Down Daisy Street (14 page)
Kathy stared at her friend, seeing for the first time how much Jane had changed since she started work. Jane’s figure had burgeoned; she had a bust and wore a brassiere. She even wore silk stockings sometimes, though not, of course, in summer. Kathy’s eyes glanced down at her own flat chest, which simply refused to provide her with anything to put in a brassiere. She had often envied Jane her height, her blonde curls and her slender figure but she had not realised, until this very moment, that Jane had matured into a young woman whilst she, Kathy, was still a child. Jane’s hair was fashionably cut, and Kathy knew that the slogan “Friday night is Amami night” held true for her friend, though for herself she still ducked her head in the bath and rubbed it with whatever soap her mother provided. Shampoo was expensive but Jane obviously considered it worth every penny. And now she’s got herself a boyfriend, I suppose she’ll not want to mess around with someone still in school, Kathy thought dismally. I’ve got Ruby as my friend, of course, and I like Eunice, the Saturday girl at Dorothy’s Tearooms, but neither of them could possibly take Jane’s place. Oh, whatever will I do without the O’Briens?
‘Well?’ Jane said impatiently. ‘And you needn’t look as though you’d lost a quid and found a copper. I’m only going to the cinema with him, for God’s sake!’
Kathy pulled herself together. ‘Oh, I know, I know, and if it’s what you want, I’m really glad for you,’ she gabbled. ‘It’s – it’s just that you and me have always gone to the flicks together; done almost everything together, come to that. I’d not – not noticed how grown up you were, Janey, and it’s made me see . . . well, that things are going to change. You’ll have Jimmy to confide in and – and you won’t want me any more.’
‘Of course I will, you fool,’ Jane said roundly as they turned into Daisy Street. ‘You’re me best pal, always have been, always will be. There’s all sorts of things I could never talk about to Jimmy, no matter how much I liked him, but I can tell
you
anything. And anyway, you’ll have a boyfriend of your own soon enough. We’re the same age, after all. It’s just that you’re wrapped up in your schoolwork and – and it’s kind o’ left me at a loose end, sometimes. Don’t you worry. We’ll be goin’ out in a foursome – you and your feller, me and Jimmy – before we’re much older.’
you
anything. And anyway, you’ll have a boyfriend of your own soon enough. We’re the same age, after all. It’s just that you’re wrapped up in your schoolwork and – and it’s kind o’ left me at a loose end, sometimes. Don’t you worry. We’ll be goin’ out in a foursome – you and your feller, me and Jimmy – before we’re much older.’
Kathy agreed rather doubtfully, knowing that Jane was doing her best to lessen the blow she had dealt her friend, but the hollow feeling inside her stomach persisted, and when she got to bed at last she cried a few tears into her pillow. She knew everyone grew up, she knew that things had to change, but she did not have to like it.
Christmas arrived amidst all the usual excitement. Neither Mr Philpott nor Mr Bracknell went off to visit friends, though her mother told Kathy that Mr Bracknell had assured her he had had plenty of invitations for the holiday and would accept one of them if Mrs Kelling wished it. Mrs Kelling, however, had told him that she would like him to stay and had been delighted when he had come in shortly before Christmas and told her that she need not worry about providing a bird for the great day.
‘I’ve a client on the Scotland Road who gives me a ham and a goose on Christmas Eve, every year,’ he told her. ‘I get all sorts at Christmas – bags of nuts, oranges, a pineapple and more boxes of chocolates and bottles of Guinness than you’d believe. I’ll bring ’em all in as they’re handed out to me, which should mean we’ll have a grand Christmas and won’t have to worry about the expense.’
‘I suppose you have to buy presents as some sort of return for the Christmas boxes you’re given,’ Mrs Kelling had observed, the first time Mr Bracknell came into the kitchen and dumped a large bag, full of groceries, on the kitchen table. ‘Can I make a contribution to what you have to spend? Only I had saved up to buy Christmas fare and you’re welcome . . .’
‘The firm sees to that,’ Mr Bracknell said cheerfully. ‘I get a supply of very handsome diaries and address books and a great many coloured pencils and colouring books for the children, so it won’t be necessary for me to spend my own money, save in a few cases.’
Mrs Kelling told her daughter, however, that they would have to buy Mr Bracknell something really nice as a return for his generosity. He was a pipe smoker so they decided on a curly briar with a silver band around the mouthpiece and a smart leather pouch full of his favourite tobacco to go with it. In order not to appear to have favourites, the Kellings bought Mr Philpott a smart leather wallet, since his own was so worn and threadbare that you could almost see the money through it. Kathy had been inclined to think this unfair to Mr Bracknell, but was glad of her mother’s foresight when, on Christmas morning, Mr Philpott came down to breakfast carrying three attractively wrapped parcels. Mrs Kelling’s gift was a beautifully crocheted tablecloth of cream-coloured lace, whilst Kathy and Billy were given scarlet woollen caps, scarves and gloves. Mrs Kelling was delighted with the tablecloth and insisted on spreading it over the table at once and presently, after Mr Philpott and Mr Bracknell had exclaimed with pleasure over their own gifts, she served up the roast goose and they all sat round the table, enjoying their food and in very good charity with one another.
After the meal, the men sat on either side of the hearth in the front parlour and snoozed whilst Kathy and her mother did the washing up and cleared the kitchen table so that it would be ready for tea. As they were finishing off, Mr Philpott came through and said that he and Mr Bracknell had decided to go for a walk since they had to take some exercise in order to make room for the tea their landlady was preparing. The two men set off together into the cold afternoon, and in due course Mrs Kelling got Billy’s pushchair out from its nook under the stairs and said she thought it would do them good to follow their lodgers’ example. ‘I dare say you won’t want a whole day to pass without seeing Jane,’ she said as she wrapped Billy’s brand new scarf around his small throat. ‘They won’t be at home, mind – it’s Jane’s Aunt Edith’s turn this year – but a walk up to Alfonso Road will be quite pleasant and if we go by the Kirkdale Rec then Billy can have a play on the swings.’
Billy gave a crow of delight at the thought and very soon the three of them were making their way along Fountains Road, enjoying the briskness of the cold air after the warm and rather stuffy kitchen. They stopped for a quarter of an hour so that Billy might swing and clamber up the slide, but it was no afternoon for standing around and Kathy and her mother were glad enough to pop Billy back into the pushchair and set off once more, sure of a welcome in Edith O’Brien’s happy if overcrowded home.
Jane was delighted to see her friends and anxious to show off her presents; a handful of ribbons and hair slides had come from aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters whilst her parents had contributed a smart chiffon scarf to go with her best dress and a pair of the precious silk stockings which Jane loved to wear. Kathy noticed a little silver necklace from which dangled the letter J, and asked whence it came, though she knew very well what the answer would be. ‘It’s from Jimmy,’ Jane said, a becoming blush turning her cheeks pink and making her eyes shine. ‘But look what Aunt Edie bought for all of us to share! It’s that new game, Monopoly, and it’s ever such fun. We’ve already had one game – do you want to have a go, Kathy?’
‘I’d love to play, but I don’t know what time Mam told the lodgers to come back for tea,’ Kathy explained, looking longingly at the board. Girls at school had talked about the fascinating new craze which was beginning to sweep Britain as, earlier in the year, it had swept the United States of America. ‘They’ve gone for a walk to work up an appetite for tea – Mr Philpott and Mr Bracknell, I mean. We’ll have to be back before them, because we never said we were going out as well.’
‘Ask your mam,’ Jane advised. ‘It isn’t a hard game; you can learn how to play as you go along. A whole game takes ages, of course, but we could start one up and then, when you have to leave, Tilly or one of the cousins could take over your place.’
Kathy’s mother, exchanging banter with Aunt Edie and Mrs O’Brien, told Kathy that it was quite all right for her to remain in Alfonso Road for a while. ‘I told the lodgers we’d be serving high tea at six, but there’s no need for you to come home so early,’ she assured her daughter. ‘There’s almost no preparation because I boiled the ham yesterday and all the rest’s cold. So you stay here and enjoy yourself.’ She turned to Mrs O’Brien. ‘Kathy works real hard to see that the lodgers get their meals on time.’
Kathy was as pleased by the praise as she was by the prospect of playing this grand new game with her pals, but nevertheless determined to leave just before six. There would be nothing to do towards tea, perhaps, but she knew her mother liked to have her around so that she could see that Billy ate his food and didn’t simply play. Her mam also liked her to keep an eye on the lodgers because Mr Philpott was so shy that he would never take a second helping unless pressed to do so. It was only lately that he had begun to request that the bread and butter be passed, so Kathy had formed the habit of anticipating his wishes, seeing that everything he needed was within reach and handing such things as the sauce bottle or the cruet without waiting to be asked.
As luck would have it, Jimmy McCabe came through the front door at a quarter to six. As soon as he spotted the game of Monopoly in progress, he went over to Jane, rested one hand lightly on her shoulder, and began to advise her how to play, taking not the slightest notice of Kathy.
There were groans of protest from the other players at this uncalled for interference but Kathy, though she sighed as she stood up, offered to let him take her place and held out the rather thin collection of banknotes that still remained to her and the cards containing the details of the properties she had bought. ‘Look, Jimmy, it’s time I were heading home anyhow, and since it’s clear you’re determined to have your say you might as well do it properly and take my place,’ she said resignedly. ‘I’ve got to get home now, otherwise I’ll miss me tea.’ She turned to her hostess, who was sitting on the couch playing gin rummy with three of the other adults. ‘Thanks ever so much for having me, Aunt Edie . . . I mean Mrs O’Brien,’ she said politely. ‘I reckon that Monopoly is the best present you could have given me pals and I expect we’ll play it often because it’s a grand game. It makes you feel really rich!’
The O’Briens were a hospitable crowd and urged her to remain and have her tea with them, but Kathy was firm. Jimmy, who was sorting out money and the properties which Kathy had handed him, looked up and spoke to her for the first time. ‘You plannin’ to go alone?’ he said gruffly. ‘Best not; I suppose me and Jane ought to walk you home.’
It was said grudgingly and Kathy answered in the same spirit. ‘Thank you
so
much, but I wouldn’t dream of troubling you,’ she said frostily. ‘I’m quite capable of walking half a mile without putting anyone out and I can see you’re longing to start spending my money and taking the rent on my properties.’
so
much, but I wouldn’t dream of troubling you,’ she said frostily. ‘I’m quite capable of walking half a mile without putting anyone out and I can see you’re longing to start spending my money and taking the rent on my properties.’
Jimmy mumbled something but Kathy was already heading towards the door and soon found herself trudging along Alfonso Road, glancing curiously at the brightly lit windows as she passed. Most of the rooms into which she peered were decorated with paper chains, holly and mistletoe and Kathy thought it was like passing half a dozen stage sets, for the people inside, playing games, wearing paper hats, pulling crackers, were totally unconscious of the watcher outside in the cold.
It really was cold too, and of course full dark, though it was a clear night and high above the rooftops the stars twinkled frostily down, reminding Kathy of that other Christmas Day, when the three wise men had converged on the stable in which the Baby lay, enthroned in his manger. She crossed Rumney Road West, then hesitated. The obvious way home from here was to go along North Dingle, but for the first time it occurred to her that because there were no houses flanking the road on either side – it ran between the recreation ground on one side and the school on the other, passing right through the Kirkdale until it met Orwell Road – it would mean a rather dark and lonely walk. However, she decided she would prefer it to going via Melrose Road, which would have meant passing the sawmills. She could never see the yard without remembering her father’s death, so, squaring her shoulders, she set off along the North Dingle.
She had passed the school and was level with the bowling greens when she thought she heard a slight sound behind her. At this point, mature trees overhung the road, so when she looked back she could see nothing. By now, she was approaching the stretch where the road actually ran through the tannery, whose buildings loomed huge and black only a few yards ahead of her, and for some unaccountable reason there was a long gap between lamps. The smell from the tannery was strong on the air but a glance towards the buildings convinced Kathy that the place was not working. Once more she glanced back but could see nothing, and telling herself not to be an idiot she pressed on. Rounding the bend, she saw the lights on Orwell Road with considerable relief. Without realising it, she had quickened her pace, but now she slowed, chiding herself for being over-imaginative. It was Christmas Day, after all; why should anyone be lurking with evil intent down such an ill-lit and unfrequented road?
Kathy hurried on, but now she thought she could hear something right behind her. Before she could so much as turn her head, a hand had gripped her arm, then slid down as though to try to take her fingers, whilst a man’s voice spoke in her ear, his tone scarcely above a whisper. ‘Don’t be afraid. I don’t mean to hurt you. I – I like you so much! Oh, stay still. I swear you’ll be awright if you just stay still! I been watchin’ you wi’ that other girl, the yaller-headed one . . . an’ . . . an’ I do so want . . . you’re so pretty. You’ve got lovely hair . . . lovely an’ smooth an’ shiny . . .’
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