Across a Summer Sea (2 page)
‘Pity about him! He doesn’t mind the hard-earned money it brings in, does he?’ Nellie said heatedly. In her opinion Frank McGann had got a jewel of a wife in Mary, considering he was such a mean, miserable man who did nothing but complain, even though he always seemed to get more work than many men did. He was selfish too. He always had good strong boots, thick woollen socks, and an overcoat in winter, while to turn her kids out respectably Mary often went without stockings, and had broken-down shoes and, like nearly every woman in the street, just a shawl to keep out the cold and wet. And he liked a drink. He said a working man should have his bit of comfort and pleasure. She wondered what kind of ‘comfort and pleasure’ Mary ever got? None. Like the rest of them. She kept that house spick and span and there was always a hot meal of some description on the table when he came home in the evening, whether he’d got work or not. What’s more, despite the hardships of her life, Mary always had a smile and a ready laugh.
‘ ’Ere she is now. Maggie, come in, luv. We’re just having a bit of a break, like,’ Queenie explained their apparent leisure.
Maggie Foley sank down thankfully at the other end of the bench. ‘I’m fair wore out! I’m getting too old for all the pulling and dragging and carting water from the standpipe. And believe me, if I had sheets the state of those I’ve just pegged out I wouldn’t have the nerve to send them out to be washed!’
‘If I ’ad any sheets at all I’d think meself lucky!’ Queenie sniffed. ‘It’s a pile of old coats on the donkey’s breakfasts more often than not.’
Mary smiled at the local name for the straw-stuffed mattresses that most people used.
‘Ta, Mary,’ Maggie said, taking the cup of strong tea and sipping it. ‘Well, Nellie, where are we up to then?’
‘The bunloaf’s ready to go to Skillicorn’s to be baked. It’s dead good of them. God knows how any of us would manage to get stuff cooked at this time of year if they didn’t let us use their ovens after they’ve finished the day’s baking. I’ve the ribs, the pig’s cheek and the cooked ham bought.’
‘’Ow much did that lot cost yer?’ Queenie asked.
Mentally Nellie counted it up. ‘Two shillings and fivepence.’
Queenie was scandalised. ‘Nellie, yer was robbed!’
‘There’s enough meat there to feed half the street!’ her neighbour retorted indignantly. Like all women she had to make every halfpenny count. ‘I’ll get the vegetables and fruit in Great Homer Street market late tomorrow night, you get the best prices then. And if you three want to chip in, we can get thirty Irish eggs for a penny.’
‘I wouldn’t mind. Frank likes an egg for his breakfast and they’re good for the kids too. I’m hoping to get a chicken for Christmas dinner,’ Mary said.
‘I’ll be lucky ter get a pair of flamin’ rabbits ter do all of us, an’ then I’ll be sendin’ Alfie ter sharpen the carvin’ knife on the front step so folks’ll think we’re ’aving
real
meat,’ Queenie put in wryly. ‘But I can run ter the eggs. ’Ow fresh are they likely ter be? An’ ’ow do they manage ter get them over ’ere on the mail boat without ’avin’ them smashed ter bits?’
real
meat,’ Queenie put in wryly. ‘But I can run ter the eggs. ’Ow fresh are they likely ter be? An’ ’ow do they manage ter get them over ’ere on the mail boat without ’avin’ them smashed ter bits?’
‘God knows, but they do,’ Maggie replied.
‘Hetty said she could get me a dozen bottles of port at cost,’ Nellie informed them.
‘Oh, aye! What does she call cost?’ Queenie demanded.
‘Fifteen shillings for a dozen.’
‘What did yer say?’
‘It was going to “cost” too flaming much! I ask you. Fifteen shillings is more than a feller earns in two weeks!’
‘It’s all right fer ’er an’ Bert ter pay that. ’Ow much profit do they make on a bottle?’
‘Plenty, although to hear Bert you’d think he was expecting the bailiffs every day. I told her I’d have three bottles and that will have to do. When it’s drunk, it’s drunk and that’s that!’
‘Has Vi got her outfit?’ Mary asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from the contentious waters of the price of food and drink.
Nellie cast her eyes towards the ceiling. ‘She’s had me half demented! She’s bought a dress from Sturla’s, which she’s been paying off, and young Sally Price is lending her her new hat, but she says she can’t afford new shoes or a jacket and what will her ma-in-law think of her in her old stuff?’
‘She can polish up her shoes and if it’s not too cold or wet she can go without a jacket,’ Mary suggested.
‘She’ll catch her death! It’s freezing out there and not likely to get much warmer,’ Maggie said darkly.
‘Well, I’ve had enough of listening to her complaints. Her da and me are giving her a good “do” and Fred’s getting the usual barrel of ale as our wedding present to them.’
Queenie tutted and shook her head. ‘Oh, I know it’s traditional, Nellie, but wouldn’t they be better off with somethin’ more . . .
useful
, like?’
useful
, like?’
Nellie looked at Queenie askance. ‘And have everyone talk about us for not providing anything for the fellers to drink? Fred would be mortified!’
‘There’s too many round ’ere who think too much about their bloody ale!’ Queenie muttered, thinking about her own Alfie, who was more than partial to a pint of beer - or anything alcoholic, for that matter. Most of his wages ended up in the pockets of Bert Price, the landlord of the Newsham House, the pub on the corner. No wonder Hetty Price had more money than anyone else. But that wasn’t Queenie’s only worry.
‘Iffen yer think yer’ve got problems with Vi, it’s nothin’ ter what I’ve ter purrup with from our Nora!’
‘What’s up with her?’ Nellie asked.
‘She’s set ’er cap at ’im next door, that’s what.’
‘Who? Richie Seddon?’ Maggie asked with interest.
‘The same feller.’
Mary smiled to herself. She didn’t blame Nora Phelps. Richie Seddon was the most eligible bachelor in the street. He was tall, dark and handsome and still a bachelor - which was the problem. At thirty-two he seemed to have no intention of settling down at all. He’d broken any number of hearts, dashed innumerable hopes and dreams and confounded many devious plans. He was a born womaniser, with a smile and a compliment for every woman over the age of seventeen and a few even younger. He flirted with everyone - herself included - but there was no real harm in him. At least she didn’t think so. It was just that young, silly girls constantly threw themselves at him.
‘She’ll get nowhere with
him
! I don’t think the girl’s been born yet that will walk him up the aisle,’ Nellie said vehemently. Her own daughter Maureen had had hopes of him and she was considered far prettier and cleverer than Nora Phelps. Of course nothing had come of it and Maureen was now walking out with a lad both she and Fred fully approved of.
him
! I don’t think the girl’s been born yet that will walk him up the aisle,’ Nellie said vehemently. Her own daughter Maureen had had hopes of him and she was considered far prettier and cleverer than Nora Phelps. Of course nothing had come of it and Maureen was now walking out with a lad both she and Fred fully approved of.
‘Isn’t that what I told ’er? “Oh, Mam, yer know
nothing
!” she says. I know this, girl, yer’re not the one who’ll tie that feller down! If she carries on throwin’ ’erself at ’im, I’ll ’ave ter get Alfie ter talk some sense inter ’er. ’E might even ’ave ter
knock
some sense inter ’er.’
nothing
!” she says. I know this, girl, yer’re not the one who’ll tie that feller down! If she carries on throwin’ ’erself at ’im, I’ll ’ave ter get Alfie ter talk some sense inter ’er. ’E might even ’ave ter
knock
some sense inter ’er.’
‘Oh, Queenie, Richie’s not
that
bad. He just likes flirting and thinking every woman is ready to fall at his feet.’
that
bad. He just likes flirting and thinking every woman is ready to fall at his feet.’
‘I just hope he doesn’t think
you
will, girl,’ Nellie said seriously.
you
will, girl,’ Nellie said seriously.
Mary laughed scornfully. ‘Me? An old, worn-out married woman with three kids!’
‘You’re not old and you’re a good-looking girl.’
‘Oh, Nellie! You’re joking?’
‘What she’s sayin’ is, there’s fellers who like “ferbidden fruit” if yer know what I mean, like,’ Queenie warned. ‘Remember all the fuss there was over that one from Burlington Street? She ’ad four kids.’
‘Oh, stop it! Stop tormenting me or I swear I’ll go home,’ Mary laughed. ‘Now let’s get back to the serious business.’
‘I’ll give you a hand tomorrow to clean and set up. We’ve no washing coming in,’ Maggie offered.
‘And I’ll see to the younger kids. Keep them out from under your feet,’ Mary added.
‘It’s dead good of you all, you’ve more than enough work and shopping of your own to do. I’ll be glad when it’s all over and she’s taken herself off to Athol Street.’
‘She’ll ’ave ’er work cut out with that auld rip of a ma of ’is.’
‘I don’t have any worries about that, Queenie! Our Vi can hold her own. She’s a mouth like a parish oven! Iffen I’ve told her once I’ve told her a hundred times: “Don’t be such a loudmouth! Don’t be so flaming
common
! You show me up!” Now, who the hell is that?’ Nellie got to her feet with impatience written all over her face, as the sound of the front door knocker echoed down the lobby.
common
! You show me up!” Now, who the hell is that?’ Nellie got to her feet with impatience written all over her face, as the sound of the front door knocker echoed down the lobby.
Mary, Queenie and Maggie looked at each other and raised their eyebrows but upon hearing the voice of the parish priest they all got to their feet.
‘Now what does
he
want at this time of morning?’ Maggie hissed.
he
want at this time of morning?’ Maggie hissed.
‘Mary, it’s Father Heggarty, looking for you,’ Nellie announced deferentially, ushering in the priest and a shamefaced eight-year-old boy whose stiff Eton collar was turned around back to front and whose face was liberally streaked with grime and chalk.
‘Tommy McGann! Just what have you done now?’ Mary demanded angrily, glaring at her young son who was supposed to be in school. The state he was in!
‘Wasn’t I on my way to see Mr Owens at the school when don’t I see meladdo and two other beauties got up like eejits, trick-acting on the pavement for the benefit of passengers on the top deck of the number twenty tram! And men who should know better throwing pennies and halfpennies down to them for their antics!’
Filled with anger and humiliation Mary grabbed her son by the arm and administered a quick box around the ears. ‘Father, he’ll be the death of me! Didn’t I send him out this morning all clean and tidy telling him not to dawdle, and look at the cut of him now! You wait until your da hears of this, meladdo, there’ll be no Christmas treats for you. It’ll be the back of his hand you’ll be feeling! And you can give Father Heggarty the money those fools threw at you. It can go into the poor box!’
‘I’ve already confiscated it, Mary,’ the priest announced.
‘Good! Oh, what am I going to do with you?’
‘Father, now you’re here, will you have a cup of tea and a slice of Sally Lunn?’ Nellie interrupted, feeling sorry for Mary. Hospitality was always offered to the clergy whenever they called, even if it wasn’t exactly at the most convenient time and supplies of tea, milk and sugar were short (which was often).
‘Ah, that’s very good of you, Nellie, but I can see you’re all busy and Mr Owens is expecting me this half-hour past.’ He fixed young Tommy with a piercing and malevolent gaze. ‘And you, me fine bucko, if there’s any more of this morning’s antics, I’ll be calling your name from the pulpit on Christmas morning for the hooligan you’re becoming! Well, I’ll be off now. God bless you all.’
All four women crossed themselves devoutly and Mary nudged her son to do the same.
‘You’ll end up on the gallows, Tommy McGann, I swear you will!’ Mary cried after Nellie had shown the priest out.
‘Yer’ll ’ave yer mam in an early grave!’ Queenie added. She turned to Mary. ‘I bet yer could ’ave done with the few coppers ’e got though. Never mind the poor box. Aren’t we all flaming poor ourselves!’ she added, sotto voce.
‘Mam, I didn’t
mean
to do it! Honest I didn’t! I
were
going to school and then Georgie Price said it would be a bit of a laugh if we were to try and look a bit like clowns and we might get some money!’ Tommy cried, regretful now that he had taken notice of his friend. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
mean
to do it! Honest I didn’t! I
were
going to school and then Georgie Price said it would be a bit of a laugh if we were to try and look a bit like clowns and we might get some money!’ Tommy cried, regretful now that he had taken notice of his friend. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
‘I
was
going to school, not I
were
, and it would be Georgie Price’s idea not yours! Nothing is ever
your
fault! I mean it, you wait until your da hears!’
was
going to school, not I
were
, and it would be Georgie Price’s idea not yours! Nothing is ever
your
fault! I mean it, you wait until your da hears!’
‘Ah, Mam! I’m sorry,
really
sorry, and anyway, our Katie’s as bad!’
really
sorry, and anyway, our Katie’s as bad!’
Mary rounded on him. ‘What’s
she
done, for God’s sake?’
she
done, for God’s sake?’
Tommy kicked with the toe of his boot at the frayed edge of the oilcloth.
‘Will you give over doing that, isn’t it in a bad enough way already and I can’t afford new!’ Nellie admonished.
‘What’s our Katie done?’ Mary demanded.
‘The rag-and-bone feller’s going around the streets and I saw her and Millie Price sneaking out of the schoolyard. Georgie said his mam said they had loads of stuff for when he next came round, and they’d get all kinds of things in return, maybe even a goldfish in a proper bowl.’
‘What’s that to do with our Katie?
I’ve
not got anything to give that feller! All the rags I’ve got are on my back!’
I’ve
not got anything to give that feller! All the rags I’ve got are on my back!’
‘I heard her telling Millie that she’d find
something
for when he came next and now he’s here and I bet that’s where she was sneaking off to!’ he finished triumphantly.
something
for when he came next and now he’s here and I bet that’s where she was sneaking off to!’ he finished triumphantly.
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