The Girl From Number 22 Read online

  ‘She paid for the window, son, which she could ill afford ’cos money was a lot tighter then than it is now. Because of the fright I got, I have never forgotten the woman’s name. Mrs Fothergill it was. And to make up for the ornament, I had to do all her messages for a month, bring a bucket of coal in for her every night after school, and swill the yard and lavatory every Saturday. When the month was up, she gave me a penny for sweets, and with that penny in me pocket I felt like a millionaire.’

  ‘What kind of sweets did yer buy, Dad?’ Paul asked. ‘Did they have liquorice sticks in those days, and black jacks?’

  Jimmy smiled. The way his son spoke, anyone would think it was a hundred years since he was Paul’s age. ‘Yes, they had those sweets, son, and I was sorely tempted. But I didn’t spend the penny, I gave it to me mam.’

  ‘I’m beginning to feel like the odd man out,’ Danny said, his dimples showing. ‘I’m the only one here who hasn’t broken a window or had a doll. I never noticed, like, but I must have led a really dull life.’

  ‘There’s plenty of time yet, son,’ Ada told him. ‘It might not be windows yer break, but a few girls’ hearts.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve done that already, Mam! At the last count it was twenty-two. One girl took it so bad, she threatened to jump off New Brighton Pier.’ He chuckled at the look on his mother’s face. ‘It’s all right, Mam, she chickened out. She was at the dance the next night, and she had the cheek to tap me on the shoulder in the excuse-me waltz.’

  ‘She didn’t jump off the pier, then?’

  Danny shook his head. ‘No, I pulled her up about that. I told her she had no right to say things and then not do them. And d’yer know what her answer was? She said she got the ferry over to New Brighton, determined to jump, only to realise when she got there, she’d forgotten to take her bathing costume with her.’

  Paul thought he had the answer. ‘She didn’t intend to jump, she was only saying that to frighten yer.’

  Danny put on a surprised expression. ‘Is that what you think? No, I can’t see her doing anything like that.’

  ‘Of course she did,’ his brother said, with all his ten years of experience behind him. ‘She wanted to get her own back on yer ’cos yer wouldn’t let her be your girl.’

  ‘There speaks a man of the world, Danny,’ Ada said. ‘Yer want to take what he’s saying on board, for he could be hitting the nail on the head.’

  Danny nodded his head slowly for his young brother’s benefit. ‘Yeah, he could have a point. If she excuses me in a dance tonight, I’ll have a word with her.’

  However, Paul wasn’t going to leave it there. ‘Is she ugly, or something? Is that why yer don’t want to go out with her?’

  ‘Sadly, although I really shouldn’t talk about anyone behind their back, ye’re right. She’s even worse than the pigeon-toed, bandy-legged, short-sighted girl I told yer about. This girl has got huge buck teeth, and can’t close her mouth. She looks as though she’s laughing all the time. If yer told her someone had died, she’d look really pleased.’

  Jimmy was highly amused. ‘If yer told her a joke, how would yer know whether she thought it was funny or not?’

  ‘I couldn’t tell yer the answer to that, Dad, ’cos I didn’t see the point in telling her a joke.’

  ‘These dances yer go to, son,’ Ada had this question for him, ‘aren’t there ever any pretty girls there?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, plenty of them! That’s why I’m going to leave the table now, and nab the sink before yer start doing the washing up. I want to get there early so I’ll have the pick of the bunch.’ Danny pushed his chair back, then, ruffling his mother’s hair, said, ‘Give me fifteen minutes, Mam, ’cos I need to shave.’

  He was in the kitchen when Paul shouted, ‘Why d’yer have to go looking for pretty girls when there’s Sally next door? She’s really nice, is Sally.’

  Danny’s head appeared round the door. ‘Because I’ve known Sally since the day I was born, and she’s like a sister to me. And no bloke would want to go out with his sister.’

  Ada lifted her hand to silence Paul when she saw he was about to speak. ‘Leave it now, son, and let him get ready. And leave yer plate where it is. I’ll take it out later, with the others.’ She gave a little sigh, but kept her thoughts to herself. She’d never mentioned it to her family, but over the years, when Danny and Hetty’s daughter Sally were growing up, they had been really good mates. And both mothers had been hoping the pair would one day find romance together. They would have been over the moon to have the two families united. But while Sally did at one time seem keen on the boy next door, nothing had ever come of it. The two were, as Danny said, like brother and sister. They would always be there to help each other, but that vital spark of love was missing.

  Danny was whistling when he reached the entrance to the building, and he took the flight of steps leading up to the dance hall two at a time. He could hear the strains of a waltz, and he softly hummed the melody as he handed sixpence over to the attendant for his ticket. Dancing was in his blood, and he was never happier than when he was gliding across the dance floor, keeping in perfect time with the music.

  When he pushed the door of the hall open, he could see there were several couples on the floor, all very experienced dancers who enjoyed having the space to twist and twirl without bumping into another couple. Their style and grace was putting off the learners, who preferred to wait until the hall was crowded, when any mistakes they made wouldn’t be noticed. There were groups of girls standing at the edge of the floor, waiting and hoping to be asked to dance by one of the group of lads standing near the doorway.

  There were three girls whom Danny danced with regularly. He never saw them away from the dance hall; they were only partners when they were dancing. All three were good dancers and one of them was there now, with the other girls lining the side of the floor. She saw him come through the door and waved. He walked towards her, his dimples showing when he grinned, and causing a few of the young girls to sigh with hope. If only he was walking towards them, they would be overjoyed. But it was a slim, blonde-haired girl who reached for his outstretched hand when he asked, ‘Are yer dancing, Janet?’

  The girl’s pretty face lit up. ‘Are yer asking, Danny?’

  ‘I’m asking.’

  ‘Then I’m dancing.’

  The music had changed to a slow foxtrot, and Danny clasped the girl’s hand and pulled her gently on to the floor. The slow foxtrot was his favourite dance, and holding his partner close he led her into each step. They were perfect partners, moving with grace and ease across the floor. And he was sorry when the dance came to an end. ‘Ye’re no sooner getting into it than they stop,’ Danny grumbled as he walked Janet back to where her friends were. Releasing her hand, he told her, ‘I’ll be back for the quickstep. So if anyone else asks yer, tell them ye’re spoken for.’

  ‘It depends who it is,’ Janet said, smiling. ‘If it was Cary Grant, then I’m afraid he’d win hands down.’

  Danny pretended to be horrified. ‘Cary Grant! He’s old enough to be yer dad, and he can’t dance for toffee.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t have me mind on toffee if Cary Grant came and stood in front of me and asked me for a dance.’ Janet giggled. ‘I wouldn’t be worrying about anything because I’d be flat out on the floor in a dead faint.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose ye’re right,’ Danny said, deadpan. ‘I think Cary would call it swoon, and not faint. Yer see, a long time ago, when he was a lot younger, all the ladies used to swoon when they saw him.’ He was chuckling when he turned away. ‘I can’t see Cary Grant making it here tonight, he’d never manage to get on and off the tram at his age. And even if he did, the steps outside would defeat him. So, to save yer being a wallflower, I’ll step in for him when the quickstep comes up.’ Danny winked at her, before walking off to join the group of lads standing by the door. The girls were for dancing with, his mates were for having a laugh with, and talking about work.

  He was listenin
g to one of his mates, Greg, sounding off about the lousy wages he was getting, and the miserable sod he was working with, when the double doors opened and two girls came through. They both waved to Danny, for they were the other two girls he regularly danced with. Betsy, who had auburn hair and a slim figure, was fantastic at the tango; no other girl could match her. Dorothy, on the other hand, with her black hair and deep brown eyes, excelled at the quickstep and the rumba. They always came to the dance together for they lived in the same street and were good friends. But their arrival coincided with the sound of a quickstep starting up, and this put Danny in a bit of a dilemma. For Dorothy was looking at him, expectation in the smile on her face. But he’d promised Janet now, and he didn’t want to let her down. He chuckled inside, thinking Janet wasn’t the type to let him get away with it. If he chose Dorothy now, then next time he asked Janet she’d tell him to get lost in no uncertain terms.

  ‘Are yer dancing, Janet?’ Danny asked, feeling Dorothy’s eyes boring into his back. ‘Seeing as Cary Grant hasn’t been able to make it.’

  ‘I suppose yer know Dorothy’s here, don’t yer?’

  ‘Yeah, I saw her come in with Betsy. Why?’

  ‘Well, perhaps yer don’t know she’s giving yer cow’s eyes. I don’t mind if yer dance with her, Danny. I’ll get asked up, if that’s what’s worrying yer.’

  ‘I asked you before Dorothy even got here, so I don’t see why I should back out on yer, even if she is giving me cow’s eyes. The worst thing she can do is trip me up in the middle of the floor, just when I’m doing me intricate steps, what I’m famous for in every dance hall in the city of Liverpool.’ He took Janet’s hand and pulled her on to the dance floor. ‘Anyway, surely to goodness I can dance with who I like. Why should I be frightened of Dorothy? It’s a free country.’ He waited for the right beat, then swept forward, carrying Janet along with him. After a few seconds, he whispered, ‘Ay, have yer ever seen Dorothy’s dad? D’yer know if he’s a big feller or not? I don’t mind facing a little twerp, but I don’t fancy taking on a bloke what looks like King Kong.’

  Janet wanted to laugh, but she could see Dorothy staring at her so she kept her face straight. ‘I have seen him, yeah. I don’t live far from them. I’d say he was in between a twerp and a King Kong.’

  ‘In that case, I’d better be diplomatic. The next dance with Dorothy, then the tango with Betsy. After that I should be free to ask you again.’ They had reached the corner of the dance floor, and Danny was silent as he executed his famous twirl. Then he said, ‘They might put a rumba on, though, so then I’ll be back to Dorothy.’

  Janet liked Danny, and wished he would ask her out one night. But she knew he was too fond of dancing to waste a night sitting in a picture house. One day, perhaps he’d surprise her, you never know. ‘While ye’re dancing with Dot, ask her about her dad. Not outright, like, but in the course of a conversation. If she says he’s about the same height as herself, then yer’ll be safe to ask me up again.’ Her pretty face creased with laughter. ‘If I don’t see yer again tonight, I’ll know her dad is a six footer.’

  ‘Ay, I’m no midget meself, yer know. Five feet ten in me socks, and five eleven when I’ve got me shoes on. And I’m only just eighteen, so I’m still a growing lad.’

  ‘Ah, well, in that case, Dot’s father should be a pushover for yer.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go as far as to say that,’ Danny said. ‘And in the interval, when all the girls disappear to the ladies’ room to renew their lipstick, don’t you be getting too friendly with Dorothy, either. I know what girls are like for a bit of gossip.’

  The music came to an end, and Danny was leading Janet back to her mates when she said, ‘I don’t stand gossiping while I’m putting me lipstick on, Danny, I don’t have time. I’m far too busy listening to the other girls pulling each other to pieces.’

  Danny left her with a smile, and rejoined his mates. She had a good sense of humour, did Janet. That was one of the things he liked about her. More than could be said for his mate, Greg, who was still moaning about his wages and the miserable sod he worked with. ‘It’s a waste of a tanner, you coming here,’ Danny told him. ‘Why don’t yer stay at home? Yer could moan to yer heart’s content there, and it wouldn’t cost yer anything.’

  ‘It doesn’t cost me anything to come.’ Greg had a smirk on his face. ‘Me ma pays for me.’

  Another mate, Paddy, said, ‘I don’t blame her. She probably does it so she doesn’t have to listen to yer moaning all night.’

  Danny cocked an ear. The four piece band were playing a rumba. And there wasn’t a girl in the hall who could do a rumba as well as Dorothy. So he made haste towards her. ‘Are yer fit, Dorothy?’

  Dorothy’s deep brown eyes widened, and when she spoke there was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. ‘Oh, I thought yer’d be asking Janet for this one. Yer seemed to be getting quite matey with her.’

  ‘Did I? Oh, well, if yer don’t want to dance, I may as well ask her.’

  Dorothy was quick to tell him, ‘I didn’t say I didn’t want to dance, I was only remarking that yer seemed friendly with Janet. Yer know I enjoy doing the rumba with yer.’

  ‘Shall we get on the floor before the dance is over, then?’

  There was no doubt that Dorothy was outstanding when doing the rumba. Many couples left the floor to stand at the side and watch. And Danny, his head and chest swollen with pride, matched her step for step. They made a perfect couple, and both knew it. But Danny wasn’t quite as serious as Dorothy, he could always see the funny side. And when they came to the part of the rumba where he bent her backwards over his left arm, he looked down at her, his dimples deepening, and asked, ‘By the way, Dorothy, is your father a big bloke?’

  Chapter Three

  It was Monday morning and Ada was struggling to turn the heavy handle on the mangle. She stopped to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, saying aloud, ‘I hate ruddy Mondays. I don’t know why we can’t spread the wash over a few days and make life easier for ourselves.’ With a deep sigh, she turned the handle again with her right hand, while with her left she held the sheet as it came through the rubber rollers at the back. ‘It’s a flaming custom that’s been passed down from generation to generation. In fact it’s probably a habit from the year dot. Washday every Monday, and fish day every Friday. Not that I dislike fish, I’m rather partial to it, but I hate Monday!’

  The sheet came out from the rollers, and Ada folded it several times so it wouldn’t touch the stone floor. She stood for a while to catch her breath, then opened the kitchen door and stepped down into the yard. The large pocket in her pinny was bulging with wooden pegs, and she took three out and put them in her mouth before throwing the sheet over the clothes line. Then she opened it up and spread it along the line, pegging it at intervals. There was a breeze out, and soon the sheet was blowing in the wind. She leaned back against the wall and watched it as her head filled with notions. ‘I’d swap places with my feller any day. I’d do his job, and he could take over the housework. He wouldn’t know what had hit him. I’d give him one week, and he’d throw the towel in. In fact he wouldn’t last the week.’

  ‘Ada Fenwick, are you talking to yerself?’ Hetty’s voice floated over the wall. ‘Yer want to be careful, ’cos it’s a bad sign, that is.’

  ‘Well, it’s Monday, isn’t it? I’m entitled to have a moan. It’s the worst ruddy day of the week, and from this week I’m going on strike. Instead of one big wash, I’m going to do a bit each day and make life easier for meself.’

  ‘No matter how yer do it, queen, it’s still the same amount of washing. And it’s not all bad today, the weather is just the job for drying the clothes quickly. We’ll have them all dry by teatime, ready to iron in the morning.’

  ‘Thanks for telling me that, sunshine, it gives me something to look forward to. A stack of ruddy ironing!’

  ‘My goodness, you are down in the dumps, aren’t yer? When yer’ve put the washing out, why don’t yer come
here and I’ll make us a nice pot of tea. I might even stretch to giving yer a few biscuits to dunk.’

  Ada, still leaning against the yard wall with her arms folded, called, ‘Considering you’ve got nearly as many to wash for as I have, can I ask why ye’re feeling so pleased with yerself?’

  ‘I’ve had the wireless on while I’ve been doing me washing, and Victor Silvester and his dance band have been on. It’s a wonder yer didn’t hear me singing along with all the old tunes he played. I haven’t half enjoyed meself.’

  Ada pulled herself away from the wall. ‘Why the hell didn’t yer tell me he was on? Yer know he’s a favourite of mine. If yer’d used yer brains and given me a knock, I could have been as happy as you are.’

  ‘If you hadn’t been so busy moaning and talking to yerself, queen, then yer would have heard the radio through the wall. And I was singing so loud me throat’s gone all dry.’

  ‘Then the sooner we get our washing out, and the tea made, the better. So let’s shake a leg and get it over with. I’ll be at yours in about twenty minutes. I’ve been washed, I only need to comb me hair to make meself presentable.’

  ‘Who d’yer want to make yerself presentable for?’ Hetty asked. ‘Is it Ronnie in the butcher’s yer’ve got yer eye on, or Stan in the grocer’s?’

  ‘Ah, ay, sunshine, credit me with a bit of taste. My Jimmy would knock spots off those two! If I was looking for a feller, it would have to be someone with loads of money. And d’yer know why I’d like someone with loads of money?’

  Hetty knew her mate inside out, and she grinned. ‘Yeah, I bet I can quess why yer’d like a sugar daddy.’

  ‘I bet yer can’t! Not unless ye’re a blinking mind reader.’

  ‘A penny if I guess right? Scout’s honour?’

  ‘Oh, go on then, I’m as daft as you. A penny it is, if yer get it right.’

  ‘Yer’d like to have enough money to take all the washing to the laundry, so there’d be no more Monday morning blues.’