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Authors: Harry Bowling

The Girl from Cotton Lane (71 page)

BOOK: The Girl from Cotton Lane
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Joe nodded and started to fish down into his coat but Rachel had already taken a ten-shilling note from her pocket and laid it down on the counter. ‘We want two mugs o’ sweet tea, an’ eggs an’ bacon, please. Oh, an’ fried bread,’ she said quickly, aware that that particular breakfast was Joe’s favourite.

 

‘Will that be twice?’ the cafe owner said, eyeing Rachel closely.

 

‘Yes, an’ two slices o’ bread each,’ she added.

 

They had found an end table and Rachel ignored the strange looks she was receiving from the other customers as she tucked into her early breakfast. The night air and the excitement had given her a ravenous appetite but Joe seemed to be struggling with his food.

 

‘Is Carrie - I mean, is yer mum keepin’ well?’ he asked, avoiding her gaze.

 

‘She’s not stopped talkin’ about yer, Joebo, an’ I know she worries terrible in case yer not well.’

 

Joe breathed deeply and pushed away his plate. ‘Look, luv, I know yer mean well an’ I love yer for it, but what’s done’s done,’ he told her in a husky voice. ‘I can’t just walk back inter yer muvver’s life now. Take a good look at me. Would she want somebody like me ter show up on ’er doorstep? Look at my ’ands,’ he said, holding them out in front of him. ‘D’yer know what that is? It’s called the boozer’s twitch. Take a look at these clothes. I’ve not ’ad ’em off me back fer weeks. Go ’ome, Rachel. Go ’ome an’ find a nice young man who’ll make yer ’appy instead o’ spendin’ yer time tryin’ to act as Cupid. I’m not werf the time an’ trouble.’

 

Rachel felt the anger rising inside her and she glared at him. ‘Now just you wait a minute,’ she almost hissed. ‘Yer show me ’ow sick you are by ’oldin’ out yer ’ands. That ain’t somefing I’ve never seen before. Yer was like that before yer left us. Yes you are a boozer, but yer can stop. Yer can do it easy, an’ I’ll tell you are a boozer, but yer can stop. Yer can do it easy, an‘ I’ll tell yer ’ow. Yer can fink what misery it’s put on my mum every time yer take a drink. As fer yer clothes, Mum told me more than once that yer was the smartest man in the street at one time. Yer could be again. But that’s not the bit that’s made me angry - an’ I am angry wiv yer, Joebo. It’s what yer jus’ said about me goin’ ’ome an’ findin’ ’appiness. ’Ow can I ever be ’appy when I can see my mum fadin’ a little bit every day? She misses yer terrible an’ yer never out of ’er mind. I’ve seen the sadness on ’er face every livin’ day, an’ I’ve ’eard ’er cryin’ in ’er room late at night. I know yer love ’er too, I just know. It’s just yer stupid pride. Well, where’s yer pride now? Big Joe, that’s what they call yer over ’ere. Yer not Big Joe ter me anymore. Yer just a little Joe. I wish I’d never come ter find yer.’

 

Joe had seen the tears welling in Rachel’s eyes as she berated him and when she suddenly pushed back her chair and ran from the cafe he staggered to his feet. The room seemed to spin around and he knocked into a table and then fell against the counter in his hurry to reach her. He stumbled and pushed his way anxiously towards the door and almost tripped out into the street, desperate to get to her before she ran away for ever.

 

Rachel was standing a few feet away, a handkerchief held up to her face, and with a heavy heart he slowly walked over to her side.

 

‘Look, luv, I need a bath an’ a shave first,’ he said quietly, laying his hand on her arm.

 

‘Does that mean yer comin’ back?’ Rachel said, her wet eyes wide as she bit the corner of her handkerchief.

 

‘Go ’ome, darlin’, before yer missed. I’ll be over the water as soon as I straighten a few fings up.’

 

‘Terday?’

 

‘Yer can bet on it,’ he replied, smiling at her.

 

‘Promise me, Joebo.’

 

Joe took her by both arms and looked directly into her eyes. ‘Big Joe’s got a little pride left,’ he said, a light appearing in his eyes. ‘I promise, an’ I never break promises.’

 

 

The lorries went out of the yard on time and then the horses were led from the stable and harnessed into the carts, while the aged but sprightly Sharkey leaned on his broom and waited patiently to begin his morning ritual. Carrie had overseen the daily operation, and when she was satisfied that everything was in order she went back into the house to take her usual cup of tea.

 

‘Mum, I’ve got a feelin’ about terday,’ Rachel said casually, trying to keep her excitement under control.

 

‘Yeah, I ’ave too,’ Carrie said sarcastically as she sipped her tea. ‘I ’ave that feelin’ every day. The lorries might break down, the ’orses might go lame, an’ I might get an angry customer ringin’ me up about one o’ my carmen.’

 

Rachel put down her teacup and got on with the cleaning. ‘Terday could be a good day, Mum,’ she said, glancing at her mother over the large ornament she was polishing.

 

Carrie puffed and shook her head slowly. ‘Yer know, I worry about you, Rachel. I fink yer go about sometimes wiv yer ’ead stuck in the clouds.’

 

The knock on the door was ignored by Carrie and Rachel held her breath in anxiety.

 

‘Well, go an’ answer the door then,’ Carrie said sharply.

 

Rachel shook her head as the doorknocker fell again, louder this time.

 

‘God, yer gettin’ impossible!’ Carrie stormed as she hurried out to the door.

 

Rachel stood up with her hands clasped tightly together and she closed her eyes in a silent prayer. She heard the door open then for a few moments all was quiet. ‘Oh God, please let it be ’im,’ she whispered aloud, wringing her hands.

 

The sudden squeal of surprise brought Rachel rushing into the passage. It was Joe, and her mother was in his arms, her feet off the ground as he hugged her to him. Rachel rushed forward and Joe reached out for her, hugging her tightly to him as their tears wet the shabby collar of his coat.

 

‘Joe, Joe! I thought I’d never see yer again,’ Carrie cried, burying her head against his heaving chest.

 

Joe finally managed to free himself from the two tearful women. He held his shoulders back in an exaggerated display of indignation. ‘Well then, am I allowed ter come in?’ he said, before suddenly relaxing into a beaming smile.

 

‘I told yer I ’ad a feelin’ about terday, Mum, didn’t I?’ Rachel said, grinning widely.

 

‘Remind me to ’ave a word wiv yer about that,’ Carrie said, wiping her eyes.

 

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Acknowledgements

1920

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

1931

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

BOOK: The Girl from Cotton Lane
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