The Girl From Number 22 (26 page)

Annie couldn’t meet Ada’s eyes, so she began to pour the tea out. How could she pretend they were one big happy family when it was untrue? It wasn’t the fault of the house, for it was as nice a house as they’d ever lived in. But their stay was never a long one, while Eliza’s had been sixty years. ‘She’ll be welcome to come and see her old home, Ada, and I’ve heard so much about her, I’d like to meet her.’

The teapot was put down on the chrome stand, and Annie said, ‘I’ll bring the plates in.’ In the space of five minutes, her happiness at having friends in her house had turned to sadness. She hated having to pretend all was right in her life, when it wasn’t true. She’d been brought up by loving parents, who had taught her the difference between right and wrong. And telling lies was wrong. She might not actually be telling lies to Ada and Hetty, but she was acting a lie, which was just as bad.

Ada’s eyes rolled to the ceiling when she saw the plates. ‘Ooh, chocolate eclairs! They’re me favourites!’ She ran the back of a
hand across her lips. ‘Me mouth’s watering now, and me teeth can’t wait to bite into that chocolate and cream.’ Then she suddenly sat up straight in the chair and slapped her wrist. ‘Behave yerself, Ada Fenwick, and don’t be so ruddy greedy. Anyone would think yer’d never had an eclair before. Just behave yerself and mind yer manners.’

Hetty saw Annie’s look of bewilderment and smiled. ‘Don’t worry, girl, she’s not dangerous. Me mate often has moments of madness. I used to worry about her when I heard her talking to the flowers on the wallpaper. But I take no notice of her now because the flowers have gone, and she doesn’t seem to have befriended the leaves on the new paper. Perhaps it’s because leaves don’t have the same nice smell.’

Annie told herself to forget all her troubles for as long as her visitors were here, and to act as daft as them. ‘Does the new moon cause it, d’yer think? I had an uncle once, and every new moon, his wife had to tie him to a chair and put a gag in his mouth.’

‘Oh, and why was that?’ Ada asked. ‘Was he a bit loopy?’

‘Not all the time, no! He was a clever man as a matter of fact, had a good job in an office. It was only when there was a new moon, he used to come over funny. He used to wail like a banshee, terrifying everyone. All the women in the street used to take their children indoors when there was a full moon.’

While Hetty sat wide-eyed and all ears, Ada was smiling. ‘Ay, it didn’t take you long to come out of yer shell, Annie Phillips. We’re going to have to keep our eyes on you, otherwise yer’ll be telling better tales than us. Yer were quick off the mark, ’cos I reckon yer made that up as yer were going along.’

Hetty stared at her mate. ‘What makes yer say Annie made it up? Everyone’s not like you, yer know.’ She turned to Annie. ‘Yer didn’t make it up, did yer?’

Before Annie had time to answer, Ada said, ‘Of course she made it up, soft girl! The only bit she left out was that her uncle used to turn into a werewolf.’

‘That’s not very nice of yer, girl, saying things like that.’

‘What’s not nice of me?’

‘Well, yer come here as an invited guest, and turn round and tell Annie her uncle wasn’t right in the head.’

‘I never said no such thing!’

The banter between the two friends lifted Annie’s spirits. For two hours she’d put her troubles and cares behind her, and enjoy herself in pleasant company. She lifted the plate with the sandwiches on. ‘Anyone ready to eat?’

Ada didn’t hesitate. ‘Ooh, yeah, I am! The sooner we finish the sandwiches off, the sooner we can have our cake.’ She nudged her friend in the ribs. ‘D’yer know what, sunshine? If I was offered the choice between an evening of passion with my husband and a chocolate eclair, the cake would win hands down.’

Hetty huffed, and clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. ‘Have yer forgotten ye’re not in yer own house now? Perhaps Annie doesn’t appreciate that kind of talk.’

‘I’ll shut my mouth, then, shall I? Will that make yer feel better? Right, then I’ll close it in the nicest possible way.’ With that, Ada leaned across the table, picked up a chocolate eclair and put it in her mouth. And the sounds of bliss were accompanied by a slowly shaking head, and screwed-up eyes.

‘It doesn’t take much to please her,’ Hetty told Annie. ‘Just listen to her.’

Ada licked the chocolate off her fingers before opening her eyes. ‘D’yer know what I’ve just discovered, sunshine? That the sound of pleasure yer’ve just heard is exactly the same sound I’ll
be making in bed tonight when my feller gets frisky. So yer could say that all in all, it’s going to be a good day for me.’

John Griffiths was a quay foreman at Seaforth docks. Known as Griff to his friends and the gang of dockers under his command, he was a good boss. Firm but fair. Having worked his way up over the years by sheer hard graft, from being a casual worker, he had little time for idlers or loafers. No one was allowed to swing the lead in his crew; he expected every man to do a fair day’s work for a fair day’s pay. He didn’t mind getting his hands dirty, either, which earned him the respect of his crew and his bosses. If a ship was being loaded, and there was a rush to complete the work in time for the ship to sail on the evening tide, he would work as hard as any of the gang. And today was one such day. He was directing the cargo that was being winched on board in a cradle made of strong ropes, signalling to the hatch foreman who was on the deck of the ship with his crew. The men were working to orders, and the quayside was a hive of activity.

Such was the noise and bustle, Tom Phillips thought he wouldn’t be missed for five minutes. So he waited until Griff’s eyes were elsewhere, then sidled off to take cover behind a stack of crates. He leaned back, his flat cap pulled down over his forehead, and a Woodbine hanging out of the side of his mouth. With his eyes half closed against the smoke from the cigarette, he began to rub his two fingers. They weren’t sore now, and his reason for rubbing them was to keep alive the anger he felt towards his wife. The two children came into that anger, but his main hatred was reserved for Annie. She wasn’t going to get away with it, not by a long chalk. He’d make her pay, by God he would. She’d never answer him back again, or refuse to obey him.

John Griffiths came charging round the crates like a bull, his nostrils flared ready to do battle. ‘I thought as much, yer lazy bugger. Standing here smoking while yer mates slog their guts out. I’ve a good mind to report yer and have yer suspended. Now get back to work, and I want to see yer working twice as hard as any man there.’

That frightened Tom for a brief second, for jobs were hard to come by. But crafty as he was, he decided to bluff his way out. ‘There’s a reason for it, Mr Griffiths.’ There was a whine in his voice. ‘I’ve worked for the last couple of hours in agony. Yer see, me son banged the front door on me fingers this morning, as we were leaving for work. The lad didn’t mean it, so I’m not blaming him. But, honest to God, I thought he’d broken these two fingers.’ He held up his right hand. ‘Me wife told me to stay off and go to the hospital, but I knew yer needed every man today ’cos of the rush job.’

Griff’s stare was unblinking, and Tom lowered his eyes. ‘If yer fingers were broken, Phillips, then yer’d be crying out in agony. And why didn’t yer report this when yer signed on this morning?’

‘I didn’t want to make a fuss. I know me two fingers aren’t broken, ’cos as yer say, I’d be in agony. But they’re hurting like hell, honest. Trying to pull on the ropes I was nearly crying out in pain. And that’s the truth, Mr Griffiths. But as I don’t want to let yer down, I’ll go back to the gang and do me best.’

‘Oh, no, yer won’t, Phillips.’ Griff didn’t believe a word the man said. For some reason he couldn’t take to Tom Phillips; the man gave him the creeps. You never heard him laughing like his workmates, nor talking about his family. And at times his language was foul. But he was good at his job. And until now, Griff couldn’t fault his work, even though he disliked the man. ‘I can’t
have anyone lagging behind. Go to the office and sign off for the rest of the day. Yer’ll lose half a day’s pay, but that’s your bad luck. I’ll get someone to take yer place.’ There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice. ‘And don’t bother getting out of bed tomorrow if yer fingers are still sore. I don’t carry any passengers, yer should know that by now.’

‘I’ll rest them tonight, Mr Griffiths, and I bet they’ll be all right by tomorrow.’

The sarcasm still there, Griff said, ‘Oh, I’d bet any money on them being all right for tomorrow. Yer wouldn’t want to lose another day’s pay, that’s for sure. Think of all the pints yer’d have to go without.’ He waved a hand. ‘Go on, out of my sight. I’ve got more to do than listen to any of your moans. There’s a ship to be got ready to sail with the tide. Thank goodness there’s men who’ll work flat out to make sure it does. Now scarper.’

Griff turned and walked away. He’d only gone a few steps when he hesitated, then spun round. ‘I’ll tell yer workmates yer can’t be here to help them because yer’ve got two sore fingers. I’m sure they’ll have something to say about that tomorrow. And I’m sure it won’t be a vote of sympathy. Now get the hell out of here.’

Tom watched his boss walk away before flicking his cigarette on to the ground and using his foot to put it out. He didn’t feel any sympathy for his workmates, or regret for letting his boss down. He’d never taken time off before, so they couldn’t come down too hard on him. Anyway, he told himself, by the time I clock on tomorrow things will have calmed down. There would be no mad panic like today. A cargo ship was due in tomorrow, but not until the evening tide. So there’d be breaks for a sit down and a ciggie, or a cup of tea from the tea wagon. Oh, the men would probably have a go at him, but they’d soon find
something else to talk about. He didn’t care anyway. It would be like water off a duck’s back to him.

But for all his bravado, Tom made sure he wasn’t seen leaving by any of the blokes he worked with. He left the docks by a different exit. And once outside the gates, he pushed his flat cap up from his forehead, lit another Woodbine, and swaggered towards the nearest pub. His eyes were glinting as he thought of the look of fear he would see on his wife’s face when he walked in on her. There’d be no one there to protect her this afternoon; he’d have her all to himself. And after he’d given her the hiding of her life, he’d drag her upstairs. He didn’t have to worry about her crying out for help, she never did. She was too proud to let the neighbours know. He could do what he liked, and there wouldn’t be a sound from her.

Tom licked his lips. Just the thought of what he intended to do with his wife was making his heartbeat quicken. And his desire was being aroused. But first he’d get his kicks from tormenting and humiliating her. She was his slave, and she would be forced to do his bidding. And when his need for revenge was satisfied, he would satisfy his lust. He would take her roughly, until she whimpered with pain, and pleaded with him to stop. But he wouldn’t stop. Not until he was good and ready. There’d never be a repeat of what happened yesterday, he’d see to that. This afternoon he intended to teach her what would happen if she stepped out of line again.

The pubs weren’t open yet, but Tom knew the landlord of one on the dock road. Being a good customer, he was allowed in any time. All he need do was knock on the side door. So as he lifted his curled fist to knock, Tom was feeling on top of the world. He was going to enjoy himself this afternoon, and a couple of pints would put an edge on his appetite. What awaited
him at home was worth losing half a day’s pay for. And any red-blooded man would feel the same. The blokes he worked with were always praising their wives, saying how well they looked after them. Tom always sneered inwardly when he heard them. They didn’t know what they were missing. If only they knew how docile his wife was, and how he could do what he liked with her, how envious they’d be. Silly, henpecked buggers, that’s what they were. Not a real man, like himself.

‘Have another sandwich, Ada.’ Annie handed the plate over. ‘It’s no good letting them go to waste.’

‘Oh, they won’t go to waste, sunshine, yer’ve no need to worry on that score. I’ve got a healthy regard for food, thanks to my mother.’ Ada nodded as memories came back. ‘She drummed it into me that it was a sin to waste good food when there were millions of people in the world who were starving. If I turned me nose up at a jam butty, I’d get a lecture on how millions would think it was their birthday if they were offered a jam butty.’ She picked a sandwich from the plate and took a bite. ‘When I was a kid, I came home from school one day and asked me mam if I could have a butty ’cos I was hungry.’ She turned to Hetty. ‘I often think of that day, sunshine, ’cos I was ashamed of meself afterwards.’

Hetty’s brows shot up. ‘Why would yer feel ashamed just asking for a jam butty? I used to ask my mother for one when I came home from school. Most kids do.’

‘Wait until I tell yer why I was ashamed, and yer’ll understand. I’d brought a mate from school with me, and I remember she was standing next to me in the kitchen while I was waiting for me butty. I was showing off, I suppose, ’cos when I saw me mam putting dripping on the bread, I wasn’t very happy. So I stamped
me foot and said I wanted jam on me butty and not horrible dripping.’

Hetty was taken aback. ‘Yer didn’t give yer mam cheek, did yer? I would never answer me mam back or give her cheek.’

‘I never did after that day, I can tell yer. I learned me lesson the hard way. Yer see, I didn’t get a butty after all. What I did get was a clip round the ear, and a lecture on how she hoped the day would never come when I’d be so poor I’d give anything for a dripping butty. And with that I was sent out to play with me tummy rumbling, and me mate from school telling me I was a greedy pig.’

Annie had been listening with interest. ‘I often have bread fried in dripping. When the family have gone off to work in the mornings, I make meself a few rounds every day. Bread fried in dripping until it’s crisp, yer can’t beat it.’

‘I know that now, Annie, ’cos I enjoy it meself,’ Ada admitted. ‘But because I had me mate from school with me that day, I wanted to show off.’ She pulled a face. ‘Instead of me showing off, me mam showed me up! And d’yer know what? That’s one of the days in me life that I often look back on. I learned a lesson that day, and I’ve never wasted bread since.’