Two Penn'orth of Sky (32 page)

‘Scrag end and dumplings,’ Beryl said, and smiled at the boys’ subdued cheer. All her family liked their food and she enjoyed their enjoyment. ‘And a slice of sultana cake for afters, if they’re cooked and cooled by then.’

The boys went off and presently returned with the handcart. ‘Skinflint Harry tried to charge me twopence to borrow it,’ Charlie informed his mother. ‘But his da heard and gave him a right clack over
the ear, and his mam asked us to take two trays o’ buns, ’cos she’s got company tomorrow and wants ’em baked by then.’

‘That’s grand,’ Beryl said absently, balancing the washing on her head and making for the front door. ‘See you in an hour or so, fellers.’ Out in the court, she looked up at the ‘two penn’orth of sky’ and saw that it was blue, with small white clouds racing across it. The double lines which stretched between her house and that of Mrs Piggott, opposite, held no washing as yet, but were curved into bows by the wind. Good; it was an ideal drying day, then.

The boys had loaded the handcart and rattled along just behind her as she went under the arch and into Raymond Street. Here she turned right and the boys should have turned left, but Beryl felt a restraining hand on her coat sleeve. ‘Mam,’ Lenny said plaintively. ‘Why’s we havin’ a cooked dinner on a Sat’day? Wharrabout Sunday?’

Sometimes, my kids are too sharp for me, Beryl thought resignedly. Aloud, she said: ‘Tomorrow I’m taking young Diana to see her mam. It’ll be the first time since Christmas, and it’s to be a surprise. You see, the rules of the sanatorium have meant your Aunt Emmy hasn’t been able to have many visitors so far, but now the time’s up and they’re willing for her to see folk a bit more often.’

Both her sons stared at her, dismay written large on their faces. ‘More often?’ Charlie said. ‘But it costs a deal o’ money, Mam, and Sunday’s practically the only day we gets to see you, ’cept in the school holidays. How often’s more often, anyhow?’

Beryl smiled reassuringly. ‘I didn’t mean meself, nor Diana, for that matter. I mean other people; Mr Mac, what Emmy used to work for, he’s going to go
and see her, and that young officer, when he’s in port. Oh, an’ one or two of the waitresses from Mac’s thought they might have a day out there, now and then. Why, Mr Mac offered to take Diana with him when he goes, which would save me time and a few bob.’

Her sons’ faces cleared. ‘So long as you ain’t intendin’ to go every Sunday,’ Charlie said. ‘I’m goin’ to take Di fishing in the canal this afternoon; she’s norra bad kid and I did promise. D’you want us to take Becky along wi’ us, Mam?’

Beryl smiled but shook her head. ‘No, I’ll keep her wi’ me once the girls get back from doing my messages. This afternoon I want to go round to your Aunt Daphne and see the new baby. Becky will like that and she can play with young Alison while Daphne tells me how the baby’s doin’. And you can keep the change from the baking money for a few sweets or an ice cream.’

‘Thanks, Mam,’ the boys chorused and made off, the handcart rattling before them. Beryl set off for the washhouse with an inward sigh. She loved Emmy as much as one person could love another, she reminded herself, but the trip to Llandudno took up the whole day and she always got home worn out. Diana was a good kid, but she chattered endlessly, demanding attention in a way which Beryl’s boys never did, so that even the train journey, which should have been a relaxing time, was tiring.

And it was impossible not to worry about Emmy. She was better, Beryl was sure of it, but she was still so frail; her arms and legs like sticks, and her cheeks hollow. She said the food at the sanatorium was quite good, but the truth was that, because she was allowed to take no exercise, she had very little appetite. Her
friend Violet had assured Beryl that they had all been the same at first, had all lost their appetites, and had promised that as soon as Emmy improved enough to take exercise she would begin to put on flesh. Violet herself was quite sturdy and the other girls in Wisteria Ward were a variety of shapes, but Beryl longed to see her friend’s cheeks begin to fill out, and sometimes suffered from hideous doubts that Emmy would ever get well. In the six months or so that she had been in the sanatorium, there had been three deaths, and though the staff tried to make light of it, to say that the young women’s illness had been discovered too late, Beryl knew that such sad events frightened her friend and probably put her recovery back.

But I’ll see her tomorrow, and hopefully I’ll be pleasantly surprised, Beryl told herself as she entered the long room, with its rows of sinks and wooden draining boards and the central table upon which one dumped first the washing to be done, and then that which had just been laundered. Women, busy at the sinks, turned and smiled as she entered, for everyone knew Beryl. ‘Mornin’ all,’ Beryl said cheerfully, commandeering the nearest unoccupied sink. ‘We’ve got a fine day for it; me tablecloths will be ready for ironin’ in no time, which is as well, since I’m off to visit our Emmy tomorrow.’

Diana and Charlie hurried down the road towards the Houghton Bridge, carrying the shaved willow branches and lengths of line which they would presently employ. When they got to the path beside the canal, they would have a good walk before they reached the stretch where fishing was possible; closer to home, amongst the warehousing and factories,
Charlie was of the opinion that one was more likely to hook a dead boot than a moving fish. However, Diana was so thrilled to be actually asked to accompany her hero, that what he described as ‘a good walk’ seemed a small price to pay. She trotted alongside Charlie and when, at last, they stopped at what he considered a suitable spot, followed his instructions exactly, though baiting the hook caused her some anxious moments. They had purloined a chunk of rather stale bread and she helped to form this into a number of pellets, but she had great difficulty in persuading the pellets to stay on the hook, whereas Charlie’s looked as if they had been glued on. It ended, of course, with Charlie baiting her hook as well as his own, and presently the two of them settled down to watch the brightly coloured floats which Charlie had constructed out of medicine bottle corks and painted with hard gloss filched from a neighbour’s shed.

At first, Diana had been inclined to chat, but Charlie told her, severely, that any sort of noise frightened off the fish, so she had subsided and the two of them sat in companionable silence, watching the slow swirl of the water and the weed which swayed beneath the surface and the occasional glint as a fish turned to show, for a second, its silver underbelly.

After a couple of hours, during which the floats had not so much as dipped, Charlie heaved a sigh and said they might as well begin making their way homeward, since it seemed the fish were not in a biting mood. No sooner had he said this, of course, than Diana’s float disappeared. Great excitement ensued whilst Diana screamed that she must have hooked a whale, it was tugging so hard, and Charlie shouted a great deal of contradictory advice. When
there seemed to be a danger that the fish would win and Diana would be ignominiously hauled into the canal, he added his strength to hers, and with both of them pulling on the willow branch they managed to land a good-sized fish. When it emerged from the water it was bright-eyed and silver-scaled, but thrashing about on the dirt path did nothing to improve its appearance, and when Charlie despatched it with a sharp blow from his boot Diana felt quite sick. However, she realised that it would not do to say so, and when told to carry her catch home, so that Beryl might cook it for their tea, she obeyed without showing the reluctance she felt. She did remind Charlie that his mother had meant to visit his aunt and might not be home till late, but Charlie brushed this aside as unimportant. ‘I’ve gutted and cooked many a fish, when I goes to Boy Scout camp,’ he said grandly, and probably untruthfully, Diana thought. ‘Here, wrap it in your skirt – it’s slippery, ain’t it?’

‘It’ll make an awful mess of my skirt,’ Diana grumbled. ‘Still, if you say so, Charlie . . .’

Charlie was firm and made her carry the fish all the way along the canal bank, but when they reached the road he relented and took over from her. The two of them trudged along, tired and dirty, but happy. But when they were almost at the entrance to the court, Diana jerked at Charlie’s arm. ‘Look, there’s that Mr Johansson going into the court,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to see him – I don’t like him – but I expect he’s come to ask Aunty Beryl . . . oh, damn and damn and damn! He’s seen me.’

She was right, for the young man had stopped abruptly and turned towards them. Diana stiffened and made as if to change direction, but Charlie shook his head reprovingly. ‘Don’t be so bleedin’ rude,’ he
hissed. ‘Look, you have a word wi’ the feller while I take the fish inside and gut it.’

Diana pulled a face, but obeyed, and presently she was smiling up at Mr Johansson as though he were her dearest friend. She was rather pleased when he jerked the cap off his head as if she were a real lady and not just a small girl, but his first words banished any softer feelings. ‘Good afternoon, Diana. The last time we met was so long ago . . . it was the day that dreadful family got evicted from the court. Your mother mentioned it and said it was a blessing since she thought the eldest girl a bad influence on you.’ He smiled down at her, but Diana thought his smile spiteful rather than friendly. ‘Ah, well. I expect you’ve made many new friends since that day and do not miss the Telfords at all. But I must not digress. I have come to enquire after your mother. Mrs Fisher said I might go round to her house next time I was in port, but last time we only docked for a day; this is the first proper chance I’ve had. Can you tell me . . . I have written, of course, but it is not the same as seeing someone, and this time, I would very much like to visit her.’

Diana stared up at him, her mind seething with resentment. How dare he criticise the Telfords, whom he knew not at all? And what right did he have to ask questions about her mother, come to that? It was plain he wanted to start all that soppy business once more, but Diana told herself, righteously, that it was her duty to protect Emmy, who was not encouraged to have many visitors. She reminded herself how the staff at the sanatorium kept saying that quietness and calm were what her mother needed; reminded herself, also, that it had been during an outing with Mr Johansson that her mother had first been taken
ill. But she did not let any of this show in her face; instead, she said guilelessly: ‘My mam still isn’t allowed visitors, Mr Johansson. She’s been very ill, you know, and the doctors say she must not get excited. Why, I haven’t been since Christmas and I’m
very
careful not to excite her when I do go. And, anyway, they’ve moved her, you know, because she’s been so poorly. She’s – she’s in a sanatorium in – in Blackpool now, and that’s quite a long way off. But I’ll tell her you’ve been asking for her.’

The young man was staring down at her with a curious expression. ‘Blackpool?’ he said. ‘And when will you yourself be visiting her next?’

‘When will I . . . oh, not till June,’ Diana said glibly, though she suspected that Aunty Beryl meant to take her the very next day. She had overheard a conversation between Wally and his wife in which he had given her a bag of Everton mints for ‘poor old Em’, so she guessed that a visit was imminent.

‘Not till June?’ Mr Johansson said slowly. ‘Then I must be patient.’ He returned the cap to his head and gave her a charming smile. ‘I shall endeavour to visit Mrs Wesley next time I’m in port; I have a little present for her.’

He turned away on the words, leaving Diana to wonder, doubtfully, whether she had done the right thing. She did not know what the little present was, but it might have given her mother pleasure. She turned back into the court, telling herself stoutly that even if her mother might have liked his gift, she, Diana, just knew that a visit from Mr Johansson would have over-excited her, might quite probably have made her worse instead of better. It isn’t as if he’s a nice person, she told herself defensively. He’s smarmy all right, always hanging over Mam and
making pretty speeches, but I don’t trust him. Besides, he’s a foreigner and I don’t want to live abroad, in some horrible country where they don’t speak English. So it’s better that he doesn’t see Mam again.

At this point, she entered the Fisher kitchen to find Charlie at the sink, descaling the fish with Beryl’s sharpest knife. He turned and grinned at her. ‘Well, I guess he wants to visit your mam,’ he said cheerfully. ‘She’ll be right glad to see ’im; I dare say she’s bored out of her mind in that perishin’ place. Will he go tomorrer?’

‘He won’t go at all,’ Diana said airily. The words were out before she had thought and she hastily looked away from Charlie’s penetrating gaze. ‘It would only excite her and the nurses say she’s best kept quiet. So – so I told him she’d been moved and was in Blackpool now. I don’t think he really minded; he went off quite happily, anyway.’

Charlie stared at her, his eyes rounding with astonishment. ‘You’re jealous,’ he said slowly. ‘And you told him a lie, ’cos you know very well she’s still in Llandudno an’ likely to stay there for months, mebbe years. What’s wrong with the feller, anyroad? Your mam would be a lot better off if she married again. She wouldn’t have to worry about money.’

‘You don’t
know
him,’ Diana said defensively, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. ‘He’s horrible, really horrible and – and he comes from Sweden, or some foreign place, so if he did marry Mam, he’d take her far away. I – I don’t want to live anywhere but here. He was awful rude about Wendy an’ all, said it was a good thing the family had been evicted, because Wendy was a bad influence.’ She saw, from the look on his face, that Charlie was about to agree with Mr Johansson’s sentiments and hastily broke into speech
once more. ‘Charlie . . . oh, Charlie, don’t be cross with me. I was only trying to protect Mammy from getting over-tired and making herself worse.’

Charlie shrugged and turned back to his work at the sink. ‘The damage is done now, and you’ll have to live with it,’ he said brusquely. ‘But liars always lose in the end; don’t you forget that, Diana Lying Wesley.’