The Girl From Penny Lane (15 page)

‘What’s it to you?’ Kitty said immediately, poised for flight. Talking about reading was one thing, discussing names another. But then she remembered she hadn’t yet put her belongings into the sack and looked uneasily at her companion. Suppose he decided to nick her stuff? He was older, taller, stronger, but somehow, she decided, as he grinned down at her, she didn’t think he had theft in mind. And the cabbage on which her head had rested all night didn’t look all that appetising, either.

‘Fierce, ain’t you? What’ve you done, eh? If you’ve nicked that scrawny cabbage, chuck, I can’t think anyone’s gonna fight you for it, an’ sacks are mostly give away. So why not be civil, eh? No ’arm in it, surely?’

He had a pleasant voice with a smile at the back of it. Kitty didn’t know why she thought that, she just knew she did. She looked at him properly, harder. He was tall and bony, as she had surmised even through the newspapers, but he was a lot cleaner than she was and his shirt and trousers, though by no means new, were respectable. She found that she liked his face, from the broad brow to the deep blue eyes with laughter creases already forming, to the straight nose and the curled, amused mouth. And when he smiled she saw he still had all his teeth, a rarity amongst the courts where hunger took its toll of teeth and gums as well as of muscles and skin. Smiling back, Kitty was glad she had all her teeth, too, though it wasn’t something that had ever occurred to her before. But she wished her hair was like his – the soft, hay-coloured locks were overlaid with gold where the sun had caught them. It was roughly cut, hacked, really, so that it stood up at the back in a series of ridges and peaks, but you could see his hair was clean, not greasy and nit-ridden.

‘Seen all you want? Well, I’m Johnny an’ as I said I’m nigh on fourteen. Been on the road since I were ten. Who’re you when you’re at ’ome?’

‘I’m Kitty, I’m twelve, like I said. On the road? Wha’s that mean?’

He laughed, then stood up and pulled a bag out from under the bench. ‘Means I don’t stay nowhere long,’ he said laconically. ‘Might as well ’ave a bite afore the place wakes up. Like bread ’n cheese, does you?’

‘Oo-oh,
yes
!’ Kitty breathed as he produced half a loaf and a thick heel of cheese from the depths of his bag. ‘I’m rare hungry – all I ’ad yesterday was an ice-cream an’ a bite o’ cabbage.’

‘Right. An’ I’ve a ragin’ thirst on me – got a bottle?’

‘No . . . but I got a tin.’ Kitty delved into her own sack and produced an empty corned beef tin. ‘I drinks outer this, mostly.’

‘That’s grand, better’n a bottle. Why didn’t I think o’ that?’ Johnny looked at her tin with such respect that Kitty felt the first faint stirrings of pride in her thin little bosom. Something she had was worth envy . . . and now he was dividing the bread and cheese! Her mouth watered so hard that she had to keep swallowing.

‘Here. Start on that, chuck, whiles I fetch us some water. There’s a drinkin’ fountain at the back o’ this palm ’ouse.’

He handed her the bread and cheese, the bread folded over so that it formed a sandwich. Kitty took a deep breath and a big bite. It was marvellous, the best food she had ever tasted, better even than the stop-me-and-buy-one’s ice-cream. But she went slowly, knowing how easy it was to get the cramps in your bread-basket if you bolted food after a long period without anything, and the boy was back with the water before she was halfway through her sandwich.

‘There y’are! Tek a drink, then a bite. ’Elps it down, like.’

Kitty was having no difficulty in getting it down, but obeyed his injunction and realised that it made the food go further, filled you up more. She said so, and Johnny smiled.

‘Oh aye, you gets to know all the tricks when you’re on the road. Don’t meet many lasses sleepin’ rough, though. What ’appened?’

‘Me Mam sent me on an errand, but I were robbed and I dustn’t go ’ome,’ Kitty said briefly. ‘She’d kill me, them trimmin’s was worth prob’ly a ’undred shillin’s.’ It was the biggest sum she could think of, too huge to contemplate. ‘She’ll owe the milliner, see? Oh aye, she’d kill me awright if she got ’er ’ands on me; she’s tried afore.’

Johnny nodded, chomping his bread and cheese.

‘I believe you! My ole man tried that, so I ’it ’im over the ’ead with me gran’s walkin’ stick an’ lit out. Ain’t never been ’ome since.’

‘Where’s you from?’ Kitty said thickly, through bread and cheese.

‘Burly, that’s what we call . . .’

‘Well, knock me down, ain’t that the strangest thing! Upper Burlington Street . . .
we
call it Burly, too!’

Johnny, bread and cheese halfway to his mouth, stopped to stare.

‘No! Well I’ll be ’anged . . . whereabouts?’

‘Paradise Court, that’s the second entry on the–’

‘We was nex’-door-neighbours, Kit, as good as! I were from Elysium Court, right by you. Elly and Parry, we called ’em. Wha’s your last name, then?’

‘Drinkwater; me mam’s Sary and me da’s ’Ector an’ there’s the twins, Amy an’ Bob, and Betty, Eth, Mo . . . she’s Maureen really . . . an’ Phyllis.’

‘The kids’ll all be younger’n me,’ Johnny said dismissing them. ‘I’m Johnny Moneymor, we was from Londonderry, way back.’

‘Oh ah,’ Kitty said. Talk of Irish antecedents was common in the courts, though no one ever seemed able to tell you what Ireland was like since they had either left as nippers or never been there at all. ‘I once ’eard me da say ’e ’ailed from Connemara. But I’s from Liverpool, an’ proud of it.’

She didn’t quite know what made her say it, she only knew that, as the words left her mouth, they were true.

‘Me an’ all,’ Johnny said contentedly. ‘I allus comes back, teks a look and goes again. One o’ these days I’ll sail from Liverpool Docks aboard a big ole transatlantic liner, an’ come ’ome wi’ a pocketful o’ cash an’ a heap o’ good things. An’ I’ll go on deck an’ look up at the Liver birds sittin’ broodin’ over the Mersey, an’ know I’m ’ome.’

‘I will an’ all,’ Kitty decided. ‘I’ll sail from the Docks, jus’ like you, Johnny.’

‘No way. Lads only,’ Johnny said, gazing dreamily into the distance. ‘No wimmin aboard.’

‘Yes they is!’ Kitty contradicted. ‘Or I’ll put on trowsis an’ pertend I’m a lad. I’ll go, you wait an’ see.’

Johnny chuckled and reached out a long arm. He rumpled her filthy hair, then sat up straight and looked at her very seriously.

‘Guess you will. Ever ’eard of the public baths, chuck?’

‘Sure. But I don’t ’ave no gelt,’ Kitty admitted, knowing at once what he meant. ‘I’s filthy, I know it.’

‘Well, what about a dip in the Scaldy?’

Every kid living within a mile of the Leeds & Liverpool Canal knew all about the Scaldy, though it was mainly the boys who bathed in it. It was a section of the canal near the Chisenhale Street Bridge where the big sugar refinery, Tate & Lyle, pumped quantities of hot water they no longer needed into the canal, turning it into a paradise for the local lads. So now, though Kitty knew exactly what he was suggesting, she looked at him doubtfully.

‘Me? But it’s only lads what swims there, an’ besides, me brothers might see me.’

‘Oh aye, I forgot. Do they go there at night, then?’

‘At
night
? No, course they don’t!’

‘Then we will, you an’ me. I’ll snitch a bit o’ soap an’ we’ll get us a penny or two so’s you can do your ’air wi’ paraffin. I’ll nick a dress off a washin’ line. Eh, queen, your own fam’ly won’t know you!’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Kitty quavered. ‘I can’t swim, Johnny. Kids get drownded in the Scaldy.’

‘Not if they’re wi’ me they don’t,’ Johnny assured her stoutly. ‘I swim like a fish, I’ll see you right, Kitty. Only you’ll be picked up an’ sent to the work’ouse when summer ends, you know that, doncher, unless you cleans up a bit. Wharrer you been livin’ on?’

‘Cabbages, spuds, stuff outer dustbins,’ Kitty muttered, hanging her head. ‘I done awright, honest.’

‘Well, wi’ me you’ll do better,’ Johnny assured her. ‘Are you game, Kit? Want to come on the tramp? I gets through a lorra books, you can ’ave ’em after me, an’ you’ll eat well, I promise you that, an’ you’ll sleep soft.’

‘I dunno,’ Kitty said, terribly tempted. Not only had she missed her friends and familiar surroundings, she had missed the fictional life she plunged into every time she opened a book. ‘I come to Penny Lane to ’unt for me friend . . . I only tried six or seven ’ouses so far.’

‘Oh ah? An’ what’ll your friend do for you that I can’t, eh?’

Kitty looked at Johnny’s sun-tanned face and gilded hair, at the deep blue, laughing eyes. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her, he knew what it was all about, he would help her, see her right – hadn’t he said so just now? Beautiful and kind the girl from Penny Lane might be, but she wouldn’t want Kitty trailing round after her, being an embarrassment, Kitty acknowledged that now. So she smiled back at Johnny and jumped to her feet, slinging her sack over her shoulder as she did so.

‘She won’t do nothin’, Johnny Moneymor,’ she said, and laughed with pleasure at her own sudden certainty. ‘Fancy me, swimmin’ in the Scaldy when everyone else is tucked up in bed! Lead on, I’ll tag along o’ you!’

It was one thing to talk gaily at sun-up in Sefton Park about swimming in the Scaldy, Kitty realised later, but quite another to set off through the dark streets, with the gas lamps’ hiss the only sound, heading towards home. Every foot of the way, once she got onto home territory, she expected to see a Drinkwater hiding behind a tram-stop, or in a doorway, or under the dark arch of a bridge. But she knew in her heart that she was safe enough. The pubs were long closed, no matter how bad the twins might be they wouldn’t be roaming the streets at two or three in the morning, and even when Da was at his worst and wickedest, even when Sary was roaring, hitting drunk, they’d not stray far from the Court at this hour. So Kitty padded along beside Johnny, carrying her precious new dress in her sack with a cracked pair of boots slung by their laces round her neck.

‘You’ll need boots, on the tramp,’ Johnny had said, but she didn’t believe him; they felt hateful on her feet after weeks of toe-wriggling freedom, and anyway she only ever wore boots in school, because the teachers got nasty if you didn’t.

‘Not far now, chuck,’ Johnny murmured into her ear. ‘Want me to carry them boots?’

‘No, I’m awright,’ Kitty said quietly. ‘They ain’t heavy, not like a coupla cabbages.’

They were heavier than most cabbages and her neck was tired, but she wouldn’t have admitted it for the world. She wanted Johnny to think her strong as himself and as keen on the adventure ahead.

‘Here we are,’ Johnny said at last. Even in the dark the canal waters shone, reflecting the starry night sky. ‘Put your clo’es under the bridge, chuck, an’ foller me.’

Kitty didn’t have many clothes to take off, in fact only her shirt and her rope. She threw both articles down and tiptoed after Johnny, who had stripped off his own shirt and trousers, shed his boots and socks, and was poised on the edge.

‘See the steam?’ he asked her as she drew alongside. ‘Eh, it’ll be lovely an’ warm – I can’t wait!’

He was in, plopping quietly into the water, then holding out a hand to Kitty. ‘See, I’m standin’ so you won’t get your face wet. C’mon!’

Kitty took a deep breath and joined him. She was smaller than he, the water came halfway up her chest, but it was quite hot and when Johnny handed her a small square of some sort of red, strong-smelling soap, she began to rub it all over her torso with real enthusiasm. It would be so good, so very good, to be clean! Mrs O’Rourke had insisted that before she ate, Kitty should have a good wash. Once or twice, in winter, she had got the tin bath down, filled it with saucepans of steaming water heated on the fire, and handed Kitty the soap with instructions to ‘Have a good splash now, child, but don’t you be forgettin’ to use that soap!’ Sary rarely bothered with washing her children but when she did it was under the tap in the yard and she held you there, letting the icy water batter you until you could escape. No pleasure there, only Sary’s fingermarks bruising your arms for weeks afterwards, and red slap marks all over you where she’d beaten you into some sort of submission.

‘Sit on the bank an’ wash your other ’alf,’ Johnny told her above the splashing. ‘Go on . . . I’ll parry your ’air.’

He had very nearly been caught nicking the paraffin, had been forced to pay for it, in the end.

‘Why doncher go to the Disinfection Office on Burly, they’ll do ’er free, there,’ the man in the hardware store had suggested rather too loudly, when Johnny had whispered something to him. ‘She your sister? Tek ’er there, they’ll see to ’er all right an’ tight.’

Johnny knew she wouldn’t go back to Burly though, not during daylight hours, so the paraffin it had to be. And after he had rubbed the stuff into her scalp until she would have screamed had anyone else done it, and then helped her by holding her head – but not her face – under water to a slow count of five hundred, she thought her hated visitors might really have swum their last this time.

After that, they played, frolicking in the warm and soapy water, admiring the slow whitening of Kitty’s limbs, the dark, clean masses of her hair.

‘It’s real thick,’ Johnny said at one point. ‘Your ’air, I mean. An’ curly, I reckon. It’ll be nice when it’s dry.’

‘I wish I was a water baby or a mermaid,’ Kitty said wistfully as Johnny tried to teach her to swim. She had read about Tom the water baby at school. ‘Oh . . . I can stay up, I can swim!’

It didn’t last long, but it was a start. ‘Five strokes . . . it’ll be ten next time you ’ave a go,’ Johnny said. ‘Race you to the bank . . . walkin’, not swimmin’.’

They stayed in the water until dawn began to turn the sky to pearl, then Johnny helped her out and they ran races along the towpath until they were dry, lacking towels of any description.

‘Now put the dress on,’ Johnny said at last. ‘An’ the boots. Wish I could ha’ got you stockin’s, but there, at least you’ve gorra pair o’ boots.’