MB07 - Three Little Words Read online

  Copyright © 2004 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 2012

  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 9037 3

  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

  Foreword

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  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 and published by Headline:

  Victims of Violence

  When One Door Closes

  Man Of The House

  Home Is Where The Heart Is

  Stay In Your Own Back Yard

  Last Tram To Lime Street

  Sweet Rosie O’Grady

  The Pride Of Polly Perkins

  Sadie Was A Lady

  Walking My Baby Back Home

  Try A Little Tenderness

  Stay As Sweet As You Are

  Down Our Street

  Dream A Little Dream

  Many A Tear Has To Fall

  After The Dance Is Over

  Taking A Chance On Love

  Strolling With The One I Love

  The Sunshine Of Your Smile

  When Wishes Come True

  The Girl From Number 22

  This book is dedicated to my family and friends, including my extended family – the readers of my books. Through their letters, which are warm and friendly, I feel I am blessed with a huge family of like-minded people who share my sentiments of kindness, love and a sense of humour. Long may our friendship last.

  Hello readers

  This Molly and Nellie story is bound to make you chuckle the whole way through. Its warmth and love shared will give you a feeling of contentment and well-being, honest! On behalf of myself and the Bennett and McDonough families and friends, I send you all my best wishes.

  Take care.

  Love

  Joan

  Chapter One

  Molly Bennett stood on the top step and kissed her husband and daughter before they set off for work. They both started work at eight o’clock, but would part company when they reached the main road, for their jobs took them in different directions. The youngest of her four children, Ruthie, had only started work three months ago when she left school at fourteen, but to hear her talk you’d think she’d been working for years and knew the job inside out. She was much older in the head than Molly’s other two daughters and son had been at that age, far more confident and sure of herself. There were times when Molly thought she was over-confident, but her husband Jack said children these days were all the same, and that it was because during the war their parents hadn’t been strict with them.

  A door on the opposite side of the street opened and a young girl stepped down on to the pavement, then turned to give her mother a kiss before hurrying across the cobbles to join Ruthie who had stopped to wait for her. They were best mates, Ruthie and Bella, friends from the time they could toddle, and it had been lucky that both had been taken on at Johnson’s Dye Works. They were as different in nature as chalk and cheese, though, for Bella was an only child whose mother wouldn’t let the wind blow on her, and hated to let her out of her sight. So while Ruthie was outgoing, Bella was very shy, blushing when anyone spoke to her. But she was a nice kid, and a good mate.

  ‘Ta-ra, Mam!’ Ruthie blew her mother a kiss, then linked her mate’s arm and hurried to catch up with her father so she could give him a hug. And from the movement of her head, Molly could tell she was talking fifteen to the dozen. ‘It’s a wonder Bella doesn’t suffer from a permanent earache,’ Molly said aloud as she closed the front door. ‘The poor kid can never get a word in edgeways.’

  Standing in the doorway of the living room, Molly let her eyes go from the breakfast dishes still on the table to the grate that needed cleaning out, and the dust that had settled on the sideboard. Letting out a sigh, and holding her chin in her hand, she asked herself, ‘Well, now, what shall it be? Shall I clear the table first and wash the dishes, or shall I take the ashes out and clean the grate down?’ She didn’t answer herself right away, as she considered her options. Then her face lit up in a smile and she chuckled. ‘Or shall I do what my mate would do, and say sod them, I’ll make meself a fresh pot of tea and relax for half an hour? I deserve a break, ’cos me body hasn’t got over all the running round I did last week. And then there was the wedding on Saturday – that took it out of me.’ She nodded, having made up her mind to pamper herself, but as she passed the table she found she couldn’t break the habit of a lifetime. She’d clear up first, then relax with a cup of tea. Still talking to herself, she collected the dirty plates. ‘It’ll only take me half an hour to do the
ruddy lot. I can have it done while I’m thinking about it. And the tea will taste better if I don’t have to drink it while looking at the blinking ashes.’

  When Molly finally settled herself on a chair by the table, a hot cup of tea in front of her and an arrowroot biscuit between her fingers, she smiled in contentment. That was better. The grate was clean and the paper and wood laid ready to light a fire when she came back from the shops. Everywhere had been dusted, and there were no fingermarks to be seen on the sideboard or the small table in front of the back window. At least, she couldn’t see any from where she was sitting, and there were no visitors coming who would get down on their knees with a magnifying glass.

  When the cup was empty, Molly put it back on the saucer and carried both out to the kitchen. It was only half past nine, so she had plenty of time to get herself washed and dressed before her mate called for her to go to the shops. Molly was not looking forward to going to the shops today, for she knew Nellie would talk non-stop about her daughter’s wedding on Saturday. Not that you could blame her, because it was a wonderful wedding, and it had gone off without a hitch. The bride looked beautiful, the groom handsome, and the bridesmaids very pretty. And the reception was everything you could ask for. Hanley’s, the confectioners, certainly knew how to lay on a good meal, well presented and plenty of it. And the party in the evening had been filled with fun and laughter until Tom Hanley had turfed them out at midnight.

  It had been a smashing do, and Molly still hadn’t got over it. She’d laughed so much she got a pain in her side. And she’d never forget the sight of George McDonough picking up his wife and putting her over his shoulder. He was a big man, was George, but to pick up eighteen-stone Nellie was no mean feat. The laughter from the guests was so loud it was a wonder the roof didn’t cave in. It was some wedding party all right – fun and games all the way.

  Molly sat up straight when there was a loud knock on the door. And it wasn’t just one knock. Whoever it was intended to be heard, because they kept rapping hard on the knocker. ‘Who the heck can this be?’ Molly asked herself as she pushed her chair under the table. ‘It’s not the day for the rent collector, and he doesn’t come this early anyway.’ With a quick glance in the mirror to make sure she was presentable, she made her way to the door, calling, ‘Whoever yer are, will yer stop making such a racket? Yer’ll have the neighbours thinking ye’re the bailiff, come to throw me and me few possessions out into the street.’

  Molly opened the door intending to give whoever was standing there a piece of her mind, but the sight that met her eyes caused her jaw to drop. Looking up at her from the pavement, her face one big smile, was her mate Nellie McDonough. But not the Nellie who called for her every morning to go to the shops. ‘In the name of God, Nellie, what are yer playing at? Have yer lost the run of yer senses?’

  Nellie’s smile never wavered. Dressed up to the nines in her wedding outfit with her purple dress, wide-brimmed lilac hat, beige gloves and shoes, and her bosom standing to attention, she looked as pleased as punch, and felt like Lady Muck. ‘Well, girl, aren’t yer going to ask me in for a cup of tea and a custard cream?’ She didn’t wait for a reply, but pushed Molly aside and swayed her way into the living room. ‘I hope yer’ve dusted the chairs, girl, ’cos I don’t want to dirty me frock.’

  When Molly found her voice, she asked, ‘What the hell are yer playing at, Nellie? What are yer dressed up like a dog’s dinner for? I thought we were going to the shops?’

  ‘Oh, we are, girl!’ Nellie nodded her head, causing her chins to move upward and her wide-brimmed wedding hat to fall down over her eyes. Slowly, she took off one of her gloves, a finger at a time the way she’d seen Joan Crawford do it in one of her films. Then she pushed her hat back so she could see her friend, and explained, ‘It’s like this, girl. Seeing as we’re going to the butcher’s and the greengrocer’s, I thought it would be nice to let Tony and Billy see me bride’s mother’s outfit. I mean, they didn’t see the wedding, did they, girl, so I thought I’d give them a treat. Cheer them up for the day, like.’

  ‘Over my dead body, Nellie McDonough! If yer think I’m walking to the shops with yer looking like that, well, yer’ve got another think coming.’

  Nellie glared at her friend before turning her back and picking up the carver chair from its place beside the sideboard and putting it by the table. She then sat down, and took off her other glove, in slow motion, one finger at a time. Then, after laying them down on the table, very neatly and precisely, she glanced up at Molly, who had a look of disbelief on her face. ‘If I’m not supposed to wear me wedding outfit, well, what am I supposed to do with the bleeding thing? Put it in the wardrobe and leave it there for the moths to get at? This hat cost me two guinea, so I intend getting some wear out of it.’ Her eyes narrowed and her top lip curled. ‘I know what it is, Molly Bennett, ye’re jealous, that’s what it is. I’m surprised at yer, acting like a flaming child.’

  ‘I am not jealous, Nellie McDonough, and I am not childish.’ Even as she was speaking, a voice in Molly’s head was telling her that she wanted her bumps feeling, and it was childish to argue. ‘Anyway, I don’t intend to get meself all worked up about it, so I’ll keep me cool and just tell yer I’m not going shopping with yer in that get-up. You go to the shops now and I’ll go when I’ve put some washing on the line.’

  ‘Yer mean I’m not even getting a cup of tea?’ Nellie’s voice rose. ‘Well, you miserable bugger! I’ve a good mind to take yer at yer word and go to the shops on me own. That would teach yer to be sarky with me.’

  ‘Yer know where the door is, Nellie, yer don’t need me to show yer out. But as we’re supposed to be mates, I’ll go halfway with yer. Yer can have yer usual cup of tea, but I am definitely not walking down the street with yer looking like that.’

  ‘I think ye’re two-faced, Molly Bennett. Yer were full of praise for me dress and hat before the wedding. Now yer won’t even walk down the street with me wearing it.’

  Molly pulled a chair out and sat down. This was going to be a long session and there was no point in making her feet suffer. ‘Nellie, sunshine, I love yer outfit, and I think yer look like a million dollars in it. But there’s a time and place for everything, and this isn’t the time to be walking down the street in a wedding outfit. Yer’d be the talk of the neighbourhood, a laughing stock, and that is something I don’t want to see.’

  Nellie spread out her chubby hands. ‘Then when am I going to be able to wear it, girl? It’s a sin to stick it in the wardrobe and never wear it again. It’s not often we get clothes as posh as these, so why can’t we enjoy them? Aren’t yer going to wear yours?’

  Molly nodded. ‘Yes, sunshine, I’ll be wearing mine, but at the right time.’ She patted her mate’s hand. ‘Tell me, will your Lily be wearing her wedding dress often?’

  Nellie lowered her head to think of a good answer to that, but one didn’t spring to mind. ‘Not to go to the shops in, girl. That would be daft.’

  ‘Apart from going to the shops, when will she wear it again?’

  Nellie was stuck. No matter how many faces she pulled, she couldn’t think of an answer. Then suddenly her face lit up. ‘I know, girl, she could wear it at the christening!’

  ‘What christening?’

  ‘When the baby gets christened!’

  ‘Which baby is that, sunshine?’

  ‘The baby what our Lily and Archie are going to have. Why don’t yer use yer brains, girl?’

  ‘Nellie, they’ve only been married forty-eight hours, and already yer’ve got them having a baby! And just so yer can wear yer ruddy hat! If Lily and Archie have got any sense they’ll put off having a baby for a while. Let them enjoy each other a bit before starting a family. Once they have a baby they won’t be able to get out to dances and the flicks like they do now. They’ll be tied down. So don’t be putting a spell on them just so yer can titivate yerself up and show off.’

  ‘All that bleeding money spent on the wedding and we can’t
wear the clothes afterwards. What a waste when there’s people in the world starving.’

  Molly was dying to laugh. Never once had her mate ever mentioned the people in the world who were starving. In fact, Molly was surprised she even knew about them, ’cos although she loved the bones of Nellie, she had to admit she wouldn’t go out of her way to help anyone. If she saw someone lying in the gutter she wouldn’t offer to help them up, she’d say it was their own ruddy fault for being drunk. Then a little voice in Molly’s head pulled her up, and reminded her that Nellie had been getting more generous and caring over the last few years. Why, it was only a few days before Christmas that she had let herself be talked into putting a penny in a Salvation Army collecting tin. The memory of that brought a smile to Molly’s face as in her mind she saw a picture of Nellie holding the penny up to the collector’s face so she could see it was a penny Nellie was putting in the box, and not a button like some folk she knew.

  ‘What are yer smiling at, girl, ’cos I can’t see anything to smile about. If I thought yer were laughing at me, I’d clock yer one.’

  ‘I’m not laughing at you, sunshine, it was just something flashed through me mind. It was a long time ago, and I can’t remember where or when. Anyway, how about you going to the shops? Otherwise they’ll be closing for dinner.’

  ‘What! Where’s me cup of tea? Now that’s breaking a promise, that is. Yer said I could have a cup of tea and a biscuit, and I ain’t moving from here until I get it.’ Nellie’s sharp nod told Molly she meant what she said, and it told her chins to please themselves whether they did a quickstep or a slow foxtrot. ‘So put that in yer pipe and smoke it, Molly clever clogs Bennett.’

  Molly’s head told her she was as daft as her friend, but it didn’t stop her from saying, ‘I never said yer could have a biscuit, sunshine, so don’t be making me out to be a liar.’

  Nellie was fast losing her patience. ‘Bloody hell, girl, how long are yer going to keep this up? I don’t know why ye’re getting yer knickers in a twist, but if it improves yer temper, I’ll leave me ruddy hat here while we go to the shops. Honest to God, girl, when I was wondering what to give yer as a Christmas present, I couldn’t think what to get yer. It never entered me head to buy yer a dummy.’