The Boy I Love (6 page)

‘Right. The landlady of the flat can see us this afternoon about two, and the room round the corner is available to see now – so shall we do that, and then go and have a coffee or
something and look round the town?’

‘Absolutely. Thanks so much, Gladys, for your help. What is the address again?’

‘Number 2, Stanley Terrace – it’s the next road on the left and the lady’s name is Mrs Blacklock. I have no idea what it’s like, mind. But if it doesn’t suit,
come back here. I have got one more suggestion up me sleeve.’ She winked and went back to her guard duty.

The Thomases set off for Stanley Terrace.

‘You can see this used to be a miners’ town, can’t you?’ remarked Douglas. ‘Rows and rows of back-to-backs. It is a unique landscape to Britain and completely
different from the south, eh?’

Sally was feeling a little apprehensive. These houses were so tiny. They could only be two up two down, and the thought of sharing with complete strangers was daunting.

They found number 2 and knocked on the front door.

A dog barked, and a second later the door opened and a short bald man stood filling the narrow doorway.

‘Aye?’ was all he said.

‘Oh hi, I am Sally Thomas. I believe Gladys at the theatre called you about me coming to look at a room here? I hope this is not an inconvenient time or anything. I mean, we can come back
later if . . . ’ Sally was rapidly running out of steam as she met the relentless grimace of the man, and now behind him a huge Alsatian dog was panting eagerly. Sally was not awfully sure if
it was panting with delight or hunger!

‘Oh, right. Aye, the wife said. She deals with all that. Come in, luv. Get back, Fred, out the road. Nora, come here.’ He stood back to let Sally in, and she tentatively squeezed
between the doorjamb, and Fred’s dribbling jaws, into the front parlour. Dora followed with no qualms at all, and Douglas was left on the doorstep neither in nor out.

‘How do you do. I am Douglas Thomas – Sally is my daughter.’ Douglas held out his hand and the bald-headed man looked confused.

‘Eh, we don’t stand on ceremony here. Come in and sit thissen down. I am Arthur Blacklock. Fred – out to the back wi’ thee.’ He shoved the drooling dog through the
parlour and out of a door on the other side of the room. Douglas inched his way into the room and joined his daughters on the hearthrug. They could just about all fit in the room. There was an open
fire made up ready to go, and two huge chairs either side covered in an array of antimacassars. In the far corner under a 1950s standard lamp was a folding table with two chairs and a bowl of
plastic flowers on top. The door leading to the kitchen was shut to keep Fred out, so it was very dark in the room, and the three of them could hardly make out Nora as she appeared at the bottom of
the stairs to greet them.

‘Goodness, what a crowd! We have not seen the like of so many people in here since me mam’s wake.’ She laughed. ‘I shall put the kettle on and we can have a chat. Which
one of you is the young lady who wants the room?’

‘Oh, that’s me,’ said Sally, holding out her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Blacklock. This is my father Douglas Thomas, and this is my sister Dora. I am sorry, we
didn’t mean to invade you like this on a Sunday morning, but I am very keen to find somewhere to stay before the season starts.’

‘No worries at all. Why don’t you sit down where you can and I will get some tea. Arthur, where have you got to? Get the kettle on, will you?’ She opened the door to the
kitchen and Sally could see through to a back yard, where Arthur was sitting with Fred smoking a cigarette.

‘Oh, you are useless! Stay out the road then and let me get on with it.’ Nora went to the sink and filled a kettle. There was an old-fashioned range affair for the cooker, red tiles
on the floor and a fine example of a Victorian kitchen sink. Sally felt as if she was in a chapter of a D.H. Lawrence novel. Any minute now, a swarthy miner would appear and start to wash himself
at the window. She should be so lucky! Thinking about baths though, where the hell was the bathroom here? And indeed, was there even one?

‘Um, Mrs Blacklock, before you go to all the trouble of making tea, would you like to show me the room? I don’t have much time today as my father has to get back to Cheltenham, so if
we could see the room that would be great,’ she said politely.

‘Oh yes, of course, my dear. How stupid of me. Well, follow me then. It is not much, I grant you, but it is clean, and I am happy to cook you an evening meal as well as breakfast.’
The kindly woman made her way back to the stairs and up they went to a tiny landing, off which were three doors.

Mrs Blacklock threw open the far door with a flourish to reveal what could only be described as a large cupboard. There was the tiniest of windows, letting in a glimmer of hope for the
inhabitant who would be sat literally under the window-ledge on the single bed pushed up against the wall. On the other side there was just room to squeeze between a pine wardrobe with no handle,
and a bedside table only big enough to hold a single lamp. Sally’s heart sank. It was everything she had dreaded and more.

‘Is there a bathroom?’ she whispered.

‘Oh yes, though we would have to organize when you had a bath because of the water-heater. Would twice a week suit, do you think?’ The lady of the house was now standing in the
middle of a piece of cracked lino beside a free-standing tin bath wedged against a basin, barely clinging to the brackets that held it to the wall. ‘The toilet is downstairs in the back yard.
We keep meaning to get round to doing something about bringing it in, but it is what we are used to really.’

Sally caught Dora’s eye and had to cough to cover her near-outburst of the giggles. Could this be real?

‘Um, right. Well, thank you very much, Mrs Blacklock, for showing me round. I think the best thing is for me and my family to go away and have a think, and we will get back to you this
afternoon. Is that OK?’

‘Yes, if you like, love.’ Nora did not seemed bothered one way or the other. Dora was already out of the door, and Douglas was steering his eldest eagerly towards the light.

‘Come along, Sally, we must get on,’ he was waffling. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Blacklock, regards to Mr Blacklock.’

As the door of number 2 closed behind them, the three of them were almost bent double with laughter, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and the house of horrors.

‘Oh dear, I cannot believe what I have just witnessed,’ groaned Douglas. ‘What in hell’s teeth was that all about, Sally? Are you seriously telling me that you actors
live in these places?’

Sally and Dora were holding onto each other for support. In fact, their hysterical laughter was very nearly tears as far as Sally was concerned. Was this going to be her fate?

‘Oh Dad, please don’t! I don’t know, do I? What on earth am I going to do?’

The trio found Gladys back in the alleyway, now ensconced in her chair outside. The morning had blossomed into a perfect summer’s day, with a clear blue sky and a
slight breeze gently moving the August heat across the rooftops. Gladys had her skirt rolled up and was exposing quite a large amount of very white leg to the sun’s rays, while negotiating a
bottle of stout in one hand and a folded
Sunday People
on her lap. A small table stood to one side on which was a large plate of pie and chips.

‘Back again, luvs? How was it then?’ she asked.

‘Not really big enough, I am afraid,’ replied Sally. ‘They were very nice and everything, but I wouldn’t have felt comfortable sharing their home at such close
quarters.’

‘I understand, dearie. Those terraces can be really poky, I know. Not like down south, is it?’ she added. ‘When I first come up here I couldn’t get me head round it
either. It was like being in
Coronation Street
. I’m from Dagenham, see? Cars to coal. Met my old man on a day trip to Blackpool and ended up here. Anyway, enough about me, you’ll
be needing another plan.’

‘We don’t want to ruin your Sunday morning completely,’ said Douglas, ‘but if you have any other suggestions we would be very grateful.’ The three of them stood in
front of Gladys expectantly. She hauled herself out of the chair and waddled in through the stage door, returning almost immediately with a number on a piece of paper.

‘Here you go. Ring this number and see if they can help. You know Susan, Mr Longfellow’s PA?’ Sally nodded her head in acknowledgement. ‘Well, her niece Janie is coming
to work at the theatre this season front of house, because her boyfriend is an actor, and he has got a job in the company. Can’t remember his name but he seems like a nice enough lad. So
anyway, Susan has got them a little house up the hill behind here. I believe it has two bedrooms, and she did say to me that they would have to rent out the other room to help with the rent. If you
ring this number, it is the niece’s home and you could have a word. She doesn’t live in Crewe but I know they are coming down next week to move stuff in ready to start at the beginning
of September. Go in and use the theatre phone now – see if you get any joy. I will eat me pie, if you don’t mind, duck, before it gets cold.’

She sat down again and lifted the plate off the side table and proceeded to devour the contents.

‘Oh yes, please, do carry on. Thank you so much.’ Sally turned to the others. ‘Shall we go and find somewhere to sit and have a drink or something and ring this
number?’

‘Well, you might as well do that here first, as the phone is right there,’ Dora reminded her. ‘Come on, give me the piece of paper.’ She took it from her sister and
disappeared into the gloom.

‘I’ll wait here,’ Douglas said. ‘Go on, dear.’

Dora had already dialled the number as Sally joined her. ‘Give it to me,’ said Sally, leaning across and grabbing the phone.

‘Patience!’ admonished Dora, annoyingly.

Before they could start bickering, a voice at the other end of the line answered, ‘Hello? Nantwich 7451.’

‘Oh hi, sorry to bother you on a Sunday morning but I have been given your number by Gladys, at the stage door of the theatre in Crewe. Are you Susan’s niece, Janie, by any chance? I
am so sorry – you must think me very rude.’ Sally was trying to squeeze closer to the telephone while Dora was enjoying being obstructive. A small shove and Sally gained the advantage,
leaving Dora no option but to get out of the way. She disguised her defeat by pretending to show enormous interest in the faded black and white photos pinned all over the back wall of the
cubicle.

‘No, not at all, that is fine. Yes, I am Janie Bell, Susan’s niece. How may I help you, Miss . . . ?’

‘Thomas – Sally Thomas. Well, I am an actress and I am starting the new season at Crewe in two weeks’ time and my father has driven me up here today to try and find digs. So
far it has been a bit of a disaster, but Gladys on the stage door has just suggested I might try to talk to you, as I believe you and your boyfriend are coming to join also, and have a house with a
possible spare room. I would be so grateful if you might consider letting it to me.’

‘Well, we haven’t really got that far yet but I could talk to my bloke and my aunt, and call you back. Have you got a number?’

Sally tried not to sound too pushy. ‘Well actually, I was wondering if there was any way I could see your place today, while I am here in Crewe, because we have to drive back to Cheltenham
later today, and then I won’t be back until we start. I am just so worried about having somewhere to stay, if you can see what I mean. It is my first job and I am a bit nervous.’ Sally
caught her sister making boo hoo signs and pretending to cry.

‘Go away!’ mouthed Sally.

There was a pause the other end of the line and then the sound of a hand being placed over the receiver. Sally held her breath. Eventually the line cleared and a new voice came on the receiving
end.

‘Hello, Sally? This is Susan Chambers here. I know we have talked on the phone, and corresponded, and I hope you are not having too difficult a day. Janie has just explained the situation
to me and I have assured her that I think it would be quite all right for you to go and see the house. Gladys has a set of keys. Are you with anyone?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ replied Sally, ‘my father and my sister Dora. That would be brilliant if we could. I mean, we can ring you later to discuss rent, et cetera, but if I could at least get
an idea of the place it would help so much.’

‘I quite understand,’ the woman replied. ‘Call us when you have been to see the house. Good luck.’ The line went dead and Sally breathed a sigh of relief.

She then turned to Dora with, ‘Why do you have to be such a pain! This is important to me. You are always so quick to take the mickey.’

‘Oh, keep your hair on, sis,’ retorted Dora, unbothered. ‘Come on, let’s get on, I am bloody starving.’ They got the keys from Gladys, and the address, and set off
up the hill towards the station. It was not far, and Sally’s spirits rose as they turned into a well-maintained street with a row of Victorian houses. The latter were noticeably larger than
the previous terrace, though not huge by any means.