Try a Little Tenderness (24 page)

‘I’m glad yer like it, kid. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Anyway, I’ll have to scarper now because I left yer grandad’s dinner in the oven on a low light.’ The lie came easily to Celia; she was well versed in the art. There was no dinner in the oven keeping warm, she’d be buying chips from the local chippy on the way home, and if Joe didn’t like it, he could lump it for all she cared. ‘Eh, why don’t yer come down one night and we could have a good chinwag?’ She asked the question casually, as though she’d just thought of it. ‘I enjoyed it last time. It was a change to have someone to talk to.’

‘Ooh, I don’t know.’ Laura looked embarrassed. ‘I got a good telling off.’

‘Forget it then, kid, ’cos I wouldn’t like to get yer into trouble.’

Laura looked down at the underskirt in her hand and felt really mean. ‘I’d like to, I really would. But Grandad would be there and he’d be bound to tell me mam.’

‘Then let’s meet one night and go to the flicks! No one would know the difference then. What the eye don’t see, the heart don’t grieve after.’

Laura felt relieved. ‘Yeah, we could do that, and no one would be any the wiser.’ Then she frowned. ‘But wouldn’t Grandad want to know where yer were going?’

Celia shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’ll tell him I’m going with one of me old girlfriends. He won’t think anything of it because I often go out on me own. What night suits you?’

Laura was in a dilemma. She was hoping to get a click at the dance on Saturday, and with a bit of luck the boy might ask her for a date. Much as she would like to please Celia after her buying such a nice present, a date with a boy was more to her taste. ‘I’m going to a dance with Cynthia on Saturday, and I’ve promised to see her tomorrow so we can discuss what we’re going to wear. But I could go tonight, if it’s not too soon for yer?’

‘Suits me, kiddo! Shall we say half seven at Everton Valley and we can decide then where to go?’

Little knowing she was being drawn into a web of deceit, Laura nodded. ‘I’ll have to put me skates on, but I’ll be there. Ta-ra.’

Celia watched her for a while, then spun around and walked in the opposite direction. She was feeling very pleased her plan had worked so well and had a smug smile on her face. It was a pretty face at first sight, until the beholder looked more closely and saw the hardness and malice in her eyes. Especially now, when she was thinking that in the next half hour, Laura would have told her mother two lies. Those two lies, added to the other things she had planned, would one day be used to shatter Mary
Nightingale’s life. And that day couldn’t come soon enough for Celia Steadman.

‘Yer’ve done well, sunshine,’ Mary said, having read the cards and been shown the presents. ‘The underskirt is very pretty, it must have cost a pretty penny.’

‘Ye’re lucky, Laura,’ Jenny said. ‘I wish I had one as nice. Is the girl who bought it a special friend of yours?’

‘I told yer, all the girls clubbed together for me presents,’ Laura snapped, causing Jenny to widen her eyes at the sharp tone. ‘They do it for everyone’s birthday.’

‘There’s no need to bite me head off.’ Jenny picked her knife and fork up and went back to the dinner that had been pushed aside when Laura came in. Why was her sister always so hostile towards her? She sometimes looked as though she didn’t even like her, and Jenny couldn’t understand the reason for it.

Mary’s thoughts were also on her eldest daughter. She could read Laura like a book, and the guilty look in her eyes when Jenny had asked about the underskirt had Mary convinced that she was lying. But why lie? If she’d gone to the shops in her dinner hour, and bought the slip out of her birthday money, why didn’t she just say so?

Stan finished his sausage and mash, wiped the back of his hand across his lips and pushed the plate away. He could sense a cooling in the atmosphere but couldn’t figure out the reason for it. So he tried to lighten the mood. ‘Twelve cards, eh, Laura? None of us have ever had that many before. Yer must be a popular girl, eh?’

The smile returned to Laura’s face. ‘Yeah, they’re lovely, too. I was going to stand some on the sideboard and the mantelpiece, but there’s not much point with the way the room is, they wouldn’t be seen.’

‘If yer don’t want them to get dirty, yer’d be best putting them in yer bedroom,’ Mary told her. ‘Amy and Molly will be here in half an hour, we’re going to wash the paintwork
down, ready for Mr Moynihan and yer dad to start on the ceiling tomorrow night.’

‘When are yer getting the wallpaper, Mam?’ Jenny asked. ‘Are yer getting something light and cheerful?’

Mary smiled. ‘Shall I get one with clowns on?’

Jenny giggled. ‘There’s enough clowns in the house as it is.’

Laura gave her a sharp dig. ‘Ay, you speak for yerself. There’s only one clown in this house and she’s sitting right next to me.’

‘Well, it certainly isn’t you!’ Jenny was stung into saying. ‘Clowns are always happy. They laugh and joke and bring smiles to people’s faces. You are a far cry from that. I’ve never seen yer really happy, yer wouldn’t know a joke if it jumped up and hit yer in the face, and a smile from you is a rare sight.’

Laura was stunned into silence, but not for long. She curled her fist, and with her weight behind it, she punched Jenny in her ribs. ‘Who the hell d’yer think ye’re talking to? Don’t come that with me or I’ll give yer a good hiding.’

Stan banged his fist on the table. ‘That’s enough of that! Don’t you ever raise yer hand again in this house, Laura, ’cos I won’t have it.’

Laura’s face was sullen. ‘She started it, so why don’t yer say something to her? Why is it always me what gets picked on?’

‘Perhaps it’s because yer haven’t got a sense of humour,’ Mary said. ‘Yer don’t see the funny side of anything. Jenny didn’t mean you when she talked of clowns – it was just a joke.’

‘Well, I didn’t think it was funny.’

Mary sighed as she pushed her chair back and reached for the plates. Her eldest daughter was hard going, there was no doubt about it. There was just no pleasing her. ‘Forget it, I don’t want to hear another word on the subject. And both of yer put a move on, I want you out of here
before Amy and Molly come.’ With the dirty plates in her hand, she looked at Jenny. ‘Are yer going round to Janet’s sunshine?’

‘Yeah, we’ll probably have a game of cards.’

‘And you, Laura, are yer going anywhere special to celebrate yer birthday?’

Laura lowered her head, appearing to concentrate on her clasped hands, where the thumbs were moving around each other in circles. ‘Nowhere exciting, only the pictures with Cynthia.’ The lie told, she raised her eyes. ‘But we’re going dancing on Saturday and I’m not half looking forward to that.’

Jenny saw her mother’s shoulders slump as she walked into the kitchen. So for her sake, she tried once more with Laura. ‘Which dance hall are yer going to?’

‘I haven’t got a clue,’ Laura said airily, springing to her feet. She pushed her chair back under the table before bending down and whispering in Jenny’s ear, ‘And if I did, I wouldn’t tell yer, smarty pants.’

With a shrug of her shoulders, Jenny went into the kitchen to help her mother with the dishes. ‘You wash, Mam, and I’ll dry.’

‘There’s no need, sunshine, I can have them done in no time. You go and get yerself ready to go out.’

‘I’m not bothering to get changed, Mam.’ Jenny didn’t relish the thought of being in the bedroom with her sister because she knew she’d be subject to a load of sarcasm. And it would be a case of standing there and taking it, or answering back and starting a fight. ‘I’m only going to Janet’s and it’s hardly worth it.’

When Laura came downstairs, all dressed up, Jenny took her time putting her coat on so they didn’t leave the house at the same time. When she heard the door bang, she smiled at her mother. ‘Half ten, Mam, is that all right?’

‘Yeah, that’s fine, we should be finished by then. Ta-ra, sunshine.’

‘Ta-ra, Mam, ta-ra, Dad. Don’t work too hard, now.’

Jenny could see her sister further down the street and expected her to stop outside Cynthia’s. But Laura kept on walking and Jenny watched until she’d turned the corner of the street and was out of sight. ‘What’s she up to now?’ Jenny asked herself softly. ‘She’s a mystery all right, yer can’t believe a word she says. I don’t care what she does, it’s nothing to do with me, but I do care that she upsets me mam with her lies.’

Jenny was so deep in thought, she didn’t see the two figures until they stood in her path. ‘Yer frightened the life out of me, yer daft things.’

‘Yer were talking to yerself, Jenny, and that’s a bad sign, isn’t it, John?’

‘Yes, Mick, it’s a very bad sign.’ John had been walking with his hands deep in his pockets for warmth, but the sight of Jenny was as good as sitting in front of a roaring coal fire. ‘They can cart yer off to the loony bin for it.’

‘I wasn’t talking to meself, I was singing.’ They couldn’t see properly in the dusk, so didn’t see Jenny’s blush of embarrassment. ‘Anyway, what if I was talking to meself? Is there anyone better I can talk to?’

‘Yeah, there’s me,’ said Mick, his white teeth flashing, ‘I’m always available, and yer’ll not get a better pair of listening ears than mine.’

‘Oh yes, she will,’ John chuckled. ‘What about me? I can listen for hours without opening me mouth.’ He put a hand on Jenny’s arm. ‘Don’t ever take first offer, Jenny, always shop around for the best bargain.’

Not to be outdone, Mick put a hand on Jenny’s other arm. ‘Now just be careful yer don’t end up with shopsoiled goods, Jenny. Yer want nothing but the best.’

John took up a boxing stance. ‘Are yer insinuating that I’m shopsoiled, Mick Moynihan? If yer are, I’ll set me mam on yer.’ Realising his mate had the advantage over him now, with a hand still on Jenny’s arm, he quickly relaxed his
stance and put his hand where it wanted to be, touching Jenny. ‘Yer heard that, didn’t yer, Miss Nightingale? Will yer be me witness when I take him to court?’

‘Daft as brushes, both of yer.’ Jenny’s voice was full of laughter. They hadn’t half cheered her up. ‘Now, gentlemen, would yer kindly unhand me before
I
become shopsoiled goods? And tell me, pray, what are yer doing down here?’

‘It’s our night for jazzing and we’re going for the tram.’ Mick plucked up the courage to take hold of Jenny’s arms and held them aloft. With exaggerated movements he spun her around, singing, ‘Who’s Taking You Home Tonight?’

Ho, ho, John thought, I’m not standing for that! Barefaced cheek, that is. ‘Excuse me,’ he tapped Mick on the shoulder. ‘Sorry, mate, but this is an Excuse Me waltz.’

Mick stood still but held on tight. ‘Only if the young lady is willing.’

‘To save any argument,’ Jenny said, trying to free her hands, ‘John can have three spins, and then ye’re even. After that I’m on me way, ’cos Janet will wonder where I’ve got to.’

As John pushed him aside, Mick whispered, ‘I don’t wish yer no harm, mate, but I hope yer trip and break a flippin’ leg.’

John winked in answer before he reached for Jenny, a look of pure bliss on his face. ‘It was five spins he had, so don’t be trying to short-change me, Jenny Nightingale.’

Jenny counted aloud and stopped dead on five. ‘Now yer can walk down to me mate’s with me.’

‘I don’t suppose, like, that yer could bring Janet out, could yer?’ Mick ventured as they walked in line. ‘Then we could have a dance in the street, save going all the way to Seaforth.’

‘Some hope you’ve got, Mick Moynihan. Her mam would have yer life.’

‘Yer could always ask her mam, too!’ John was wishing the Porters lived the other side of Liverpool so the walk
would last all night. ‘She could chaperone yer, or even join in if she wanted.’

‘Yeah, that’s a good idea, mate!’ Mick felt as though he was walking on air. ‘I bet Mrs Porter can do a mean quickstep.’

Jenny was having a fit of the giggles. ‘Why not ask the whole street and we could have a party? Mr Porter can knock out a tune on his comb, so we’d have music, as well.’

‘And I’m pretty good at whistling,’ John said. ‘Mind you, yer wouldn’t know whether to do a quickstep or a tango, but who cares?’

‘I can hum, if that’s any good.’ Jenny was laughing when they stopped outside the Porters’ house. ‘And I can click me tongue, as well.’

Mick’s laugh was loud. ‘All we need is someone on the spoons and we’ve got a full orchestra. I bags being the conductor.’

‘Oh no, matey, I’ve got yer down as the band’s singer.’ John’s shoulders were shaking with laughter. ‘I’ll be whistling me head off while I’m dancing with Jenny, and you’ll be on the stage belting out a nice smoochy song.’

‘What’s this about a smoochy song?’ No one had heard the door open and they were surprised to see Martha Porter standing on the step, arms folded and a huge grin on her face. ‘Come on, tell us about this smoochy song, I like the sound of it.’

‘I think yer’d better ask me mate,’ John said. ‘He’s the singer.’

‘John Hanley, ye’re a coward,’ Jenny told him, wagging a finger. ‘It was you what said it.’

Mick tilted his head to the side and weighed up Janet’s mother, before saying, ‘I said I bet yer can do a mean quickstep, Mrs Porter, am I right?’

‘I’ve had me moments, lad, but they were a very long time ago. The best I could manage now would be a slow waltz.’ Her laugh was loud and hoarse. ‘In fact, it would
have to be so bleedin’ slow we’d be standing still.’

Janet’s head appeared over her mother’s shoulder. ‘What’s going on here?’

Jenny, the unpleasantness with her sister forgotten, was in a playful mood. ‘The boys want to invite us to dance in the street, Jan. We’ve sorted the music out, with yer dad on the comb, you and me humming and clicking our tongues, John whistling and Mick singing. But we haven’t got anyone to play the spoons.’

Martha doubled up. ‘Oh dear, that’s tickled me fancy.’ She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Mr Wilkinson, down the street, he’s got a ukulele, shall I go and drag him out?’

Bill towered behind his mother and sister, and when he saw Jenny standing with the two lads, he squeezed between them and joined the trio on the pavement. ‘You ain’t going anywhere, Jenny Nightingale. I’ve been waiting for yer so I could win back those ten matchsticks yer cheated me out of the other night.’