On Mother Brown's Doorstep (21 page)

‘Oh, yes, I’ll come with you, Freddy,’ said Cassie.

‘’Elp yerself to ’er company, Freddy,’ said the Gaffer, looking forward to putting his feet up with his Sunday paper.

‘’Ere,’ said Charlie to Freddy, ‘you don’t go out with girls, do yer?’

‘No, just me mates,’ said Freddy.

‘What yer goin’ out with me sister for, then?’ asked Charlie, puzzled but not aggressive.

‘She’s me new mate,’ said Freddy.

‘But she’s a girl,’ said Charlie.

‘Well, that ain’t ’er fault,’ said Freddy, ‘she was born like it. Me mum was born a girl. Course, she’s a woman now.’

‘Blimey,’ said Charlie, ‘you sure you ain’t feelin’ unwell?’

‘You Charlie,’ said Nellie, ‘leave Freddy be. ’E can ’ave Cassie for ’is mate if ’e wants.’

‘Well, I ain’t complainin’ about it, am I?’ said Charlie. ‘I’m just askin’ ’im if ’e’s all there.’

‘Freddy looks all there to me,’ said the Gaffer.

‘Well, I ain’t been taken’ away yet, Mr Ford,’ said Freddy. ‘You ready, Cassie?’

‘I’ll just get me cat,’ said Cassie.

‘Not likely,’ said Freddy, ‘we ain’t takin’ that barmy cat
up
the park with us. I don’t mind yer takin’ a cushion, but not yer cat.’

‘All right, I’ll just get me ’at,’ said Cassie, and left the kitchen.

‘I wish yer luck, Freddy, yer’ll need it,’ said Charlie, and went off to the park with Nellie, Nellie hoping to get off and Charlie hoping to find a few boys who needed bashing.

Freddy went out to mind his bike. Cassie appeared at the open front door and chucked a cushion at him to put on the carrier. Vanishing again, she reappeared with Tabby in her arms.

‘Now look ’ere, Cassie—’

‘’E wants to come,’ said Cassie. ‘I asked ’im.’

‘’E’s a talkin’ cat now, is ’e?’ said Freddy. ‘Listen, as me mate you’re supposed to do what I tell yer.’

‘Me dad never said so. Freddy, Tabby wants to come, and I’ve got ’is string.’

‘Oh, all right,’ said Freddy, who had some of his mum’s good nature, ‘but I ain’t ’aving ’im sit on me ’andlebars, you’ll ’ave to ’old him.’

‘Yes, I’ll ’old him to me bosom,’ said Cassie, whose imagination embraced a multitude of fancies. Getting astride the cushioned carrier with Tabby clasped to her, she added, ‘Did yer know they could only tell the Sleepin’ Beauty was actu’ally still alive because ’er bosom was ’eaving?’

‘Oh, gawd,’ said Freddy, but away he went, round to Portland Street and on to Wells Way. He cut through Church Road and other back streets to reach Champion Park, almost opposite the entrance to Ruskin Park. Cassie hummed a song all the way, and Tabby purred at her bosom. Or rather, her bosom-to-be.

At the park-keepers’ hut just inside the entrance, Freddy asked if they’d mind his bike.

‘Come again, me young lord?’ said a park-keeper, smart in his brown uniform and brown bowler.

‘Yes, could yer mind me bike, please, if I leave it ’ere? Only I can’t take it round the park, it says so on the notice.’

‘Well, me lord, what it also says on that there notice is that it ain’t incumbent on me to mind bikes.’

‘I ain’t never seen that on the notice,’ said Freddy.

‘You sure you ain’t?’ said the park-keeper.

‘Honest,’ said Freddy.

‘Well, blow me braces,’ said the park-keeper, ‘then I suppose I’ll ’ave to think about mindin’ it – here, wait a bit, what’s that girl doin’?’

‘Oh, she’s just putting ’er cat on a piece of string so’s she can walk ’im round the park,’ said Freddy.

‘Gawd love us,’ said the park-keeper, ‘mindin’ bikes, cats on pieces of string, I’m hearin’ things. I’ll be hearin’ an elephant on a yard of elastic next. Might I refer yer young lordship to the notice again?’

‘Mister, I dunno it says anything about elephants,’ said Freddy.

‘No cats or dogs, that’s what it says – here, where’s she goin’?’

Cassie was away, walking, the cat following on its string lead.

‘I’ll go after ’er, mister, an’ tell ’er,’ said Freddy.

‘You do that, me lord, and quick,’ said the park-keeper, ‘because if she runs into me superintendent, he’ll drown the cat and ’er as well. And he’ll sell yer bike in aid of the starvin’ poor, of which I’m one.’

Freddy grinned. The park-keeper winked. Freddy ran in chase of Cassie. He caught her up. People were staring at the girl with a cat in tow. Boys were cackling and offering comments.

‘What yer got there, a walkin’ canary?’

‘’Ere, Lulu, yer bein’ follered.’

‘Does yer muvver know yer out?’

‘Listen, Cassie, no cats nor dogs,’ said Freddy. ‘Nor elephants. We’ll ’ave to take Tabby back and ask the park-keeper to mind it. ’E’s mindin’ me bike, so I expect ’e’ll mind yer cat as well.’

‘Tabby don’t like bein’ minded by park-keepers,’ said Cassie.

‘Well, if yer don’t take ’im back—’

‘Freddy, d’you think we might meet a lord or something? I just saw a lady lookin’ like a Spanish senrika that was once captured by an ’andsome pirate that was really the Prince of Wales.’

‘What’s a Spanish senrika?’ asked Freddy.

‘Oh, an ’igh-born lady,’ said Cassie. ‘She was ever so upset at bein’ captured because she was supposed to be meetin’ an ’igh-born duke that was in love with ’er.’

‘Well, I’m sorry about ’er ’ard luck,’ said Freddy, ‘but we’ve got to take yer cat back, and besides, everyone’s lookin’. Cassie, I’ve got to tell yer, Tabby looks barmy on a piece of string.’

‘No, ’e don’t,’ said Cassie, taking absolutely no notice of looks, stares, comments and giggles. ‘Of course, the Spanish senrika didn’t mind when she found it was the Prince of Wales who’d captured ’er. If we see ’im in the park, I’m goin’ to ask ’im if me dad can guard Buckingham Palace on an ’orse for him.’

‘’Adn’t you better ask ’im first ’ow he got on with the Spanish senrika?’ said Freddy, trying a bit of sarcasm. ‘Now look ’ere, Cassie, I never ’ad any trouble with me other mate, Daisy Cook—’

‘Mummy, mummy,’ cried a little girl, ‘look, she’s got a cat.’

‘Well, she shouldn’t ’ave,’ said the maternal parent, ‘it’s not allowed, so come ’ere, I don’t want you ’aving anything to do with what’s not allowed.’

‘There, yer see, Cassie?’ said Freddy. There’ll be a bloomin’ riot in a minute.’

‘Course there won’t,’ said Cassie, ‘it’s Sunday. The King don’t allow riots on Sundays. Me dad told me so.’

Tabby’s head suddenly slipped the string. The animal whisked in front of Cassie and ran into the path of a handsome lady in a flowery dress and a hat shaped like a pudding basin. Without hesitating, it sprang upwards into her arms, much to her startled astonishment. It purred blissfully.

Cassie stopped. Freddy stopped. Beside the handsome lady was a man who looked strong enough to squash Tabby with one blow. He also looked as if he was prepared to do just that.

‘Ruddy blind ’ow’djerdo’s,’ he said ‘now it’s kids with climbin’ cats in the park, would yer believe.’

Cassie and Freddy stared and blinked. It was actually him again, the man who’d knocked them off the bike some days ago. It’s like bloomin’ doom, thought Freddy.

‘Oh, ’elp,’ he breathed.

‘It’s all right, Henry,’ said Madge. Henry was taking her for an enjoyable saunter round the park, and she was going to give him Sunday tea at the flat later.

Henry Brannigan inspected the boy and girl, laying his dark eyes first on Freddy, then on Cassie. Little glints appeared, glints of recognition.

‘What’s the idea?’ he said. ‘In me way again, are yer? Lucky for you this ain’t a pavement.’ The park paths were surfaced with tarmac.

‘Henry, what’re you goin’ on at them for?’ asked Madge, handing the cat back to Cassie.

They’re haunting me, these two kids, that’s what they’re doing, thought Henry Brannigan.

‘Cats ain’t allowed in parks, nor dogs,’ he said.

‘Nor’s elephants,’ said Freddy, ‘the park-keeper down by the gate just told me so.’

The handsome lady laughed at that, and even the man looked as if he had a bit of a grin on his face.

‘We’re sorry our cat jumped on yer, missus,’ said Cassie nervously.

‘That’s all right, I like cats,’ said Madge.

‘Yes, all right, but just watch it, yer young perishers,’ said Henry Brannigan, and resumed his saunter with Madge.

‘Freddy, that was ’im,’ whispered Cassie, cuddling Tabby.

‘Don’t I know it,’ said Freddy, ‘except ’e ’ad a Sunday suit on. Listen, what d’yer mean by sayin’ it’s our cat? It’s yours. I wouldn’t want a barmy cat like that, I’d sooner ’ave an ’eadache. I – oh, crikey, Cassie, there’s a park-keeper comin’. Come on, bunk down ’ere.’

They did a quick bunk down a path that took them past the public conveniences. They met Nellie, who’d found a school friend, and together they’d found four boys who fancied having a lark with them. Nellie and her friend Pam didn’t go in for larks, so the boys were settling for saucy chat and the girls were settling for giggles. Nellie wanted nothing to do with Cassie, not while she had her daft cat with her, so that left Freddy still in charge of her. He perforce had to keep her out of trouble. It almost wore him out. His old mate Daisy Cook hadn’t ever been a trial to him. Nor had she ever talked about her dad being an executioner at the Tower of London. Cassie was insistent that that was what
her
dad had been.

‘Yes, ’e ’ad to execute people that run off with the
Crown
Jewels,’ she said. ‘The King put ’im in charge of them.’

‘I bet that was a worry to ’im’, said Freddy, ‘I bet it didn’t do ’is white ’air any good. Still, it must’ve got better, I noticed it’s not white any more.’

‘Yes, it made a recov’ry,’ said Cassie.

Freddy took her home then, while he still had the strength to ride his bike. The park-keeper who had minded it for him turned a blind eye on Cassie’s cat as she sneaked through the gate with it.

‘IT AIN’T WHAT
I’d like, guv,’ said Bert Roper, the man who looked after the maintenance and the security of the factory Sammy was renting in Islington until his new one was built in Shoreditch. Bert and his wife Gertie, supervisor of the sixty machinists, were in the factory office with Sammy and his brother Tommy, the manager. All three sons of Chinese Lady had something to offer the kind of world she believed in. They had manliness and a liking for hard work. Chinese Lady was proud of what they’d achieved, but never said so. They’d only get above themselves, and that was another thing she believed in, a man not getting above himself. She’d often had to tell Boots he knew too much for his own good. Still, he had very distinguished looks. And Sammy with his blue eyes that always looked as if he had an electric motor behind them, was sort of arresting. As for Tommy, well, he was as handsome as his late father, Daniel Adams, and that was saying something.

At this moment, Tommy and Sammy were up against the prospects of a strike in the manufacturing side of the rag trade. All the trade union workers were threatening to come out, whether they could afford to or not, and few could. But bosses were trying to make a case for cutting wages, which were already sinfully low. Even non-union workers in some of the sweatshops were thinking of supporting the strike. Trade union agents were haranguing them. They’d been at the seamstresses in Sammy’s factory.

‘It’s ’ard on Bert, yer see, Mister Sammy,’ said Gertie, ‘’im ’aving been a docker an’ still ’aving dockers for ’is mates. And it ain’t too easy for me an’ the girls.’

‘I’m takin’ your point, Gertie,’ said Sammy. ‘What you and Bert are sayin’ is that he’s goin’ to come out.’

‘I ain’t said that yet, guv,’ said Bert. He and Gertie were as loyal to Sammy as any two workers could have been, and even a bit more. Bert had given up his docker’s card to look after the factory, and he knew it was as steady and well-paid a job as any East End man could have wished. ‘We all know this fact’ry ain’t a union shop, so I don’t ’ave any legal standin’ if I come out on strike, which would mean you’d ’ave the right to sack me. But I’m a union man at ’eart, and you’re the only bloke I’d work for without a union card. In me ’eart, guv, I’m wantin’ to support the strikers.’

‘And not wantin’ yer mates to turn their backs on yer,’ said Gertie.

‘I can ’andle me own discussions, Gertie,’ said Bert.

‘Not without me you can’t, said Gertie. ‘I’m yer wife, for better or worse. If you’ve got problems, they’re my problems too. Mister Sammy, Bert’s an upset man about all this.’

‘So am I,’ said Sammy, thinking of the new contract. ‘I don’t know anything more upsettin’ than ruination.’

‘Bert’s got to make a gesture,’ said Tommy, ‘against low wages being cut to starvation level. And the girls are bein’ got at. The local union officials want them to sign on and come out.’

‘I’ve told them officials,’ said Gertie, ‘I’ve told ’em a dozen times that if they can look after us better than you do, Mister Sammy, then we might sign on. A good boss is better than a union card, I told ’em. You’ve got a lot of appreciative girls, an’ they ain’t goin’ to change you for a
union
that’ll be orderin’ them to walk out on you every time some seamstresses somewhere else ’ave a complaint about their bleedin’ boss – if yer’ll excuse me French, Mister Sammy.’

‘Well, Gertie old girl,’ said Sammy, ‘I’m not partial, as you know, to havin’ you and your hands bein’ called out on strike on account of trouble in some other workshop. Nor am I in favour of everyone in Adams Fashions bein’ in an upset state, as Bert is.’

‘We’re goin’ to be more upset when the strikers stop delivery vans gettin’ through,’ said Tommy. ‘Wait a tick, though, we’ve got loads of materials comin’ in from all over.’

‘Which I duly advised you would,’ said Sammy.

‘You clever old cock,’ said Tommy, ‘did you get advance warnin’ that a strike was on the cards?’

‘I don’t recollect I did,’ said Sammy, who had had other reasons for getting Susie to go to work on Mr Greenberg while he’d been in Manchester. ‘However, Eli’s comin’ up with the goods, is he?’

‘We’re up to the ceiling with stocks,’ said Tommy. ‘Quality varied, but all in our ranges. Bert’s goin’ to arrange the hire of a small warehouse in Canonbury Road to take the overflow. He knows the geezer who owns the place, so he’ll give ’im a friendly goin’-over regardin’ the rent.’