Try a Little Tenderness (47 page)

The sound in the room was deafening, as there were half-a-dozen conversations being conducted at top volume from one side of it to the other. The atmosphere was lively, with everyone in the party spirit, when Janet opened the door and stood just inside the room. Nothing happened at first, then slowly the noise died down as all eyes were fixed on the young girl who looked as though she wanted to turn tail and run.

Mary was the first to move. ‘Oh, sunshine, don’t yer look beautiful! I didn’t recognise yer for a minute.’

Every voice was raised in surprise and praise, and Martha and Vincent Porter, sitting next to each other on straight-backed wooden chairs, looked as proud as peacocks. ‘By, love, yer look like a flippin’ film star,’ Martha said with a catch in her throat. ‘When yer said Jenny was going to do yer hair, I never expected nothing like this.’

Janet, her courage strengthened by the praise, looked to where Mick and John were standing. Wide-eyed, their mouths agape the boys looked as though they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. ‘What’s the matter with you two, has the cat got yer tongue?’ Janet’s eyes were dancing with pleasure. ‘Don’t yer think I look nice?’

John’s Adam’s apple moved up and down as he swallowed hard. ‘I’m trying to think of the words, Janet, but the only ones that spring to mind, are “bobby dazzler”.’

‘That’ll do to be going on with.’ Janet turned her attention
to Mick. ‘You’re not usually short of a few hundred words, Mick Moynihan, so what have you got to say?’

‘Yer look a real humdinger to me, Janet.’

Bill, standing between Cynthia and Laura, couldn’t get over the change in his sister. ‘I think yer look a belter, our kid.’

‘A little cracker,’ was Stan’s opinion.

Seamus Moynihan scratched his chin. ‘I’m not familiar with any of these new-fangled words, me darlin’, so I’ll just say yer look as pretty as a picture.’

Jenny stood by the door smiling. She was delighted for her friend. ‘Jan, tell them what yer’ve done today, apart from changing yer hairstyle.’

Jan turned and winked at her before saying, ‘I’ve grown up today. Me mam was always telling me I’d grow up when I was fifteen, so I have. Really, I grew up a few months ago, but I wouldn’t like me mam to be wrong, so I waited until today.’

There was a burst of laughter and applause. ‘Welcome to the world, girl,’ Amy said, before giving her husband a dig in the ribs. ‘Go on, slowcoach, tell her how nice she looks.’

Ben raised his eyes to the ceiling, searching for inspiration. Then he sighed. ‘This puts me in a bit of a pickle. If I said she looks adorable, which is about the only word that hasn’t been used, I’d cop it off you when we got home because I’ve never said you looked adorable. In me own defence, though, it wasn’t that yer never looked adorable, yer understand, but we never used fancy words like that when we were young.’

Amy gave him daggers before saying to Janet, ‘D’yer want time to thank him, girl, before I take the poker to him? Huh! Have yer ever heard the likes of it? “Never used fancy words like that when we were young”! What a bleedin’ lame excuse that is.’

‘Auntie Amy,’ Jenny called across, ‘we’ll have no fighting at my party if yer don’t mind. Wait until yer get home.’

‘Yeah, okay, girl, I’ll do that. I’m better off in me own home when I come to think of it, ’cos I’m used to me own poker. It’s all bent, yer see, with me hitting my feller so often, and his head just fits nicely into the bend.’

‘Well now, hasn’t that just solved a mystery for me?’ Seamus shook his head knowingly. ‘Haven’t I spent many a sleepless night wondering how Ben got that dinge in his head? Sure, I can sleep peacefully now, knowing it was Amy’s poker that did it.’

Glasses were replenished and conversations re-started. In another hour the house would be heaving with songs, laughter and dancing. As Molly was heard to say, ‘Sure it’s a miracle, so it is, what a few bottles of stout will do for yer.’

Jenny and Janet were standing with the boys when Mary came up behind them. ‘Are yer going to open yer presents now, so everyone can see what yer got?’

‘Where are they, Mam?’

‘On the sideboard, sunshine, there’s stacks of them.’

‘I’ll help yer, Jenny,’ Mick said. ‘I’ll open them and you can hold them up for everyone to see.’

‘John will help me, won’t yer, John?’ Janet didn’t know there was such a word as coquettish, and even if she did she wouldn’t have understood its meaning. But it was the right word to describe the look in her eyes. ‘Say yer will, John?’

John was cursing Mick in his head for having stolen Jenny away from him. But when he looked at Janet he realised it was no big deal. It would be a pleasure to help open her presents and see the delight on her face. She was such an easy kid to please. And he’d have Jenny all to himself later, when Mick was singing and they were dancing.

The two girls were like children after Father Christmas has been. They shrieked with delight as each present was unwrapped. And their families and friends had made sure they each got the same gift. Stockings, underskirts, slippers, blouses, and brush and comb sets. There were two presents they particularly liked, but didn’t say so for fear of offending.
One was the gift off Laura – a tortoiseshell comb, studded with diamond-like stones. This surprised and pleased Jenny so much she felt choked. She hadn’t expected anything off her sister. And the last present to be opened had the girls hugging each other in delight. A bottle of Evening In Paris perfume in its famous dark-blue bottle. Well, this showed they really were grown-up now.

There were hugs and kisses all round, and the pleasure on the two pretty faces was enough to lift everyone’s heart.

‘Clear all the paper away now,’ Mary said, ‘so we can get on with the party.’

‘Me and Janet will take the presents upstairs, Mam, and put them on the bed. Mick and John will clear away, won’t yer, fellers?’ Jenny got to the door and turned. ‘Yer’ve been good helping us with the presents, thanks.’

‘What are yer thanking us for?’ Mick asked. ‘Yer haven’t had our present yet.’

Jenny didn’t know how to take this, knowing what jokers the boys were. Then she decided they were having her on. ‘Stop acting daft and clear up for us.’

John caught her arm. ‘No, Mick’s not kidding, we got presents for both of yer.’ Still holding on to her tight, he called, ‘Mrs Nightingale? Where the heck are yer?’

Mary worked her way round to them. ‘What is it, son?’

‘They haven’t had our presents yet.’

Mary’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, boys, I clean forgot with all the running around. I put them in the sideboard cupboard for safety, so Jenny wouldn’t see them. I’ll get them for yer.’

When Mary came back she was carrying two parcels, and she handed one to each boy. ‘I think yer should hand them over yerselves.’

‘Which one’s which, Mrs Nightingale?’ Mick asked. ‘We don’t want to give the wrong ones.’

Janet dropped her presents on the bottom stair. ‘Ooh, isn’t it exciting, Jenny? It’s the best birthday I ever had.’

Mary looked at the parcels closely. ‘That one is for Janet, and this one’s Jenny’s.’

Amy and Molly had spread the word and the whole gang moved towards the door. ‘Go on, girls, open them up.’

Jenny suspected the boys were playing a prank and tried to feel what was inside the parcel. Whatever it was felt hard, and this added to her suspicion. ‘You open yours first, Jan.’

Janet didn’t need telling twice. She ripped the paper off and was so stunned she couldn’t speak. In her hands were a pair of dancing shoes in black patent leather, with a narrow ankle strap and a two-inch heel. Her mouth was moving but no sounds were coming from her.

Jenny looked up to find Mick’s eyes on her. ‘Go on, Jenny,’ he begged. ‘Open it up.’

The shoes were the same as Janet’s, except for the size, and Jenny was so thrilled she didn’t know where to put herself because she felt like bawling her eyes out. She knew she was going to make a fool of herself, so she quickly kissed Mick on the cheek, said, ‘I love them,’ and fled into the hall. Stepping over Janet’s presents she took the stairs two at a time.

When Janet came down to earth it was John she kissed. ‘They’re the bestest present I’ve ever had. And when me and Jenny have had a little weep, we’ll be down to dance the night away in our new shoes.’

Mary went out to the kitchen to take the cloths off the plates of sandwiches, ready for handing them out, and Stan followed her. ‘The girls have done well, haven’t they?’

‘They certainly have,’ Mary smiled. ‘They’ll be wanting a birthday every week.’

‘Our Laura’s very quiet.’ Stan sneaked one of the sandwiches before leaning against the sink. ‘I can’t make her out. She’s as good-looking as any of them, yet she hasn’t got a boyfriend. At least, not one that we know of. Her mate, Cynthia, she seems to be settled with Bill Porter; he can’t take his eyes off her.’

‘At the moment, Stan, I’m more worried about me dad than I am about anyone else. He should have been here ages ago. He said he was definitely coming and I know he wouldn’t miss one of the girls’ birthdays unless it was something serious.’

‘He might turn up yet, love, it’s not that late.’

‘I hope so. I do worry about him.’

If Mary had known the real reason for her father’s absence, she would have been heartbroken.

Joe Steadman was sitting on the edge of his chair, his elbows on his knees, his hands covering his face. Over the last three years the young woman he’d taken as his wife had humiliated him, shamed him and made him a laughing stock. He was living in a filthy house, slept between sheets that were seldom washed, and wore clothes that were old and shabby. The only decent meal he ever got was when he went to his daughter’s, and he seldom had money in his pocket because, as his wife was fond of reminding him, he was an old man who never went anywhere and didn’t need good clothes. He’d thought there was nothing more she could do to hurt him, thought it wasn’t possible for her to drag him any lower, but how wrong he’d been.

Celia was standing in front of him, her hands planted on her hips, a brazen look on her face and defiance in her eyes. ‘Well, haven’t yer got anything to say?’

Joe slowly took his hands from his face and forced himself to look at the woman he regretted ever setting eyes on. ‘Who’s the father?’

Celia’s lip curled in scorn. ‘You are, of course.’

Joe rolled his hands into a ball. He wasn’t a fighting man, had never hit anyone in his life, but right now the urge to knock that sneer off her face was overwhelming. ‘I am not yet in my dotage, Celia, so give me the credit of having some intelligence. It is impossible for me to be the father, we both know that. Nor would I want to be. So who is the father?’

‘What difference does it make? Yer wouldn’t know him if I told yer.’

‘Perhaps yer don’t know yerself, is that it? Nothing would surprise me about you, Celia, ye’re bad through and through.’

‘Call me what yer like, it doesn’t mean a thing to me. As far as I’m concerned, you are the father of this baby. That’s what the neighbours will think, and I can’t see yer telling them any different. Nor that precious family of yours. Think how stupid yer’d look if yer told them I had a bun in the oven but yer don’t know who put it there?’ Celia’s smile was unpleasant. ‘I’d give anything to see the look on the face of that daughter of yours. My, my, my, how the mighty have fallen.’

‘Don’t push me too far, Celia, I warn yer. Take that smirk off yer face and sit down. Yer seem to forget this is still my house. Your name was never put on the rent-book, so I’d be in my rights to throw yer out.’ He waited until she was seated, then asked, ‘The man who is the father, does he want the baby? Yer could always set up house together and we could get a divorce. It would take years, but if the man loves yer he wouldn’t mind waiting, I’m sure.’

‘Forget it! Ye’re not getting rid of me that easy. I’m staying put, whether yer like it or not, so get that through that old head of yours.’

‘I wonder why I get the feeling that yer’ve been very free with yer favours and yer don’t know who the father is?’ Joe spoke calmly, but inside he was filled with mixed emotions. He was sick in the tummy and worried and angry in his head. ‘Well, is that true?’

Celia’s hard eyes bored into his. ‘You are the father of this baby and I’m sticking to that. If yer tell anyone different, I’ll tell them ye’re lying because ye’re ashamed of fathering a child at your age. I’d get a real kick out of telling yer daughter, and that bleedin’ cow next door who looks down her nose every time I see her.’

Joe looked down at his clasped hands. He should be at his granddaughter’s birthday party, and he’d been looking forward to it. Instead, fate had dealt him a blow he couldn’t see any way out of. Mary and her family were all he had in life, and he’d let them down. If he didn’t go along with Celia’s story, he’d bring more trouble to their door. Because not for one second did he doubt that his wife would carry out her threats, and take great delight in doing so. The woman he’d married was capable of great wickedness.

Joe pushed himself out of the chair. ‘I’m going for a pint and a breath of fresh air. The air in here is putrid.’

Celia knew she’d won, but then she’d never had any doubt. Still, she wasn’t satisfied with hurting him, she had to turn the screw tighter. ‘What, are yer not going to yer granddaughter’s birthday party? I would have thought yer’d like to celebrate with yer mates. It’s not every day yer find out ye’ve become a father.’

Joe looked down at her. ‘D’yer know, I feel sorry for the baby. Boy or girl, it’s going to have a lousy start in life.’ With that he turned on his heel and left, to go down to the pub on the corner. He found a quiet alcove, and with a pint in front of him, he tried to sort out his thoughts. He’d have to go down to Mary’s tomorrow, he couldn’t let Jenny’s birthday go without a word. Besides, he had a present for her and was dying to see her face when he gave her a necklace that matched the bracelet he’d given her for Christmas.

Joe picked up his glass and drank deeply. That would be one solution, to get drunk and forget what he’d been told in the last hour. But although the prospect was appealing, it wasn’t the answer. He’d be sober tomorrow with the problems still facing him. Better to sit quietly and get things sorted in his mind now. He had two choices. He could tell Mary and the family, and his neighbours, that he and Celia were expecting a baby, and leave it at that. He’d be embarrassed at his age to admit to it, but it would keep his wife quiet. Or he could tell the truth. That he and his
wife hadn’t been on intimate terms for eighteen months, so the baby couldn’t possibly be his. And let Celia do her damnedest.