Part 23 (1/2)

She reached out and touched his arm in a spontaneous gesture. 'I know that, Fred. I'll keep it in mind what yer said, I promise.'

He smiled awkwardly as she walked to the door. 'Mind 'ow yer go 'ome,' he called out.

Carrie left the cafe with her head spinning. Fred was older than her and set in his ways, and it must have taken a great deal of resolve to declare his love for her. She admired him for that. She knew she should feel flattered at the compliment, but it left her with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The long summer days encouraged everyone out, and the women of Page Street stood on their clean doorsteps after their ch.o.r.es were done and enjoyed a good chat together. All the business of the little turning was aired, and heads nodded eagerly as another choice piece of gossip spread from door to door.

'Don't say I told yer but Florrie Axford's took a lodger in,' Maisie Dougall said in little more than a whisper.

Aggie Temple's eyes opened wide at the revelation. 'Good Gawd! After all she said about 'avin' anuvver man in the 'ouse,' she gasped.

'Well, I'm not sayin' there's anything in it, mind,' Maisie replied quickly. 'She's got them two spare rooms upstairs, an' what wiv the rent goin' up as well ...'

'What's 'e like?' Aggie asked.

''E's a nice-lookin' bloke. About twenty-four or twenty-five, I s'pose,' Maisie went on. ''E's got luvverly curly 'air an' 'e's very smart. I see 'im goin' in yesterday. Smas.h.i.+n' blue pin-stripe suit 'e 'ad on. I could see 'is shoes were polished an' 'e 'ad a collar an' tie on. Bit different from the blokes round 'ere.'

'What about Florrie?'

'What about 'er?'

'Well, did she say anyfing ter yer?' Aggie asked impatiently.

Maisie shook her head. 'Yer know Flo, she don't let 'er right 'and know what 'er left 'and's doin' 'alf the time. Mind yer, she was sayin' somefing about lettin' those upstairs rooms a few weeks ago. I a.s.sumed she was talkin' about a married couple. I didn't fink she'd take a young bloke in. It's bound ter start 'em all gossipin', yer know what they're like round 'ere.'

'Don't I!' Aggie replied, pressing her hand against her pinned-up hair. 'Remember that time my 'Arold was seen 'oldin' that woman round the waist in River Street? They all reckoned 'e was 'avin' it orf wiv 'er. Poor cow fainted right under the streetlamp an' my 'Arold was 'elpin' 'er 'ome. 'E told me 'imself 'e took 'er in an' made 'er a nice cup o' tea. It jus' shows yer what lies people fink up. Jus' 'cos 'e was seen goin' in 'er 'ouse. My 'Arold wouldn't do anyfink like that, after all the years we've bin tergevver.'

Maisie nodded, although the story she had heard of Harold Temple's adventure was a little different from Aggie's version. ''Course 'e wouldn't,' she said. 'Mind yer, it's always a bit awkward when a woman on 'er own takes in a young man as a lodger, especially a nice-lookin' bloke. Tongues will wag.'

'Fing is, Florrie's got a bit of a name wiv the men,' Aggie remarked. 'She's bin married twice, an' there was that bloke at the shop where she works.'

'Oh, an' what was that all about then?' Maisie asked, her curiosity aroused.

'Didn't yer 'ear of it?' Aggie said with surprise. 'It was all round the street. Florrie was s'posed ter be 'avin' it orf wiv Willie Lubeck, the bloke who 'ad the butcher's before ole Greenbaum took it over. Yer remember ole Lubeck. 'E 'ad a cropped 'ead an' a big moustache. Proper German 'e was.'

'Greenbaum's a German too, ain't 'e?' Maisie asked, folding her tubby arms over her clean ap.r.o.n.

'Yeah, 'e's a German Jew by all accounts,' Aggie informed her. 'I like 'is f.a.ggots an' pease-pudden better than when the ovver bloke 'ad the shop. Mind yer, ole Lubeck used ter sell some nice 'alf sheep's 'eads. We often used ter 'ave sheep's 'eads on Sat.u.r.day nights fer our tea.'

Maisie nodded. 'I like them skate's eyeb.a.l.l.s. They go down well wiv a dob o' marge. Mind yer, yer gotta be careful yer don't over boil 'em or they go all gristly.'

Maudie Mycroft was walking along the street. When she reached her two neighbours she put down her shopping-bag and pressed a hand against her side. 'Me kidney's bin playin' me up again,' she announced, feeling in need of a little sympathy. 'Always seems ter be worse in the summer. My Ernest said I should go in an' 'ave it done but I'm terrified of 'ospitals.'

'What is it, Maud, stones?' Maisie enquired.

Maudie nodded. 'I've 'ad 'em fer years.'

Aggie pulled a face. 'Nellie Tanner was tellin' me once 'er Will 'elped the vet bloke operate on one o' the 'orses fer a stone. Large as a cannonball it was, and all colours o' the rainbow. She said 'er ole man pickled it. I don't know if she's still got it but it used ter be on 'er mantelshelf. I ain't seen it when I've bin in there though, not lately.'

Maudie turned pale. 'Well, I'd better get orf in,' she said quickly, wondering what colour her stones might be.

The two watched her walk off along the street and Maisie turned to her friend. 'Funny woman she is, Aggie. Frightened of everyfing. D'yer remember when we all come out an' stopped ole Galloway exercisin' them 'orses? She was terrified we was all gonna get locked up.'

Aggie nodded. 'I don't fink she was scared fer 'erself, though. She was more concerned about what the muvvers' meetin' was gonna say, accordin' ter 'er Ernest.'

'She don't still go ter them meetin's, does she?' Maisie asked. 'I thought she packed it in when they caught the vicar wiv 'is 'and in the collection-box.'

'Nah. Maudie's got a crush on the new vicar,' Aggie informed her. 'She reckons the sun s.h.i.+nes out of 'is a.r.s.e.'

'Mind yer, I've seen 'im about,' Maisie said. ''E's not a bad-lookin' bloke, as vicars go. Not my sort though. I like 'em when they look like that new lodger o' Flo's.'

'I wonder if Florrie's lodger comes from round 'ere?' Aggie asked, wanting to get all the facts straight in her mind before she told Mrs Bromsgrove.

'I dunno,' Maisie replied. 'The face is familiar. I fink I've seen 'im wiv that crowd o' jack-the-lads who stand outside the Crown at Dock'ead on Sat.u.r.day nights. Rough 'ole that is.'

Aggie nodded and looked along the street quickly before turning back to her friend. 'My 'Arold gets ter know fings, 'im lightin' all the lamps round 'ere,' she said in a low voice. ''E reckons they've started 'avin' them there fights at the Crown again.'

Maisie did not show any surprise as she scratched away at her elbow. 'I 'eard the same,' she said. 'Flo told me, though Gawd knows where she got it from. She reckons that Jake Mitch.e.l.l 'ad a fight there an' 'e nearly killed the ovver bloke.'

'What, that ugly-lookin' carman who works fer Galloway? 'Im wiv the flat nose an' cauliflower ear?' her friend queried.

'That's 'im.'

'Well, if we stand 'ere much longer we're gonna get the name o' gossip-mongers,' Aggie remarked as she straightened her ap.r.o.n.

Maisie chuckled as she stepped back into her pa.s.sageway. 'Mind 'ow yer go, Aggie, an' if I 'ear any more about you know who, I'll let yer know ...'

Chapter Twenty-six.

On 4th August 1914, the country was plunged into war.

'Once we get our soldiers out there it'll all be over in no time. I give it six months at the outside,' Alec Crossley the landlord of Page Street's little corner pub told his customers.

Harold Temple and Ernest Mycroft were sitting together with Fred Dougall and Daniel Sullivan around a table and they all nodded agreement. William Tanner was leaning against the counter next to Joe Maitland, Florrie Axford's lodger. He looked across at the group.

'I dunno so much,' he said pensively. 'If yer bin readin' the papers, yer'd see it's not that simple. Everybody's arguin' wiv everybody else. Accordin' ter what I've bin readin', all the countries 'ave signed pacts wiv each over an' it's a stone certainty they'll all be drawn inter the fight. I don't fink it's gonna be that easy. This war could go on fer years.'

Alec Crossley chuckled. 'Well, one fing yer can be sure of - there won't be a lack o' volunteers, what wiv all them poor bleeders who's scratchin' fer work. They'll be only too glad ter sign on. At least they'll get a bit o' food in their bellies.'

The landlord of the Kings Arms had prophesied correctly, for within days of the outbreak of war the recruiting offices around London were beleaguered by young men eager to get into the battle before it was all over. Recruiting sergeants were hard put to it to keep order. They smiled with benign tolerance at the volunteers and twiddled their waxed moustaches as they formed the jostling young men into single lines. 'Don't push an' shove, lads. Yer'll all get yer chance ter fight fer King an' Country. That's right, sign 'ere, lad. Well, all right then, jus' put yer mark alongside 'ere. No, I'm sorry, we can't give yer a rifle straight away. There's a medical ter go frew first.'

So it went on. The lines swelled with eager, bold and brash youngsters, and men who were not so young but still keen to get their names on the list. Many stood in line with disablements that would prevent their being allowed to don a uniform, but they stood with their fellows anyway. A man with one eye argued with the recruiting sergeant that he had all he needed to sight a rifle, and another man with a club foot told the sergeant that he could outwalk most of his pals any day. Men afflicted with coughs that wracked their thin bodies lined up with beefy men whose s.h.i.+rtsleeves were rolled up high on their arms. Men with trades, blacksmiths, wheelwrights and engineers, shuffled along behind men with no trade who had spent their adult lives in unskilled factory work or on the roads as labourers. Dockers stood beside clerks and shopworkers, stevedores rubbed shoulders with carmen, everyone laughing and elated now that their humdrum lives were suddenly being transformed.

'We'll be in France afore yer know it.'

'Wait till I tell my ole dutch. She'll be glad ter see the back o' me, that's fer sure.'