A Cuckoo in Candle Lane (13 page)

‘Yes, it’s lovely, and doesn’t the Queen look beautiful?’

‘That coach is gold, girls,’ Bert told them.

‘What! Made of real gold?’ Sally squealed.

Bert laughed, ‘No, love, it’s just gilded, but if it was real just one of the spokes from those enormous wheels would set us up for life.’

Sally sighed, her imagination alight as she stared at the Queen waving to the crowds that thronged the streets.

The huge procession finally reached Westminster Abbey for the ceremony. The majestic music, the pageantry, with Richard Dimbleby’s commentary, held them all enthralled, with only Sally finding the long ceremony boring at times. Her eyes were slowly closing, and her head beginning to droop, when she felt a tap on her shoulder from behind.

‘Wake up, girl,’ her gran admonished. ‘You’re missing a bit of history. This is the first time a Coronation has ever been televised, and it will be something to tell yer kids about one day.’

Sally forced her attention back to the screen and found she was just in time to see the crown placed on Queen Elizabeth’s head.

The next morning preparations for the street-party were already in progress as Sally jumped out of bed and scrambled to her window. Long trestle tables, covered with an assortment of white tablecloths and sheets, lined the Lane. Streamers of colourful red, white and blue bunting swayed in the gentle breeze and balloons were in evidence too, attached to front doors and lampposts.

She hugged herself with excitement. Her angel costume was ready for the competition. The white dress, with a top layer of net, had sequins sewn all over it that sparkled in the sunlight, and the wings, fashioned out of wire coat-hangers, were covered in silver tinsel.

Dressing quickly and running downstairs, her eyes popped at the assortment of delights strewn across the kitchen table. Nearly everyone had agreed to contribute food for the party and her mum had made red and yellow jellies, fairy cakes covered with bright pink icing and a huge bowl of trifle.

‘Mum, can I put me fancy-dress outfit on now?’ she asked, her voice high.

‘No, Sally, it’s far too early. The competition ain’t starting until three o’clock.’

‘Can I go round to Ann’s then?’ she begged, fidgeting from one foot to the other.

‘Yeah, all right, but eat yer breakfast first.’

Sally gulped down her porridge and as she hurried next door, her mum shouted, ‘Oi, and don’t get under Elsie’s feet. She’s still got lots of sandwiches to make.’

Ann opened the door, grinning as she drew Sally inside. ‘We’ll have to go up to my room, Mum’s running around like a blue-arsed fly.’

‘What did you say!’ Ann’s dad bellowed as he stepped into the hall.

Sally peeped at him from the corner of her eyes, noticing that he was fighting the urge to laugh as he added, ‘And what sort of language is that, my girl?’

‘Yours, Dad,’ Ann said cheekily. ‘I’ve heard you saying it to mum when she’s rushing around.’ She dodged by him, running up the stairs, Sally in her wake, both giggling when he pretended to chase them, roaring like a lion.

They were breathless when they reached Ann’s room and collapsed onto her bed. ‘My dad’s a proper nut, isn’t he?’ Ann said, a wide smile on her face.

‘He’s lovely,’ Sally said. And he was, she thought, as long as he didn’t come too close. She was unable to bear it when men even brushed against her, glad that she didn’t have to live in a house with a father and brother like Ann. It must be awful having to avoid them all the time.

Sally hadn’t won the fancy-dress competition, but she didn’t mind. The three-year-old Mason twins, a boy and girl, had taken the first prize. They looked so sweet dressed as a King and Queen, holding hands as they paraded in their outfits, their crowns made of cardboard covered with gold paper and brightly coloured jewels, which to Sally’s disappointment on closer inspection, turned out to be wine gums.

Ann came second, dressed as Little Bo Peep, and to Sally’s delight she won the fourth prize, a book by Enid Blyton.

Now she and Ann were sitting on her doorstep, watching the men as they carried out barrels of beer in preparation for the adult party. A battered old piano had been wheeled out onto the pavement, courtesy of Mrs Edwards from number seven, and Mrs Mason’s husband had volunteered to play the mouth organ.

As Sally watched the preparations she realised how different the day would have been if her dad hadn’t gone away. Instead of joining in, she would have been stuck in her room, watching the party from her window.

‘Wasn’t it great, Sally?’ Ann said.

‘Yeah, it was, and I wish we could stay up for the adult party.’

They grimaced at each other when, as if on cue, they heard their mums calling them in. ‘It ain’t fair,’ Sally protested. ‘It’s only eight o’clock.’

‘Ann, did you hear me! I said it’s time to come in,’ Elsie shouted.

‘I’d better go,’ she said, rising slowly. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘All right,’ Sally replied, standing up too and wandering indoors, her jaw dropping when she saw her mum. Ruth looked beautiful; her newly washed hair hung in soft waves onto her shoulders, parted on one side with a Lana Turner quiff. Her blue and white floral dress was clinched in at the waist with a wide belt, and she had a lacy white cardigan slung around her shoulders.

‘Mum, you look lovely,’ Sally told her, eyes wide in wonderment.

‘Yeah, she scrubs up well, don’t she, Sal?’ her gran grinned. ‘That dress was a really good find and looks hardly worn.’

‘Thanks for knitting this cardigan, Mum. It fits a treat,’ Ruth told her. ‘Now then, Sally, get yerself ready for bed, and no arguments.’

‘But, Mum, it’s too early. Can’t I stay up for a while?’

‘No, definitely not. Yer gran’s staying in to look after you so I can go to the party, and I ain’t having you giving her a hard time.’

‘It’s all right, Ruth,’ Sadie intervened. ‘She can stay up for a while to keep me company.’

Sally hid a smile. Ever since her gran had moved in with them she had found she could play one off against the other, usually resulting in her getting her own way. ‘Please, Mum,’ she begged.

‘Oh, all right. But I want her in bed by nine o’clock, Mum.’

‘Whatever you say,’ Sadie answered, giving Sally a sly wink.

‘’Ave you had a nice day, Sal?’ her gran asked as soon as Ruth had gone to the party.

‘It was smashing. The best time I’ve ever had,’ Sally told her dreamily. ‘Everything is so different since you came to live with us, Gran. Mum’s made friends with people in the Lane and she smiles all the time now.’

‘I know, it’s good to see her so happy.’ The old lady crossed to the window, drawing the net to one side. ‘Blimey, the party’s kicked off already. Come and see this, Sal.’

Sally saw Mrs Wilson and Nelly Cox, skirts held up showing their knees as they danced, Mrs Green and a few other women joining in. Their voices were loud and she smiled as her gran joined in the song …

Any evening any day, when you come down Lambeth way, You’ll see them all – doing the Lambeth Walk
.

She strained her neck, giggling when her mum strolled up and began to dance with them, ‘Oh Gran,’ she whispered happily, ‘it wouldn’t ’ave been like this if me dad was here. Mum wouldn’t ’ave dared go to the street-party. I hope he never, ever comes back.’

W
ith all that had happened that year, her uncle’s assault, then her father leaving, followed by her own and her mother’s illnesses, Sally failed her eleven-plus examination. Ruth, working fulltime and coming home tired each evening, just shrugged her shoulders when she saw the results, saying little about it, much to Sally’s relief.

Ann failed too, much to her parents’ surprise and disappointment. They blamed it not only on the change of school, but on the many times she had been unable to attend due to recurring tonsillitis.

Both girls now attended the same Secondary Modern School, and as it was only a short walk from home, they settled in easily, being put in the same class.

After a couple of years they began to blossom, turning into teenagers and shedding their puppy fat. Ann, though still short like her mother, developed a large bust and narrow waist. Sally was taller and slim with a small bust that to her disgust, was just beginning to burgeon. She hated it when boys began to look at her, doing her best to hide her figure by wearing baggy blouses.

Their interests only began to differ, when at fourteen, Ann, like their other friends, became interested in boys. Pictures of her idol, Pat Boone, began to appear on her bedroom wall and she started to experiment with make-up.

Wonderful new fashions were now available, especially aimed at teenagers, and young girls no longer had to wear the same style of clothes as their mothers. Ann suited the tight sweaters and circle skirts that she had taken to wearing when out of school, complete with layered net petticoats underneath that peeped out when she sat down. Sally, however, stayed in her baggy blouses and wore mostly straight skirts, determined not to attract too much attention.

‘Come on, don’t look so pessimistic, it’ll be great,’ Ann told her as they got ready to go to the local youth club. It had taken a lot of persuasion on her part to convince Sally to go, but at last her friend had agreed.

Sally stared at her reflection in the mirror. Ann had dusted her face with powder and insisted on applying a thick coat of mascara to her eyelashes. Spitting on the block and rubbing at it vigorously with a small brush, she had carefully stroked her lashes with the resulting black gunk. Then came the lipstick, bright orange to finish off the effect.

I look like a clown, she thought, blotting her lips to remove some of the colour. Ann didn’t look much better, the make-up emphasising her squint.

As they stepped into the youth club, their ears were immediately assailed by the loud music blaring from a record player just inside the door. ‘Oh, it’s Elvis,’ Ann enthused, beginning to jig about to the strains of ‘All Shook Up’.

Sally’s heart sank when she saw Ann’s brother Arthur walking towards them from the other end of the hall, a wide smile on his face.

‘I can’t believe it,’ he said, his eyes flicking up and down over her body. ‘You look great, Sally.’

She squirmed uncomfortably. Ann had convinced her to wear one of her outfits and the stiff net petticoat scratched her legs. Her face flamed when Arthur’s eyes settled on her bust, and rounding her shoulders protectively, she wished that she was wearing her usual baggy blouse, instead of the sweater that Ann had insisted looked better with the skirt.

Turning from Arthur’s gaze she looked desperately at Ann, only to find her eyeing a boy who was selecting another record to put on the turntable.

As though aware of her scrutiny, he turned, his eyes quickly passing over Ann to settle on Sally. ‘Well, well, who’s this, Arthur?’ he asked, putting the record down and advancing towards them.

‘Bugger off, Billy,’ Arthur growled, putting his arm around Sally’s shoulders, his hand inadvertently brushing her breast. ‘She’s spoken for.’

Sally felt her heart thumping in her chest as panic set in. Twisting away from Arthur, she turned and fled from the hall, her heels skidding on the polished wooden floor.

‘Wait, Sally, wait!’ Ann called, rushing out after her friend. ‘What on earth’s the matter?’

‘I don’t want boys touching me,’ she gasped, her chest heaving.

‘It was only Arthur. Didn’t you realise that he fancies you, Sally? He’s had his eye on you for months.’

She stared at her friend in astonishment. ‘Fancies me?’ she squeaked. ‘No, of course I didn’t notice.’

‘Calm down, love. I know he’s huge like my dad, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

‘Keep him away from me, Ann. Please … don’t let him touch me,’ she begged.

‘Christ, Sally. Take a deep breath, you’re shaking like a leaf,’ Ann urged, a puzzled expression on her face. ‘Why are you so frightened?’

‘I dunno, but tell him to leave me alone …please!’

‘All right, all right, I will. Now come on, we had better go home. We can’t go back in there now, we’ll be a laughing stock,’ she said, a hint of reproach in her voice.

‘I’m sorry, Ann. Look, you can go back in. I’m sure I saw Jenny Jackson and her friend Betty in there, so you needn’t be on yer own.’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?’

‘No, of course not. I know how much you were looking forward to it. I’ll be fine.’

‘Well, all right then,’ Ann said after a moment’s hesitation. ‘That bloke sorting the records was rather dishy, wasn’t he?’

Sally forced a smile. ‘Yeah, he looked all right. Bye, love, I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she called, moving off hurriedly, not giving Ann a chance to change her mind.

Ann watched her friend until she was out of sight then, shrugging her shoulders, she stepped back into the hall.

‘What’s the matter with Sally? Did I do something wrong?’ Arthur asked. ‘Isn’t she coming back in?’

‘No, she’s gone home,’ his sister told him brusquely. ‘She isn’t interested in you, Arthur, so keep your hands to yourself and leave her alone in future.’