Rose of Tralee (30 page)

It was a nuisance, of course, that she had not noticed the tram number, so she had no idea where she was about to end up, but she had always enjoyed a tram ride. It reminded her of Jack and the many times she’d ridden with him so that they could walk home together, or have a bit of a talk whilst he waited in traffic queues or watched the time at the terminus.

So now she sat contentedly enough, watching the city unfold before her eyes, trying to guess where she was going. And when at last the tram stopped and the driver got down to stretch his legs, his big gunmetal watch in one hand, she realised that an old friend had been driving, only she had been too preoccupied to notice. Accordingly, she got down and walked round to where he stood, shuffling his feet, whilst the conductor strolled up and down, stretching his legs. ‘Hello, Mr Sutton! How are you keepin’?’

‘Well, if it ain’t Mrs Ryder,’ Mr Sutton said, carefully tucking his watch back in his pocket and beaming at her. ‘What are you doin’ right out here, queen? You’ve not moved out to Dingle, have you?’

Lily laughed. ‘No, though we’re livin’ in a different area, me an’ Rosie. Do you know St Domingo Vale?’

‘Oh aye, a tram driver gets to know most parts o’
the city,’ Mr Sutton said. He drew a cigarette paper out of an inside pocket and a small tin of tobacco. ‘Mind if I roll meself one, Mrs Ryder? How are you managin’, you an’ the gal?’

‘Pretty well, thanks, Mr Sutton,’ Lily said. ‘I’m takin’ lodgers, which keeps me busy, an’ Rosie’s gorra job with a company on Dale Street.’

‘Right,’ Mr Sutton said, carefully licking along the edge of the thin white paper and then with equal care spreading the tobacco along its length. ‘You’ll not have met me conductor before, though, ’cos he’s new to the job. He’s from the Pool originally, but he’s been workin’ down south, in London, for a couple o’ years. When the chance came he moved back up north – sensible feller. Hey, Tommy, come over here, an’ meet Mrs Ryder. Jack Ryder an’ me worked together for years.’

The conductor approached. He was young and fair-haired, with light-blue eyes and a curving, amused mouth. ’ ‘Ow d’you do, Mrs Ryder?’ he said affably. He pulled a bag out of his pocket. ‘Wanna humbug, chuck?’

Lily Ryder chuckled and took the proffered sweet, then turned her attention back to the tram driver.

‘Tommy was on the trams down south,’ Mr Sutton explained. ‘He’s conductin’ for now, but he’s hopin’ for a drivin’ job in a year or so. He wanted to come home, so he’s been stayin’ wi’ me an’ the missus whiles our Andy’s been workin’ up in Scotland. Andy’s comin’ back home in a month or two, though, so Tommy’s on the look-out for somethin’ else – somethin’ where they don’t mind shift work, I reckon.’

He stared hard at Lily, who looked limpidly back, but her mind was racing. A tram man! It would be
grand to have one in the house again, whether he be driver or conductor, and a tram man was bound to be trustworthy. She turned and looked at Tommy.

He grinned at her, one cheek distended with the humbug. ‘You gotta room goin’ beggin’, Miz Ryder?’ he asked affably. ‘I’m ‘ouse-trained, ax anyone!’

‘We-ell, I don’t know . . .’ Lily said doubtfully, but she did, of course. She thought that Tommy would fit in very well – and because he was a tram man he would have had to supply references when he came up to Liverpool in the first place or he would never have been taken on. ‘Tell you what, tek me back to the Haymarket so’s I can get me proper tram back to Everton an’ I’ll mek up me mind.’

‘Thanks, Mrs Ryder,’ Mr Sutton said. ‘He’s a good lad, Tommy. We’ve had no trouble wi’ him, the missus an’ me.’ He turned to his conductor. ‘Back aboard, ole feller,’ he said. ‘Who knows, you may be fitted up wi’ lodgings before our Andy gets home!’

Rose came out of Mere Lane and set off across Breckfield Road, heading for the Vale. She was feeling pleased with herself. She had got excellent marks in both shorthand and typing during the recent examinations and Mr Lionel, the most difficult of the brothers, had said, albeit grudgingly, that the firm was pleased with her. She had been using the spare typewriter in the typists’ room whenever they were extra busy and had actually taken dictation a couple of times, managing to read her shorthand outlines back to everyone’s satisfaction. She was still doing the office girl’s work, but already Mr Edward had suggested that the firm employ a boy with a bicycle, who could get errands done faster than Rose could manage on foot, and she could still deal with
the post, make the tea and do various other odd jobs when not actually engaged in typing up the lengthy documentation needed for their work. It would mean a higher salary, better prospects and less time spent, Rose thought guiltily, in plodding through the wet and dirty streets, delivering light packages and letters. Furthermore, Christmas was only a matter of weeks off and other members of staff said that the brothers rewarded good work with generous Christmas bonuses. So Rose was feeling pleased with life despite the fact that autumn was clearly over and the wind which blew the leaves around her feet was a chilly one, with winter on its breath.

Mr Garnett had not found time to visit the parrot despite frequent promises, but it seemed to her that the bird was settling in and was, in fact, very little trouble. Indeed, they would miss him when he did leave, for his squawky voice and amusing ways were becoming a part of their lives. Now that he was used to them, indeed, he was friendlier towards everyone, even Lily, who still regarded him with some suspicion. He loved to have his head rubbed and would close a chalky eyelid over his wicked eye whilst this was being done, and when Mr Dawlish was home he would let Gully out of the cage and the parrot would sit on his shoulder, nibbling gently at the lobe of his ear and shouting with pretended surprise and swaying exaggeratedly whenever Mr Dawlish moved.

And it was marvellous having Tommy Frost actually lodging with them – a tram man and eager to talk about his work, too! It was for that reason that she liked him, Rose told herself; it had nothing to do with curly fair hair, light-blue eyes and a smiling mouth. And he’d been a driver down south – so he
hoped to be put onto driving during the winter, even if only as a stand-in when the regulars were off. He was good fun, was Tommy, Rose thought now, he always had plenty to say for himself, unlike Colm, who seemed quite content to sit at the table during meals and eat and listen. But although Colm continued, when he thought no one was looking, to gaze in a very sloppy sort of way at Mona, Rose no longer minded. Let him! He was nice-looking, she would give him that, and a pleasant enough fellow, but he wasn’t a tram man and Rose had decided that, if she could never drive a tram herself, at least as a tram man’s wife she would be a part of it all, the way her mam had been.

So Rose danced along the pavement, well pleased with life. And it wasn’t only that the lodgers were fitting in so well and seemed part of the family, nor that the parrot had settled down too and was generally accepted by everyone, which caused Rose’s light step. It was because she was going dancing at the Daulby Hall ballroom with her friend Ella from work, which was a rare treat. Before she and Ella had started studying in earnest they had gone weekly to one or other of the city’s dancing classes and dancing had speedily become a favourite pastime, but ever since she had realised that certificates were her best hope of getting the better jobs, Rose had slogged away most evening at her shorthand outlines and on the cardboard keyboard which had been given to the class in order that those without machines might practise at home.

So since she and Ella were determined to do well in examinations and must, therefore, study constantly, Rose had not been to the dancing classes nor the cinema for weeks and weeks, and even the bright
summer weather had, in the main, seen little of her. Only the crisp certainty of her teacher’s voice, reading out the results of the recent examinations (‘certificates to follow’), had persuaded Rose that she might now relax a little, and Ella’s suggestion that they should behave like normal girls for once, instead of prigs and bluestockings, had met with only token resistance.

‘We never did,’ Rose had protested. ‘We just worked hard while it were necessary; that isn’t what a bluestockin’ does. An’ there’s more exams to come, you know. Though not till after Christmas, acourse.’

‘Maybe there are,’ Ella had said. ‘But tomorrer’s Saturday night so what say we go on a spree? An’ not to classes, either, but to a real, proper dance wi’ an orchestra an’ all. Why, if we go to the Daulby Hall, near the Majestic, there’ll be sailors there off the ships down in the docks. Me big sister goes an’ she says there’s a lorra men go there, though they’re mostly foreign. Still, I like dancin’ wi’ men better’n wi’ other gals.’

‘Aye, you’ve a point there, ’cept I don’t much like dancin’ wi’ fellers what can’t speak English,’ Rose said. ‘There’s a feller what lodges wi’ me mam, he’s always off dancin’. Wonder if he’ll be there? Tommy Frost, his name is – I might of mentioned him once or twice.’

‘I dare say you have,’ Ella said, giggling. ‘But I thought it were the Irish feller you were sweet on – the one what’s workin’ on the tunnel.’

‘Oh, him!’ Rose said scornfully. ‘He’s always makin’ moon-eyes at our Mona. Tell you what, though, shall we ask her to come wi’ us? Then you’ll be able to tek a look at Colm for yourself. An’ if Colm comes to the Daulby, then Tommy might, too. He
goes dancin’ quite often, I believe.’

‘Do you want your Mona to come?’ Ella had asked doubtfully. ‘After all, if she’s as pretty as you say she’ll cramp our style a bit. We want the fellers buzzin’ round us, not round her. As for that Tommy you mentioned, he’d probably come to the Daulby an’ dance wi’ you if he lodges wi’ your mam, even if Mona don’t come. Only you’d have to tell him where we was goin’, an’ suggest he comes along,’ Ella added.

But Rose immediately vetoed such a forward suggestion. ‘It’ ud look as if I were bleedin’ desperate,’ she said, feeling her cheeks growing hot at the mere idea. ‘But if I wait till we’re all round the table, havin’ our dinners, an’ then ask Mona if she’d like to come wi’ us to the Daulby . . . well, I wouldn’t have cheapened meself, but they might easily come along wi’ us. Don’t you think that’s more . . . more casual, like?’

‘If you wan’, then do it that way,’ Ella agreed. ‘Right, chuck. Best frocks an’ silk stockin’s an’ we’ll meet in the foyer at half nine.’

So Rose rattled along in high good spirits, singing ‘On the sunny side of the street’ beneath her breath as she went, already looking forward to her night out. It would be so nice to wear something pretty and whirl beneath the coloured ballroom lights and chat to girls she’d not seen since the previous winter. Even to herself, Rose did not admit that the thought of Tommy coming to the dance, asking her to waltz or quickstep, was what really excited her.

Rose hurried round the back and burst into the kitchen, to find her mother and Mrs Kibble engaged in the preparation of the evening meal, whilst Mr O’Neill leaned against the draining board, cap in
hand. Gully, in his cage, gave her a squawk of greeting, and put his head between the wicker bars of his cage and speared a curling piece of apple peel, which he then proceeded to bang against the side of the cage as though he believed himself to be killing a worm.

‘Mam, I’ve got me results and you’ll never guess what I got in the shorthand tests an’ the typing speeds ...’ she was beginning, when she realised that Colm’s father was speaking. She stopped short, turning a guilty face towards him. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr O’Neill, I didn’t realise I was interrupting you.’

‘It’s awright, Rose,’ Mr O’Neill said placidly. ‘I was just tellin’ your mam here how meself would be away for two weeks over Christmas. It’s a week proper leave an’ a week unpaid, but I t’ought I’d tek it, seein’ as how Mrs O’Neill’s been poorly wit’ a cracked wrist, and’ young Caitlin’s acting a part in the Nativity play, an’ she’s fair des’prit for meself an’ her big brother to see her in it. Colm won’t come as well, not this time. He was lucky to get the job at his age and knows it, so he won’t risk comin’ back and findin’ himself out of work. Of course I telled your mammy I’d pay me room just the same, but she says ...’

‘I won’t tek money for a room that’s not being used, Mr O’Neill,’ Lily said firmly. ‘It ain’t my way. Particularly as Mrs O’Neill’s not been too brave lately. Besides, a fortnight’s norra long time; it’ll soon be gone.’

‘I t’ink, meself, I’d be happier payin’ a retainer,’ Sean said, and Rose saw Mrs Kibble, who had been frowning, give a satisfied nod. ‘You name the price, Mrs Ryder. I know you’ll do what’s right.’

‘Tell you what,’ Rose said suddenly. ‘It ’ud be nice for me an’ Mona to have a room each for a change, just over Christmas, an’ I’m goin’ to get a Christmas
bonus from Patchett & Ross.’ Rose turned to her mother. ‘Suppose we ask Mr O’Neill here to put his things in his son’s room, just whilst he’s in Ireland . . . wouldn’t that be fairer, Mam? And I could pay a bit – I wouldn’t mind at all.’

‘That’s fine by me, so it is,’ Mr O’Neill said at once. ‘But you’ve no need to pay for a room in your own house, Rose. Others pay a retainer, a smaller sum which the landlord names, surely that ’ud be fairer? So what d’you say, Mrs Ryder?’

Lily hesitated, then named a small sum in an even smaller voice. Rose smiled to herself. Mam was a nice person, she would never take more than her due and, much though she enjoyed having Mona in the house, there were times when the two of them were both dressing for work in the small room that she could not help thinking wistfully of the days when she had not had to share. But now, everyone was smiling, even Mrs Kibble, and Mr O’Neill, in a relieved voice, said that he would hand the money over before he left for Dublin.

‘For we’ll be busy till then,’ he said, walking over to the kitchen door. ‘We’ll want to get presents for those at home . . . an’ somethin’ a bit special for the star o’ the nativity play I’m t’inkin’.’

‘And we’ll make sure that Colm gets a good Christmas, though it won’t be the same as seein’ his little sister in her play an’ giving his mam a big hug an’ a kiss,’ Mrs Ryder added reassuringly. ‘Still, no one can risk his job these days, work’s too scarce. Well now, Rosie,’ she gave her daughter a hearty hug whilst Gulliver screamed excitedly and swung the apple peel harder against the bars. ‘You’ve passed, eh? Your Dad would ha’ been proud.’