Try a Little Tenderness (40 page)

When Seamus stopped singing, Amy sat back and said, ‘By, I did enjoy that. It did me more good than the dose of salts I had this morning.’

Laura and Cynthia clung to each other, gasping for breath. ‘Oh dear, I’ve never laughed so much in all me life,’ Cynthia said. ‘I’m glad yer mam asked me to come.’

‘Yeah, it’s great, isn’t it?’ Laura looked over at Amy. ‘Yer know, I’ve always thought me Auntie Amy was crackers. But she’s dead funny really, isn’t she?’

Stan was standing by the kitchen door, ready to refill glasses, and Mary went to join him. ‘Have you ever seen our Laura laugh so hearty before, or let herself go?’

He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close. ‘Two great minds think alike, love, I was just thinking the same thing. And that Cynthia’s turned out to be a surprise. She’s not as forward or hard-faced as I expected.’

‘Ay, out,’ Mary said, ‘Mick is going to sing.’

Mick cleared his throat. ‘Yer must be fed up with Irish songs, so I’ll do one of Al Jolson’s. I’m telling yer it’s him I’m doing, ’cos yer won’t recognise it otherwise.’ He knelt down on one knee and with all the great singer’s facial expressions and hand movements, he began to sing ‘Mammy’. He did it so well, not even Amy dared to join in. Then he went straight into ‘Toot-Toot-Tootsie, Goodbye’ and the room erupted.

Cynthia nudged Laura in the ribs. ‘Ay, he isn’t half handsome, isn’t he? Get a load of those eyes and dimples.’

‘Yeah, he’s not bad I suppose,’ Laura said, ‘but I prefer blonds.’

‘And the other one, John Hanley, he’s not to be sneezed
at either. It’s hard to think of them as the kids who used to play footie in their short trousers. Still, they probably think the same about us. We’ve all grown up, and changed. I got a shock when I saw Bill Porter – he’s grown into a real he-man.’

‘Yer can keep them all – for me, I’ll stick to my Gary. He knocks spots off any of them for looks.’

‘We’ve only got your word for that, Laura, and everybody has different ideas on what is handsome and what is not. As they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.’ Cynthia studied her friend’s face before saying, ‘At the moment I’m off men, I feel uncomfortable with them and wouldn’t trust them an inch. That is what those two thugs have done to me. But I’m hoping that when I’m even with them, I’ll get back into the swing of things. That’s if they haven’t put me off men for life.’

‘Yer’ll be all right, kid, I know yer will,’ Laura said. ‘All fellers are not the same.’

Cynthia shook herself mentally. It would be a long time before she trusted herself with a man, she knew that. But she was only sixteen, for heaven’s sake, so she had to try and put the past behind her and get on with her life. ‘When am I going to meet this Mr Wonderful of yours? I can’t wait to see if he’s all yer’ve cracked him up to be.’

‘Oh, he is, and more. Yer’ll meet him soon, Cyn, but I want to get to know him a bit better meself first. After I’ve been out on a few dates with him, eh?’

Martha Porter faced her son across the table. ‘You’ve what! Have yer lost the run of yer bloody senses? If you think I’m having those two tarts in this house, yer’ve got another think coming, me lad.’

‘Oh, come on, Mam, be reasonable.’ Bill had expected opposition but nothing like this. ‘You haven’t set eyes on them for years, so how can yer talk about them like that?’

Janet’s brow was furrowed. She couldn’t understand why
everything had suddenly gone wrong. Her and Bill had been so happy walking back from the Nightingales’, talking and laughing about what games they’d play at the party. And now there was all this shouting. ‘What d’yer mean, Mam, about them being tarts?’

‘You keep out of it. Your brother knows damn well what I mean.’ Martha’s face was red and her nostrils flared. ‘I will not have those two trollops in my house, and that’s the end of it. So yer can just take yerself back there and tell them the party’s off.’

‘Calm down, Martha,’ her husband said, ‘before yer burst a blood vessel. If Bill’s invited Jenny and the other two girls, yer can’t just un-invite them.’

‘Oh, can’t I? Well, just you wait and see whether I can or not. If he doesn’t turn around and go back right this minute, I’ll go meself.’

‘Martha, I said calm down, and I mean it. Now sit down in that chair and let’s talk like reasonable adults, instead of bawling at each other.’ When his wife stood her ground, he pointed to the chair. ‘I said sit down.’

Martha was taken aback. It was very seldom that her husband raised his voice, never mind used that tone to her. So she turned towards her chair. And when her back was to them, Vincent gave a slight shake of the head, to indicate to his son that he stay out of it.

‘Don’t think ye’re going to change me mind for me, Vincent Porter,’ Martha had no intention of giving in, ‘’cos ye’re not.’

‘Let’s talk it through, shall we, just to clear things in me mind.’ Vincent leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘Yer can’t go around calling people tarts and trollops, love, unless yer’ve got good reason to. And as I only know these girls by sight, I’m at a loss as to what yer reason is.’

‘Oh, come off it, Vincent Porter! Everybody knows what Laura Nightingale and Cynthia Pennington are like.’

‘I don’t,’ Vincent said quietly. ‘So tell me.’

‘They’re impudent, hard-faced little madams, that’s what. And they’re a holy terror for the boys. Anything in trousers, they’re not fussy.’

‘And this is first-hand knowledge, is it, Martha, not gossip? They’ve given you cheek, and with your own eyes you’ve seen them fooling around with boys?’

‘Well, no, not me personally,’ Martha blustered. ‘But you ask anyone in their street, they’ll tell yer what they’re like.’

‘So yer’d blacken their names on the word of gossip-mongers? I’m surprised at yer, Martha Porter.’

Bill couldn’t let this go on, it wasn’t fair to his mother. ‘Me mam’s not wrong altogether, Dad. The two of them were terrors at school, I know that even though I wasn’t in their class. And they did have a bad reputation in their street for giving cheek. But they’ve grown up now, they’ve been working for over two years.’

There was suspicion in Martha’s eyes. ‘Have you been out with either of those girls on the sly?’

‘No, I haven’t, Mam! In the last year I’ve seen Laura a couple of times when I’ve walked Jenny home, but we’ve hardly exchanged half-a-dozen words. And tonight, in the Nightingales’, I saw Cynthia for the first time in years. I only invited them to make the numbers up ’cos we were short of girls. Jenny’s coming with Mick and John, and I asked me mate, Gerry. That means two girls and four boys.’ In an effort to put a smile on his mother’s face, he asked, ‘How would you like it, Mam, if yer were playing Postman’s Knock, and the chances were fifty-fifty that yer’d get to kiss yer sister?’

When Martha heard her husband chuckle, she knew she’d lost the fight. But she wasn’t going to just cave in. ‘You haven’t had much to say for yerself, Janet. What do you think?’

‘Mam, I only wanted a party, I didn’t want all this shouting and falling out.’

Martha threw her hands up. ‘Okay, okay, you win. But I
warn yer, if I see either of those girls messing around with the boys, or snogging, they’ll be out of that door so quick they won’t know what’s hit them.’

‘Fair enough, Mam,’ Bill said, throwing his father a look of gratitude. ‘Now, can me and our kid take our coats off and get a warm by the fire?’

When John and Mick called for Jenny on Boxing Night, they found Lizzie Marshall sitting in Stan’s fireside chair looking warm and happy. They made straight for her, and standing either side of her chair they bent to kiss her cheeks. ‘Yer should have come last night, Auntie Lizzie,’ John said, ‘it was a cracking party.’

‘Yeah, yer missed a good night.’ Mick’s dimples deepened. ‘Most of all, and yer’ll kill yerself when I tell yer this, yer missed me doing me Al Jolson impersonation.’

Lizzie, her cheeks pink from the warmth of the fire, smiled up at them. ‘I did miss a treat then, didn’t I? But I knew there were going to be a lot of people here and I’m getting too old now for noisy parties. Tonight will suit me fine, with Amy and Molly and their husbands coming. Seamus has promised to sing ‘Rose of Tralee’ for me, and yer never know, after a glass of port I might even give a song meself.’

‘Oh aye, Auntie Lizzie,’ John fingered a wisp of the fine white hair, ‘yer’ve got hidden talents, have yer?’

Lizzie tapped her nose. ‘Ah now, that would be telling.’

‘If yer did happen to have a drink over the eight, Auntie Lizzie,’ Mick said, dropping on his haunches so he could look into her face, ‘and yer did sing a song, what would it be?’

‘My very favourite, son – “Just A Song At Twilight”.’

Mary shuffled to the edge of the couch and tapped Mick on the shoulder. ‘Do yer know it, sunshine?’

‘Mrs Nightingale, there isn’t a song I don’t know. I’ve been listening to me mam and dad singing since the day I was born.’

‘Would yer sing it for her? Our Jenny and Laura are upstairs getting ready, so yer’ve got plenty of time.’

Stan leaned forward now. ‘Go on, son, it’s one of my favourites, too.’

Mick looked up at John. ‘If you make fun of me, pal, I’ll crack yer one.’

‘I won’t make fun of yer, mate, not when it’s for Auntie Lizzie. If I can get the hang of the tune, I’ll whistle along with yer.’

So it was when Jenny opened the door, she heard the pure clear sound of Mick’s voice. She stood quietly by the door so as not to disturb them, and wondered at a boy from a small two-up two-down house, having the voice of an angel. And then she saw John curl a hand around his mouth and soon his tuneful whistling joined Mick’s voice. The words of the song always made her feel sad, but it was the sight of the two boys that had her sniffing the tears away. They’d been mates all through school and had remained firm friends. Just like her and Janet.

‘Oh, that was beautiful.’ Lizzie wiped a hand across her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t have the nerve to sing it after hearing that. Anyway,’ she smiled up at John, not wanting to praise one and leave the other out, ‘I wouldn’t have the marvellous accompaniment that you had.’

Mick straightened himself out. ‘We usually charge, yer know, Auntie Lizzie, but not those we love.’ He turned to Jenny. ‘I knew yer were there. I always know when ye’re there, even if I can’t see yer.’

Lizzie smiled, while Mary and Stan pulled surprised faces at each other. John, on the other hand, was trying to think of a way to get even. ‘The only way yer’d know that, mate, would be if Jenny ponged. And I can’t smell nothing.’

Jenny roared with laughter. ‘Will you two ever grow up?’

‘Not unless we’re forced to,’ Mick said. ‘We like acting daft and yer can’t get away with it when ye’re grown-up.’

‘Well, try and act grown-up tonight, please. Remember, it’s me mate’s house we’re going to.’ Jenny slipped into her coat and asked, ‘What time d’yer want me in by, Mam?’

‘It’s work tomorrow, sunshine, so I think eleven is late enough.’ Mary cocked an ear. ‘Isn’t Laura going with yer?’

‘Yeah, but she’s calling for Cynthia first.’ Jenny blew a kiss. ‘Enjoy yerselves and don’t get too drunk.’

Martha Porter was looking for something to fault the two girls, but so far they hadn’t put a foot wrong. They were friendly without being pushy, polite, well-dressed, and their faces weren’t caked with make-up. And far from running after the boys, they were sat side-by-side on the couch while Bill and his mate Gerry were doing their damnedest to chat them up. They weren’t getting very far, either, from what she could see. It was going to be a very quiet party from the looks of things. If it wasn’t for Mick and John, it would be dead boring. They had Jenny and Janet in stitches the whole time. When Mick cracked a joke, John had one ready to throw back at him, and vice versa. They seemed to bounce off each other. And they were keeping Vincent amused, too. Her husband never had a smile off his face.

‘Why don’t yer put a record on, Bill?’ Martha asked. ‘Liven the place up a bit.’

Laura showed her interest. ‘Ooh, have yer got a gramophone?’

Martha proudly lifted the lid of a wooden cabinet standing next to her chair. ‘Yes, and we’ve got some records.’

‘Do yer dance, Cynthia?’ Bill asked hopefully.

Cynthia seemed to sink back further on the couch. ‘No, I’ve never been to a dance, but Laura can. I’ll be quite happy to sit and watch.’

‘What shall I put on, a waltz or a quickstep?’

Gerry, who thought he was God’s gift to women, stuck out his chest. ‘It doesn’t make no difference to me, Bill, I can dance to anything.’

Laura, thinking the night wasn’t going to be a complete waste of time, was eager to show off her prowess on the dance floor. It was a pity somebody hadn’t told her that Gerry was the biggest liar in Liverpool, and the worst dancer. But she was about to find out the hard way. He couldn’t wait for her to stand upright before pulling her into his arms, gripping her left hand tight and thrusting their arms out as far as they would stretch. If anyone had been standing near, they would have either lost a few teeth or been sporting a black eye. He started off with the wrong foot and his size ten shoe landed down hard on Laura’s toes. She let out a cry and her face crumpled with the pain, but Gerry soldiered on regardless.

Mick and John looked on with amusement. ‘She’ll have no feet left by the time this record’s over,’ Mick spoke out of the side of his mouth. ‘He’s like a walking plank.’

‘Yeah,’ John agreed, ‘as stiff as a board.’

‘Ay, Jenny, d’yer want to have a go? Yer couldn’t be any worse than that bloke.’

Jenny shrank back. ‘No, thanks, Mick, I’ve never danced in me life.’

‘I’ll show yer how, eh? If I excuse yer sister, saving her from a fate worse than death, you could watch what she does with her feet, and then have a go with me when they put the next record on.’

John was certain Mick wouldn’t excuse Laura. Even if he liked her, which he didn’t, he wouldn’t have the nerve. ‘Go on, mate, I dare yer. In fact, I double dare yer.’

Mick looked down into eyes as blue as the sky on a summer’s day. ‘How about it, Jenny, are yer game?’

‘Ooh, I don’t think so, Mick, I’d be frightened of making a fool of meself.’