On Mother Brown's Doorstep (10 page)

He looked at the geezer with the umbrella.

‘Well, sir, well?’ said Mr Ponsonby impatiently.

‘Lucky for you I ain’t standin’ on a line,’ said Henry Brannigan. He did a measured sidestep and went on his way.

‘Dear me, what an unpleasant fellow,’ said Mr Ponsonby, and resumed his pigeon-toed walk.

Freddy Brown was on his way home. He’d been with Ernie Flint, his school mate, and Mrs Flint had given them both a cup of tea and a rockcake, just to keep them going until their suppers. Freddy thought his rockcake lived up to its name. Like eating a brick, it was, and tasted like one too. Must have been two weeks old. His mum’s rockcakes weren’t like that. Well, his mum knew and the whole family knew, that rockcakes were best eaten on the day they came out of the oven, and certainly not later than the day after.

Ernie had eaten his own rockcake as if he liked bricks. Freddy was going off Ernie a bit as a mate. He wouldn’t lend his bike even for five minutes. If his old mate Daisy had had a bike, she’d have lent it every day.

Well, I’m blowed, he thought, there’s that girl crackpot. He was in Brandon Street and Cassie Ford was coming towards him. Grinning kids were catcalling her. And no wonder. She was leading her cat on a long piece of string that was tied to a ribbon around its neck. The cat was padding along on the lead as if it thought it was a dog.

‘Watcher,’ said Freddy, ‘what’s that you got with you on a piece of string?’

‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Cassie from under her boater. ‘What d’yer mean, what’s that on a piece of string?’

‘Ain’t a pony, is it?’ said Freddy.

‘Course it ain’t,’ said Cassie scornfully, ‘it’s me cat.’

‘You sure?’ said Freddy.

‘Course I am. Anyway, we don’t keep ponies no more. We used to when we lived in the country, and we ’ad trained ’orses too.’

‘Trained ’orses?’ said Freddy.

‘It was when our dad used to run a circus,’ said Cassie. ‘We ’ad elephants as well. Dad used to be an elephant tamer.’

‘Was that before he used to be captain of a ship?’ asked Freddy.

‘No, after,’ said Cassie. ‘You’ve got crumbs down yer jersey.’

‘Oh, just rockcake crumbs.’ said Freddy. ‘’Ere, you got a sister called Annie?’

‘Oh, she’s the one that’s a maid to the Prince of Wales,’ said Cassie. ‘She irons ’is best shirts.’

‘Me bruvver Will met ’er last week,’ said Freddy.

‘Oh, is ’e yer brother? Ain’t ’e good-lookin’?’

‘Yes, so am I,’ said Freddy, ’it’s in the fam’ly, yer know.’

Henry Brannigan turned into Brandon Street then, and could hardly believe the cursed nature of the day. Two kids and a bleeding cat, and even a long piece of string, all in his way. First those two women in Larcom Street, then that ponce with the umbrella, and now these two kids and a cat on a string. He had to stop. At once the cat started to use his left leg as a rubbing post. He lifted his foot and kicked at the creature.

‘’Ere, don’t you kick my cat,’ cried Cassie. He glared at her. Freddy squared his shoulders. ‘I’ll tell my dad of you,’ said Cassie. Kids, thought Henry Brannigan, bleeding kids. They all want doing away with.

‘Get it out of my way or I’ll squash it flat,’ he said.

‘Mister, you ain’t nice,’ said Freddy. ‘You touch Cassie’s cat and I’ll whistle up all the kids in the street.’

‘Get out of it before I knock yer brains out.’ Henry Brannigan swept the boy and girl aside and strode away, drawing a hissing breath as he almost trod on a line. Cassie and Freddy stared after him.

‘Well, I don’t want to meet ’im again,’ said Freddy.

‘I expect ’e lives in an underground cave somewhere,’ said Cassie, ‘with witches and ev’rything.’

‘’Ere, d’you want to be my mate?’ asked Freddy.

‘I don’t mind,’ said Cassie.

‘All right, come on, I’ll walk yer ’ome,’ said Freddy.

‘Our first ’ome used to ’ave a drawbridge,’ said Cassie, leading her cat.

‘And a moat as well?’

‘Annie fell in it once and nearly drowneded,’ said Cassie. ‘It was lucky the Prince of Wales come along an’ saved ’er, because she ’ad to go to a ball in the evening.’

What a crackpot, thought Freddy.

ON SUNDAY MORNING
, Annie announced everyone was to go to church. Her late and adorable mum had liked her family to do a bit of church-going, about once a month. Annie always felt she had to follow the example.

Charlie, of course, shot out of the kitchen like an arrow from a bow, except that arrows never had socks down.

‘You Charlie!’ yelled Annie. ‘Come back here!’

But the front door was already closing.

‘I’ll go after him,’ said the Gaffer, and off he went too. ‘Meet you in church, Annie, if I can catch ’im,’ he called.

‘Dad, come back here! Dad, d’you hear me?’

But the front door opened and closed again, and the Gaffer took off for the Sunday morning market at a smart pace. He might catch up with Charlie there and he might not. But he could rely on catching up with a half-pint when the pubs opened. He’d done his stint of helping prepare the Sunday vegetables.

‘Well,’ said Cassie, more sure than dreamy for once, ‘Dad an’ Charlie won’t go to ’eaven if they keep dodgin’ church.’ She thought for a bit. ‘P’raps they don’t know there’s free ice cream up in ’eaven.’

‘Who said there was?’ asked Nellie, putting a heap of potato peelings in a sheet of newspaper and wrapping them up for the yard dustbin.

‘A lord did,’ said Cassie.

‘What lord?’ asked Nellie.

‘I dunno ’is name,’ said Cassie, ‘but ’e come out of ’is castle one day and said so. Everyone ’eard him.’

‘I didn’t,’ said Nellie. ‘’Ere, take these out to the dustbin.’

‘Yes, all right,’ said Cassie, accepting the packet.

‘Then take your aprons off,’ said Annie, ‘and we’ll go to church.’

‘What, now?’ said Nellie. ‘It’s not ’alf-past ten yet.’

‘Oh, so it isn’t,’ said Annie, looking surprised. ‘Well, never mind, I’ll let you two off, as Dad and Charlie ’ave dodged it. But I’ll make sure we all go next Sunday, we don’t want Mum turning in her grave. You keep an eye on the roast, Nellie, only don’t try takin’ it out of the oven, I don’t want to find it’s been on the scullery floor when I come back.’ She took her apron off.

‘Annie, you don’t ’alf look nice in yer best frock,’ said Cassie, holding the now soggy packet to her chest.

‘It’s Sunday,’ said Annie.

‘It’s your bestest Sunday one,’ said Cassie. Annie’s bestest was a turquoise crepe de chine, paid for by her dad on the occasion of her seventeenth birthday. To her sisters it looked as expensively posh as real silk.

‘Annie, you do look swell,’ said Nellie.

‘Is your soldier goin’ to church with you?’ said Cassie.

‘Who?’ said Annie.

‘The soldier that’s guardin’ Windsor Castle,’ said Cassie.

‘Cassie, if you don’t stop makin’ things up,’ said Annie, ‘the cat’ll get your tongue and you’ll ’ave to do without it.’

‘Oh, lor’, will I?’ said Cassie, not too happy about the prospect. But her irrepressible imagination chased the thought away, and she asked if the soldiers guarding Windsor Castle were given free ice cream in the summer.

‘No, course not,’ said Nellie, ‘they’ve all got to wait till they get to ’eaven, the same as ev’rybody else. And if you cuddle them potato peelings much longer, they’ll start comin’ out of your ears.’

‘I’ll just go and put my mac on,’ said Annie, ‘then I’m off to church.’

‘But it’s still early,’ said Nellie.

‘Oh, I don’t mind bein’ early,’ said Annie.

Susie was having an absorbing morning in partnership with her dad. They were working out table arrangements for the sit-down wedding breakfast at St John’s Institute. Williamson’s the caterers were looking after everything relating to food and drink. Mr Brown and Susie were taking care of protocol. Mr Brown had made a pencil sketch, and Susie had a list of everyone who would be there. They were sitting at the parlour table, keeping out of Mrs Brown’s way in the kitchen. Susie said both families and their closest relatives had better be at the top line of tables. She counted and said that would amount to thirty grown-ups and children.

‘Seems to me the Browns and Adams are a bit prolific,’ said Mr Brown.

The front door knocker sounded.

‘That can’t be Sammy yet,’ said Susie. Sammy was due to pick her up at noon and drive her to his mother’s home for Sunday dinner there. The time now was twenty to eleven. Answering the door, she found herself looking at a dark-haired young lady with wide grey eyes framed by sooty lashes, and wearing a light mackintosh and a round rain hat. The day was showery.

‘Hello,’ said Susie.

‘Oh, hello,’ said Annie. Thinking that wasn’t quite enough, she added, ‘How’d you do?’

‘I can’t complain, and I’m not,’ smiled Susie. Lord, thought Annie, who’s she? She’s stunning. ‘Are you lookin’ for someone?’ asked Susie.

‘Oh, I’m just callin’,’ said Annie, who had asked at
the
first house where the Brown family lived.

‘So I see,’ said Susie, smiling again. Neighbours were passing by, going early to church. She took a more thoughtful look at the girl. Age? Yes, seventeen, she’d bet on it. Hurt knee? No, that wasn’t obvious. All the same, she might be the girl. ‘I suppose you’re not askin’ to see my brother Will, are you?’

Help, thought Annie, is this his sister? I think I’ve seen her about. She’s really posh.

Susie looked a Sunday dream in a tailored spring costume made by Lilian Hyams, designer for Adams Fashions.

‘Is your brother a soldier?’ asked Annie.

‘That’s him,’ said Susie. What had Will been up to, saying he hadn’t noticed if the girl was pretty or not? She was all of that. And if anyone deserved her, Will did. He needs a helping hand. ‘I think you’re Annie Ford. Come in, we’ve heard all about you. Will’s wandering around the Sunday market with Sally and Freddy, my sister and younger brother. Come on in, Annie.’

‘Oh, I only called to thank him,’ said Annie.

‘Come in. Will won’t be long.’ Susie took the girl into the parlour. ‘Meet my dad. Dad, look who’s here.

Mr Brown looked. He liked what he saw.

‘I don’t think I’ve ’ad the pleasure,’ he said.

‘Well, you have now.’ said Susie, ‘this young lady is Annie Ford.’

‘Pleased to meet yer, Annie,’ said Mr Brown, rising and shaking her hand. ‘But to me sorrow, I still can’t say I know yer.’

‘Of course you know her, Dad,’ said Susie, ‘Annie’s the young lady who hurt her knee and—’ She paused, she smiled. ‘And was helped home by Will.’

‘Well, I’m blowed, so you’re her,’ said Mr Brown with
a
huge grin that gave Annie a sinking feeling.

‘Oh, he didn’t tell you how he helped me home, did ’e?’ she asked.

‘Well,’ said Mr Brown, and let it go at that.

‘Did he?’ asked Annie of Susie.

‘I’m Susie. Is your knee better, Annie?’

‘Oh, be did tell you.’ Annie gritted her teeth. ‘It’s not fair, I suppose everyone in Walworth knows now that he wheeled me home in a pushcart. Can you believe it? I’m seventeen, goin’ on for eighteen, and I expect even when I’m ninety there’ll be people talkin’ about how I stopped the traffic.’

‘Will never mentioned the traffic,’ said Susie, trying to keep her face straight.

‘No, but you know what I mean,’ said Annie. ‘Oh, wait till I see your brother. It’s not that he doesn’t ’ave some nice ways – well, I’ve come to thank him for the flowers he brought me, and it’s upset me dignity again to find he told everyone about me in a pushcart.’

‘Flowers?’ said Mr Brown.

‘Daffodils?’ said Susie.

‘Yes, they were lovely, a whole bunch,’ said Annie, ‘only I didn’t thank ’im properly. I was a bit overcome.’

‘I like bein’ overcome by flowers myself,’ said Susie.

‘I’ll overcome yer mum tomorrow, Susie,’ said Mr Brown, ‘I’ll buy ’er some daffs on me way ’ome from work, seein’ it’ll be me first day in charge at the new yard. Now don’t fret about that pushcart incident, Annie, I can tell yer Susie ’ad many a ride in one when she was young.’

‘Excuse me, Mr Brown,’ said Annie, ‘it wasn’t when she was seventeen, was it, and with ’er legs showin’?’

Mr Brown, who could put a cheerful face on most things bar an earthquake, said, ‘Well, it’s not all bad news,
Annie
. I mean, there ain’t too many girls that could stop the traffic in a pushcart.’

‘Yes, cheer up,’ said Susie, ‘Will was only tryin’ to get you home the best way he could.’

‘Yes, but tellin’ everybody,’ said Annie. She glanced at Mr Brown. Mr Brown tried to look as if he thought a ride in a pushcart for a seventeen-year-old girl happened ten times a day in Walworth. Annie glanced at Susie. Susie looked reassuring. ‘Oh, well,’ said Annie, ‘I’ll just have to do my best to live it down. I don’t suppose it’ll take more than fifty years. I’d better go now or I’ll be late for church. Will you tell your brother I called to thank him properly for the flowers?’

‘We’ll tell him,’ said Susie.

‘Mind you,’ said Annie, ‘it’s only fair to say that if I do meet ’im again, I’ll have to give him a talkin’-to for tellin’ everyone about my indignity.’

‘Oh, yes, do give him that kind of talkin’-to,’ said Susie. ‘We girls shouldn’t suffer indignities in silence, or we’ll never get the better of men, will we?’

Annie looked at her. Susie smiled. Annie saw a kindred spirit.

‘Is he goin’ back to the Army soon?’

‘No, he’s got a long leave, three months,’ said Susie.

‘Then I might ’ave a chance of givin’ him a talkin’-to,’ said Annie, and laughed. ‘Well, it’s been nice meetin’ you both,’ she said, and Susie saw her out. The church bell was ringing.

Mrs Brown appeared in the passage.

‘Who was that, Susie?’

‘Annie Ford.’

‘What, the girl Will met? What did she want?’

‘To thank Will for a bunch of daffs he bought her,’ said Susie.

‘Well, bless me,’ said Mrs Brown, ‘he did take her some, then. Wasn’t that nice of him?’

‘I think he bowled her over.’

‘What was she like?’ asked Mrs Brown.

‘Just right for Will,’ said Susie.

‘Well, dearie me,’ said Mrs Brown, ‘d’you think Will might start askin’ her out?’