MB03 - Sweet Rosie O’Grady Page 5
One look from his dad and Tommy was out of the door before you could say Jack Robinson. ‘D’yer want me to see to Ruthie?’
‘No, I’ll give her a quick rub-down. She’ll be in bed in five minutes, then I can sit down an’ put me feet up.’
‘The girls are takin’ long enough to get ready.’ Jack took a last puff before throwing his cigarette stump in the fire. ‘They’ve been up there for half an hour.’
‘They’re no different to other girls,’ Molly said wearily. ‘I was the same meself at their age.’ There was a droop in her shoulders as she walked to the kitchen. ‘It’s been a day an’ a half, all right. I’m that tired, I feel as though I’ve scrubbed every inch of the Empire Theatre all by meself.’
‘Don’t tackle a job like that on yer own,’ Jack chuckled, ‘take Nellie with yer next time.’
Molly popped her head round the door. ‘I’ll tell yer later about the stunt Nellie pulled on me today … yer’ll laugh yer socks off.’
Jack reached for the unopened Echo, then sat back in his chair feeling relieved. Once his wife started talking about Nellie, she’d be smiling again. And that’s the way it should be … she didn’t seem properly dressed without a smile on her still pretty face.
‘Hello, Mrs Bennett … Mr Bennett!’ Maureen Shepherd laid her bag on the table and rubbed her arms briskly. ‘It’s freezin’ out.’
‘Come an’ stand by the fire, Mo, an’ yer’ll soon get warm.’ Molly pushed her chair back to make room for Doreen’s friend. They’d both started work on the same day at Johnson’s and had been firm friends since. This had pleased Molly because Maureen was a sensible girl and a good influence on Doreen, who was inclined to be outspoken and impulsive.
Maureen stood with her back to the fire and lifted her coat, feeling the warmth travel up her legs. She was an attractive girl with dark chestnut-coloured hair cut in a short bob around her face, large brown eyes set beneath perfectly arched brows, flashing white teeth and a bubbly personality. ‘Isn’t Doreen ready?’
‘Yeah, she won’t be a minute, she’s just gone down the yard.’ Molly looked down at Mo’s high-heeled shoes and shook her head. ‘It’s no wonder ye’re freezin’ in them things! Ye’re just like our Doreen … it’s a miracle yez don’t catch yer death of cold. Haven’t yer got a sturdy pair of shoes?’
‘Molly, will yer leave the girl alone?’ Jack peered over the top of the paper. ‘Yer’ll be tellin’ her what to eat next.’
‘I don’t mind, Mr Bennett.’ Maureen flashed a brilliant smile. ‘I had a lecture off me mam before I came out.’
‘Ay, an’ I bet yer took as much notice of her as my daughter does of me,’ Molly said. ‘It’s like talkin’ to the flamin’ wall.’
There was a rustling of paper as Jack laid the Echo on his knees. ‘I remember your mam saying the same thing about you, oh, it must have been all of twenty years ago.’
‘Oh, here he goes, got to get his twopenny’s-worth in.’ Molly’s tone was light-hearted because she too was remembering. ‘He’s determined to pick a nark with me tonight.’
Just then the kitchen door banged and Doreen came in, her arms wrapped tightly about her body. ‘I wish we had an inside lavvy.’ She was shivering from head to toe, her nose and cheeks glowing pink. ‘It’s ridiculous havin’ to go down the yard in this weather.’
‘They say if yer wish for somethin’ hard enough, then yer wish comes true.’ Molly pulled her chair back to let Doreen near the fire. ‘But I don’t think yer stand much chance of yours comin’ true … it’s either a quick run down the yard or a chamber-pot under the bed.’
‘Mam!’ Doreen was mortified. ‘Fancy sayin’ that!’
‘I know, I’m as common as muck.’ Molly grinned. ‘I wasn’t brought up, yer see girl, I was dragged up.’
‘I wonder what your mother would have to say about that?’ Jack folded the paper and threw it on the couch. Every page you turned was full of war news, and in the end it made you feel down in the dumps. ‘I’ll mention it to her next rime I see her.’
‘You needn’t bother, I’m goin’ round there when I’ve rested me legs for ten minutes, so I’ll tell her meself.’
Jack looked surprised. ‘Yer didn’t say yer were going out.’
‘I’ve only just made up me mind.’ Molly pinched Doreen’s backside. ‘Come on, you’ve had a warm, get yerselves over to Miss Clegg’s.’
While she was putting her coat on and wrapping a muffler round her neck, Doreen told her friend what the old lady wanted her for.
‘That’s great!’ Maureen’s face lit up. ‘I’ll help yer do her hair – we can try a few styles, see what suits her best.’
Chattering away, they walked down the lobby and Molly smiled across at Jack. ‘Those two are goin’ to be like me an’ Nellie … mates for life.’
‘Yer were goin’ to tell me somethin’ about Nellie; what was it?’
Molly stared into the flames, her lips curling into a smile as in her mind she quickly relived the scene. ‘Have yer ever seen that black oilskin cape of George’s?’ When Jack nodded, she said, ‘Well I’ll start at the beginning. Yer know what a mornin’ it was, the flamin’ rain was lashin’ down …’
Ten minutes later Jack was holding his tummy, doubled up with laughter. He didn’t have the quick wit or humour of Molly and her friend, but he did have a good imagination. And Molly was a good storyteller. She described the scene so well, he could see the expression on Nellie’s face when she asked, What d’yer want yer umbrella for, girl?
‘Oh dear, I feel sick with laughin’.’ Jack fell back in the chair, still holding his tummy. ‘Me ribs are aching.’
Molly pulled a piece of paper out of the pocket in her pinny and passed it over to him. ‘Read that.’
Jack looked puzzled. ‘It’s a shoppin’ list.’
‘Read the very bottom,’ Molly spluttered, ‘she’s told me to keep a penny for meself for goin’.’
Pressing hard on his ribs Jack managed to say, ‘Don’t tell me any more, love, or I’ll burst.’
‘Oh, there’s a bit more to come! Just listen without takin’ it in, then yer can have a good laugh when yer pain goes.’ Molly leaned forward, her eyes wet with tears. ‘She gave me three and six to get her messages, said it would be plenty. But it came to four and twopence … an’ d’yer know what she had the nerve to say? All straight-faced, like, she told me she wouldn’t send me on her messages again because I was too extravagant!’
Jack rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. ‘She must be the funniest thing walkin’ round on two legs.’
Molly was thoughtful for a while, her mind ticking over. ‘I don’t know about her bein’ the funniest thing on two legs … that parrot of Mrs Foster’s is very funny. The only thing is, he swears like a ruddy trooper.’
Jack aimed a cushion and it landed on Molly’s knee. ‘Will yer shut up, missus, before I’m in agony.’
‘Yeah, OK love, I’ll leave yer in peace. I want to go round to me ma’s for an hour, anyway.’
‘Why this sudden decision to go to yer ma’s? Yer didn’t mention it earlier.’
‘Because I didn’t think I’d have the energy, that’s why. But Ellen was askin’ me about the material for blackout curtains, an’ I’m goin’ to have to buy it soon. If I leave it too late, it means our Doreen havin’ to do the curtains for six houses all in a rush. She wouldn’t be very happy about that.’
Jack ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Six houses?’
Molly nodded. ‘There’s me, me ma, Nellie, Ellen, Miss Clegg and Mary Watson.’
‘That’s a lot of curtains for her to sew, love.’ Jack did a bit of mental arithmetic. ‘It’s about sixty curtains … minimum.’
‘I know!’ Molly stood up and stretched. ‘For heaven’s sake don’t sympathize with our Doreen, or she’ll have a right gob on ’er. I’ll just get her to do one lot at a time, then it won’t be so bad.’
‘D’yer know how much material yer’ll need?’
‘And the fanlight, don’t forget.’
‘Oh ay, I wouldn’t have thought of that.’ She bent to kiss him. ‘Aren’t I lucky havin’ a husband who’s not only handsome, but clever into the bargain!’
Jack pulled her back for a longer kiss. ‘Yes, there’s not many like me around,’ he whispered, ‘so yer better look after me. Treat me well … d’yer know what I mean?’
‘I know what yer mean all right.’ Molly laughed into the face she held so dear. ‘It means ye’re a dirty old man.’
‘But yer love me?’
‘To death.’ Molly waved from the doorway. ‘I won’t be late, love, ten at the most.’
Chapter Four
Molly rapped briskly on the brass door knocker before sliding her hand back inside the sleeve of her coat. ‘Come on, Ma, it’s freezin’ standin’ here.’ She saw the light go on in the hallway and lifted a foot, poised in readiness to dash in when the door opened. But before she knew what was happening, her arm was gripped and she was pulled unceremoniously over the front step. Staggering to regain her balance, she asked, ‘What the hell’s up, Ma? I nearly tripped an’ broke me flamin’ neck!’
Without releasing her hold, Bridie Jackson kicked her foot backwards and closed the front door with a bang. ‘I’m glad to see yer, me darlin’, so I am.’ She pushed her daughter towards the living room. ‘It was getting so late, hadn’t I almost given you up?’
‘I’ve been runnin’ late all day because of the flamin’ weather,’ Molly said before smiling at the man sitting in the comfortable armchair at the side of the hearth. ‘You look nice an’ cosy, Da, as snug as a bug in a rug. And believe me, the fireside is the best place to be on a lousy night like tonight.’
‘I know that, lass, that’s why I’m staying put.’ Bob Jackson’s white hair was well brushed, his white shirt spotless and the navy-blue cardigan, hand-knitted by his wife, was neatly turned up at the cuffs. Although he was still a fine-looking man, he was only a shadow of the man he had been two years ago, before he had a heart attack. He’d had to leave work and was warned by the doctor to take life very easy. But being idle didn’t sit well on the shoulders of a man who was used to going out to work every day and bringing a wage packet home at the end of the week. He never complained, but Molly knew what his enforced retirement had cost him in loss of pride and dignity.
‘Here, give me yer coat or yer’ll not be feeling the benefit of it when yer go out.’ As Bridie bustled out to the hall-stand, Molly’s eyes followed. There’s something up here, she thought, me ma’s got herself worked up into a real lather.
‘What’s goin’ on, Ma? Yer look like the cat that got the cream.’
‘Better than that, me darlin’.’ Bridie pulled a chair from under the table and turned it towards the grate. ‘Sit yerself by the fire an’ get a warm while I make us a cup of cocoa.’
‘Hang on a minute, Ma! Don’t keep me in suspense, spit it out!’
‘It’s the most marvellous news, and yerself will be as excited as I am, so yer will.’ Bridie clasped and unclasped her hands. ‘But I don’t want to rush tellin’ yer, so I’ll make our drink first.’
‘She’s a proper little bossy-boots, isn’t she, Da?’
‘She bosses me around something shocking, lass, I don’t know why I put up with it.’
‘Oh, is that right now?’ Bridie called from the kitchen. ‘An’ wouldn’t yer be altogether lost without me?’
Bridie had lived in Liverpool for over forty years, and although her lilting Irish brogue was tempered with a touch of the Liverpool accent, it was sweet and musical. She was turned sixty now, but carried her age well. Her figure was slim, her back ramrod straight. And even spidery lines on her handsome face didn’t detract from the beauty of her finely chiselled features.
Molly winked broadly at her father. ‘She’s not goin’ to tell me she’s pregnant, is she Da?’
Bob chuckled behind his hand, thinking if his wife had heard that, she’d be making the sign of the cross and, with her eyes heavenward, begging God to forgive her daughter.
Glad to see the smile on her father’s face Molly went on, ‘If she is, I’ll get Maisie from the corner shop to ring the News of the World. Yer’ll be the talk of the wash-house, Da, but I wouldn’t worry yer head about that because yer’ll be sittin’ pretty with a few bob in yer pocket.’
‘Tut, tut, tut! Can yer not be makin’ that tongue of yours behave itself?’ Bridie asked, coming through with a laden tray. Even though there was very little money coming in, she never lowered her standards. She kept her little house sparkling, never allowing a speck of dust to settle longer than it took her to fetch a duster. Everything had a place and was kept in it, all neat and tidy like the tray she carried in. A hand-embroidered cloth covered it, and the china cups and saucers set out gleamed as though she’d polished them. ‘There’s only arrowroot biscuits, lass.’
‘That’s all right, Ma, I’m not hungry.’ Molly lifted a cup of cocoa from the tray and placed it on the table in front of her. ‘Well, what’s this news yer have for me? I hope it’s good news, ’cos I could do with cheering up.’
‘Sure it’s the grandest news, so it is.’ Bridie opened a drawer in the sideboard and took out an envelope. ‘I got this letter from home two weeks ago.’ Even after forty years, Bridie still thought of Ireland as home. She was sixteen when she left her family in County Wicklow and set sail for Liverpool, full of hope that she would find work and send money back to help her family who were struggling through difficult times. But it didn’t work out as she’d hoped, and she never had a penny to spare to send home. The only job she could get was as a live-in maid-of-all-work with a rich family in Princes Avenue in Toxteth. Treated like a skivvy, she was paid the princely sum of four shillings a month and her keep. Out of this she was expected to buy her own clothing.
Bridie had been desperately lonely, missing her family and the lush green hills of her native land. Once a month she was given a Sunday off, and with no friends to go out with or visit, she used to go down to the Pier Head to feed the birds with stale bread given to her by the cook. It was on one of these days that she’d met Bob, and it was love at first sight. They were married when she was eighteen and had been blissfully happy ever since. But never a day went by when she didn’t think of home, and regret she’d never been able to afford to go back to see her parents before they died. Now the only contact she had with the old country was a niece, Eileen, whose welcome letters brightened her heart. Bridie pulled out a chair and sat down, facing her daughter, her hands covering the envelope. ‘I didn’t mention it at the time, me darlin’, in case nothing came of it.’
Molly looked into the bright eyes and wondered what on earth it could be that had pleased her mother so much. Usually Eileen’s letters were friendly and chatty, but had never before contained anything that had produced this effect. ‘Go on, Ma, yer’ve got me curious now.’
‘Yer’ve heard me talk about Eileen’s husband, Martin O’Donnell, have yer not?’
Molly nodded patiently. ‘Yes Ma, many times.’
‘And d’yer know that Martin has a sister named Monica, an’ she has four children?’
Molly grinned. ‘I hope she’s got a husband as well.’
Bridie, missing the humour, continued. ‘Monica’s husband, Mick O’Grady, works on a farm near Glendalough. Sure ’tis a beautiful place, the nearest thing to heaven you’re likely to find anywhere in the whole world. But beauty doesn’t put food into mouths, so it doesn’t, and don’t I remember that from when I was a young girl? The O’Gradys, God bless them, are having a struggle to keep body an’ soul togeth
er. Two of their children, a girl an’ a boy, are old enough to work, but sure there’s no jobs to be had when ye’re livin’ miles from anywhere. The boy can earn a few bob workin’ on the farms, but for the girl there’s nothing.’
When Bridie fell silent, Molly gazed at her through lowered lids. ‘If Eileen’s letter was full of woe, Ma, what are yer so happy about?’
This was the question Bridie was waiting for. Her smile wide, her eyes brimming with happiness, the words tumbled from her mouth. ‘Monica asked Eileen if she would write an’ ask me and Bob if we’d take the girl in if she came to Liverpool to find a job.’
Molly gasped. ‘Yer couldn’t do that, Ma! Yer don’t know what she’s like, an’ you and Da are too old now to have the worry of a young girl! Especially me da, he needs peace and quiet, an’ he wouldn’t get it if there was a noisy youngster in the house.’
‘Oh Molly, me darlin’, that’s where you are wrong! Sure wouldn’t yer da an’ meself be over the moon to have someone to talk to besides ourselves? It would be like a new lease of life for us both, don’t you see?’ Bridie gripped her daughter’s arm. ‘That’s why I didn’t tell yer, ’cos I knew yer’d try to stop us.’
Molly appealed to her father. ‘It’s a big thing yer know, Da, takin’ in a young girl, particularly a stranger. Yer know nothin’ about her an’ yer might live to regret it.’
Bob gave a gentle shake of his head. ‘I don’t think so, lass. I know ye’re only thinkin’ of our welfare, but don’t fret, me an’ Ma have talked it through carefully before making up our minds. We would welcome having some company, and according to Eileen’s letter she’s a bonny lass, well behaved and a good worker.’
‘We’re not that old, me darlin’,’ Bridie said softly, ‘and if she’s everything that Eileen says she is, then sure won’t she be bringing a lot of pleasure into our lives?’
‘I’m not sure, Ma, I’m really not!’ Molly found the whole thing disquieting. Her mother had her hands full looking after her father, never mind a boisterous teenager. And if it didn’t work out, they could hardly send the girl packing. ‘It needs a lot of thinkin’ about.’