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Authors: Margaret Dickinson

BOOK: The Buffer Girls
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‘Is there anything special your dad needs, Emily?’ he asked. ‘This cold weather can’t be good for him.’

‘You’ve done so much for our family, Mick.’

The young man grinned, his eyes glinting. ‘It’s my pleasure. What are
friends for?’

‘And we’re so grateful for all you’ve done to help us with the buffing business too.’

‘Is everything going well? Is old man Hawke still keeping to his side of the bargain?’

Emily frowned. ‘I – I don’t understand.’

‘Keeping the rent low and finding you plenty of work?’

Some instinct – she didn’t know why – stopped her from giving Mick any details. Instead she said
airily, ‘Oh yes, he still gives us plenty of work to keep us
busy.’

‘And the rent?’ Suddenly, Mick’s tone was abrupt.

‘Yes, it’s not much at all. He says he’d rather have the premises occupied than standing empty and deteriorating.’ This was the truth for it was what Nathan had said.

Now Mick grinned, seeming satisfied by her answer. ‘I’m pleased to hear it. I wouldn’t like to have
to pay him a visit. You know what I mean?’

He gave her nose a gentle tweak and walked away leaving her staring after him, a puzzled frown on her forehead. No, she didn’t understand what he meant.

As the celebrations in the court came to an end just before midnight, Mick put his arm around a slightly tipsy Martha. ‘You’ll let your Josh come out with me and
the lads on Boxing Day, won’t
you? He deserves a bit of fun. I hear he’s been working very hard at Waterfall’s and is doing very well.’

‘How d’you know that?’

‘Oh, there’s not much that goes on in this city that I don’t know about, Mrs Ryan.’

Martha reached up and patted his cheek. ‘You’re a good boy, Mick. You’ve been so kind to our family. I don’t know what we’d do without the extra coal you get us in
the winter,
but I do wish you’d let me pay you for it.’

‘Nah, no need. Old Joe Ingall –’ he referred to the coalman on Garden Street – ‘is only too glad to help his regular customers out when times are tough.’ He
paused and then murmured, ‘After I had a quiet word with him, of course.’ He squeezed her shoulders as he added, ‘So, it’ll be all right if Josh comes out with us,
then?’

‘You’ll look
after him, won’t you? Don’t let him get into any trouble.’

Through the gloom, Mick grinned at her. ‘Of course, I will. Lizzie’s very fond of Josh and I’d do anything to keep my sister happy. Anything at all.’

Twenty-Seven

The next morning, both Emily and Josh were thinking about the Christmases they’d had back home. Church in the morning with all their friends in the village followed by a
wonderful roast dinner and, in the afternoon, whilst Martha and Walter dozed by the fire, the youngsters would meet Trip and Amy and climb the hill out of the village to Monsal Head to stand
looking out
over the dale and the viaduct. But this Christmas Day was much quieter for the Ryan family, though they could hear merrymaking in the Dugdale household until the early hours.

There was a knock on the door, however, about mid-morning on Boxing Day; Mick had come to take Josh out with him.

‘You ready, mate?’

‘Where are we going?’ Josh asked as he stepped outside and closed the door quickly
behind him.

‘You’ll see.’

‘Is Lizzie coming?’

‘Not this time. Women aren’t welcome.’

‘Why? What’s going on?’

But Mick only tapped the side of his nose and winked.

Outside in the street, two of Mick’s pals were waiting and the four of them walked to Sky Edge where several other youths and young men were waiting. They nodded to Josh and then whispered
to one another.

‘Is he orreight, Mick?’ Josh heard one of them ask.

‘He’s my mate, so of course he’s all right. Besides, he’s courting my sister. And I’m fussy who takes Lizzie out. And you should know that better than anyone,
Pete.’

The other young man grunted and cast a resentful glance at Josh. ‘What’s he got that I haven’t, eh?’

‘She likes him, Pete, that’s all it takes. Now, let’s get this game
started, eh? You posted the crows?’

‘Course. We’re all ready. Gary’s on lookout duty over there,’ he nodded towards the path that Josh and Mick had come along, ‘and two of his mates are on
t’other side.’

Mick turned to Josh. ‘You ready, mate?’

But Josh was still standing gazing out over the magnificent view of the city. ‘I never knew it was so big. What a wonderful view. I’ll have
to bring Em up here. She’d love
this.’

‘I wouldn’t, if you know what’s good for you,’ Mick muttered. ‘There’s a lot goes on up here that nobody knows about, an’ we don’t want ’em
to either, so you just keep pretty Emily away from here. Orreight, mate? Now, let me show you how we play pitch and toss.’

Suddenly, Josh realized what was happening. This was Sky Edge, which Eddie Crossland
had warned him about. ‘Oh, I don’t think . . .’ he began, but catching sight of the warning
look on Mick’s face, his courage failed. Seeing Josh’s capitulation, Mick grinned and slapped him on the shoulder.

‘I run these games so I’m what we call the “toller”, ’cos I collect the bets and I take a toll of three bob in the pound on every bet placed for missen. And
–’ he fished in his pocket
and brought out five shiny half-crowns – ‘here’s all we need. See, if we do get caught, the “evidence” is soon hidden amongst
our own loose change. Now, you watch for a bit and I’ll show you how it’s done.’

Several men squatted down about the pitch and the game began with someone shouting, ‘Heads a pound.’ Then someone else responded with, ‘Tail it.’

Josh watched in fascination; he couldn’t
help being caught up in the excitement. Money was quickly won and lost on how the coins would fall with each toss. They played for two hours, not
bothering to keep their voices low; the ‘crows’ would warn of anyone approaching.

‘’Ere, don’t we get a game or two, Mick?’ One of the lookouts protested after a couple of hours. He jabbed his finger towards Josh. ‘Can’t he take his turn?
He’s
got a fistful of notes already.’

After watching for a few games, Josh hadn’t been unable to resist joining in. He had been winning steadily, much to the disgust of several of the other men. ‘Is he cheating,
Mick?’ Pete asked at last.

‘Course not. He’s got the luck of the Devil, that’s all.’

‘But you’re running the book . . .’

‘Shut up, Pete.’ Gary nudged Pete. ‘Mick knows what
he’s doing.’

For a moment Pete blinked and then understanding seemed to penetrate his dull brain as he grinned and nodded. ‘Oh, I see.’ He raised his voice and said, ‘Right, then, Josh.
It’s you against me.’

Josh stuffed the money in his pocket and shook his head. ‘No, I’ll quit while I’m ahead if you don’t mind.’

‘But I do mind,’ Pete began and suddenly his face was menacing, until
Mick put a warning hand on his arm.

‘Leave it.’ There was authority in his tone and the other young man, though he shot a look of disgust at Mick, did as he was asked. Pete held out his hand to Josh. ‘As long as
you give me a chance to win it back again next time, eh?’

‘Course,’ Josh agreed, taking the proffered hand, but he wasn’t sure there would be a next time if he could help it.
There was something vaguely uncomfortable about the whole
set-up and his feeling of disquiet only intensified when Mick said, ‘Right, Josh, your turn on lookout duty. You’ll be paid for it, of course.’

Josh blinked. ‘Lookout? What am I looking out for?’

Pete groaned as he muttered, ‘What the hell have you brought us, Mick? He’s a right barm pot.’

Nettled by the insult, Josh turned
to Mick and said, ‘Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.’

‘There you are, Pete. He can’t say fairer than that, now, can he?’

But Pete’s only reply was a grunt.

‘Over here, mate.’ Mick beckoned Josh to follow him as he led him to a high point overlooking the path they had taken to get here. ‘Just keep a watch out for anyone coming and
let me know. Don’t shout, mind,
just come and tell me right quick.’

Josh shrugged. He didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. They were only playing what seemed to be a harmless game of pitch and toss – something he and Emily had played as
children, only they’d called it ‘heads or tails’. Even their dad had played it with them sometimes, though, he had to admit, their games had never been for money.

He stood
there for half an hour, growing colder and colder. He stamped his feet and huddled further into his coat and glanced around him. There! Had he seen a movement? Maybe it was only a
rabbit, but – the bitter wind was making his eyes water. He blinked furiously to clear his vision and then, through the gloom of the winter’s day, he saw two figures coming up the path.
Perhaps they were only a couple
taking an afternoon walk with their dog, but he didn’t wait to find out. He hurried back to where the group were still playing.

‘Mick – Mick,’ he said urgently, but kept his voice low. ‘There’re two folks coming—’

He’d hardly got the words out before there was a hurried scramble to pick up the coins, for everyone to stuff their winnings into their pockets and run. They ran in all directions,
like
rats down a drainpipe, Josh thought. He’d never seen anyone move so quickly. In seconds, there was no evidence of what had been going on, except perhaps for the circle of trampled grass and
undergrowth. Mick gripped Josh’s arm. ‘You come with me,’ he said, and hustled him down the slope on the opposite side to where the figures were walking up the path.

‘Just act normal, like we’re
out for a walk. In fact, we’ll stand here admiring the view and I’ll be pointing out places of interest.’ He glanced over his shoulder.
‘Here they come,’ he said, beneath his breath. He stuck out his arm, pointing towards the buildings. ‘You see that big church, well, that’s our cathedral. It only got
cathedral status same year as the war started an’ then over there—’ He swung his arm round,
still pointing over the city, just as two policemen – a sergeant and a constable
– came up behind them. Mick glanced over his shoulder. ‘Hello, officers. What brings you up here on this cold day?’

‘You know very well, Mick Dugdale. You and your cronies, that’s what.’

‘And who’s this, might I ask?’ the constable asked, nodding towards Josh.

Mick put his arm around Josh’s shoulders.
‘You may indeed, officer. This is my friend, Josh Ryan. He’s come to live next door to us.’

‘And what do you do, lad?’

‘I work at Waterfall’s.’

‘Oh aye, I know it,’ the sergeant said. ‘Good place to work. I’ve an uncle worked there for years, he has.’ He paused and then nodded towards Mick. ‘But you
want to be careful of the company you keep, young feller.’

‘Oh officer, you wound
me.’ With a dramatic gesture, Mick put his hand over his heart.

‘Aye, an’ I would an’ all, if I had my way. Just watch your step, m’lad, because me and
my
lads have got you in our sights. Now –’ he nodded down the
slope where all the others had fled – ‘I ’spect they’ve all scarpered by now and there’s nowt for us to see. But think on, owd lad. You just think on.’

The two officers turned
and went back down the path. When they were well out of earshot, Mick breathed a sigh of relief. ‘By, that were a close ’un.’ He slapped Josh on the
back. ‘Well done. You did a good job there, mate.’

But as they walked home, Josh wasn’t so sure. He was still feeling a bit bemused by what had happened and more than a little uncomfortable. The only thing that cheered him was the rustle
of
pound notes in his pocket. He’d be able to give his mam some extra this week and, if necessary, he could explain it away by saying that Waterfall’s had given him a Christmas
bonus.

As they parted in the yard outside their homes, Mick gripped Josh’s arm and said, ‘Now, remember, keep your mouth shut about what’s gone on today. You understand, don’t
you? Don’t even tell your pretty Emily
about this, orreight?’ And, to underline his point, he squeezed even harder until his grip hurt. ‘Of course not, Mick. I won’t say a
word.’

‘Good.’ Now Mick slapped him on the back. ‘Good lad.’

Twenty-Eight

On New Year’s Day, Emily waited in the park until it grew dusk. Everyone else had left now, hurrying home to the warmth of a fire as the evening grew even colder. She
shivered and reluctantly walked slowly back to Garden Street. Where was Trip? Why hadn’t he come to meet her as they had arranged? Had something happened to him?

‘Where on earth have you been?’ Martha snapped
as Emily entered the house. ‘I need help with your father. His breathing’s bad. Get your coat off and give me a hand to get
him to bed. I’ve put a heated brick in his bed. He’ll be warmer there. You can take his tea up to him later and feed him.’

Emily pushed her own anxiety about Trip aside as she saw that her father’s breathing was laboured and painful. His face was grey, his lips purple.

‘He ought to see a doctor,’ Emily muttered, but Martha waved her suggestion aside with a sharp, ‘I can’t be affording doctors. You still don’t bring enough
in,’ she said nastily. ‘Even though you fancy you’re a businesswoman now.’

They struggled to get Walter up the stairs and they were both breathless by the time he was lying on his bed.

‘Now,’ Martha gasped, ‘help me undress him.’

‘I can’t do that, Mam. Leave the poor man some dignity, for Heaven’s sake.’

Martha waved aside her protests. ‘He left his modesty in the trenches, Emily. You have to help me. He’s a dead weight when he’s like this.’

‘Where’s Josh? He could help you.’

‘Out with Lizzie. He’s been mooning about the place ever since before Christmas. They’ll be getting engaged soon, I shouldn’t wonder.’

Emily bit back the retort that her brother was already promised to Amy; it was not something her mother wanted to hear and Emily had no wish to aggravate Martha’s present bad mood. Not for
her own sake, but for her poor father’s.

Josh stumbled in very late, long after Martha had gone to bed. Emily had sat up waiting for him; there was something that had to be said. He was a little worse
for drink, but not so drunk that
he couldn’t understand what she was saying to him.

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