The Girl From Number 22 (3 page)

‘What have yer got against pigs, Ada?’

‘Dirty buggers, pigs are. Have yer never seen the way they wallow in dirt? Ugh, I could be sick at the thought of it.’

Ronnie’s young assistant, sixteen-year-old Barry, had two customers in front of him, and when he’d asked them what they wanted, they’d told him to leave them for a while to give them time to make their minds up. They lived in the next street to Ada and Hetty, and many’s the laugh Ada had given them. So there was no way they were going to leave that shop until the matter of the ribs was sorted out. And the young lad thought of the saying that if yer couldn’t beat them, join them, and he folded his arms and leaned back against the chopping block.

‘Yer wouldn’t be inconsiderate enough to be sick in me shop, would yer, Ada?’ Ronnie asked, laughter in his blue eyes and a rosy glow to his cheeks. ‘If yer did that, I’d have to close the shop while I cleaned the floor, then yer’d get no chops, no ribs, just sweet Fanny Adams.’

‘I’m fussy where I’m sick, Ronnie Atwill, thank you very
much. And why did yer go all round the world, bringing Fanny Adams into it, instead of just saying I’d get bugger all?’

‘Because I don’t swear in front of ladies, that’s why. And to get back to what your feller’s having for his dinner tonight, would yer consider having a sheet of bacon ribs, even though yer think pigs are horrible?’

Ada shook her head. ‘Not on yer life, I want a sheet of lamb’s ribs and I’ll stand here until I get one.’ She winked at one of the women whose back entry door faced hers. ‘It’s coming to something when yer can’t have what yer want, isn’t it, Dora?’

‘Ye’re right there, queen, no doubt about it,’ said Dora. ‘I was only saying to Helen as we walked here that the world isn’t what it was years ago. Didn’t I, Helen?’

Helen wasn’t going to argue when her neighbour was twice the size of her, and known to have a quick temper. ‘Yes, yer did, Dora, they were yer very words.’

Ronnie could see two more customers coming in, and he decided they’d had enough fun for one day. After all, business is business. ‘I’ll tell yer what I’ll do, Ada, seeing as it’s you, and you and Hetty are two of me favourite customers.’ He felt Dora’s eyes on him, and quickly added, ‘Along with Dora and Helen, of course. So I’ll take this sheet of ribs out and find one that will take yer fancy.’ He knew he had customers waiting, but a joke was a joke, and if he didn’t say it now, he’d forget it. ‘By the way, Ada, do yer prefer a sheep what came from Wales, or Scotland?’

Ada pretended to ponder. It was a serious business this. In the end she turned to Hetty. ‘What do you think, girl? Wales or Scotland?’

‘I’m quite happy with the sheet of ribs Ronnie’s got in his hand,’ Hetty said. ‘I don’t care where it came from.’

‘Okay, that settles it,’ Ada said. ‘Find another sheet of lamb’s ribs, exactly the same as the one yer’ve got in yer hand, and they’ll do for me and me mate.’

While young Barry was serving the other customers, Ronnie came out of the stockroom with two sheets of bacon ribs that were thick with lean meat. ‘How do they look to yer, ladies?’

‘Oh, brilliant, Ronnie,’ Hetty said. ‘My feller will be in his element.’

Ada nodded in agreement. ‘See what yer can do if yer try, Ronnie? Now those ribs come from a sheep what got well fed and had lovely green fields to play in.’

Ronnie wrapped them up separately, then handed them over. ‘That will be three bob each, ladies, and they’ll taste a treat.’

As Ada handed her money over, Ronnie said, ‘Seeing as yer like lamb so much, Ada, I’m surprised yer’ve never asked me for a sheep’s head. They make lovely soup.’

‘Go ’way, yer dirty bugger.’ Ada pretended to retch as she leaned on the counter. ‘I’ve gone off sheep now. I’ve a good mind to ask yer to take these ribs back, and I’ll have a sheet of bacon ones.’ She shuddered. ‘Just imagine lifting the lid off the pan and seeing two eyes staring up at yer.’

Dora nodded. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

Helen forgot her neighbour’s temper for a minute, and, with real feeling, said, ‘My mother used to say sheep’s head soup was delicious, and good for yer.’

‘She would,’ Dora snorted. ‘She was soft in the head and you take after her.’

Timid as she was, Helen wasn’t going to stand for that. ‘My mother was a very clever woman, and a real lady. That’s more than can be said for yours.’

Hetty sensed trouble brewing and tugged hard on Ada’s arm. ‘Come on, queen, we’ve still got a lot of shopping to do before the shops close for dinner.’

Ronnie chortled when he saw Ada being pushed through the door. ‘See yer tomorrow, ladies. Ta-ra!’

‘Yeah, see yer tomorrow, Ronnie,’ Ada called from the pavement. ‘Ta-ra for now, lad.’

Hetty kept her eyes straight ahead, but she could feel the daggers coming her way. And to nip any criticism in the bud, she said, ‘When we get to the greengrocer’s, yer won’t ask Stan if he’s sure the cabbage comes from Ormskirk, will yer? After all, I’d like to get home in time to put the ribs in steep.’

Ada managed to look surprised, even though she was chuckling inside. ‘I didn’t know they grew cabbages in Ormskirk! Well, I never! It just goes to show yer learn something new every day.’

Round the table that night, when the Fenwick family were tucking into their dinner, Ada told them about pulling the butcher’s leg about the sheep’s ribs. And she went on to say how she’d pretended to feel sick when he asked why she didn’t buy a sheep’s head to make soup. When she came to the part about lifting the pan lid to see two eyes staring at her, her husband and son, Danny, thought it was funny. But the two youngest, Monica and Paul, looked absolutely horrified.

‘Oh, you, Mam!’ twelve-year-old Monica said, pulling a face. ‘That’s terrible, that is. It’s enough to make yer feel sick.’

‘They don’t really make soup with a sheep’s head, do they, Mam?’ Ten-year-old Paul had gone right off his dinner. ‘Yer wouldn’t ever do it, would yer?’

‘Yer mam is pulling yer leg,’ his father told them. ‘Yer know
how she likes her little jokes. She’d faint if she saw a sheep’s head, never mind making soup with it.’

‘The only sheep’s eyes yer’ll see round here,’ Danny said, laughing, ‘is when me mam wants to cadge some money off our dad to go a matinee to see her heart-throb, Cary Grant. And if the sheep’s eyes don’t work, she gives him cow’s eyes.’

That cheered the children up, and the atmosphere round the table became light and cheerful again. ‘I know it’s a daft question to ask, Danny, but are yer going out tonight?’

Dimples appeared in the handsome face. ‘As yer said yerself, Mam, it was a daft question to ask. Of course I’m going out.’

‘Jazzing again, I suppose?’

‘Right again, Mam! Ye’re doing well tonight.’

‘When are we going to meet this girlfriend of yours?’ Jimmy asked. ‘Yer not ashamed of us, are yer? Or has the girl got two heads?’

Danny stared at him blankly. ‘Girlfriend? That’s the first I’ve heard of it, Dad. Who’s been spreading that story?’

‘Nobody has been spreading any story, son,’ Ada told him. ‘It’s just that me and yer dad don’t think yer go to dances every night to dance on yer own. Which means yer dance with a member of the opposite sex.’

‘Mam, ye’re breaking the record tonight, yer’ve been right every time.’ Danny was like his father in looks, with fair hair, hazel eyes, and a very happy disposition. And he only had two more inches to grow before he reached his father’s six foot. But his humour came from his mother. ‘I’ll come clean and tell yer the truth. There is a girl, and she’s a smashing dancer. But unfortunately she’s pigeon-toed, bow-legged, and wears big thick glasses ’cos she’s very short-sighted.’

Monica and Paul sat open-mouthed. Their Danny going out
with a girl who was bow-legged and pigeon-toed? Why would he do that when half a dozen nice-looking girls in the street were after him?

‘Ah, God help the girl,’ Ada said, wanting to laugh at the expression on the kids’ faces. ‘My mam always said yer should never mock anyone ’cos yer never knew what the future held for yerself. Apart from being bow-legged, pigeon-toed and short-sighted, has the girl got anything good going for her? There must be something, or why would yer bother dancing with her? I mean, if her toes are turned in, and her legs bent out, it must be hard going trying to dance in a straight line.’

‘When yer love someone, Mam, yer don’t mind putting up with little inconveniences. You did, didn’t yer? Yer told me yer didn’t pretend not to know me dad when his glass eye fell out on the dance floor. Now, that’s what I call true love.’

Paul’s eyes were like saucers. ‘Me dad hasn’t got a glass eye!’

‘Not now he hasn’t, sunshine,’ Ada said. ‘We saved up and bought him a real one.’

‘They’re pulling yer leg, son,’ Jimmy told him. ‘What happened was, I had a fight with this bloke who was as big as a mountain, and he gave me a belting black eye. Me face was so swollen, yer couldn’t see me right eye at all, and everyone thought I’d lost it.’

‘Can we leave your eye where it is for the moment, and get back to the business of our son and his girlfriend? I’d like to know her name, where she lives, what does she look like, and what did she have for her dinner last night?’

Danny threw his head back and roared with laughter. ‘Mam, there is a girl in me life, and last night she had stew for her dinner. You should know, you made it. There’s only one girl in my life at present, and that’s you. And I’m quite happy with things as they are.’

Ada was delighted, for she doted on her first born. But her last born wasn’t a bit happy. ‘No wonder yer get yer own way all the time, crawling to me mam. I think I’ll have to try it and see where it gets me.’

Ada stood up and began to collect the plates. ‘Yer don’t have to butter me up, Paul, ’cos I have the same amount of love for all me kids. Danny gets a bit more, I admit, but then he’s a working man, and bringing a wage in. And he gives you and Monica tuppence a week pocket money, so he’s not a bad brother, is he?’

‘No.’ Monica and Paul shook their heads. Their brother was the nicest-looking lad in the street, and they were proud of him. But they weren’t going to tell him that.

Ada was peeling potatoes by the sink when she heard the sound of the front door being pushed open so hard it banged against the wall. She always left the door ajar when the children were due home from school, but they never usually made that noise. She wiped her hands down her pinny and walked into the living room as her son came in through the other door.

‘What in the name of God d’yer think ye’re playing at, son? Yer nearly took the ruddy door off its hinges. And if yer’ve knocked any plaster off the wall, yer dad will have yer life.’

Paul was puffed after running, and moving from one foot to the other. ‘Can I have a jam butty, Mam? I’m starving.’

‘Why can’t yer walk home instead of running and making yerself out of breath? It would only take yer five minutes longer, and yer wouldn’t die of starvation in five minutes.’

‘I wanted to go down the yard, Mam, that’s why I ran. I was dying to go to the lavvy.’

‘Everything is a drama with you, son.’ Ada tutted. ‘Ye’re starving with hunger, and ye’re dying to go to the lavvy.’

‘I can’t help being hungry, Mam!’

‘Okay, you win! Go on, down the yard, and I’ll make yer a jam butty. But I warn yer, the jam will be scraped on and then
scraped off again. We’re not made of money, and jam is a luxury we can do without.’

Paul grinned, then made a dash for the kitchen door. He was halfway down the yard when he heard his mother shout, ‘In case yer can’t taste it, I may as well tell yer now that if yer could taste it, yer’d know it was raspberry.’

‘Who are yer talking to, Mam?’ Monica slipped her coat off and threw it on the couch. ‘If it’s our Paul after a jam butty, then I’ll have one as well.’

Ada lifted her hands in the air. ‘I give up! The pair of yer are going to eat me out of house and home.’

‘Yer won’t be saying that in eighteen months’ time, Mam, when I leave school. I’ll be bringing in a wage packet then like our Danny.’

‘Don’t try throwing yer weight around now, on expectations that in eighteen months’ time yer’ll be bringing a wage in and we’ll all be rolling in money. At fourteen, sunshine, yer’ll only be earning peanuts. And while I admit that even peanuts are better than nothing, they won’t bring you the change in lifestyle yer seem to be looking for. Mind you, yer won’t be as badly off as I was at your age. I started work at fourteen earning seven and six a week. My mam took five, and out of the half-crown I was left with, I had to buy me own clothes. I didn’t know what it was like to have a pair of stockings that didn’t have a ladder in. And me dresses came from a second-hand stall at the market.’ Ada grinned as the memory of those dresses came back. ‘They weren’t the height of fashion, and they’d been well worn before I got them, but it didn’t stop the boys from giving me the eye. And me mam helped me as much as she could, even though money was scarce for there were a lot of men out of work.’

Monica was looking very glum. ‘I hope I get a job what pays
more than seven and six a week. If I was left with half a crown, I’d have to stay in every night. A pair of stockings cost about one and eleven.’

‘Wages have gone up since I was fourteen, sunshine, so don’t look so miserable. I don’t know what the going rate is, but I would think yer’d be on at least thirty bob a week.’

The girl was bucked up by that. ‘Ay, Mam, if I did get thirty bob a week, how much would I have to give to you?’

‘That’s something I would have to discuss with yer dad when the time comes. But if I were you, I’d forget about work for another eighteen months. It’s no use talking about what might happen, ’cos things can change a lot in that time.’

Paul popped his head round the door. ‘Ah, ay, Mam, where’s me jam butty? Yer said yer’d make me one, and I’m starving.’

‘You wash yer hands, young man, before I do anything. No clean hands, no sandwich.’

‘I’ll wash me hands, Mam,’ Monica said, sticking her tongue out at her brother. ‘And I’ll have one of the raspberry jam sandwiches, even though I won’t be able to taste the jam.’