Stay as Sweet as You Are

  Stay As

  Sweet

  As You Are

  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 9029 8

  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

  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 Last Dance Is Over

  Taking A Chance On Love

  Strolling With The One I Love

  I dedicate this book to the many readers who have written to say how much they enjoy my books. I appreciate your letters, and hope my characters find favour with you.

  A friendly greeting from Joan

  Lucy Mellor is the heroine of this story, and I think you’ll love her. But leave room in your heart for the other larger-than-life characters who will have you reaching for your hankies. There is a baddie, and you’ll meet her soon enough.

  Happy reading!

  Chapter One

  The flickering flame from the streetlamp cast an eerie glow over the face of the young girl huddled on the step of the two-up two-down terrace house. Her elbows were resting on her drawn-up knees and her two hands cupped her dirty, tear-stained face. Her eyes kept darting up and down the silent street as though anxious for the sight of someone, and occasionally her head would turn to look back through the open front door and into the darkness of the house.

  Lucy Mellor let out a long sigh. She was in for a hiding now, no matter what she did. Her mam would say she should have taken herself off to bed while it was still light, instead of staying up until this time. But when she’d gone out at half-past seven, her mam had said she’d only be out for half an hour so Lucy had stayed up waiting for her. Then it had started to get dark and she was afraid to go upstairs with no one in the house. She had thought about striking a match and lighting the gas-light, but her dad had warned her about standing on a chair striking a match. She was small for her eleven years and he said it was too dangerous. And now, with the house in pitch darkness she was too afraid to go inside, never mind climbing the stairs to her bedroom.

  She heard a door close nearby and Lucy quickly swivelled her legs around into the hall, hoping whoever it was would pass without seeing her. She was in enough trouble without the neighbours knowing she’d been left alone until this time of night. They wouldn’t think twice about having a go at her mam; they were always telling Ruby Mellor that she wasn’t fit to be a mother. Then the girl heard the slow slithering footsteps and knew it was old Mrs McBride who lived three doors away. She’d be on her way to the corner pub for her nightly half-pint of stout. That meant it must be nearly ten o’clock because the old woman never went until just on closing-time.

  Lucy held her breath, hoping their neighbour would pass without glancing in the doorway, but the old woman had sharp eyesight.

  ‘Is that you, queen? What on earth are yer doing sitting there at this time? Yer should have been in bed hours ago.’ There was surprise in Aggie McBride’s voice, and her eyes narrowed when she noticed the house was in darkness. ‘Are yer all on yer own, queen? Where’s that mother of yours got to?’

  ‘She’s only gone out for half an hour, Mrs Aggie – I’m waiting for her.’ Lucy was used to making excuses for her mother, she was doing it all the time. ‘She’ll be here any minute now.’

  Aggie huffed. This girl had the face of an angel, with thick dark curly hair framing her heart-shaped face, and green eyes as big as saucers. She was a daughter any mother would be proud of, but not Ruby Mellor. She was too fond of herself, out for a good time and to hell with everyone else. All the neighbours had her taped and not one had a good word for her. She treated her daughter like a skivvy, making her do housework, shopping and even sending her scrounging to the neighbours if she ran short of anything. But she’d gone too far tonight, leaving a child in a dark house on her own; she deserved horse-whipping. ‘Would yer like me to come in and light the gas for yer, queen? Then yer could get yerself off to bed before she comes in.’

  If Lucy had been frightened before, she was now terrified. ‘No, I’ll be al
l right, Mrs Aggie, honest. Me mam will be here any minute now, yer’ll see.’ There was a sob in the girl’s throat. ‘Yer won’t say anything to her, will yer, Mrs Aggie? Please?’

  Aggie’s temper was rising. How she’d love to give Ruby Mellor a piece of her mind. But if she did, Lucy would be the one to suffer. ‘I’ll not say a dickie-bird, queen, I promise. Anyway, yer dad will be finishing his two-to-ten shift any minute, so if yer mam knows what’s good for her, she’ll make sure she’s home by then. If he finds you still up, and nothing ready for him to eat, then the sparks will fly.’ Wrapping the knitted shawl across her arms, Aggie managed to hide the jug she was taking to the pub for her half-pint of stout. Not that she needed to hide it, everyone in the neighbourhood knew Aggie and her drinking habits. ‘I’ll be on me way, queen, before Alec puts the towels on and I miss me nightly dose of medicine. And that would be a fate worse than death.’ She began to shuffle away. ‘I hope ye’re not here when I come back, Lucy, ’cos if yer are I’m going to sit with yer and wait for that mother of yours.’

  ‘I won’t be, Mrs Aggie,’ Lucy said, willing the old lady to move away so she could think of what to do. She had two choices. She could brave the dark and run up to bed, or she could brave her mother’s anger. It wasn’t often that Lucy rebelled against her life, but right now she was asking herself why she should be the one to be afraid. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Her mam was in the wrong, she had no right to stay out all this time.

  Lucy sighed. She knew she’d get a hiding when her mam came in. Never a day passed without her feeling the force of her mother’s hands. And yet she never did anything to deserve it. She never answered back or gave cheek, never even looked sideways. But it didn’t take much to send her mother into a temper, and she was always the whipping boy. It wasn’t so bad when her dad was in; her mother wouldn’t dare hit her in his presence. But he worked three shifts and she didn’t see much of him. If he wasn’t at work he was in bed. And she’d been well warned what would happen to her if she went running to him telling tales.

  Ruby Mellor was gasping for breath as she ran up the street. She’d cut it fine tonight, and she’d be lucky if she got home in time to have Bob’s bacon sizzling in the frying pan when he came back from work. She should never have listened to the friends she’d been drinking with when they coaxed her to stay a bit longer. But she’d been flattered by the attention of Wally Brown, who kept paying her compliments and keeping her glass filled. He was a handsome man in his thirties, a bachelor who was fond of the ladies. And Ruby lapped it up, telling herself another five minutes wouldn’t do any harm. Well, she now understood that five minutes could make all the difference. If Bob got home before her there’d be hell to pay.

  She reached into her coat pocket for the door key and her hand was outstretched when she realised the door was open and Lucy was standing on the step. ‘What the bleedin’ hell are you doing still up? Get in that house, quick.’ Pushing past her daughter she ran into the living room and felt on the mantelpiece for a box of matches. She struck one, held it to the gas mantel and the room flooded with light. Then she spun around. ‘What the hell d’yer think ye’re playing at, yer little faggot? Why aren’t yer in bed?’

  Lucy dropped her eyes. ‘Yer said yer were only going out for half an hour, and I waited for yer. Then it got dark and I was frightened to be in the house on me own.’

  Ruby swung her arm out and her open palm caught Lucy on the side of the face, sending the girl reeling back. ‘Frightened, were yer? Well, I’ll give yer something to be frightened about, yer little faggot.’

  Her hand touching her cheek, Lucy could feel the tears well up in her eyes and their warmth as they rolled down her cheeks. It was so unfair, she just had to speak out. ‘It’s not my fault, it’s you what told lies. Half an hour yer said, and now it’s gone ten o’clock.’

  ‘Don’t you dare answer me back. And what I do has got nothing to do with you. Ye’re big and ugly enough to see yerself to bed, and I’ll make yer sorry yer didn’t.’

  Neither of them had heard the front door open or knew that Bob was standing in the hall listening. It was only when Ruby reached out to give Lucy a hiding that he made his presence known. ‘Touch her and yer’ll be out in that street on yer backside before yer know what’s hit yer.’ He put his arm across his daughter’s shoulders and bent to kiss her hair. ‘Don’t cry, pet, you just take yerself off to bed while I have a word with yer mam.’

  Lucy shivered. ‘I’m cold and thirsty, Dad, could I have a hot drink, please?’

  ‘I’ll bring yer one up when yer mam decides a man needs a meal after a day’s work. You poppy off and I’ll bring yer a cup of tea in a minute.’

  After Lucy had fled without a word or a glance, Ruby’s face and manner changed as if someone had waved a magic wand. In the place of anger, there was a smile. ‘She’s making a mountain out of a molehill, the silly thing. I was busy talking in me mate’s house and didn’t realise the time. But I told Lucy to go to bed before I went out, and she should have done as she was told. Still, there’s no harm done.’ She made a move towards the kitchen. ‘I’ll see to yer supper, it won’t take five minutes.’

  Bob put his cap on the sideboard. ‘You stay right where yer are until we get a few things straight.’ He didn’t speak for a while as he took stock of the woman he’d married fifteen years ago. She’d been nineteen then, and as pretty as a picture. Nice slim figure, mousy-coloured curly hair, laughing hazel eyes and a peaches and cream complexion. The woman he was facing now bore no resemblance to that happy-go-lucky girl. The mousy-coloured hair was bleached to a horrible pale yellow, the hazel eyes were hard and calculating and Ruby’s face was caked with make-up. She looked like a brazen, cheap tart, and her actions matched her looks. ‘Where have yer been from half-seven until now?’

  ‘I told yer, I was in me mate’s and the time just seemed to fly over.’

  ‘Don’t you lie to me!’ Bob’s voice was raised in anger. ‘You must take me for a right bloody fool. I can smell the drink on yer from here, and it’s not just one glass yer’ve had – yer’ve had a bellyful. And while ye’re out enjoying yerself, yer leave an eleven-year-old girl on her own in the house. And I’ll bet that yer never gave her one thought as yer sat boozing with yer cronies. What sort of a mother are yer? In fact, what sort of a wife are yer?’

  Ruby tried to wheedle her way out of it. ‘It’s the first time it’s happened, Bob, so don’t get in a temper. I’ll see to yer supper now and promise it won’t happen again.’

  ‘Ye’re not getting away with it that easy, so you just stay right where yer are. I should have put a halt to yer gallop years ago, before yer started going off the rails. I should have done it for Lucy’s sake because she deserves a better mother than you. She’s a good kid and I’m proud of her. But I can see now that she gets more hidings off you than she does hugs or kisses. And I blame meself for that.’ He crossed the room and, putting his hands on his wife’s shoulders, he turned her around to face the mirror hanging over the fireplace. ‘Take a good look at yerself, Ruby, and see yerself as others see yer. Peroxide blonde, thick cheap make-up, a face as hard as nails and smelling like a brewery.’ He dropped his hands and let out a deep sigh. ‘You are not the woman I married, but so help me, I’m stuck with yer. And so is our daughter.’

  Ruby rounded on him. ‘Who the hell d’yer think yer are, talking to me like that? Just because I like to get a bit of enjoyment out of life, instead of being bleedin’ miserable, like you. You might be happy with work, bed, the wireless and a pint on a Saturday, but it’s not my idea of a good life. I’ve no intention of being the dutiful wife, who sits knitting or darning every night, so yer can get that out of yer head. Life is short and I intend to get the best out of it while I’m still able.’

  He gripped her arm and held it tight. ‘Frankly, Ruby, I couldn’t care less what yer do. If yer want to drink yerself to death and get a name like a mad dog, then go ahead. But while I am the one working and handing my ha
rd-earned money over to yer, I expect the house to be kept clean and meals on the table on time. I also expect me daughter to be dressed decent and to be treated with kindness and affection. I do not want her to be doing the work which you should be doing, or being ordered around like a skivvy.’ His grip tightened. ‘And if I ever find yer’ve raised yer hand to her in anger, then heaven help yer.’ He pushed her away as though in disgust. ‘Make a pot of tea so I can take a cup up to Lucy before she goes to sleep.’

  Ruby glared at him. This was all that little faggot’s fault, and by God she’d pay for it tomorrow. There was no fear of Bob finding out, Lucy would be too scared to tell him.

  Her husband watched her face and could almost read her mind. ‘Don’t for one moment think of taking yer spite out on her tomorrow, thinking she’ll be too frightened to tell me. ’Cos from now on I’ll be taking a very keen interest in me daughter’s welfare. Lay a finger on her and I’ll know about it.’ He waited until his wife was at the kitchen door before adding, ‘Oh, yer’ll be five bob down in yer money this week. I’m taking Lucy to town on Saturday to buy her something decent to wear. She’s the prettiest girl in the street but always looks like an unwanted orphan. But from today there’s going to be big changes around here, whether yer like it or not. So yer’d better start getting used to being a housewife and mother again. Yer don’t have to worry about being a wife to me, yer stopped being that years ago. And if ye’re looking for anyone to lay the blame on for all this, look no further than yerself.’

  Aggie McBride was passing the Mellors’ house on her way back from the pub, and when she heard raised voices she felt no guilt in standing outside the window and listening. She kept nodding her head when Bob spoke, and muttered, ‘It’s about time yer came to yer senses, Bob Mellor. That’s right, lad, you tell her. Ye’re about five years too late, like, but as they say, it’s better late than never.’