Backstreet Child (37 page)

‘No lights?’ barked the magistrate.

‘It was me dynamo, yer see,’ Maurice explained. ‘I didn’t’ave time ter see if it was still workin’.’

The woman JP was beginning to wonder whether the defendant’s own inner dynamo was still working. Impatiently she motioned to him to continue.

‘It was then that the bag fell orf me bike an’ the tins spilled all over the floor,’ Maurice said obligingly.

‘Is that all you have to say?’ the magistrate asked, daring to hope.

‘Jus’ one fing more,’ Maurice answered. ‘I know yer’ve got yer job ter do, yer worship, an’ whatever yer decide ter do wiv me is less important ter me that the plight o’ the needy of our fine borough. Can yer see that the corned beef gets ter St James’s Church? I want the poor ole sods – I mean people, ter benefit.’

The weary magistrate sighed loudly. ‘It seems that this man should be in front of me for failing to display lights during the hours of darkness instead of being charged for attempting to distribute food to the needy,’ she stated. ‘I hope the arresting officer will take note of my remarks and make sure that the corned beef reaches the nominated church expeditiously. And in future refrain from wasting the court’s time. Case dismissed.’

Maurice walked from court a free man, and into the arms of his delighted daughters.

‘We’ve got a surprise fer yer, Dad,’ Lily told him on the way home.

‘Oh, an’ what’s that then?’ Maurice asked.

‘Jus’ wait till yer get ’ome,’ Lily replied.

Lily went into the house first, while her father was restrained at the front door by Brenda and Barbara for a few minutes. Then Maurice was almost pushed into the parlour and his daughters scurried off up the stairs.

‘’Ello, Maurice,’ Brenda Massey said rather shyly as she stood up. ‘I’m so glad yer got off.’

Maurice was taken aback and he could only stutter his thanks.

‘I do ’ope we can be friends again,’ Brenda said in a low voice.

‘Of course we can,’ Maurice replied beaming.

Brenda motioned him into a chair. ‘Just you rest awhile. I can see you’ll need some takin’ care of from now on,’ she said. ‘Are yer feelin’ all right now?’

Maurice had never felt better in his life but intuition told him to be careful. ‘Well, I’m much better, now,’ he said with emphasis on the last word.

Brenda slipped her coat back on. ‘I’ve got ter get back ter work,’ she told him with a smile. ‘Can we see each ovver ternight?’

Maurice nodded. ‘I’ll be privileged,’ he said, bowing slightly.

Lily, Brenda and Barbara gathered together in the parlour after Brenda Massey had left.

‘What’s s’posed ter be wrong wiv me?’ Maurice asked them, grinning ear to ear.

‘Breakin’ up wiv Brenda caused yer to ’ave a collapse at work,’ Barbara told him. ‘The doctor tole yer it was ’eartache.’

‘So ’e did,’ Maurice grinned.

‘Yer won’t be grinnin’ when yer get the bill,’ Lily added.

‘What bill?’ her father said in alarm.

‘One large bunch o’ flowers fer Granny Massey an’ a pair o’ woolly bed socks. Then there was the box o’ chocolates fer Brenda.’

‘Flowers? Bed socks?’ Maurice enquired.

‘Barbara managed ter get ter see Brenda Massey an’ she found out a few fings,’ Lily said.

‘Like Granny ’avin’ cold feet in bed, I s’pose,’ Maurice groaned.

The three young women nodded and then Maurice stood up with a very serious look on his face.

‘Now I want yer ter listen ter what I ’ave ter say,’ he began. ‘I expect the lot o’ yer are waitin’ fer some sort o’ praise. Well, I can tell yer now that what yer done fer me wasn’t very nice. It was bloody marvellous! So on Saturday night I’m takin’ yer all up the Kings Arms ter celebrate.’

Laughter rang out in the Salter household, and when the frivolity finally died down, Maurice turned to Lily. ‘’Ere, luv, are those dresses from Tom Casey still under the stairs?’

Now, as Maurice got ready to take his three daughters to the Kings Arms for the Saturday night celebratory drink, he addressed himself in front of the cracked scullery mirror. ‘Maurice, if yer store any more bent gear under the stairs may the devil jump out o’ there an’ do fer yer.’

Then, as he turned his back on the mirror and slipped on his coat Maurice pulled a face. ‘The next lot o’ stuff goes under me bed,’ he mumbled aloud.

The band was playing a waltz and Amy Brody danced dreamily in the arms of her current boy friend. Rachel, too, was on the floor, wincing now and again as her partner trod on her toes. Heavy-footed dancing partners seemed to be her lot at the Samson dance hall, she thought ruefully. She was feeling slightly disappointed with the evening. Hardly any of her old friends had turned up and the one or two who had were preoccupied with their partners. There had been little opportunity to chat and whenever Rachel took a breather Amy gushed on about her new beau.

‘I never did worry about men wearin’ glasses,’ she went on. ‘Some men look really attractive in glasses. Take Albert fer instance. ’E looks quite nice in those glasses ’e’s wearin’.’

Rachel nodded, looking around at the motley gathering and feeling rather bored.

‘Albert was really upset when ’e failed ’is medical,’ Amy was saying. ‘’E wanted ter join the marines.’

Rachel nodded again, glancing over at the young man in question and noticing that his suit hung from his slim shoulders and his Adam’s apple showed prominently above his loose shirt collar. She suppressed a smile, feeling that she was perhaps being unkind towards the young man. He might have made a good marine with training.

‘Albert works in the City. ’E’s a messenger fer a bank,’ Amy continued. ‘’E’s very romantic. ’E bought me a big bar o’ chocolate last week an’ then this week ’e came round wiv a bunch o’ flowers. We might get engaged next year.’

The romantic young man had left his friends and was making his way over to Amy for the dance which had just struck up. Rachel took the opportunity to head off towards the bar, preferring that to the attentions of Albert’s clumsy friend. As she reached the foot of a wide flight of stairs, she saw the young soldier. He was wearing his uniform with his forage cap tucked through his jacket lapel. Rachel felt her face go hot as he smiled broadly at her and she almost slipped on the steps.

‘Well, if it ain’t my carriage companion,’ he said as he came up to her. ‘It sure is a small world.’

‘I was jus’ goin’ fer a drink,’ Rachel replied, suddenly at a loss for words.

‘Let me buy yer one,’ he offered, taking her arm as they climbed the stairs.

Down on the dance floor Amy nestled in her young man’s arms as they weaved in and out of the less competent couples, and Rachel watched her as she waited for her escort to collect the drinks. Occasionally she looked his way, making sure he did not see her appraising him. Finally he came back and placed the gin and orange at her elbow.

‘My name’s Tony,’ he said as he sat down. ‘Tony O’Reilly.’

‘I’m Rachel,’ she replied.

‘I know. Rachel Bradley,’ he said.

Rachel looked surprised. ‘’Ow did yer know my name?’ she asked.

Tony grinned. ‘I ’ope yer don’t mind, but I bin makin’ enquiries. My ex knows yer family.’

‘Ex?’

‘Yeah. We sort o’ parted. We ’ad a row the last time I saw yer. Janie seemed ter fink I was payin’ too much attention to yer.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Rachel said quickly.

‘Oh, don’t bovver ter be sorry,’ Tony grinned. ‘I was goin’ back off leave an’ Janie wasn’t too ’appy about that eivver. Apparently she’s found a new boy friend.’

‘I remember yer tellin’ me it was compassionate leave,’ Rachel said. ‘Yer mum was ill, wasn’t she? ’Ow is she now?’

‘She’s not too bad at the moment,’ Tony replied.

‘Where yer stationed?’ Rachel asked.

‘We’re regrouping up in Catterick,’ he replied quietly. ‘We got decimated at Dunkirk.’

‘You were at Dunkirk?’ she said surprised.

‘I was one o’ the lucky ones,’ Tony said, looking down at his clasped hands. ‘A lot didn’t make it back, an’ there was a lot wounded while we were waitin’ ter be taken off the beaches.’

Rachel thought of Jamie Robins. ‘I know a young man who lost a leg at Dunkirk,’ she said sadly.

Tony shuddered and quickly downed his drink. For a few moments he sat looking at the dancers, but Rachel could see his mind was elsewhere. Suddenly she felt very close to him, wanting to take the young man to her and hold him tightly. At that moment it seemed as though they were the only two at the dance hall and a feeling of elation possessed her. She could feel her face growing hot once more and she struggled to relax, breathing slowly and deeply.

‘Are yer all right?’ Tony asked, his eyes upon her.

Rachel nodded and smiled. ‘Let me buy yer a drink,’ she said.

Tony shook his head. ‘I’ll get ’em,’ he replied, standing up and reaching for the glasses.

Suddenly, almost without thinking, Rachel caught his hand in hers. ‘I got a better idea,’ she said breezily. ‘Let’s dance.’

Tony shook his head in embarrassment. ‘I don’t dance,’ he said quickly.

‘Anybody can dance, at least wiv me they can,’ Rachel told him.

Tony reluctantly allowed himself to be led to the edge of the dance floor and as Rachel held up her arms he slipped his arm round her waist.

‘That’s fine. Now put yer arm up higher, jus’ below me shoulder,’ she urged him. ‘Now just ’old me ’and loosely but firmly. That’s better.’

They moved across the polished floor, and as Tony began to relax Rachel found him to be light on his feet. She could smell lavender water and Lifebuoy soap and he breathed in the perfume she was wearing and the sweet aroma of her hair. They danced closely, yet not holding too tightly, their thighs touching as she prompted the movements. Tony sighed to himself at the very pleasure of the dance while Rachel closed her eyes, wanting to savour the moment. He was a natural, she felt.

The evening wore on and Rachel found herself drawn to the young man more and more. He did not try to assert himself, but through his modesty and friendliness he made a strong impression on her. They talked of the war and its effect on people’s lives, and of Rachel’s family, about whom Tony seemed very interested. When she asked him about his family he became less talkative. She did not try to press him, and when another waltz finally started up, the young soldier was the first to get to his feet.

The night had settled over the river and the backstreets that adjoined the docks and wharves as Tony walked along beside Rachel. They had left Amy and her boy friend at the tram stop, preferring to stroll through the quiet streets together. Tony chatted easily, his dark eyes flashing at her occasionally.

‘Yer know, we was destined ter meet,’ he told her. ‘Jus’ fink of all the people I could ’ave sat wiv in that train an’ it ’ad ter be you.’

Rachel smiled. ‘Tell me somefing,’ she said. ‘’Ow come yer went ter that dance ternight? After all, yer don’t live in Rovver’ithe.’

‘My ex-girl friend does though, but that wasn’t why I went there ternight,’ he hastened to add. ‘I went there in the ’ope of seein’ you.’

‘I was ’opin’ ter see you too,’ Rachel said, surprised at her own forwardness. ‘I wondered over the weeks where yer were, if yer’d gone overseas.’

‘Can I see yer termorrer?’ Tony asked suddenly. ‘I’m due back on Monday.’

‘If yer’d like to,’ she replied.

‘I’d like to very much,’ he said.

They walked on, past the plane trees through which they glimpsed the dark, eerie shapes of the high cranes, their footsteps sounding loudly on the empty pavement. Rachel had not taken his arm, though she was walking close to him, and it was only when they crossed the main road that Tony briefly held her by the elbow. Rachel shivered and slipped up the collar of her beige coat, less against the elements than her own emotions. Tony had excited her and reawakened secret feelings that seemed to have died after the tragic death in action of her first love.

Tony too, was feeling strangely excited. He found the beautiful young woman very warm and friendly, with a sense of fun hidden behind her serious demeanour. He had already learned something of Rachel’s family during the long talk with his mother, who had repeated the warning issued by George Galloway that he should not tell anyone of the plans made on his behalf.

They reached Salmon Lane and as they turned into the street Tony moved over to be on the outside, a little courtesy that pleased Rachel and she smiled at him.

‘What time termorrer?’ she asked.

‘Let’s spend the day up town,’ he suggested. ‘I could call fer yer early, say ten o’clock.’

Rachel felt a surge of excitement running through her but she pretended to think about it for a moment or two. ‘Yes, all right, I’ll be ready at ten.’

There was no goodnight kiss, only a brief hand on her arm as he turned to leave. ‘I really enjoyed this evenin’,’ he said.

Rachel stood at the yard gate and waited until he had reached the end of the turning and passed out of sight. What did the future hold for them both? she wondered, pressing her finger on the yard bell-push. Was it sensible to think about what was to come in times like these? She heard Joe’s footsteps in the yard and, with a brief look up into the star-filled sky, Rachel made a secret wish.