Two Penn'orth of Sky (19 page)

Plan B was simple but it involved downright lies, so Diana had been keen to try Plan A first. However, in view of Mr Withers’s attitude, Plan B would have to be put in hand at once. Accordingly, Diana got two sheets of her mother’s best notepaper and wrote two identical notes, one addressed to Mr Withers and the other to Miss Williams. It was a well-known fact in the school that the two teachers disliked each other thoroughly and never spoke beyond the most cold and formal of greetings, so Diana felt she could send the same note without fear of either teacher’s finding out.

The notes were simple, though she was careful to write one in a stumbling and illiterate hand and the other as neatly and beautifully as she could manage. Each note informed the teacher that the Telford/Wesley family was about to move away from central Liverpool to the Garston district, and Wendy/Diana would be attending one of the schools in that area. She thanked both teachers for their work with her daughter and signed off, first with a scrawled ‘C. Telford’, and next with a ‘Yours faithfully, Mrs P. Wesley’.

She and Wendy had handed the notes in before school on a Monday morning, explaining that since they were moving that very week they would be unable to attend school anyway, until the move had been accomplished.

For some time, Diana had been in dread of a note’s popping through the letter box, demanding of Mrs Wesley her new address and the name of whichever school her daughter meant to attend, but as the days and then the weeks passed she began to believe that
they had got away with it. She had to be careful to steer well clear of the school, but that did not bother her, and whenever she thought how angry her mother would be if she knew that her daughter no longer attended classes, she told herself, righteously, that lessons with Miss Williams could never have done her much good. She also told herself that she would go back to school the following year and simply left it at that.

So when her mother said that she must not tout for pennies after school since overwork would make her ill, she simply smiled primly and promised to do no such thing. After all, since she was not attending school, she could scarcely overtire herself by carting parcels after a long day in the classroom.

However, there were certain rules that she and Wendy were forced to obey and one of them was that they had to leave the house each morning, in Diana’s case tidily clad, as though going to school. Another was to swear Becky to secrecy, for a couple of times the younger girl had commented that she had not seen her friend in the playground for absolutely ages; Becky was slow, everyone knew it, but she could be very shrewd at times.

‘No-o, ’cos sometimes I have something to do which is more important than school,’ Diana had told her grandly. ‘You wouldn’t understand, Becky, you’re too young, but don’t you go telling anyone I’m not always in school. D’you promise me now?’

Becky had stared at her for a long moment and then nodded. ‘I promise I won’t tell anyone you’re saggin’ off school,’ she said, in her flat little voice. ‘But I thought you
liked
school, Di.’

‘I did, in Miss Lovett’s class,’ Diana admitted. ‘But Miss Williams is so
boring
, Becky, and she teaches us
nothing. She just goes over and over things like times tables and rules of grammar, so if I miss a day or two here and there I’m no worse off. But you mustn’t miss school, queen, because you really need the lessons. If you’re ever going to learn to read and write, you’ve got to work hard in class. You don’t want to be in Standard I for ever, until you’re old and grey, do you?’

Diana was fond of Becky but she acknowledged that the child was nowhere near as bright as the rest of the Fisher family. She was a sweet little girl, both generous and loving, but she had no idea of her letters and did not seem to understand figures at all.

‘It’s possible that she is a late developer,’ her teacher had told Aunty Beryl. ‘Give her as much attention as you can, Mrs Fisher, and maybe she’ll catch up with the rest of her age group one of these days.’

But in the end, it was not Becky who let the cat out of the bag, but Charlie, and Diana knew that it was done completely by accident, and Charlie had had no intention of upsetting their apple cart.

It was getting near Christmas and Wendy and Diana were revelling in their new-found freedom and, of course, in their earnings which, as Christmas drew closer, increased by leaps and bounds. People asked them to carry ever larger and more awkward burdens back to their homes from the market stalls in Byrom Street, from Paddy’s Market – in fact, from anywhere which could be relied upon to sell as cheaply as possible. Charlie was no saint; Diana knew that he, too, sagged off school from time to time, but she would not have dreamed of telling on him and she knew that, had the positions been reversed, he would have felt exactly the same.

It was 21 December and schools were breaking up the next day so, though Diana had changed in the privy from her nice school clothes into an old and ugly dress which she had got for fivepence from one of the stalls, she felt that it scarcely mattered if she was seen by authority. With only one day to go, half the school would be sagging off, which meant she would be in good company. So when a large, red-faced man hailed them and asked them if they could carry a Christmas tree to his home on Brownlow Hill for sixpence, they agreed enthusiastically. But they had not seen the Christmas tree.

When they did so, Wendy’s exclamation of horror found an echo in Diana’s heart, though not on her lips. ‘Bleedin’ hell, it must be one of them forest giants what Luvvy Duvvy said growed in Canada,’ Wendy said, eyes rounding. ‘Oh, queen, we’ll never manage it. It must weigh a couple of tons.’

Both girls looked wildly round for the red-faced man, but he had diplomatically disappeared. Wendy, being the stronger, went resignedly to the root end of the tree and Diana seized it round its midriff. ‘We could ask someone else to give us a hand,’ she was beginning, when a voice spoke in her ear, making her jump six inches.

‘What in heaven’s name is you doin’, young Di? Don’t say you’re tryin’ to move that perishin’ tree back home to the courts, because you’ll never do it. And what d’you want a huge tree like that for, anyroad? If you asks me, trees is nothin’ but a waste of money.’

Diana turned her head sharply, then grinned at Charlie. ‘We’re carrying it home for a fat chap with a red face who’s going to give us sixpence,’ she
explained. ‘What are
you
doing, Charlie? You should be in school.’

‘Been to the Mill Road Infirmary to see the dentist,’ Charlie said briefly. ‘The old devil tried to say he were goin’ to take me tooth out, so I telled ’im there were nothin’ wrong with it and I weren’t havin’ no tooth out unless me mam said so, and then I kicked him in the belly and cleared out,’ he added with understandable pride.

‘Oh, Charlie!’ Diana breathed. ‘Oh, you are brave! But I say, are you going straight back to school? Because if not, we’ll give you twopence to help with carting this here forest giant up to Brownlow Hill.’

‘OK, I don’t mind,’ Charlie said easily. ‘Shunt up, the pair of you, so’s I can take the heavy end.’ He seized the trunk, then sagged at the knees. ‘Gawd, did you say he were goin’ to give you sixpence?’ He heaved an exaggerated sigh, casting his eyes to the heavens. ‘Girls don’t have a ha’p’orth of sense; luggin’ this thing to Brownlow Hill is worth a bob of anyone’s money. By rights, the feller should have hired a hand cart, and they don’t come cheap.’

‘I don’t think he’s the sort of man you can bargain with,’ Diana was beginning doubtfully, when Charlie suddenly cut in.

‘Come to think of it, what are you two doin’? Your mam would have a fit if she could see you now, young Di. You haven’t been to Mill Road, have you? I didn’t see you there.’

‘I’m earnin’ some money for Christmas,’ Diana said briefly. ‘We could ask the man for more money but I bet he won’t give it us. He had mean little eyes.’

Charlie laughed, rather breathlessly. ‘Well, if you’ve made an agreement, I s’pose you’ve got to stick by it,’ he said. ‘C’mon on then, let’s be goin’.’

Along Byrom Street and into the Old Haymarket the three children staggered with their enormous burden. Diana looked enviously at the trams parked up alongside the pavement, but even if they had been rich and could have afforded three tickets, the ‘forest giant’ would never have fitted on to a tram. On St John’s Lane they stood the tree down for a moment, then veered to their right, pushing apologetically through the crowds outside Lime Street Station and continuing doggedly along Lime Street itself, though by now all three of them were perspiring freely.

At the Adelphi Hotel they turned left into Brownlow Hill, but their ordeal was by no means over for it was a steep hill, and the red-faced man lived some way up it. ‘Keep goin’,’ Charlie said hoarsely when the girls would have put their burden down for a moment’s rest. ‘If we stop now we won’t ever start again, not wi’ the hill so steep an’ all.’

By the time the children reached their destination they had made many enemies. The pointed end of the tree had inserted itself up ladies’ skirts, got between men’s legs and swept things off stalls. People had walked into it, barking their shins and, in one case at least, laddering their stockings. When Diana plunged into the road to cross to the other side, brakes screamed and vehicles juddered to a halt, as they suddenly realised that the tree covered a good half of the carriageway. Diana had never apologised so frequently – or so fervently – in her whole life. And she had never been so scratched and bruised, either. The little needles off the tree had even slipped inside her shoes and socks so that walking was a prickly business, and her hands and arms were covered in tiny cuts, spitefully delivered by both the bark and the branches.

They were all heartily relieved, therefore, when they reached the address they had been given, and bitterly disappointed when the woman who came to the door did not immediately take their now hated burden from them.

‘It ain’t to come here, you stupid brats,’ she said rudely. ‘Where d’you think I’d put a thing that size, eh? Why, it’s too big to stand upright in an ordinary house.’

Diana was so dismayed that she simply goggled at the woman, but Charlie spoke up. ‘We brung it to the address we were given, missus,’ he said boldly. ‘A big feller with a red face gave us this address. Would it be your husband, now?’

The woman did not reply but half turned, bawling over her shoulder as she did so: ‘Reggie! There’s three kids here tryin’ to deliver a Christmas tree the size of a bleedin’ oak. You’d best come and deal with it.’

There was the sound of heavy feet descending stairs and then the man who had employed them appeared in the doorway. ‘Oh aye, that’s right, only I forgot to tell you it were for the church hall on West Derby Street. It’s locked, so I’ll have to come wi’ you to let you in, which is why I give you this address.’ He leered ingratiatingly at them. ‘Schools break up tomorrer and there’s to be a party for policemen’s kids tomorrer afternoon. Wait here while I get me coat.’

He disappeared back inside the house, closing the front door behind him, and the three children stared unbelievingly after him. They had put the tree down and Diana thought, with loathing, of all the horrors of taking it yet further. ‘Where
is
West Derby Street?’ she hissed desperately to Wendy. ‘I’ll die if it’s much further, truly I will.’

Wendy shrugged but Charlie said: ‘It’s a fair way off and it’ll feel miles luggin’ this perishin’ fir. What’s more, he bleedin’ well lied to you, so he can cough up a bob or move his own tree.’

This seemed fair to all three of them, though Diana baulked at being the spokeswoman. ‘He won’t take any notice of a kid like me,’ she said desperately. ‘Oh, please, Charlie, you tell ’im.’

Charlie was willing, so when the man rejoined them, warmly clad in a thick navy blue coat with shiny silver buttons, Charlie informed him of their decision. ‘It’s too far to carry a tree as big as this one for twopence each, mister,’ he said, speaking politely but firmly. ‘We think a bob between the three of us is more like it. Why, we’re scratched to bits already and our arms an’ legs is aching like billyo. If I hadn’t been around to give ’em a hand, these kids ’ud never ’ave reached this far, not even if they’d dragged it.’ He jerked his thumb at his companions.

‘Sixpence I said, an’ sixpence I meant . . .’ the man was beginning, as the three children struggled to get the tree off the ground once more. He hastily retracted as all three let go and the tree crashed back on to the pavement. ‘Awright, awright, I dare say a bob won’t break me.’

‘OK, but we want it up front, ’cos we’ve already done the best part of it,’ Charlie said. ‘You can’t be afraid we’ll run off wi’ the bleedin’ thing, mister, ’cos it’s all we can do to walk, so you’re goin’ to get your tree an’ I’d like to make certain we get our money.’

‘You’ll get your money,’ the man growled. ‘Oh, awright then.’ He fumbled in his pocket, producing a handful of loose change. He was walking level with Diana. ‘Don’t let go of the tree,’ he said hastily. ‘I’ll put it in your pocket, young shaver.’

Diana felt the coins slip into her pocket and was relieved. There was something about the man she had disliked from the start, but at least he had paid up, and presently they arrived at the church hall. The man fumbled once more in his pocket and produced a key. He unlocked the large door and swung it open, gesturing to the children to carry the tree inside. He’s as lazy as he’s hateful, Diana thought indignantly. He had not once put so much as a hand on the tree, yet he must have realised how heavy and awkward it was. She dumped her share of the burden, glanced around the hall, admiring the paper chains and Chinese lanterns which were already in position, then followed her two fellow lumberjacks, heartily glad to be rid of their burden at last.

Outside, the man did not even have the decency to thank them or to say goodbye, but merely set off along West Derby Street, back towards Brownlow Hill. There was a low wall beside the church hall and all three of them collapsed on to it. ‘Phew!’ Charlie said. ‘Wasn’t he a horrible feller? And you’d think he might have shelled out a bit of extra without having to be blackmailed, like. Cor, what wouldn’t I give for an ice cream or a long drink of lemonade, for all it’s a cold day – I’m sweatin’ like a dray horse.’