No Greater Love (62 page)

While the tea brewed, Jo dashed out into the dark backyard, letting the kitchen light spill out and illuminate her way to the outside toilet. Hurrying as quickly as she could, she peed, flushed and hopped back in holey socks across the cold, slippery concrete. The yard door banged behind her and Colin appeared.

‘Did the Alsatian get you?’ he grinned, clomping into the kitchen with shoes caked in mud. ‘The Alsatian’ was his nickname for Mary Leishman.

Jo shook her head and laughed. ‘I came straight home. Not that you were much help, mind,’ she added, giving him a shove.

He unlaced his shoes and washed his hands in the scullery. ‘Have you got the tea ready?’

‘Aye, and I’ve even cut the bread,’ Jo said proudly, pointing at the uneven hunks on the breadboard.

Colin emerged. ‘You know Dad doesn’t like you using the carving knife – it’s too sharp.’

‘I’ve still got all me fingers, look.’ Jo held up her hands with the thumbs hidden. ‘Just a couple of thumbs missing.’

‘Ha, ha,’ Colin said with a roll of his eyes. They both dived for some bread, too hungry to wait any longer. Jo went over to the old radiogram, wedge of bread in her mouth, and put on a Beatles single. Last year, Pearl had given her the money to buy her first record and she still recalled the thrill of going into the shop clutching the ten-shilling note. She had carried the single home like a piece of china, thrilling at the feel of the crisp green sleeve and the hiss of the needle as it made contact with the shiny black disc.

As the opening beats of ‘Help!’ boomed across the cosy room, Colin stoked the fire into flame and used the poker handle as a microphone. Jo seized the hearth shovel and, holding it like a guitar, jumped on to the battered green settee and started to sing. They were yelling out the chorus when their father trudged in the back door. Jack Elliot was greeted by the sight of his two children leaping around the furniture, shaking their heads wildly and screaming Beatles lyrics. Things are normal, Jack thought, pulling off his cap and throwing it at them.

‘Thank you, thank you,’ Colin said, clutching the poker, ‘the audience is going wild!’

‘And now for our second song.’ Jo grinned at her father, jumping down and rushing over to change the record.

Colin shouted, ‘put on “Day Tripper”.’

‘Aye,’ Jo agreed, and soon they were belting out the lyrics, which they knew off by heart. As they came to a screaming crescendo, their father covered his ears.

‘That’s enough!’ he ordered. ‘By heck, you’ll both be growing your hair next and wearing pink trousers.’

‘Hipsters, Dad,’ Jo corrected and went to give him a kiss. ‘You’re filthy, where’ve you been today?’

‘Knocking down half the West End – least it feels like it,’ Jack said, achingly tired. Demolition work was a comedown from his time at sea, but these days there was plenty of it. Newcastle was turning into one large building site, he thought. He couldn’t fathom the attraction of these new buildings of concrete and glass, or the need for a motorway cutting right through the city, but a job was a job. So every day he laboured on the planners’ vision, dismantling overhead trolley cables, digging up cobbles, shovelling away bricks from demolished terraces and watching the people move out. The thought made him suddenly depressed.

‘You smell of beer too,’ Jo commented.

Jack sighed. ‘You’re as bad as your Auntie Pearl. A man’s allowed a pint at the end of a working day.’ He looked at his daughter’s impish face and remembered he was supposed to be cross with her. ‘And you, young madam, have some explaining to do,’ he said severely. ‘Why didn’t you go straight to Marilyn’s after school? Mrs Leishman’s in a right state. You know I don’t like you wandering around on your own.’

‘I wasn’t on me own,’ Jo insisted, ‘I was with Marilyn.’

‘Don’t be cheeky, you know what I mean.’ Jack glowered. ‘I like to know where you are, know that you’re safe, ’specially now it’s getting dark early.’

Colin piped up. ‘She was all right, Dad. She was with me and the lads. It was us made her late, we wanted a bit help collecting firewood for the bonfire.’

Jo threw her brother a grateful look. Jack grunted. He was not sure if Colin was telling the whole truth, but he knew his son would always look out for his sister. He was not yet eleven, less than two years older than Joanne, but the boy was sensible beyond his age, Jack thought gratefully. He eased off his jacket and lowered his braces, preparing to strip-wash in the sink. As he did so, a postcard fell to the floor from his inner pocket. Jo pounced on it like a jackdaw, seeing the exotic picture of some gold-roofed palace. She turned the thin cardboard in anticipation.

‘It’s from Auntie Pearl!’ she cried. ‘Is she coming home soon? You never said she’d written.’ Jo flung an accusing look at her father.

‘I forgot,’ Jack answered, flushing.

‘Forgot!’ Jo exclaimed.

‘It came this morning... we were all in a hurry... you were late for school,’ he blustered, but his daughter’s look told him his excuses were lame.

‘When’s she coming?’ Colin asked excitedly, his fair face flushing.

‘Should be home in time for Bonfire Night.’ Jack smiled to see their enthusiasm.

Jo gave him a funny look. ‘You don’t sound very pleased. Normally you’re happy when a card comes from Auntie Pearl. Aren’t you happy, Dad?’

He put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. ‘Of course I’m happy your auntie’s coming to stay. It’s just something else’s been worrying me ...’

‘Oh,’ Jo said, giving him a cautious glance. ‘It’s not about me making Mrs Leishman cross, is it?’

‘No,’ her father assured her, ‘I wish that were all it was.’

‘What’s wrong, Dad?’ Colin asked, looking up anxiously from stirring the soup.

Jack sighed heavily, his boyish face looking drawn. ‘I’ve heard talk among the lads. They’re going to start knocking down around here soon. Compulsory purchase.’

‘What does that mean?’ Jo said, her nose wrinkling.

‘It means folk’ve got to clear out whether they want to or not. They say Jericho Street is going to be demolished for a new library,’ her father explained.

‘But how can we live in a library?’ Jo puzzled.

Her father smiled, but Colin thumped her. ‘Don’t be daft! It means we’ll have to move so they can build a library.’

‘Aye,’ her father confirmed, as he watched his son begin to dole out the soup. ‘Street’s been standing here for eighty years, but it’s no longer good enough, so the council says. People want inside toilets and modern kitchens these days. That’s why they haven’t done any work on our street for years – just been waiting to knock it down rather than modernise. It’s happening all over the city.’

Jo’s face fell. Move from Jericho Street? Impossible! She could not imagine living anywhere else. She loved her home. Her friends lived all around her. She knew every inch of this street, from its uneven pavements chalked with hopscotch to its towering lamp that was ‘den’ for games of tig. Jo’s eyes welled up with tears.

‘But I don’t want to go anywhere else!’ she quavered, realising with horror that she was about to cry. She buried her face in her father’s grimy shirt and felt his arms tighten about her in comfort.

‘Neither do I, pet, neither do I.’ And although she could not bear to look him in the face, Jo could hear deep sadness in his voice too.

‘When will it happen, Dad?’ Colin asked, taking the news in his stride.

‘Might not be for ages, couple of years even,’ Jack replied. ‘So don’t worry yourself, pet.’ He kissed Jo’s head. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘I wonder what Auntie Pearl will have to say about it,’ Colin commented, as he plonked bowls of soup on the table.

Jo looked up suddenly and wiped her nose on her jumper. Of course! Auntie Pearl would make things better. She watched her father cross to the scullery and strip off his shirt. His back looked taut and muscular like a wrestler’s, milky pale in contrast to his weathered brown neck.

‘Auntie Pearl will know what to do, won’t she, Dad?’ Jo cried. But all she heard in reply were sharp grunts as he doused himself in cold water.

Then he turned, rubbing himself down. His face looked young again, rejuvenated. ‘Aye, your Auntie Pearl will have her opinion, that’s for sure,’ he answered with a wink.

***

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