Polly's War (15 page)

‘Cats!’

‘Better than dry rot,’ Belinda said, shaking the rain from her mackintosh and hair.

‘It might have that an’ all.’

The room, lit by a single electric light bulb, was not large but adequate for Benny’s purpose, she decided. Belinda pointed out how the work bench could sit under the window, for maximum light. ‘Tools could be hooked along the wall and there would still be enough space to store furniture as it was made.’

‘What does our Benny know about joinering? Nowt.’ Lucy kicked aside bundles of newspapers and other unspeakable rubbish. ‘Besides, it’s filthy.’

Belinda had gone through into a small back kitchen where she found a large stone sink and a small rusted gas cooker. The windows were encrusted with so much grime, hardly any daylight filtered through. She slapped the sink with a delighted grin. ‘Somewhere to make the necessary brew of tea. Basic but definitely promising. It’s perfect.’

That was not the word on Lucy’s tongue.

Upstairs there were, as expected, two sizeable empty rooms. The paint was a nauseous brown and wallpaper hung from damp walls, behind which no doubt lived a multitude of wildlife.

‘No bathroom?’ Belinda enquired, showing her ignorance of this style of property.

‘Oh aye, it’ll be down t’yard. There’s probably a bath next to the lavvy with gold-plated taps.’ Lucy began to giggle and then stopped as she noted the intent expression on her friend’s face. ‘You weren’t thinking of actually living here?’

Belinda hadn’t but it didn’t seem quite appropriate to say so. After all, Lucy’s family lived in a fairly humble back-to-back themselves, if nowhere near as bad as this. Nothing quite so reckless had entered her mind, despite the fact that meal times at Cherry Crescent continued to operate very like a war zone. She tactfully explained how she saw Benny living up here, over his own shop. ‘It could be cleaned, scrubbed out and whitewashed with lime to kill the bugs. Isn’t that what you do?’

Lucy pursed her lips before replying. ‘We don’t have bugs, so I wouldn’t know.’

Belinda looked stricken. ‘Sorry, I didn’t think. It’s just that I’m so thrilled, so excited to have found
 
it. This is the first decent empty shop we’ve seen in months. Like gold they are. It’s too good an opportunity to miss.’

‘It must be,’ Lucy drily commented, feeling bound to point out that her brother might be less enthusiastic.

Belinda was so keen to tell him about it there and then that she rushed Lucy straight back to number 32 Pansy street, only to find the house empty. ‘He would be late today, of all days,’ she moaned, dropping into a chair quite out of breath.

‘He’ll be downing a jar with his mates,’ Lucy agreed, shaking the rain off her coat and putting the kettle on. She’d just get it going then nip next door for those two tearaways. ‘You’ll not clap eyes on him again till closing time.’

‘But the shop could be gone by tomorrow.’

‘That’s his loss, not yours.’

Belinda’s eyes suddenly lit up and she grasped Lucy’s hands. ‘We’ll keep it a secret. You’re right anyway. He’ll be much more enthusiastic once we’ve given the place a thorough clean, and a lick of paint.’

Lucy gaped. ‘
We
?’ But there was no gainsaying Belinda. Within half and hour she’d found the landlord, beaten him down from a pound to seventeen shillings and sixpence a week rent and paid the first month’s in advance.
 
The deal was done.

‘Won’t Benny be pleased?’ she said.

‘Over the moon,’ Lucy agreed, but with less conviction in her voice.

Polly stood, arms akimbo, and looked pityingly at her son. ‘Ye great daft galoot, you’ll sober up before you sit at my table.’

‘I’m not drunk. I swear I’m not.’

Any defence he might have uttered dissolved under her critical glare and while Charlie hid behind his paper and Sarah Jane stood by giggling, she made him stick his head in the sink while she poured cold water over it. Benny yelled like a banshee but she paid him no need. ‘Hush your wailing. If ye didn’t pour ale down your throat then you wouldn’t get into these scraps, now would you? You’ve only yourself to blame.’

‘Benny tried to protest his innocence, that he’d only had two pints but Polly scrubbed his raw wounds with a loofah daubed with carbolic soap, a mimic of the kind of sympathetic nursing he’d been used to receive from his grandmother.

‘Hush, ye big babby. Isn’t Belinda upstairs with our Lucy putting young Sean to bed. Do you want her to find you the worse for wear?’

This sobered him somewhat and Benny began anxiously worrying over whether or not he should tell Belinda that it’d been her own brother Ron who’d done him over. He worried whether Ron was, at this very moment, watching number 32, knowing Belinda was here and would set on him again the minute he stepped out the door.

Yet why the hell should he give her up? He liked her. Loved her in fact. Belinda was special. He couldn’t risk losing her. Surely it was not beyond the bounds of possibility for him to keep her in the manner to which she was accustomed. It worried him a bit how he might manage such an enormous task since his mam was proving so uncooperative and he still hadn’t found the right sort of premises, but he was determined to hold on to his dreams. Mebbe Polly would reconsider her offer if she knew he was seriously contemplating matrimony. Or was he rushing it a bit? Would Belinda be more likely to accept a proposal if he got a business going first? It was so much more difficult in real life to think and plan than it was in the army, where all decisions were made for you.

When Belinda came downstairs with Lucy, Benny was washed, shaved and changed into a clean shirt even if there were still signs of bruising around his nose and mouth. Painful bruising as it turned out, that would put paid to any kissing and canoodling this evening. Benny expected her to lay into him for getting himself into a punch-up but to his great surprise she ran to him and threw her arms about his neck. ‘Benny, how lovely to see you.’

He winced slightly as she planted a hearty kiss on his cheek, but was thankful that she made no mention of the bruises. ‘By heck, its good to see someone who cares,’ he said, preening himself with pleasure at her fervour.
 

She didn’t scold him for looking like a prize fighter, or even complain about the stink of beer on his breath which she usually hated. He was so relieved to be let off the hook that he never noticed she didn’t tell him where she’d been either. Both girls were acting a bit daft and giggly but he put that down to normal behaviour following an afternoon out together at the flicks. It was quite plain he had her eating out of his hand, so her brother could go hang. No bully boy was going to make him give up his lovely girl.

Hubert was late for the auction so had to stand at the back, which he hated. Today it was largely second hand goods which were going under the hammer. He preferred bankrupt stock, new and modern, but he wasn’t too fussy, so long as he got what he wanted at the price he was prepared to pay. He and his cronies had come to their usual agreement before the auctioneer had even lifted his gavel. None of the dealers present believed in pushing up prices unnecessarily, certainly not Hubert.

He’d laid his mark on some rolls of barbed wire, evidently no longer required by the authorities but which he was certain he could sell on at an interesting profit in the right quarters. There was also a sizeable dinner service, amounting to over five hundred items from cups and saucers to tea, breakfast and dinner plates. They bore a crest marking them as His Majesty’s Royal Navy but Hubert wasn’t fussy. He’d make a killing out of them, split up into smaller sets.

The auctioneer was calling for order, wanting to make a start. He’d deal with the smaller items first, Hubert guessed, to keep everyone hanging on for the best items later and this was confirmed when the auction began with a collection of cast iron cobbler’s lasts. After that the auctioneer moved on to other ironmongery goods, ladders and various tools.

It was then that he saw Belinda. Hubert jerked to attention, itching to push through the crowds and go over to demand what she was doing here. He strained to see over shoulders, pushed people aside, earning some fierce glares which he ignored, wishing he could tell what it was exactly she was bidding for. He saw her hand go up once or twice and knew something had been knocked down to her. If it had anything to do with that no-good piece of dross he’d give her what for. He would really.

He saw her make her way up the crowded room to a table where she handed over some notes, then turn and quietly leave the building.

Hubert forgot all about the barbed wire and the dinner plates as he followed his daughter out into the street, keeping a safe distance so she didn’t spot him. Where was she going? To arrange transport for whatever it was she’d bought? Damnation but he wished Ron was here. He’d be much less conspicuous. Despite the risk, he continued to follow her, maintaining what he hoped was a safe distance. Hubert saw her turn into Pansy Street and thought she was going to the blighter’s house, but then she peeled off down Nelson’s ginnel, which threw him completely.

By the time he’d reached it and rushed through to its opposite end, he was thoroughly blown for breath and his daughter was nowhere in sight. By heck but he knew where to watch for her though, now. He’d set Ron on the task first thing tomorrow.

It was the second Saturday in June that Belinda told Benny she had some marvellous news. ‘Come with me. I can’t wait to see your face.’

‘Me neither,’ said Lucy, with a wry smile.

Benny stood looking at the shop utterly dumbfounded, wondering why on earth she’d brought him here. Chuckling, Belinda took a key from her pocket, unlocked the door and led the way inside. To Lucy it looked even worse without the last fading rays of afternoon sunshine to lift the gloom, for all it had been cleaned and scrubbed and painted inside and out. It was also fully equipped with a work bench and a battery of tools which any good joiner might need. A glance at her brother’s face told Lucy that all her fears had been justified.

‘Good lord, whoever owns this dump? What a load of junk. I wouldn’t give ‘em tuppence for the lot,’ he said with brutal frankness.

Belinda went white. Lucy, seeing she was too upset to speak, was the first to find her voice. ‘Benny Pride, sometimes I could swing for you, I could really.’

‘Why? What’ve I said?’

Belinda quickly interceded, ‘It’s all right, Lucy. If I’ve made a mistake, the fault is entirely mine. I thought Benny wanted a shop. Obviously I was wrong.’ There was a betraying tremor in her voice, despite her brave words. She was thinking of all the effort she’d put in, the money she’d spent, not simply on things like wallpaper and furniture for the two rooms upstairs, which she still had to show to him but on the equipment to get him started. ‘I thought you’d be pleased. It’s position is excellent, right next to the Co-op and close to the main road. What more could you ask for?’

‘My permission for a start.’

‘But you
said
you wanted your own joinery business, that you were looking for premises. You a
greed
I should keep an eye out too. We’ve been looking for months. I thought you’d be pleased.’

This was undeniably true. But then he hadn’t expected her to take him quite so literally, let alone actually rent a place and do it up so that he was committed without the chance to say yea or nay. ‘You should’ve told me,’ he grunted, unable to think of anything else to say.

‘It was meant as a surprise.’

‘Shock, more like,’ Benny pouted, feeling cornered. Had he been wrong to fall so badly for Belinda? The Clarke family must all be a bit queer in the head. On the one hand there was brother Ron bringing messages from
Pops
to keep out of his precious daughter’s life, and on the other Belinda herself taking over his life, lock, stock and barrel. Much as he was desperate to have her, the cheek of it left him momentarily breathless. ‘What the hell do you know about joinery tools anyroad?’

‘Don’t use foul language on me
Sergeant
.’

‘And don’t you dare organise my blasted life,
Corporal
,’ he shouted back.

Belinda had never felt more angry and exasperated and yes, disappointed, in her life. Tears smarted the backs of her eyelids though not for a moment would she allow them to fall. ‘
Drat you
,’ she yelled, as if joining in the slanging match made everything better. ‘You were right, Lucy. I should’ve listened to you.’

Lucy didn’t answer, merely backed away, not wishing to get involved.

Belinda was struggling against a ridiculous urge to cry. She’d been so certain he would be as thrilled as she was by the way the shop had turned out. A rough diamond he may be, but she liked Benny Pride. He was cheerful, considerate and quite good looking in a roguish sort of way, and there was something about him that excited her. Perhaps his hunger to make something of himself, his youthful arrogance, so certain he could do anything he wanted in life, now he was out of the army. Let’s face it, she fancied him like crazy though she certainly had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of telling him so.

She gathered up an armful of tools and flung them at his feet with a resounding clatter. ‘There. Be a bloody joiner. That’s what you said you wanted.’ She was panting with the effort of controlling her emotions, which made her breasts heave, a phenomenon which Benny didn’t fail to notice. ‘Don’t think I care one way or the other what you do. You’re not at all the sort of man my father would choose for me, nowhere near as eligible as Frank Fenton for instance but ...’