On Mother Brown's Doorstep (4 page)

‘He’s just got a bit of a chest,’ said Sally.

‘He’ll be all right now he’s home and not ’aving to suffer all that terrible heat,’ said Mrs Brown.

‘’Ope so,’ said Freddy. ‘Well, I think I’ll go an’ see if Ernie Flint’ll lend me ’is bike on Sunday, so’s I can cycle to Brockwell Park.’

‘I’ll come with you as far as Cotham Street,’ said Sally,
‘then
I’ll go an’ see Mavis.’ Mavis Richards was a close friend. They shared the giggly little secrets of schoolgirls.

‘I don’t know I want you ridin’ bikes, Freddy,’ said Mrs Brown, ‘not with Susie’s weddin’ next month, you might fall off and hit your head on the road.’

‘With an ’ead like’s he’s got, I bet Dad would get a bill for road repairs,’ said Sally.

‘Our Sally’s nearly a comic sometimes,’ said Freddy.

‘Bless ’er,’ said Mrs Brown.

‘And ’er wooden legs,’ said Freddy.

Out he went with his sister. Sally was bare-headed, Freddy wearing a blue cap. From the open door of a house shot the figure of a neighbour, Mr Higgins. He was a tram conductor whose duties sometimes brought him home early, sometimes late. After him came a rolling-pin. It struck him between his shoulder blades. Down he went. Following the rolling-pin came Mrs Higgins. Mr Higgins was thin and bony, Mrs Higgins was buxom. Freddy and Sally could tell she was riled. She had a wealth of dark brown hair, the pins were loose and it was all over her head and face.

‘Get up,’ she said to her fallen husband, and she retrieved the rolling-pin.

‘What for?’ asked Mr Higgins, feeling safer on the pavement.

‘So’s I can give yer another one,’ said Mrs Higgins. ‘I don’t like ’itting you when yer on the ground.’

‘I can’t get up,’ said Mr Higgins, ‘I’m wounded, and me leg’s broke as well.’

‘I’ll give you wounded,’ said Mrs Higgins. ‘Look at ’im,’ she said to Sally and Freddy, ‘would yer believe ’im capable of it?’

‘Capable of what, Mrs Higgins?’ asked Sally.

‘Kissin’ and cuddlin’ ’is lady passengers, that’s what.’

‘Is he supposed to?’ asked Freddy.

‘Is’e what?’

‘Well, I only asked,’ said Freddy.

‘’E’s forbidden,’ said Mrs Higgins, ‘but ’e done it. Stay where you are,’ she said to her husband, giving him a rap on his head with the rolling-pin. ‘Mrs Blake saw it all this mornin’, at the market tram stop. Me own ’usband, would yer believe, and in front of everyone in Walworth.’

‘Now would I do that?’ said Mr Higgins, his conductor’s uniform dusty from the pavement. ‘I’d lose me job.’

‘That’s what I’ve been tellin’ yer,’ said Mrs Higgins, ‘and don’t answer me back in front of Sally an’ Freddy, they’ll think I don’t get no respect from you. Mrs Blake told me that when she saw it ’appen, she near dropped dead with shock.’

‘Pity she bleedin’ didn’t,’ muttered Mr Higgins.

‘What’s that? What’s that you said?’

‘I said I think me leg’s bleedin’.’

‘Shall I get ’im a bandage an’ some ointment, Mrs Higgins?’ asked Sally.

‘’E don’t want a bandage, not yet ’e don’t,’ said Mrs Higgins. ‘I’ll give ’im what for when I get ’im back indoors. ’E’ll need a doctor then, not a bandage. To think after all these years I’m burdened with the shame of what ’e’s done today, and in public too.’

‘Look, me pet,’ said Mr Higgins, ‘I just ’elped a lady off me tram with ’er foldin’ pram and baby. Yus, and a shoppin’ bag as well. She ’appened to be overcome with gratitude, I suppose—’

‘She what?’ said Mrs Higgins threateningly.

‘She was overcome with gratitude, Mrs Higgins,’ said Freddy. ‘I mean, that’s what Mr Higgins just said.’

‘Well, what else would’ve made ’er give me a kiss?’ said Mr Higgins. ‘I asks yer, me love, what else? I didn’t kiss
’er
meself, nor cuddle ’er, it’s against the regulations.’

‘You’re answerin’ me back again,’ said Mrs Higgins.

Along came Mr Ponsonby, a lodger in a house farther down the Place. An eccentric, he was fifty years old, his lean body clad in a black frock coat, black drainpipe trousers, and a grey waistcoat. He also wore a bowler hat, a red bow tie and elastic-sided boots. And he carried a rolled umbrella. At first glance he seemed a dapper man, but a closer inspection revealed crumbs on his waistcoat, wrinkles in his bow tie and a dent in his bowler. And his boots were dusty. On the other hand, his smooth unlined face had a very neat look, as if nature had taken pains to put each feature tidily in place. Sometimes his expression was querulous, and sometimes that of a kind and gentle man. He could often be heard talking to himself. ‘Dear me, dear me, what a day, what a day.’ That sort of thing.

Up he came in dainty pigeon-toed fashion and looked down at Mr Higgins.

‘Mr Higgins? Dear me, what’s this all about?’ His voice had a piping lilt.

‘I ain’t sittin’ ’ere of me own accord, yer know,’ grumbled Mr Higgins.

‘No, of course not, of course not,’ said Mr Ponsonby.

‘’E fell over,’ said Sally.

‘Ah, who is this I see?’ enquired Mr Ponsonby, and peered at Sally. He smiled. ‘Ah, yes, a young lady.’

‘She ain’t a young lady, she’s me sister,’ said Freddy.

‘Now now, Freddy,’ said Mrs Higgins, ‘course she’s a young lady, anyone can see that. My, ain’t yer growin’ up nice, Sally? Yer goin’ to rival Susie in a year or two. What’re you doin’?’ she demanded of her husband.

‘I was thinkin’ of gettin’ up,’ said Mr Higgins.

‘I’ll knock yer block off,’ said Mrs Higgins, ‘I ain’t finished with you yet.’

‘Come now, Mrs Higgins, have a peppermint drop,’ said Mr Ponsonby, and produced a paper bag from his pocket. He always had peppermint drops somewhere on his person, and offered them generously to all and sundry. The street kids knew this, and sometimes ran after him, asking for one, and he always obliged. He sucked them regularly himself, and breathed peppermint fumes.

‘Don’t mind if I do, I need something,’ said Mrs Higgins. As she helped herself from the bag, Mr Higgins came to his feet and disappeared indoors. It didn’t fool Mrs Higgins.

‘Gotcher!’ she cried. ‘I’ll learn yer!’ And she went bouncing in after him.

‘Tck, tck,’ said Mr Ponsonby and peered at Sally again. ‘Ah, yes, Sally, our pretty young lady. Have a peppermint drop.’

‘Oh, thanks,’ said Sally, and took one. In return, she gave Mr Ponsonby a happy little smile. Life was doing her proud at the moment. Not only was she going to be a bridesmaid in three weeks time, she had also started to grow again after a gloomy year of thinking she was going to end up as a real tich of a girl. She was positive she could actually feel her legs getting longer every week. Not every day, of course. Every week. With fashions so short, and flappers showing their knees, no girl who had just had her fourteenth birthday wanted to have legs that hardly went anywhere. It was bliss that she’d shot up inches in just a few months. Mind, she still had to wear dreary old black lisle stockings for school, but Susie had recently bought her imitation silk ones for Sundays. They made her lengthening legs feel ever so posh. Susie, her sister, though, wore real silk nearly all the time. Well, she had ever such a good job, of course, as personal assistant to her fiancé, Sammy Adams, who was boss of Adams Fashions
and
other enterprises. Sally could hardly believe he was going to be her brother-in-law. When she left school at the end of the present term, perhaps she could get a job in one of his shops.

Mr Ponsonby blinked in the sunshine of her smile.

‘Charming, charming,’ he said. ‘Well, good afternoon, good afternoon, I must get to my lodgings.’ He put the bag of peppermints away, then turned and began to retrace his steps. Freddy and Sally went after him.

‘Excuse me, Mr Ponsonby,’ said Sally, ‘you’re goin’ the wrong way.’

‘No, no,’ he said, stopping, ‘I’m going to my lodgings, I have things to do.’

‘Yes, but you’re still pointin’ the wrong way,’ said Freddy.

Mr Ponsonby blinked again.

‘Dear me, so I am, so I am,’ he said.

‘It’s back there,’ said Sally, ‘in Mrs Mason’s ’ouse.’

‘Thank you, thank you, how kind. My, you are a pretty girl. Have you had a peppermint drop?’

‘Yes, thanks,’ said Sally.

‘One can’t be too careful.’ Mr Ponsonby regarded brother and sister cautiously. ‘One is never sure who has had one and who hasn’t. Dear me, what a day, good afternoon.’ And off he went to his lodgings, the point of his umbrella clicking on the pavement. He stopped to inspect a chalked hopscotch design. ‘Bless my soul, what’s that doing there? Never mind, never mind.’ He hastened on.

‘Ain’t ’e funny?’ said Freddy.

‘You didn’t get a peppermint drop,’ said Sally, as they turned into Browning Street.

‘Nor I didn’t,’ said Freddy. ‘I’ll take two next time ’e offers, ’e won’t mind.’

‘Bet he won’t even notice,’ said Sally. ‘Don’t he talk posh, though? Mum says ’e’s prob’bly come down in the world.’

‘Yes, ’e prob’bly ’ad a wife that took to drink an’ drove ’im to ruin,’ said Freddy. ‘Still, ’e don’t go around cryin’ about it.’

‘No, but he blows ’is nose sometimes,’ said Sally.

‘What’s that got to do with it?’

‘Well, lots of people blow their noses to ’ide they’re cryin’,’ said Sally.

‘Susie blew her nose a little bit when our William came ’ome,’ said Freddy.

‘There you are, then,’ said Sally. She parted from him at Cotham Street, where her school friend lived. Freddy stopped for a moment to watch her. He grinned. She was walking as perky as anything in her short school gymslip. Showing off, just because her legs were getting longer. But he couldn’t help grinning, he was fond of Sally, the cheeky one of the family.

He called after her in the fashion of a street urchin.

‘Oi, darling, ’ow’s yer farver’s tadpoles?’

Sally turned, saw him grinning, put a thumb to her nose and then went on. A man coming the other way took notice of her. Tall and muscular, his eyes were dark and hollow beneath the peak of his flat cap, as if he didn’t sleep very well, and his black serge overcoat was unbuttoned, his watch chain showing. Sally bridled because he was staring at her all the time during his approach. She didn’t like his eyes one little bit, nor their fixed stare. And he was coming straight at her, as if he was going to knock her down and walk over her. Sally had to dodge aside, and as he passed her his body seemed to bruise the very air.

‘’Ere, d’you mind?’ she said with spirit, but he just kept going, nor did he look back. Ugh, I don’t like his kind,
thought
Sally, I like the ones that Susie likes. Sammy Adams, and his brothers, Boots and Tommy. Why wasn’t there another brother, a younger one? One for her?

She laughed to herself then and went on to her friend’s house.

Freddy, on his way to Ernie Flint’s home in Rodney Place, approached a factory. Well, it had been a factory once, but had caught fire some years ago. It had all caved in except for a section at one end that used to house offices and storerooms. A high wooden fence had been erected around the devastated property, but kids could squeeze in because the double wooden gates had been busted open one time, and the repair job had been makeshift. When kids did get in, they played around over piles of bricks and rubble. They couldn’t, however, get into the section still standing. The door was padlocked and all windows heavily boarded up.

Passing the sagging gates, Freddy was brought to a stop by a girl’s voice.

‘’Ere, you boy, come ’ere.’

He went back to the gates and saw a face visible through the gap.

‘What’s up?’ he asked.

‘I’ve lost Tabby,’ she said.

‘Who’s Tabby?’

‘It’s our cat, of course. Can you come through ’ere and ’elp me find ’im?’

‘Well, I’m on me way to—’

‘You’d better come and ’elp or me dad’ll wallop yer. I don’t like lookin’ by meself, not in ’ere.’

‘All right, I suppose I’m not specially busy,’ said Freddy, and squeezed his way through the gap. The girl, ten years old, looked him up and down as if she needed to
be
convinced he was capable of finding a lost cat. Well-brushed raven hair hung down her back. The black elastic of a straw boater was around her neck, the boater itself resting at the back of her head. Her face was a bit dusty, her gymslip likewise, but Freddy could see she had round brown eyes that were like Daisy Cook’s. ‘What’s yer name?’ he asked.

‘Cassie Ford. What’s yours?’

‘Freddy Brown. Me fam’ly lives in Caulfield Place.’

‘Oh, I know Caulfield Place,’ she said, ‘ragged kids live there.’

‘’Ere, mind yer tongue,’ said Freddy, ‘I ain’t a ragged kid.’

‘Well, all right,’ said Cassie graciously, ‘but what about me cat? Could yer start lookin’ for it? Then me dad won’t wallop yer. ’E’s good at wallopin’ boys. He give one to the boy next door last week, and it nearly done ’im in. When the boy’s dad came round about it, Dad gave ’im one too.’

Crikey, what a crackpot, thought Freddy. Still, all girls were a bit potty. Not that he minded. He liked girls, and you had to accept they were off their chumps most times.

‘All right,’ he said, ‘but you sure your cat’s in ’ere?’

‘Yes, a girl told me she’d seen ’im go in. Only I don’t like bein’ in ’ere alone.’

Freddy looked around. Mounds of bricks, mortar and rubble littered the place, the bright sunshine picking out all kinds of colours. Over on the right was the still standing section. It looked a bit desolate, even in the crisp daylight.

‘All right, you stay ’ere, Cassie, and I’ll go lookin’.’

‘No, I’ll come with yer,’ said Cassie. ‘I don’t want to be alone when one of them skeletons comes up out of the ground.’

‘Eh?’ said Freddy.

‘Yes, didn’t you know that if you’re alone in ’ere a skeleton comes up and rattles its bones at you?’ said Cassie.

‘Well, I’m blowed,’ said Freddy solemnly, ‘is that a fact?’

‘Fancy you not knowin’ that,’ said Cassie.

‘Well, like me dad says, you live an’ learn. Come on, then, and if we do see a skeleton rattlin’ its bones, I’ll chuck all these bricks at it.’ Freddy started walking and looking. ‘What did yer say yer cat’s name was?’

‘Tabby,’ she said, close on his heels. ‘’E’s always gettin’ lost.’