‘I bet yer’ve been peeping through yer curtains, dying to know what me and Tucker were talking about.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t see Tucker doing much talking, unless he’s a bloody ventriloquist. I could tell he wasn’t able to get a word in edgeways with yer, so I came to put him out of his misery.’

  ‘That’s very thoughtful of yer, Nellie,’ Tucker said. ‘But I’ve only been here a few minutes.’

  ‘Six minutes by my clock.’ Nellie nodded her head and the sharp movement sent her layers of chins flying in all directions, and the turban she wore over her thin, straggly mousy hair, fell down to cover her eyes. She’d worn the turban all through the war, ever since she heard the women in factories making munitions had to wear them. If anyone asked her why, she said it was her contribution to the war effort. Pushing it out of the way now, she said, ‘And it doesn’t take six minutes to say yer want a bag of coal. Unless me mate’s been complaining about the muck yer’ve been giving us. All ruddy slate it was last week, Tucker, and I’m telling yer straight to yer face that if I hadn’t used it I’d be giving it back to yer and asking for a refund.’

  ‘Yer’ve been getting the same coal as all me customers, Nellie, and yer were lucky to get any at all. All the best stuff has been going to help the war effort.’

  ‘Well, the war’s over now, lad, so yer can throw me a bag of nuts in.’

  ‘The war might be over, but it’ll be a year or two before rationing is over. Things are not going to be back to normal for quite a while.’

  ‘Take no notice of her, Tucker, she’s having yer on,’ Molly said. ‘We were only saying this morning when we were having our elevenses that it would be ages before rationing was finished.’

  ‘It was you what said that, girl, not me. And if yer’d been paying attention yer would have noticed I didn’t say I agreed with yer. I’m living in hope that this time next week I’ll be able to walk in the Maypole and ask for a pound of streaky bacon and a dozen eggs.’

  ‘Wishful thinking, sunshine,’ Molly said. ‘Mind you, there’s nothing to stop yer walking into the Maypole today and asking for a pound of streaky bacon and a dozen eggs. Yer won’t get it, like, but there’s no harm in asking. And yer’d give them all a good laugh.’

  ‘If I thought yer were being funny, girl, I’d clock yer one.’

  ‘Ladies, I hate to break this up, but I do have work to do.’ Tucker looked from one to the other. ‘Can I take it that yer both want a bag of the muck I’ve got on me cart?’

  ‘Yes, please, Tucker.’ Molly opened her purse and passed over two half-crowns. ‘Give us some copper in the change, for the gas.’ She took her change, dropped it in her purse and gave him a big smile. ‘And I want to thank yer for doing yer best for us while the war was on, I really appreciate it. It can’t have been easy having hundreds of women moaning at yer every day, as though it was your fault.’

  Nellie gasped. ‘Well, you polished bugger! D’yer know, Tucker, she’s been calling yer fit to burn for the last five years! Some of the names she called yer had me blushing.’

  ‘At least I had you on my side, though, Nellie. I bet you never called me names.’

  ‘What! I wouldn’t dream of it, Tucker! Anyway, yer know I’m not one for swearing. It’s not ladylike.’ When Nellie’s body started to shake, Molly waited for the laughter to erupt. ‘There are exceptions, though,’ the big woman spluttered. ‘If I’ve got to spend an hour coaxing that ruddy coal to light, I’ll call yer every name I can lay me tongue to.’

  ‘I’ll try and be out of the street by then.’ The coalman whistled softly and the horse moved up to stop by the side entry. It had been doing the same round for so many years it really didn’t need Tucker, only to carry the sacks. ‘Can I have yer money, Nellie?’

  ‘I haven’t got me purse on me. You pay him, girl, and I’ll give it to yer later.’

  ‘Sod off, Nellie McDonough!’ Molly’s eyes rolled. ‘Yer did that to me once before and I’m still waiting for me money back.’

  ‘In the name of God, that was ages ago!’ Nellie looked put out. ‘Yer’ve got a ruddy good memory, girl, I’ll grant yer that.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got a good memory, sunshine, but what I haven’t got is me money back.’

  ‘Can yer hear that, Tucker? We’ve just got one war over and me mate here wants to start another! All over a couple of bob!’

  ‘Nellie, go home and get yer purse, the man hasn’t got all day.’

  ‘I don’t want to go home, girl, I want to come in yours. I’ve got something very important to tell yer.’

  ‘I’m not falling for that, sunshine! Yer haven’t been over the door since yer left here earlier, so unless yer ceiling’s fallen in on yer, nothing important could have happened. Anyway, ye’re not getting in here ’cos me flamin’ mangle conked out and I’ve got clothes dripping all over the place.’

  A crafty gleam came to Nellie’s eyes. ‘There’s nowt wrong with my mangle, girl, it’s in good nick. So if you pay Tucker, I’ll come in yours and have a natter, then we’ll take yer washing to my house and put it through me mangle. Now yer can’t say that’s not fair.’

  Molly saw the coalman’s chest heave in a sigh, and she felt sorry for him. If he spent this long at all his calls he’d be working until midnight. She opened her purse and counted out the correct money. ‘This is nothing but barefaced bribery, and I’m only doing it so Tucker can go about his business.’

  Nellie grinned and her cheeks moved upwards to cover her eyes. ‘See yer next week, Tucker.’ With that she pushed Molly aside and entered the house. ‘I’ll stick the kettle on, girl, and we can have a cuppa while we’re talking.’

  ‘Don’t mind me, sunshine, you just make yerself at home.’ Molly followed her mate into the kitchen. ‘It doesn’t matter that I’m up to me neck in work. Nor, I might add, can I afford to be making yer two lots of tea in one day. Me caddy’s nearly empty now, and it’s got to last me until next week.’

  ‘Me heart bleeds for yer, girl, it really does.’ Nellie was grinning as she struck a match under the kettle. ‘In fact, it’s bleeding that much I’ve got to do something to stop it before it’s running all over yer kitchen floor. So I’m going to say something that will shock yer, so hang on to the sink for support in case yer feel faint.’ Her eyes full of mischief, she laid a chubby hand on Molly’s arm. ‘When we take these clothes into mine to mangle, I’ll give yer the coal money, plus a couple of spoonfuls of tea to help yer out. Now, that’s a bit of good news, isn’t it, girl?’

  Molly cupped her chin in her hand and looked thoughtful. ‘By my reckoning, sunshine, yer’ve had over a thousand cups of tea in this house since rationing started. That’s only the elevenses. If I take into account the times yer’ve been here to a party, well, that’s another couple of hundred.’

  Nellie tried to look suitably impressed. ‘Ay, aren’t you good at sums, girl? Just wait until I tell George that yer’ve counted every cup of tea I’ve had – he won’t believe me. I don’t suppose yer know how many mouthfuls that is, do yer, so I can tell him that as well?’

  Molly went back to looking thoughtful. ‘Well, seeing as yer can drink half a cup in one go, all yer need do is double the number.’

  The kettle began to whistle and Nellie moved away from the stove. ‘Yer’ve put me off now. I could no more drink a cup of tea off yer than fly.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about that, sunshine, ’cos it’s going to be so weak yer won’t know what ye’re drinking.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right, then.’ Nellie leaned to look into her friend’s face. ‘I’ll go and sit down because I couldn’t stand the excitement of watching yer count each tea-leaf.’

  Molly was grinning as she carried two steaming cups through. ‘I did warn yer! It’s warm, wet and very weak.’ She put Nellie’s cup in front of her. ‘I’ve been trying to get a little stock put by for us when the boys come home. Don’t forget, there’ll be a couple of weddings to worry about in the very near
future.’

  Nellie sipped on the tea and pulled a face. ‘I was going to say it tastes like maiden’s water, but I know yer’d only get a cob on so I won’t say it.’ She put the cup down and leaned her elbows on the table. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to yer about.’

  ‘What! Yer said it was something important!’

  ‘Well, isn’t my son marrying your daughter important?’

  ‘Nellie, we’ve talked about Jill and Steve getting married for God knows how long. We even talked about it this morning!’

  ‘Keep yer hair on, girl, don’t be taking off on me.’ Nellie sighed and her bosom rocked the table, causing the tea to spill over. But a little thing like that didn’t worry her, she wasn’t as houseproud as Molly. ‘I can’t stand being in the house on me own, that’s the truth of it, girl. I can’t wait for me sons to come home. I haven’t seen our Steve for nearly two years, and Paul for eighteen months. When I see them standing in front of me, and know they’ve not been injured or anything, then I’ll be as right as rain. It’s the waiting and not knowing I can’t stand.’

  ‘I know, sunshine, I feel the same about our Tommy. But at least we know they’re alive, that’s more than some poor families can say.’

  ‘Well, can we talk about the wedding, to cheer me up? Remember yer said years ago that yer were going to buy the biggest hat in Liverpool for Steve and Jill’s wedding? Yer haven’t changed yer mind, have yer?’

  Molly shook her head. ‘The biggest hat that Lewis’s have got. I’m going to be dressed to the nines the day they get married. We’ve waited long enough for it, haven’t we, sunshine?’

  ‘My George said I’d look a right nit in a big hat.’ Nellie looked dejected. ‘And I don’t want to let me son down by making a show of meself.’

  ‘There’s a happy medium, Nellie. Buy a hat that’s in between. Not too big but not so small it would look like a pimple on a mountain. Tell your George to keep his flamin’ nose out, anyway! We women know what’s best for us.’ Molly glanced at the clock. ‘I’m sorry, sunshine, but I’m going to have to put a move on. I want to get the sheets on the washing line so they’ll be dry for ironing in the morning.’