The Liverpool Rose (3 page)

That had been in the early days, of course. Now, at the age of around ten, for Chinky had no idea even of the year in which she had been born, she managed a good deal better. Because she had never attended
school – no school would accept a child who was always barefoot, filthy, and in rags – she had to be careful to avoid the truant officers on the lookout for kids sagging off school, but such persons were easily identifiable and she steered clear of them.

Being unable to read was a real disadvantage, she knew that. But she was becoming quick and clever in other ways. She knew that Sid stole, and admired him for it because he never got caught, and though she was careful never to intrude upon him and his friends, she wondered sometimes if Sid were aware of her; if so, it was possible that the ha’pennies which came her way were a form of hush money: ‘Don’t tell,’ Sid was saying as he slipped her a coin. ‘Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open and mebbe there’ll be another ha’penny in it for you.’

However, when she really put her mind to it, she could not believe that he would put up with her following him around if he had actually noticed. Someone like Sid, who lived on his wits, would be careful not to attract unwanted attention by allowing a scruffy kid like herself to follow him about. He was old enough to escape the notice of such persons as schools’ inspectors and would not want to be involved with a kid who was plainly not only sagging off school but probably up to no good as well. So Chinky continued to follow Sid around, more careful than ever to remain unnoticed.

With considerable astonishment she had become aware of the addition of Geoff to the little gang who thieved so expertly. He did not look the type –
was
not the type – to go thieving up and down the Scottie, but she very soon appreciated Sid’s cleverness in involving the younger boy. Geoff was so neat, so well brushed and well fed, that no one would ever dream
he was keeping douse for Sid and his gang, let alone conniving at their carryings-on. So this afternoon she had watched with great interest as the cricket ball first knocked Lizzie’s basket on to the floor, and secondly brought the four of them into what appeared to be lively conversation. Had Sid not been involved, Chinky would have streaked forward to grab as many of the rolling vegetables as she could hold, but since he was, in a sense, a friend, she let the opportunity pass by, though her mouth watered at the sight of the bright green pea pods. She was too far away to catch what anyone was saying so was considerably surprised when the group split up, Sid and Tom continuing to walk swiftly along the pavement while Geoff, leaning sideways with the weight of the girl’s canvas bag, headed for the courts.

After only the slightest hesitation, Chinky began to pad along behind Geoff and the girl. What were they up to? Why had Sid not gone along as well? And who
was
this girl? Chinky admired the long hay-coloured mass of hair which rippled almost down to the girl’s waist and envied her the faded cotton dress and her air of independence; she was clearly someone to be reckoned with, otherwise Sid would not have made Geoff carry her bag. Chinky had been too far away to hear what Sid had said, but only an idiot would have been unable to interpret his look of command, and Chinky was no idiot. It occurred to her now, following well behind them into Cranberry Court, that so far as she knew, neither Sid, Tom nor Geoff had any time for girls. She would never have dreamed of suggesting to Sid, even had she known him sufficiently well, that she herself might be useful to him. So surely he would not be interested in adding this girl to his gang, no matter how clean and bright
she might seem in comparison to Chinky herself. Probably, she decided, Sid had wanted to get rid of Geoff for some reason and had sent him off with the girl simply to get him out of the way.

Geoff and the girl turned towards one of the houses and Chinky sauntered past, not wanting to be seen following them, but she need not have worried. There was a brief exchange of remarks between the girl and Geoff, then she pushed open the front door and the two of them disappeared inside.

There was a game of run-in skipping going on in the centre of the court and Chinky, who despite her lack of practice was a good skipper, jumped into the rope. The two girls on either end continued to revolve it smoothly, accepting her presence without comment. Indeed, Chinky, who rarely played any sort of game because life was too serious for such amusements when you had only yourself to rely on, proved to be so good that she was last one in and therefore was invited to take a turn at holding the rope. Feeling rather pleased with herself, she was taking the rope when the door of number nine opened again and Geoff and the girl came out.

‘Want to have a go, Lizzie?’ the biggest of the girls shouted across. ‘We’re just startin’ again.’

So the girl’s name was Lizzie, Chinky thought as Lizzie smiled but shook her head. Chinky handed her end of the rope to the girl nearest her, muttering an excuse that it was time for her tea, and made off in Geoff and Lizzie’s wake, keeping well back. On former occasions she had always followed Sid home, since he lived in the same court as she did, so she had no idea where Geoff lived, though she knew he and Sid had been at St Mark’s school together. Now she would discover where Geoff hung out, and perhaps
she would also find out why a respectable boy like him should take up with the likes of Sid. Smiling gleefully to herself, Chinky slipped out of the court and turned right along the dusty pavement, keeping her eye on Lizzie’s fair hair as it bobbed along ahead of her.

When Lizzie and Geoff had reached Cranberry Court, Lizzie unbent enough to turn and give her companion a smile. Not that he noticed because he was staring straight ahead, his scowl, if anything, deeper and more ferocious than before. ‘I live at number nine, the one with the red curtains,’ Lizzie said briefly, pointing. The curtains had been red once, she realised belatedly, but were now more of a dirty brown. ‘If you dump the messages at the top of the steps, I’ll bring ’em right inside.’ As they wended their way through the groups of children playing on the filthy paving stones, she wondered whether she should thank him and decided to do so since boys were strange and awkward creatures and you never knew what they would do if they felt themselves slighted. Many a clout round the ear had been delivered by Henry, Ned, Denis and Herbie when she had, in some way, either transgressed against the mysterious male code or annoyed them in some other fashion.

As they crossed the court, heading for the door of number nine, Lizzie glanced at Geoff and saw that he was eyeing his surroundings with considerable interest. She thought this odd, assuming that the boys were local and would know the courts as well as she did, but this one, judging by his intent appraisal, was astonished to find himself in such a place. Indeed, when they reached the steps which led up to her door, he put the shopping bag down and turned to her. ‘Ain’t it dark, though?’ he said. ‘After all that sunshine,
coming in here was like descending into the pit. Lived here long, have you?’

‘Since me mam and dad died,’ Lizzie said briefly, ‘before then I lived in Bootle. Bootle’s grand, it’s only a step away from Seaforth Sands.’ She sighed reminiscently. ‘Me dad were a seaman,’ she ended rather lamely, realising that she had been going to tell Geoff a good deal more than he could possibly want to know.

She was about to take the bag and thank him for his help when he swung it up once more and clumped up the steps ahead of her; clearly he meant to take a look inside the house while he had the chance, and Lizzie did not know that she blamed him. She supposed vaguely that he probably lived somewhere a good deal smarter, and knew that, given the opportunity, she would have liked to have a nose around his home, wherever it might be. Accordingly, she slipped passed him at the top of the steps and pushed open the door, then led the way in, saying cheerfully: ‘We’ll go in the kitchen; the other room’s the parlour, only we’re not in there much, ’cept on summer evenings and at Christmas, ’cos the fire’s hardly ever lit in there – can’t afford coal for two. I live with me Aunt Annie and Uncle Perce Grey.’ She opened the kitchen door and entered the room, smiling at her aunt who was stirring a pan over the fire. One good thing about Aunt Annie was that she never minded you bringing your friends, so long as you didn’t offer them a meal. ‘I’m back wi’ the veggies, Aunt,’ she said cheerfully. ‘This is me pal Geoff. He carried the bag for me ’cos it’s awful heavy.’

Aunt Annie smiled at Geoff and waved a spoon in greeting but said anxiously, ‘Wharrabout the marrer bones, queen? And the bacon bits?’

‘Oh, I gorrem all right,’ Lizzie said. She took the bag from Geoff and emptied it out on to the large kitchen table, then had to field a sliding mountain of vegetables to prevent them cascading all over the floor. Rather to her surprise, Geoff jumped forward to assist her, even pursuing a round, brown onion across the kitchen floor and recapturing it on the very hearth. The butcher’s parcel, being at the bottom of the bag, was now on top of the pile; Lizzie picked it off and began to unwrap the newspaper, revealing an enormous marrow bone, chopped into four, and a quantity of excellent bacon bits.

Aunt Annie, with an exclamation of pleasure, seized the bacon bits and waddled across to the fire, tipping them into her big, blackened stewpot. ‘Good gal! By the time this has simmered for a few hours, you’ll not find a better scouse in the whole of Liverpool. Will you give me a hand to chop the veggies for the stockpot, queen? Or do you and your pal have other plans?’

‘I’ll give you a hand . . .’ Lizzie was beginning, when Geoff chimed in, ‘I’m OK with a kitchen knife and I’ve nowt else on, so I might as well give a hand, too. I haven’t got no plans . . . not now Sid and Tom have buggered off,’ he added gruffly, in a voice so low that Lizzie only just caught it. She was about to tell him – and pretty sharply – that she could manage perfectly well without him and that it was not
her
fault that his pals had deserted him, when she looked at his face. He seemed eager, as though the prospect of chopping vegetables was a pleasant one, and she realised, that far from blaming her, he was simply stating a fact: his pals had gone on without him, so he was at a loose end.

Accordingly, the two of them settled down at the
kitchen table and began to peel and chop the vegetables, talking in low tones while Aunt Annie sat in the creaking basket chair with a broken pair of spectacles perched on her nose, and read last night’s copy of the
Echo
.

In point of fact, with both of them working on the vegetables, Aunt Annie’s big, black stockpot was soon brimming and, without even being asked, Geoff went to the buckets of water which stood under the table where Aunt Annie’s washing-up bowl was perched, and filled the pot to within an inch of its rim. Then he turned to his hostess and asked her politely whether there were any more tasks which he and Lizzie could help her with.

Aunt Annie slid her spectacles down her nose and looked at the two children over the top of them. ‘The two of you can heft me stockpot on to the fire – the scouse can pull over a bit – and refill me water buckets and then your time’s your own,’ she said generously. ‘Lizzie, there’s a batch of soda bread in the bin and a jar of jam on the shelf. Make yourselves some butties and take them with you.’

‘Thanks, Aunt Annie,’ Lizzie said, grabbing a couple of the galvanised buckets from beneath the sink and handing one to Geoff. He, however, firmly took the second bucket as well, advising her to: ‘Make them butties while I fetches the water,’ in a low but firm tone.

For a moment, Lizzie wondered whether he intended to steal the buckets and run off with them before he was missed, then decided that this was too ridiculous for words. Besides, even if he gained two buckets, he would lose his jam butties, and what boy would risk that? So she went over to the cupboard where Aunt Annie kept the food, hacked four hefty
slices off the loaf and spread them with Aunt Annie’s delicious strawberry jam. Then she wrapped them in a piece of greaseproof paper and was crossing the kitchen when Geoff reappeared in the doorway, a full bucket in either hand. ‘Here you are, Missus,’ he said breezily, thumping the buckets on to the floor. ‘You ready for the off then, queen?’ he asked Lizzie.

She shoved the greaseproof-wrapped parcel into her pocket and nodded vigorously. She was more puzzled by Geoff than ever, and suspected that as soon as they left the court, he might abandon her, but that worried her not at all. If she wanted companionship, she could call for Sally, or Bet, or one of her other friends. But on such a warm and sunny day there were a variety of attractions which could be enjoyed by a solitary child and even as they left the house, Lizzie was mulling over which she would prefer. She had no money, so the picture house and the swimming baths were both out, but she could skip a leckie and go off to the Pier Head, or even to Seaforth Sands, without having to part with cash. If the tide was out, she could go down to the Landing Stage, slide down the chains on to the mud, and have a delicious, dirty time, seeing what treasures had been left by the outgoing tide, or she could go to Sefton Park and see the birds in the aviary, or to Princes Park to feed the ducks with a portion of her bread and jam . . . on a sunny Saturday there were a heap of things to do!

‘Want to have a go, Lizzie? We’re just starting a game,’ one of a group of girls skipping called out. But though Lizzie smiled, she shook her head. There were better things to do on such a day than skipping rope, and as she turned away she saw that she was not the only one to think so. A small and grubby girl with the
long eyes and black hair of the Chinese quietly passed her end of the rope to someone else and came scuffling out of the court behind them.

Geoff fell into step beside her as they left the court. He’s sticking to his bread and jam, Lizzie thought, grinning to herself. But whatever the reason, she suddenly realised that she would enjoy his companionship. After all, he wasn’t one of her wretched cousins, he had no reason to be jealous of the attention Aunt Annie meted out to her, so no reason either to bully or tease her. As the two of them turned into Burlington Street, she glanced questioningly up at the boy beside her. ‘Well? Are you going to tell me a bit about yourself?’ she enquired. ‘What’s your other name? Where do you live? What were you doing with them boys? And where’s we going now?’ she finished, grinning up at him for he was half a head taller than she.