The Bad Penny (34 page)

Patty nodded her comprehension, stepping into her living room as she did so. ‘I can’t understand how she could possibly blame you, but I do understand the deep bitterness she must feel at losing her child,’ she said. ‘If anything happened to Merrell – oh, I don’t know what I’d do. Please come in, Mr Knight,’ she added sarcastically, since her neighbour was already in the room. ‘Shall I ask Maggie to get you a cup of tea while you wait for me to get ready? That is, if you’re sure you wouldn’t rather let our chat wait until tomorrow evening, when hopefully I shall be more organised and less weary?’

Patty was genuinely tired and really hoped that Darky would take her point and agree to meet next day, but though he looked a trifle guilty, he shook his head. ‘It’s got to be right away, because with you and me, anything might happen,’ he said frankly. ‘I want to get things sorted now while me courage is up.’

Maggie had got to her feet at the mention of tea and now Patty turned to her. ‘Hello, queen. As you can see, we’ve got a visitor. Don’t worry – he’s apologised to Ellen for what happened, so I dare say you and I can unbend enough to share a cuppa with him.’

Maggie, taking cups down from the dresser, grinned. ‘Well, I’m that glad,’ she said, rattling the cups into their saucers. ‘The thing is though, Patty, I saved you a bit o’ blind scouse and a couple o’ nice big spuds and if you don’t eat it soon it’ll dry up and be fit for nothing.’ She glanced across at Darky, who was placing Patty’s black bag carefully on the draining board. ‘And there ain’t enough for two,’ she finished meaningly.

‘It’s all right, Maggie, I’m takin’ Patty out for a bite to eat,’ Darky said, coming towards the table. ‘So you can take the food out of the bake oven and tip it into the pig bucket if you’ve got one.’

Maggie laughed. ‘I’m still quite peckish meself,’ she observed. ‘So if you’re sure it ain’t wanted, I’ll finish it up with me cup of tea.’ She picked up the big brown pot and poured the tea into three cups, added a judicious teaspoonful of conny-onny to each and pushed one of the cups towards Darky, then picked up another and followed Patty through into her room. As soon as they were out of earshot, she lowered her voice to a hiss. ‘What’s up wi’ Darky? Come to that, what’s up wi’ you, Patty? I thought after what happened in New Brighton, you were never going to speak to the feller again.’

‘He apologised to me as well as to Ellen,’ Patty said briefly. She was pulling her dress over her head as she spoke so her voice was muffled and her face, thankfully, was hidden. ‘It’s been awfully awkward, being on bad terms with the son of one of my best friends, because we’re all fond of Mrs Knight and we rely on her too, don’t we?’ As Patty’s head emerged from the dress, she saw Maggie nodding in confirmation and pressed home her point. ‘It’s been really difficult, particularly for me, because I had to plan and scheme to go round to the Knights’ house only when I knew Darky wouldn’t be there. Besides, he’s really fond of Merrell, you know. And I think he likes you as well, queen.’

‘Oh aye, you’re right there. He’ll spend hours playing with Merrell, giving her piggy-backs, taking us both up to the playground while his mam cooks our tea so that we can play on the swings and slides,’ Maggie agreed. ‘I kind of guessed why you and he fell out and I were ever so glad when things seemed to be getting easier. I could’ve cried when Merrell piddled on ’im in New Brighton and things got bad again.’ She looked wistfully at Patty, lathering herself in soap and water as she washed. ‘You won’t let it get bad again, will you, Patty?’

‘Not if I can possibly help it,’ Patty assured her, rinsing off the lather and beginning to rub herself dry. ‘Hand me my clean dress, would you, Mags?’

Despite Patty’s fears, she was ready in a remarkably short time with Maggie’s help. When they emerged from the bedroom, Patty was astonished to realise that Darky had done as he had promised: he had taken her bundle of used instruments, washed them in the sink, and then put them in a pan of water which was now boiling merrily on the stove. He had clearly not known what to do with the rest of Patty’s equipment but she dealt with it rapidly herself and then bundled her dirty dress, apron, collars and cuffs into the brown sack the hospital provided and put it by the door. Tomorrow morning it would be collected by a van and taken to the laundry, and by evening it would be returned, beautifully cleaned and starched once more.

‘Are we ready for the off?’ Darky asked hopefully. ‘I know you said the instruments had to be sterilised – they’ve been boiling for ten minutes, is that long enough? – but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. Even Maggie’s homework was finished,’ he ended, a trifle plaintively.

‘I’m astonished at your efficiency,’ Patty said politely. ‘Who taught you to sterilise instruments, Mr Knight – Darky, I mean? As for being ready, I’ll just pop in and make sure Merrell’s sleeping soundly and Maggie is all set for the night, and then we can be off.’ She glanced up at him, adding wickedly: ‘I’m sure you’ve told your mother that you’re taking me out, so she’ll be listening for a knock on the wall from Maggie?’

This actually seemed to disconcert Darky. He flushed and said defensively: ‘If I say I have, then I’m in the wrong because it would have been before I asked you and before you said yes. But if I say I haven’t, I’m in the wrong because that means Mam won’t know the girls is alone. Patty Peel, you’re enough to drive a feller to drink!’

Patty laughed and opened the door, gesturing him through. ‘Just you pop in and tell your mam I’ll be out for a couple of hours and will she keep an ear open in case Maggie needs her,’ she instructed him. ‘Or would you rather I did it? That way, it’ll save her knowing you’ve unbent at last.’

Darky cast his eyes up to heaven but he grinned at the same time. ‘You’ll make sure I’m in the wrong if it’s the last thing you do,’ he said resignedly. ‘Go on then, you tell her. I’ll do my telling later, when I’ve a day or two to spare.’

After three weeks, during which takings at the gallery never picked up, Toby went round to Mr Flanagan’s caravan and found the family sitting round their dining table with a map of Great Britain spread out before them, apparently discussing how they should journey back to winter quarters when the time was ripe. They greeted him jovially, however, and Amanda Ellington, who was fourteen and at the gangly self-conscious stage, moved up to make room for him on the long bench, blushing as she did so. Trixie’s sister was a pretty kid, Toby reflected as he took his place beside her, but she was also bright and her parents were determined that she should stay on at school, possibly even take her School Leaving Certificate. It was difficult for fair children to get a good education but Mrs Ellington had been a teacher before her marriage and had managed to see that her daughters kept up with other children of their age even during the spring and autumn, when they were changing schools constantly. If this had not been so, Toby would have asked if he might employ her on the shooting gallery, for she was a lively, intelligent girl who would have brought the flatties streaming to try their luck. But since she was destined for greater things, Amanda, unfortunately, was not an option.

‘I think we’ll overwinter in Wrexham again,’ Mr Flanagan said. ‘We can open up for Christmas on the Beast Market, then go on to Chester for the New Year – it’s only a dozen miles off – and be back in Wrexham again in time to snug down for the bad weather. I know King’s Lynn is by way of being favourite, but there’s too many fairs make for the town now for my liking. What d’you say, Trixie?’

‘Whatever you think best, Mr Flanagan,’ Trixie replied placidly. ‘You’re right about King’s Lynn; they say it’s getting mortal crowded and anyway we need the rent.’ She turned to Toby. ‘But I don’t suppose Toby came here to discuss winter quarters! How can we help you, Toby?’

Toby smiled. ‘I’ve come for some advice, Trix. I’ve got a problem with the shooters.’

‘Aye, we wondered how long it ’ud be before you decided you’d have to employ a young woman,’ Mr Flanagan said. ‘I suppose you’re considerin’ a flattie, Toby? Only there isn’t one gal on the gaff who could be spared, as I’m sure you know.’

‘But I can’t see a flattie takin’ to the life when we’re movin’ on so constantly,’ Toby said. ‘What’s more, I’ve no accommodation and winter’s comin’ on. I couldn’t ask a girl who wasn’t used to the life to sleep out, and though I know the Chaps find cheap lodgings, I don’t think the sorts of places they use would be suitable for a young woman. If I had a wife—’

‘If you had a wife, you wouldn’t need to employ anyone,’ Amanda said quickly, then blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘But I see what you mean; if you had a wife, the girl could sleep in your caravan. Is that what you were going to say, Toby?’

‘It was,’ Toby agreed, grinning at her. ‘So what’s the answer, Mr Flanagan? I expect you’ve guessed that I’m losin’ money on the shooters, hand over fist. I don’t want to sell the gallery, and besides, it’s the wrong time of year to get a fair price, but at the moment it scarcely pays for ammo, let alone anything else.’

He meant that the gallery was not even earning its own ground rent, but did not mean to say so. Others, however, were not so tactful.

‘You won’t be making the rent Mr Flanagan charges you,’ Amanda said, nodding. She turned to her brother-in-law. ‘I wish I could help out – I s’pose I could work in the evenings, couldn’t I?’

Mr Flanagan shook his head. ‘No, that wouldn’t answer,’ he said gruffly. ‘Your family would kill me if I even suggested it.’ He cast his wife a quick glance and Trixie, though she smiled, shook her head. ‘Tell you what, Toby. I don’t want to lose you, but this dilemma had got to be solved an’ I can only see one way of doing it. What you want, lad, is a permanent fair, one that don’t move on, like. Then you can get a local girl to work for you over the winter – just until you’ve got things sorted. There’s a number o’ funfairs what are permanent now, pertickly at the seaside, and as it happens I know of one Ridin’ Master who’s on the lookout for a shooting gallery. Your best bet, Toby, is to visit the place as soon as we reach winter quarters; it ain’t far from there, so you won’t be gone for more’n a day and the train fare won’t break the bank. Write a letter first – Trix here will help you with that – an’ then go up as soon as we’re settled in at Wrexham. What d’you think?’

‘Capital, Mr Flanagan,’ Toby said gratefully. ‘I’ll do exactly as you say an’ I’d be real grateful if Trix would help me with the letter. But don’t you think I’m leavin’ Flanagan’s, because I ain’t. I’ll be back just as soon as I’ve got a respectable young woman to run the shooters for me – I suppose that’s what you mean by getting things sorted. But I don’t mean to settle down permanent, not me.’

‘If she’s a reliable sort o’ young woman, the trustable kind, I see no reason why either Trix or one of the other women shouldn’t give her a bed,’ Mr Flanagan said. ‘You won’t get no one having a young fly-by-night in their van – too risky – but a gal who’s worked wi’ you for three or four months an’ likes the life … well, that’s a different matter.’

‘And if you choose right, mebbe you’ll end up making an honest woman of her this time,’ Trixie said, giving Toby a reproving glance. Toby knew she had disapproved of his relationship with Edie. She had told him frankly that the girl would never have left him had he done the decent thing by her. But Edie had never suggested or seemed to want marriage and now Toby was glad of it. He was heart whole and fancy free with none of the responsibilities and shackles – albeit broken – of an unsuccessful marriage hanging round his neck.

However, it would not do to say so to Trixie, so he gave her his most winning smile as he left the caravan. Whistling happily to himself, he fetched his writing materials and retraced his steps. Trixie would not write the letter for him since he was perfectly capable of doing so himself, but she would advise him on the best way to approach the man who might become his temporary boss. Amanda was coming down the caravan steps as he approached and grinned cheerfully at him as their paths crossed. In another half-dozen years she’s going to be a real little smasher, Toby told himself, smiling back at her. I wouldn’t mind marrying the boss’s sister-in-law at that – and how she’d bring the flatties lining up at the shooting gallery!

It was a Sunday morning in mid-December, and although it had rained in the night the sky was now blue and a faint wintry sunshine lit the scene. Patty had glanced through the window earlier and was relieved to see the sun; at least it meant that the children would be able to play when they reached the recreation ground. Mrs Knight had taken them off to St Martin’s for a quick go on the swings and then on to her friend’s in Hornby Street, who had two little girls of her own and would entertain Mrs Knight with a large pot of tea and a plate of home-made biscuits, whilst the children played in the garden.

Ever since she and Darky had buried the hatchet – and not in each other’s skulls either – the two families had begun to share their weekends so that these now fell into a regular pattern. Mrs Knight looked after the children on a Saturday if Patty was called into work, but otherwise Patty, Maggie and Merrell, strapped into her pushchair, did their messages up and down the Scottie, sometimes having their dinner at a canny house. Quite frequently, Maggie deserted them as soon as the cinema opened and went to the tuppeny rush with several hundred other children and Patty and Merrell returned to Ashfield Place where, more often than not, Mrs Knight had prepared a light meal for herself and Darky which she invited them to share.

Sundays followed a similar pattern. Patty would take the children to early service at St Martin-in-the-Field’s church, close by the recreation ground; a service which Mrs Knight and Darky also attended. After it, Patty and Darky would walk home together, chatting amicably, whilst Mrs Knight, Maggie and Merrell made themselves scarce until it was time for dinner, which Patty herself always cooked since it was the only day in the week when she had time to make a proper roast meal with a hot pudding for dessert.

When Ellen was not on duty she spent her weekends either in Formby with her own parents, or in Ellesmere Port with John Bond’s people. Mrs Knight and Darky often came to No. 24 for their Sunday dinner while Patty and the girls went to No. 23 for tea.

Right now, however, Patty knew she should be checking on the dinner, though judging from the delicious smell it was doing pretty well by itself. She swung open the oven door, seized a large metal spoon, and basted the joint of beef and the large dish of roasting potatoes before closing the door with a sigh of satisfaction and glancing up at the clock. In half an hour the Knights and the children would be coming in, so it behoved Patty to keep her mind on her work and get a move on. She liked to have the meat cooked, the gravy made and the pudding – it was treacle tart today – ready by the time they arrived.

She began to lay the table and found her thoughts wandering back to the moment when she and Darky had faced one another across the table at the Crocodile Restaurant on Cable Street.

‘Patty, you know how sorry I am for the way—’ Darky had begun, but Patty had cut him short.

‘You’ve done enough apologising for a whole lifetime,’ she had said bluntly. ‘I’ve said it’s all right, I’ve forgotten all about it and we’re going to start anew, but I tell you, if you’re going to apologise every time we meet, then we won’t be meeting often!’

Darky had laughed and leaned across the table to take her hand. Patty had snatched it away. ‘Don’t jump the gun; there are several steps between starting again and holding hands, Darky Knight! If we’re going to be true friends, then it’s step by step, not rush, rush. Just remember, it were only a few weeks ago that you were taking young Ellen dancing and out to the flicks – and no doubt holding her hand – and now you’re trying to do the same with me. I’m not like Ellen, you know; I’m not looking for a feller or a fancy wedding or anything of that nature. Me and Merrell and young Maggie are already a family. We need friends, I’ll grant you that – your mam’s one of the best – but the girls don’t need a father and I don’t need a husband. Can you understand?’

Darky had looked taken aback, almost stunned, but then his face had cleared and he had laughed. ‘So you don’t believe that two wages are better than one, eh?’ he said. ‘You don’t want a strong arm to carry your coal in for you, or a feller to share the worries when someone’s ill or out of sorts? I can see I’m going to have me work cut out to persuade you to let me pay for two tickets for the cinema.’ He cocked his head enquiringly, his eyes twinkling. ‘Wharrabout the meal we’ve just ordered? Fish and chips twice and a roly-poly to follow? I suppose it’s all this women’s emancipation and you’ll insist on buying my dinner. Well, I don’t mind if it means you’ll take me in your strong arms when we get home and give me a goodnight kiss.’

Patty had tried to be cross but all she could do was laugh at the picture he presented. That evening had set the pattern for the many other occasions on which he had taken her out. He behaved like a perfect gentleman, but always, at some stage, he made some attempt to get closer to her and when she repulsed him, as she unfailingly did, he never became annoyed or offended but turned it off as a well-worn joke, always managing to make her smile.

Patty knew that she was learning a lot about men in general, as well as about Darky himself. From conversations with Ellen, she gathered that no matter what they might pretend, all men had one object in mind. They expected a girl who had accepted their company on an evening out to give at least some small return, and this meant that one should accept both kisses and cuddles, provided the kisser and cuddler did not try to go too far. Patty, however, did not mean to give Darky the impression that either kisses or cuddles were to be a part of their friendship. She had set her face against matrimony, and in her view it would have been unfair to allow him any liberties since she was not in the marriage market.

On their third date – a trip to the cinema – she had told him on the walk home that if he was looking for a wife he was wasting his time on her and should look elsewhere. Darky had grinned and then asked her, perfectly seriously, why she imagined that he had marriage in mind. ‘Maybe I’m like you and just looking for someone to go about with,’ he said blandly. ‘I don’t know what gives you girls the idea that men are so keen on settling down; most fellers would run a mile sooner than walk up the aisle.’

Patty had laughed and changed the subject, but she was still very sure in her own mind, after several weeks of going about with Darky, that he would want to marry again, some day. She had several times surprised a look in his eyes which almost embarrassed her with its intensity, and made her more determined than ever to keep him at a reasonable distance.

The bubbling of the water in the big black saucepan brought her back to the present and she carried the colander of finely chopped cabbage across the kitchen, tipped it into the boiling water and put the lid on the saucepan. Then she glanced around the room with some satisfaction. Apart from making the gravy, everything was ready for dinner, so as soon as she could pull the cabbage a little off the fire she would go into her bedroom and tidy herself up. She liked to present a neat and pleasant appearance when Darky and his mother came in for their dinner, and never allowed herself to wonder why this should be if she was as uninterested in Darky as she insisted. After all, it was Sunday and their only real day of rest.

Later in the week, Patty came home from work tired out and cross to find no food on the table, the fire almost out and no sign of either Maggie or Merrell. She went at once to Mrs Knight’s house and that lady came to the door, very pink and flustered.

‘Oh, Patty, such a to-do we’ve had,’ she said as soon as she saw who her visitor was. ‘Maggie left Merrell with me and went round to see her dad after school – it were something to do with Christmas, I believe – and the doctor was there. The three youngest kids have got the perishin’ measles so Maggie came flying back, explained what had happened and said she’d have to stop with her family for a few days. She was sure you’d understand, but of course it’s thrown my plans out somewhat. Still an’ all, we’ll have a chat presently, see what we can work out.’

Patty’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Your visit to your sister!’ she said. ‘Oh, Mrs Knight, you’ve simply got to go!’

‘I don’t see how I can,’ Mrs Knight said worriedly. ‘Glasgow’s a long way off; it’s not as if I could just pop up to see her for a couple of hours. It’s a shame, because she does need me, especially towards Christmas time. But it’s just one of those things; I don’t mean to let you and Merrell down, and I simply don’t see how you could possibly manage without me
or
Maggie.’

‘If only I could take a few days off! But for some reason Ellen and I are rushed off our feet and likely to be so until well after the New Year,’ Patty admitted. ‘Babies always seem to get born in batches, and we’ve both got half a dozen confinements, at least, due before Christmas. I wonder whether Ada Clarke might be able to arrange something for Merrell? She’s obviously done so for Christopher.’

Mrs Knight looked a little self-conscious. ‘Young Christopher is going to Mr Clarke’s sister, the one what lives in Coronation Court, with all them kids,’ she said. ‘If I were you, I’d not let Merrell go to that little lot. I suppose there’s no chance of Maggie taking her to her home? I mean, I know there’s measles, but she’ll be bound to get ’em one day, anyhow.’

‘No, I’m afraid not,’ Patty said. ‘It – it’s as unsuitable as Mr Clarke’s sister, if you see what I mean. But don’t worry, Mrs Knight. I’ll think of something. Can you keep Merry for another half-hour or so, while I clean up next door and get her tea? Only poor Maggie left things in a bit of a state.’

Mrs Knight agreed and Patty went home and began wearily to persuade the fire to burn briskly and to pull the kettle over the flames so that she might have a hot wash.

Thirty minutes later, clad in a clean skirt and blouse and wrapped in a calico apron, Patty was setting the table for tea when the door opened and Mrs Knight, with the child in her arms, appeared.

‘I’ve had a grand idea,’ Mrs Knight said triumphantly, standing Merrell down on the floor. The child rushed to Patty, squeaking ‘Mammy, mammy, mammy’, and was immediately picked up and kissed warmly before being sat down in a corner amongst her toys.

Patty turned to her friend. ‘Well, I’m glad you’ve thought of something because I’ve racked my brains and haven’t come up with one single plan,’ she admitted. ‘Go on then, what’s this grand idea?’

‘How about if I take Merry to Scotland with me? She’s not three yet, so she’ll go free on the train, and she’s no trouble, the little darlin’. Me sister’s often said as how she wished she could see Merry – she’s rare fond of kids is my sister – and you know she’d be well looked after.’

‘Oh, Mrs Knight! But wouldn’t it make things awkward for your sister?’ Patty asked anxiously. ‘I mean, you’re going up to Glasgow to help her with her Christmas shopping; won’t Merry get terribly in the way?’

‘No, in fact she’ll be a help,’ Mrs Knight said. ‘Me sister can walk with a pushchair quite well; she won’t need to use her sticks at all. Honest to God, Patty, if you’re prepared to let her come with me, then I’ll be tickled to bits to have her, an’ so will me sister. What d’you say?’

‘I say it’s just like you to put yourself out for me and not to think of yourself,’ Patty said gratefully. ‘Tell you what, Mrs Knight, when Ellen comes home, we’ll have a talk and see whether we can come up with some sort of solution, because I still think it’s unfair on you, but I imagine we’ll be jolly grateful to accept your offer. Now, I’m only going to make baked beans on toast for supper, but if you’d like to join us you’d be very welcome.’

Mrs Knight smiled but shook her head. ‘No, because I’ve done the tea for Darky and meself, though thanks for the offer,’ she said. ‘I’ll come round later and we’ll discuss the details – unless you think of something else, that is.’

On the following day, Patty saw Merrell and Mrs Knight off, waving energetically at the train until it had steamed out of sight. Then she began her day’s work aware that despite Mrs Knight’s kindness, she was in for a difficult week. Because Mrs Knight had taken Merrell, she had felt obliged to tell Darky that he could come round for a meal any time, and though he had said he would not bother her but could manage perfectly well alone, she still knew that she owed the Knight family a good deal.

Maggie was up to her eyes in looking after her own family now and though she had come round to No. 24 earlier that day, looking white and tired, she had not entered the house. ‘I don’t want to give you measles, Patty,’ she had explained. ‘I thought I’d had ’em when I was a little ’un but me dad says it weren’t so, which means I could go down with them any day – or I could pass ’em on to someone else.’

‘I wonder if I would get them? I never did when all the other kids had ’em at the Durrant,’ Patty said positively, but even if she did have some mysterious immunity Maggie decided it was safer to keep clear, and, in view of her job, Patty agreed that this would be best.

The house seemed strangely quiet without the two youngsters, but after a few days Patty found herself quite enjoying her newfound freedom. She missed Merrell and Maggie – and her kind neighbour – very much indeed, but it was pleasant not to be constantly examining her watch when a delivery went on longer than it should have done, and she and Ellen sat round the fire and gossiped about their patients in a way which would have been impossible had Maggie been present. It was easier to scratch together a meal for two than for four, or to fetch in fish and chips, but Patty knew that this freedom was not really freedom at all. The house was beginning to look neglected and meals got scrappier and scrappier until she told Ellen severely that they would have to pull themselves together and get into a proper routine.