The Sunday Girls (32 page)

This charm was wasted on his mother and sister but Hattie was in an awkward position. She didn’t really want him to be homeless and Granny certainly didn’t have the room for him. He gave her another of his boyish looks – his wide-eyed, pleading expression.

‘All right but only for the maximum of two weeks – no more.’

So it was settled. Dad would move in right away and he would make enquiries about new lodgings. Then, when he got his job, we could make plans for a wee house together for the three of us.

We were sitting at the table and I was spooning the soup into Lily’s ever-hungry little mouth when Rosie appeared.

‘Come in, Rosie,’ said Granny.

Rosie looked nonplussed at the entire family sitting at the table. ‘Oh, I’m sorry – I didn’t know you were here, Johnny, or you either, Hattie. I’m just getting ready to go to the Salvation Army Citadel but Mum wondered if you would look in later, Nan, just to have a wee gossip?’

Granny said she would. I thought Dad would make a snide comment about the Sally Ann as usual but he was full of charm today. ‘Heavens, it’s good to see you again, Rosie.You’re looking really well.’

Poor Rosie blushed a deep crimson and I felt sorry for her. Dad was impossible with women but, to give him his due, I don’t think he realised it.

She noticed his bruised face. ‘Have you had an accident, Johnny?’

Before he could reply, Hattie butted in. ‘No, Rosie, he got that black eye by walking into a door. Imagine a grown man walking into a door.’ She tried to laugh lightly but it didn’t quite come off and she sounded more like a strangled chicken.

Rosie, with her innocent plain face, just nodded but she still looked puzzled. ‘I’ll tell Mum you’ll see her later, Nan.’

After she left, Hattie turned to her brother. ‘Now I want it understood that, should you meet any of my neighbours, then you’ll tell them you walked into a door.You do not say you got that black eye as a result of a vase being thrown at you by Marlene Davidson.’

When Dad laughed, she looked sternly at him. ‘I mean it, Johnny. I’ve got a good reputation in my close and Mrs Davidson is well known – even in the Westport. I don’t want people to think that a brother of mine has even known that woman, let alone associated with her.’

Dad looked serious and drew his hand across lips. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die, Hattie. Marlene’s name will never cross my lips – I promise.’

When she departed, Dad made us all laugh when he stated, ‘No wonder Hattie has never found another man – the poor bloke would have to sign ten declarations at least before he even got over her doorstep.’

Grandad chuckled. ‘Then he’d have to sign another twenty testimonials to his good character and his finances before he got his feet under her table.’

It was with a happy heart that I made my way to the pawnbroker the following afternoon. It was a dismally grey day with steely clouds that promised more snow. The wind was still as biting as ever and I thought longingly of my cosy coat. Although it was not quite dark, a grey shadowy atmosphere hung over the close, making it look both dangerous and mysterious. I heard the sharp clatter of the pawn office door as it shut behind a client and I saw the woman with her two children from my previous visit. My heart sank as she drew abreast of me but I saw she was minus her parcel and she looked cheerier. The children had even perked up and they weren’t crying.

I was on the point of entering when I suddenly drew to a halt. I had forgotten to pick up the ticket from the vase on the mantelpiece. I could have kicked myself for my stupidity. I turned quickly and ran down the hill. I had to hurry in case the office closed early.

When I arrived back at the house, Granny looked surprised. ‘Where’s your coat, Ann?’

‘I forgot to take the ticket with me so I’ve had to run back for it.’ I made my way over to the mantelpiece and I was poking my finger in the vase when Granny spoke.

‘The ticket’s not there – I thought you took it with you, Ann.’ When she saw my puzzlement, she said, ‘Maybe it’s fallen down to the bottom of the vase so have another look.’

But it wasn’t there. We searched the dusty depths of the matching vase on the other side of the mantelpiece but it wasn’t there either. We opened every drawer and we even turned some of them upside down on the bed, raking through the odds and ends that were regularly stuffed away out of sight.

After thirty minutes I started to panic. ‘It must be somewhere, Granny, because I’ve never touched it since I put it in the vase. Where else can it be?’

Granny had a brainwave. ‘Go back to the shop and tell the man that the ticket is mislaid. He’ll remember who you are when you describe the coat and the shoes and bag.’

With that thought in mind, I raced back to the Hilltown and careered up the close which now lay in darkness. My mind was so full of worry over my coat that this darkness failed to deter me. I would gladly have confronted an entire army of ghosties and ghoulies for the sake of my coat.

The office was empty and very dimly lit. The high shelves were shrouded in shadows and the whole place resembled a creepy cavern. A figure suddenly appeared from the gloom and headed my way. To my utter dismay I saw it was a woman and not the wizened old man from my initial visit.

‘Are you putting something in or taking it out?’ she asked, quite briskly.

I was speechless and unsure what to say. She must have taken this silence as confirmation that I was either daft, dumb or maybe even deaf.

She raised her voice to a higher pitch. ‘I said are you …’

I stopped her in mid flow.When she noticed I wasn’t deficient in any of the above three categories, the realisation made her look comical and she stood there with her mouth wide open.

‘I came in here last Monday but it was an old man who served me,’ I told her. My breath escaping in short gasps. ‘I pawned a coat, shoes and a bag but the problem is that I’ve mislaid my ticket. Can I still redeem my things?’

She moved nearer the light and peered at me. I then noticed she was almost as old as the man but not nearly so shrivelled up although her face was wrinkled and her skin looked like old leather. She pointed a finger at a notice on the wall. The gist of it was it was not allowed to redeem any articles without the ticket.

I tried again. ‘If I could speak to the man, he’ll remember me.’ I could hear the desperation in my voice. ‘Is he in?’

She shook her head. ‘No, he’s not.’

She glanced at a clock which was ticking loudly on the far wall. Was that someone’s unclaimed item, I wondered bitterly. Would my beloved coat join the hotch-potch in the window should the ticket not show up? I pushed this unhappy thought from my mind.

‘The office is closing now,’ she said gloomily. ‘Come back tomorrow.’

I was almost in tears. ‘I’ll be at my work tomorrow and all this week and it’ll be next Monday when I can come back in.’ I made one last effort with the woman. ‘If I describe the things, could you maybe look for them?’

‘I’m sorry, lassie, but it’s not allowed.’ She came round my side of the counter and ushered me towards the door and, once outside, I heard it being bolted behind me. It was a loud metallic sound that echoed around the dark close. I was so upset at the loss of my coat and another thing that annoyed me was the fact that the woman hadn’t looked in the least a bit sorry. Business was business as far as she was concerned. There was no room for sentimentality in the pawnshop trade.

Granny was annoyed when I relayed the news to her. ‘You would think there’s not a lot of russet-coloured fur-trimmed coats gallivanting around the Hilltown. Surely she could have looked for you and when your description matched … well, rules are meant to be broken now and again.’

I was beside myself with worry. ‘What if I’ve lost the ticket? Maybe it’s slipped out of my pocket and I’ll never see it again.’

Granny scoffed at this suggestion. ‘Don’t be daft, Ann. It’s bound to be in the kitchen in some wee spot.’ She stopped, as if remembering something. ‘I wonder if your grandad knows anything about it? Maybe he shifted it to a safer place?’

‘Where is he? I’ll go and ask.’

‘He’s gone to Easifit for a new pair of boots. The last pair were done. Nip down the road and you’ll meet him.’

I knew his boots were beyond repair and I was glad he was getting a replacement. I was passing Jeemy’s Emporium when I saw Grandad inside. The shop was piled high with musty smelling second-hand clothing, general bric-a-brac and a mountain of boots and shoes, all in various stages of decay.

When Jeemy saw me coming, he gave me a toothless grin. ‘Here’s Ann coming, Neilly.’ He had always called Grandad by this nickname, ever since their schooldays.

I saw, with dismay, that Grandad was trying on a pair of old leather boots. He looked guilty. ‘Oh, I’m just trying on a pair of these grand boots, Ann. I did try Easifit but they didn’t have such a good selection as Jeemy.’ He turned to the toothless owner. ‘Ann is paying for my boots as she wants her auld grandad to look smart so I want a good pair from you and not any old rubbish.’

Jeemy beamed at me. ‘He’s come to the right shop because I’ve got every item under the sun in here.’ He backed up this statement with a wide sweep of his arm.

As to his statement, I didn’t doubt a word of it but I was worried about Granny’s reaction when she heard where Grandad had bought his new boots. Even with the best will in the world, there was no way Grandad could pass off a pair of Jeemy’s boots for a pair bought at the Easifit store.

Grandad didn’t worry about these little nuances in life. His philosophy was, if the boots fitted, it mattered not a jot where they came from.

Jeemy raked about in the mountain of footwear and emerged with another pair in his hand.

Grandad’s eyes lit up and he held them aloft, scrutinising the soles. ‘Aye, these are grand. I’ll take them.’

I was annoyed. ‘Grandad, you’ll have to try them on.’

He sat down again on the decrepit-looking chair which, even under his modest weight, gave a loud creaking groan. It was just as well Bella wasn’t sitting on it because I’m sure the chair would have packed up and died. Grandad pulled one boot over his thick, woolly socks. These socks were too big for him but he merely solved this by pulling four inches of sock over his toes and flattening the excess under his instep.

‘There now, what did I tell you? They fit like a glove. I can aye tell the size of a boot just by looking at it.’ He awarded himself a mental pat on the back for his cleverness.

As we walked home, he promised me he wouldn’t mention where he had bought them. How well I recalled Granny’s reaction to Lily’s pram.

‘We’ll just say I bought them at Easifit and she’ll not know the difference,’ he said confidentially.

I decided not to mention the missing ticket until we got home. I was hoping to get the thorny issue of Grandad’s boots out of the way first which was just as well because Granny wasn’t impressed by his purchase.

‘You never bought these auld boots from Easifit. If you did, then I’m Lillian Gish,’ she snapped.

Grandad tried to look baffled. ‘Not bought out of Easifit? Where do you think Ann would buy them?’

Granny fixed him with a beady eye. ‘Well, Ann would maybe buy them from Easifit but, knowing you, it was probably out of Jeemy’s Emporium. And they better not have fleas or else they’re getting tossed out.’

Grandad ignored these threats and began to polish them with black Cherry Blossom shoe polish, digging the brush into the gooey residue at the side of the tin.

Lily was growing up so fast and she was repeating everything she heard. ‘Lily likes Grandad’s boots. Granny no like them ‘cos they’ve got fleas but Lily like them.’ She crooned the words as she ran around the room, playing with a little paper plane that Grandad had made her.

I was suddenly filled with such a surge of love for my family that this emotion threatened to erupt into a flood of tears or maybe something worse – like a gushing statement. So instead I started to lay the table for our tea.

Granny tackled Grandad about the missing ticket but he was as puzzled as we were. ‘You didn’t get it caught up in the paper when you made Lily’s plane?’ she asked but he shook his head.

‘I’m sure that ticket wasn’t even there when I made the plane. I looked for a bit of string in the vase and I can’t remember seeing a pawn ticket,’ he said.

In our house, the newspaper was never wasted. Every page was duly cut up into small squares and granny threaded a bit of string through the corners with her huge darning needle. This neat pile then hung from a nail in the outside lavatory. The remaining remnants of paper were then twisted into slender tapers that were used to light the fire and the gas cooker. They resided in an old fancy tin that had formerly held oatcakes and was always within easy reach of the fireplace. After all, matches cost money and granny was a past master at saving her pennies when she could.

I just knew in my heart that the ticket hadn’t got caught up in any paper. I must have thrust the ticket into my trench-coat pocket without thinking. I always meant to repair the holes in the pockets but I hadn’t got round to it and, as a result, each pocket still sported a large hole.

I knew I had to face the prospect of never seeing my beloved coat again and the thought depressed me. Granny cheered me up a bit when she said. ‘Go to the pawnshop next Monday, Ann. The old man is sure to recognise you and he’ll take pity on you. I’m sure of that.’

To make matters worse there was no sign of Maddie that weekend. It was clear for all to see that, along with Danny, Minnie and love, she had added the picture house to her things not to do. Still I was grateful that one problem seemed under control – namely, the fact that my father was now under the pristine roof of Hattie’s house. Whether it would last long was another question but for the time being I was happy with the situation.

The following Monday found me back again at the narrow close but this time the pawnshop was seething with customers. The queue stretched right down the passageway and almost out on to the Hilltown. They were a motley bunch of tired-looking women, thin-faced men and a gaggle of children who were all in various stages of emotions from running about shouting to whimpering tears and whining incessantly. As a result of this crowd, by the time I reached an empty cubicle, the old man behind the counter looked frazzled. My heart sank when he demanded my ticket.