Читать книгу The Boy with the Latch Key - Cathy Sharp, Cathy Sharp - Страница 7

‘Where are you going?’ Rose O’Hanran asked her younger sister as she saw her putting on her boxy red jacket with the swing pleats at the back. ‘Not to meet that Billy Baggins I hope?’

‘Yes, I’m meeting Billy this evening. We’re going to the church social hall. It’s Rock ’n’ Roll night on Fridays. You know we go every week for that …’

Rose snorted her disapproval. She’d done her best to break the bond that had formed between Billy Baggins and Mary Ellen in the years they’d lived at St Saviour’s together. Sometimes, she wished that she’d never taken her sister there, but at the time she’d seemed to have little option. With their mother dying of consumption, Rose had needed to make a choice between staying in the slums to look after her young sister and never achieving her ambition, and putting Mary Ellen in the orphanage so that she could train as a nurse. She’d chosen the latter and it had been a good decision in every way but one.

‘I know that boy will never amount to anything,’ Rose grumbled at her. ‘I’ve told you, Mary Ellen, you could do a lot better.’

‘I love Billy,’ Mary Ellen said and looked rebellious. ‘You made me leave school and go to work as a seamstress and I did as you asked, but I’m not giving Billy up, whatever you say. He’s my friend and one day we’ll get married.’

‘And end up back in some grotty little terrace slum house?’ Rose was scornful. ‘Remember what happened to his brother …’

‘I’m not likely to forget, and nor is Billy,’ Mary Ellen retorted. Arthur Baggins was currently in prison serving the first of twenty years’ hard labour for armed robbery. He’d been released from prison six months previously, fallen in with a gang of rough types and ended up back in jail before he’d had time to catch his breath. ‘You’re wrong to think Billy is like his father or his brother. He works hard and he will get on, I know he will. He’s not going to be just a mechanic forever. One day he’ll drive the coaches as well and maybe he’ll own a garage …’

‘If ifs and ands were pots and pans, there’d be no need for tinker mans,’ Rose chanted, feeling irritated by Mary Ellen’s blind faith in the boy she’d befriended years ago. ‘If he ever amounts to anything I’ll go to China and back.’

‘Be careful, I might keep you to that,’ Mary Ellen laughed and swung her long brown hair back as she picked up her purse and slipped the loop over her wrist. She was dressed in a grey felt full skirt with several layers of net petticoats underneath, the waist nipped in tight with a wide red belt. Her flat shoes were red, and matched her jacket, and she had a red hairband holding her hair back from her face. Her hair wasn’t permed but had a natural bend and she had it cut every three months at the hairdresser near the market. Her lipstick was pale peach and she had a dusting of powder on her nose and cheeks, but didn’t wear a foundation. Because her complexion was so clear, Mary Ellen hardly needed make-up at all, as Rose was always telling her, but she couldn’t stop her because at seventeen she was old enough to know her own mind in most things. ‘I shan’t be later than half past ten.’ She popped a kiss on Rose’s cheek and picked up her scarf, going towards the door.

One good thing about Mary Ellen’s job was that she got a decent discount on all she bought from the factory. Of course she was capable of making her own clothes, and quite often made up a skirt or a shift dress in a night for Rose. There were sometimes offcuts of material left over at the factory, not enough to make a whole garment, but with a bit of skill Mary Ellen turned them into rather fetching and original outfits. Sam, her boss at the factory, had told her she could have these scraps of material cheap, sometimes for nothing, but offcuts were popular with all the seamstresses so Mary Ellen had to take her turn with the others. It meant she had several pretty dresses and skirts to wear, and she’d made sure Rose benefitted too.

‘I’ll give you something for them,’ Rose had offered when Mary Ellen made her a summer skirt and matching bolero jacket, but she refused, saying that Rose had done plenty for her. Her generosity made Rose feel uneasy at times, because she’d always treated Mary Ellen as a duty. For years she’d begrudged the time she’d had to give up to visit her sister and she hadn’t bothered about finding a place to rent where she could have her sister to live with her until it suited her. When the new high-rise flats went up, Rose had known they were for her. Situated a short bus ride from the hospital, where she was now Sister O’Hanran, at reasonable rent and with three bedrooms, it was perfect for them. Although, if she could’ve got a smaller flat she would have taken that; they didn’t need the extra room and Mary Ellen had plagued her to let Billy have it for weeks, until she’d finally given up.

‘I shall be out myself this evening,’ Rose said, capitulating, because she couldn’t forbid Mary Ellen to go to the club when she herself was meeting some friends from work – and one friend in particular. ‘I’ll be home by eleven, so make sure you’re back by then or there will be trouble.’

‘’Course, Rose,’ Mary Ellen’s eyes twinkled with laughter, and Rose was struck by how pretty she looked. For years she’d thought of her as a kid, but she was very definitely a young woman with thoughts and ideas of her own now. ‘I shan’t do anything you wouldn’t …’

She danced off laughing and Rose frowned as she returned to the bedroom to continue dressing. As she fetched the new dress her sister had recently made for her, Rose was feeling excited. Mike Bonner was the registrar for one of the senior consultants at the London Hospital. Rose had admired him from afar for some time now, but although he always smiled when he came to her ward, she hadn’t thought he was interested. This evening he’d asked her to be one of the crowd he’d invited to share his birthday celebrations at a rather smart restaurant that had just opened up West. She would have to catch a bus to get there and that meant coming home alone late at night, which she wasn’t keen on, but it would be worth it if Mike Bonner finally noticed her …

‘Ellie, you look gorgeous,’ Billy said and kissed Mary Ellen softly on the lips as they met at the bus stop. He’d waited outside the youth club for her bus to arrive and it was still chilly in the evenings yet, even though it was April. ‘And you smell delicious – I could eat every bit of you.’

Mary Ellen smiled and touched his hair. Thankfully, Billy didn’t smother his hair with Brylcreem, as some men did, but allowed it to spring up in the same unruly style it always had. The colour was still a riotous red and she was glad, because she didn’t want him to be any other way than the way he was. Without Billy, Mary Ellen knew she would never have made it through the dark days after Rose abandoned her in the orphanage eight years previously.

‘Have you found anywhere to live yet?’ Mary Ellen asked as they joined the queue for the Rock ’n’ Roll club, which was held in St Mary’s church hall and supervised by the man who ran the youth club. The youth club had been started three years earlier by Father Joe, the Catholic priest who had organised so many events for St Saviour’s Orphanage and other kids. After he’d left London to go and work in a mission in Africa for two years, another clergyman had come to take over. He told the kids to call him Peter, and he was an Anglican curate in his first post in Spitalfields. Peter Simmons was involved with many activities for children, and popular with the teenagers who visited the club, because of his easy-going nature. He was keen on rugby and rowing and a member of the same athletics club that Billy frequented at least twice a week and together they’d organised a football team for the local kids, both those from St Saviour’s and any other kids who loved to play. There was no shortage of volunteers, because belonging to a club that played matches was better than kicking a ball about the streets.

‘I went to see a couple of rooms near Assembly Lane yesterday evening,’ Billy said, looking rueful. ‘They were awful and the whole place stank of old cabbage. You would’ve hated it, love. I’m still looking …’

‘I know you are,’ Mary Ellen said and squeezed his hand. ‘I got a rise today – another five bob a week. If we were married we might get a flat somewhere, because with my money we could afford it.’

‘Rose would never let you, not unless I could prove I can keep you, Mary Ellen. You know what she thinks of me … a waster like my brother.’

‘You’re nothing like Arthur,’ Mary Ellen fired up. ‘I’ve told her so many times but she doesn’t listen. She thinks I’m still a kid but I’m not … I’ll be eighteen this Sep-tember and you’ll soon be nineteen; neither of us is a kid now.’

‘No, you’re a real woman, my woman,’ Billy said and slid his arm about her waist, ‘but unfortunately, Rose can stop us gettin’ married until you’re twenty-one. It ain’t fair, because we can drive at seventeen, fight for our country and drink in the pub at eighteen – but we can’t marry until we’re twenty-one without permission. The bloomin’ government should change the law, but what do they know? I’d have to get round Sister B – but that’s a doddle …’ He grinned. ‘Shall I get us a coffee while you take your coat off?’

‘Yes, all right – listen, I love this one. It’s Bill Haley …’

‘Yeah, one of my favourites,’ Billy agreed. He shrugged off his old and much-worn leather bomber jacket, which he’d bought from Petticoat Lane and believed to have belonged to a fighter pilot in the war, and gave it to her. ‘Stick this with yours, love?’

‘’Course,’ Mary Ellen said and took the two jackets through to the cloakroom to hang on a peg. She paused for a moment to fluff her hair up in front of the mirror and then jumped as someone grabbed her arm. Turning, she looked at the girl who’d caught hold of her and smiled in pleasure. ‘Marion! I haven’t seen you for weeks. Where have you been?’

‘My boss at Woolworth’s sent me away for training. I’m a senior adviser on the counters, and windows, supervising how they look, and the girls on them; I’m getting six pounds a week now …’

‘Lucky you,’ Mary Ellen said, half envious. She still wasn’t earning that much, even after she’d been given her rise. ‘I think I’m going to pack in my job and start on at Woolworth’s.’

‘You wouldn’t get as much as me,’ Marion said. ‘It’s about three pounds ten shillings or even less for new-comers.’

‘Oh … that wouldn’t be as much as what I’m getting now,’ Mary Ellen said, feeling disappointed. If she could have earned as much as Marion, she might have been able to afford her own house with Billy, always supposing Rose would let her get married.

‘Six pounds sounds a lot,’ Marion said, ‘but I’m struggling to find a decent room I can afford. If I go out a few times a week and eat three meals a day it doesn’t leave anything much over for clothes – at least you get discount on yours, Mary Ellen.’

‘Yes, I do,’ she agreed. ‘How much are you paying for your room then?’

‘Three quid with breakfast and evening meal,’ Marion said. ‘You’re lucky you’ve got a sister. When I left St Saviour’s I had to stay in a hostel for girls like me; it was much cheaper but it was awful, worse than being an orphan. All the rules … and the beds were hard and the toilets were filthy …’

‘I bet Rose would let you move in with us for less than you’re paying,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘She charges me twenty-five bob a week for board and all my food …’

‘But you’re her sister,’ Marion pointed out. ‘I wouldn’t mind giving her two pounds a week if she would have me.’

‘I’ll ask her,’ Mary Ellen promised. ‘I think she would be glad for you to share the rent. It makes it easier for her, and we can help with the chores and cooking. Rose gets tired sometimes when she’s on late shifts. If they’re short of nurses she sometimes has to do longer hours.’

‘Is Billy with you?’ Marion asked as they left the cloakroom together. ‘I came with Jill from work. She’s on the cosmetic counter and gets a lot of free samples when the salesmen come round. They think she can influence the buyers, but of course our stuff is all ordered from head office. Jill only gives advice as to what is selling and what isn’t …’

‘I like that Tangee lipstick,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘They’ve got some lovely colours and it stays on well.’

‘Do you like this scent?’ Marion leaned nearer for her to smell. ‘It’s Lily of the Valley and Jill gave it to me – the last of the bottle. She’s got a new one … Evening in Paris …’

‘Yes, it’s all right,’ Mary Ellen said, not liking it but not wanting to offend her. ‘Billy got me some Elizabeth Arden perfume for last Christmas; it’s lovely …’

‘I can smell it,’ Marion agreed, looking a bit envious. ‘Did that skirt come from your workshop?’

‘Yes, but I made the net petticoats myself. If you come round one night I’ll show you some of my stuff, Marion. We could get some material cheap on the market and I’ll make a skirt and petticoats for you, too.’

‘Will you really?’ Marion looked pleased. ‘If Jill gets any of those lipsticks you like free, I’ll ask her for one for you …’

Billy stood up as the girls approached. ‘I’ve got a coffee for us, Ellie. Marion, I can get one for you if you like?’

‘No, thanks, Billy,’ Marion said, giving him a flirtatious look. ‘I’m with a friend – but you can ask me for a dance later, if you like?’

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘I expect you’ll be busy all night once you start …’

Billy shrugged apologetically as Marion swayed off, her hips moving enticingly. You’d never know now that as a child her leg had been badly broken and for a while she’d walked with a limp. ‘We were all mates at St Saviour’s,’ he said. ‘I suppose she thinks she can say things like that … but she knows we’re together …’

‘Marion fancies you,’ Mary Ellen said, feeling a twinge of jealousy, which she instantly quashed. Billy was good looking – not handsome, but rugged because of all the sport – and he had a nice open face. She knew there were plenty of other girls who fancied Billy but she also knew that he loved her.

Mary Ellen hadn’t wanted to work in the clothing manufacturers’ workshops. She still wanted to teach children, but Rose had put paid to her dreams when she’d made her leave school at fifteen and start on as an apprentice. She was well aware that life didn’t always give you what you wanted; she’d learned that when she was very young and her mother died, but she’d got more of the good things than most, because she had a steady job working for a boss she liked, and she’d got Billy – and when she was twenty-one they would marry, no matter what Rose thought, but that was such a long time to wait …

‘Feel like a shuffle round the floor?’ Billy asked as she finished her coffee.

Mary Ellen was on her feet straight away. They’d both learned to jive at the youth club, and Billy was really good. Because he was tall and strong, he could toss her over his shoulder and round his waist with ease, and the way he pulled her through his legs and then threw her in the air and caught her usually drew a crowd of watchers, who often applauded when they’d finished. Billy was unusual in that he’d learned the steps properly; his kicks and flicks were sharp and fast and he bounced high in time to the music. Mary Ellen was always out of breath by the time they finished, but Billy never seemed to turn a hair. It wasn’t surprising that he had a following of young women who eyed him longingly.

‘Listen,’ she said as they sat down again. ‘They’ve put a Guy Mitchell record on now – “My Heart Cries for You”. Oh, I love that, Billy. Come on, dance this one with me please.’

‘It’s not Rock ’n’ Roll,’ Billy objected, but Mary Ellen was on her feet, offering him her hand, and he couldn’t refuse. She moved into his arms and they did a slow rhythmic shuffle around the floor, her face pressed against his shoulder and his touching her hair. ‘You smell lovely. I really love you, Ellie – you know that, don’t you?’

Mary Ellen looked up at him and smiled, feeling the warmth of her happiness spread through her as she saw the expression on his face. ‘Yes, I know. I love you too, Billy.’

‘I want us to be married soon,’ Billy said. ‘If I could afford a place of our own, would you say yes?’

‘You know I want to,’ she said, the happy feeling fading. ‘Rose just won’t let us. You know what she is like.’

‘Yes, she hates me …’

‘She doesn’t hate you,’ Mary Ellen denied quickly. ‘She just thinks I’m too young, Billy, and perhaps I am – but in a year or so she’ll get fed up saying no. I’ll keep on at her until she just wants to get rid of me …’

Billy laughed, bent his head and kissed her. ‘This is almost like making love in public,’ he remarked softly as she responded by pressing herself against him. ‘We’d better be careful or Peter will throw us out …’

Mary Ellen laughed, because they weren’t the only ones smooching, and many of the couples would be going outside for a kiss and maybe more before the evening was over. A lot of the girls had difficulty in fighting off their boyfriends’ eager hands, but she’d never had that trouble. Billy sometimes told her he wanted her and kissed her passionately, but he didn’t try to persuade her into doing anything silly.

‘I don’t want us ending up in a slum tenement,’ he’d told her once when she’d been reluctant to break up their embrace. ‘I love you, and I want you – you don’t know how much, Mary Ellen – but I want us to be married properly, because we want to, not because we have to get married in a rush. If you have a baby at seventeen, you’ll never have any fun …’

‘Oh, I don’t know, it might not be such a bad idea. Rose couldn’t say no then, could she?’

‘She would never forgive us,’ he said shaking his head. ‘No, your sister has some daft ways, but she’s respectable and I want her to know I am too. I’m not going to get you into trouble, Ellie love.’

When he called her Ellie like that Mary Ellen’s stomach went all funny and she felt like melting. Several of the girls she’d known at school were already married and had a child, and sometimes she envied them – and yet somewhere buried deep inside her was the determination to make something of herself, to be more than just a girl who worked in the rag trade.

‘I’m going to night school,’ she announced when they sat down at their table again with the fresh coffees Billy had bought. ‘I’m going to try and sit my GCEs so that I can train as a teacher …’

Billy looked stunned for a moment, then, ‘Is that what you really want? To be a teacher? You know it will take ages doing it that way, don’t you?’

Mary Ellen nodded, the doubts already beginning to crowd in on her. She wasn’t sure why she’d suddenly made up her mind to do it, though she’d been thinking perhaps she might for ages.

‘I might not be good enough, but I think I should try – don’t you?’

For a moment he didn’t answer and her heart sank. Rose was going to be against her, and if Billy also said it was daft she didn’t think she would be strong enough to proceed on her own.

‘I think if it’s what you really want you should try,’ Billy said a little reluctantly. ‘It means I shan’t see so much of you …’

‘I’ll only go twice a week,’ Mary Ellen offered, but she knew it wasn’t just the evening classes. She would have to study hard if she wanted to pass the exams she needed to for teaching college. If Billy had objected she would probably have given in immediately, but he nodded and looked sad.

‘I wish I could get the sort of job that would support us both through you going to college and all of it,’ he said. ‘If I’d got that job with the railways …’

‘Sister Beatrice said you had to take an apprenticeship, and the railway wouldn’t offer you anything, because you were too young,’ Mary Ellen reminded him. ‘Rose was the same with me. They think they know best and they make us do what they want … and it isn’t fair …’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Billy agreed. ‘This is 1955 and we’re young. We’re the future, Mary Ellen. I may not get to be a train driver, but I don’t see why you shouldn’t train as a teacher if you want.’

‘Really?’ She looked at him earnestly. ‘You won’t get angry and throw me over if I can’t always do what you want?’

‘I’d never do that, Ellie. Surely you know there’s never been anyone else for me?’

‘Yes, of course I do,’ she said and clasped his hand, her fingers entwining with his. ‘I love you so much, Billy. I just feel we have to do something with our lives. Do you remember what Miss Angela used to tell us about looking up and reaching for what seemed beyond our reach? We were so eager when we had our teams and earned stars for a trip to the zoo or the flicks. I felt as if I’d lost something when I had to start working in the factory. Oh, I like Sam; he’s a dear and almost like a father to us girls, but I want something better for us – and our children.’

Billy’s eyes were fixed on her face. Their colour seemed intensely green rather than the greenish hazel they usually were; she’d noticed before that they changed colour when he was passionate about something. He had so much life, so much eagerness in him, that she knew he must be frustrated in his job too.

‘I want it too, Mary Ellen,’ he said and his voice sounded guttural as if emotion caught at his throat. ‘I get so mad at times because I can’t do the things I want – can’t give you the life you deserve …’

‘I don’t want things,’ she tried to explain, but knew he didn’t really understand. Mary Ellen didn’t want to better herself because of the money; it was for self- respect, for making life fuller and richer. ‘It’s just that … oh, I suppose it’s a better world for everyone …’

Billy nodded, but she knew he still didn’t see it the way she did. A better world to Billy meant a decent house, good wages and kids that didn’t have to go to school in bare feet and trousers with their backsides hanging out. For Mary Ellen it was more, but she couldn’t explain the mixed-up feelings inside her. She laughed suddenly. What was she thinking? She already had a better life than her mother’s, but there was something inside her that questioned. Surely after the terrible war they’d all endured there should be something more …

After seeing her safely home, Billy was thoughtful as he left Mary Ellen. He kicked at an abandoned pop bottle, feeling moody and unsettled. It was all his fault for letting himself be pushed into a dead-end job. Mary Ellen was right when she said she wanted a better life for them and their kids. He wanted it too, but he didn’t know how to achieve it.

‘Where yer goin’ then, Billy?’

The voice made him pause and then turn reluctantly, because he recognised Stevie Baker from school. He wasn’t one of St Saviour’s kids; his father worked on the Docks and his mother was a waitress in a greasy spoon café. Stevie had left school at fourteen and started work as a labourer for the council. Yet as he looked at his one-time school friend, he saw that Stevie was wearing clothes that proclaimed him as a Teddy boy and, by the look of his jacket, smart drainpipe trousers and thick-soled suede shoes, he’d paid a small fortune for what he was wearing. His jacket was blue, the trousers black and the shoes dark blue. The thin tie he wore with his frilled shirt was also black; like a girl’s hair ribbon but held by a silver clip. His hair had been brushed together at the back in a DA and he could’ve passed for one of Billy’s Rock ’n’ Roll heroes if he hadn’t known him.

‘Home,’ he said in answer to Stevie’s question. ‘I’ve been down the club and now I’m going home.’

‘You still livin’ at that dump?’ Stevie sneered. ‘I should’ve thought you couldn’t wait to get out of that place. It gives me the creeps just to look at it – more like a prison than a home. Mum says it used to be the old fever ’ospital, where they sent folks to die …’

‘It’s all right inside,’ Billy said, defending the home that had given him sanctuary. ‘I can’t afford a room on what I earn as an apprentice – not if I want to save for the future.’

‘More fool you then,’ Stevie crowed. ‘You want ter come down the Blue Angel if you want to see life – and they’re always after blokes to help chuck out the rough element. Ask for Tony and he’ll give yer a job, mate.’

Billy knew about the nightclub and its unsavoury reputation. He’d always steered clear of places like that, but now he was curious. ‘Is that where you earn your money then?’

‘Yeah, that and other places,’ Stevie said, avoiding his eyes. ‘Think about it, mate. I can help yer get some money if you’re willin’ ter work fer it and keep yer mouth shut.’

‘I’m not my brother, and I don’t steal,’ Billy said. ‘I wouldn’t mind an honest job, though.’

‘Plenty of stuff goin’ if you’re not too fussy – I don’t mean thievin’ either.’ Stevie grinned at him. ‘I’ll see yer around then, Billy. One of these days you’ll realise the bastards grind us all down unless we stand up for ourselves …’

Billy stared after him as he walked away. He might envy Stevie his smart clothes and wish he could afford something similar, but he wasn’t willing to do anything dishonest. Arthur had gone down that road, and Billy had vowed he never would. No, he just had to find himself a better job … and soon …