Читать книгу Coronation Day - Kay Brellend - Страница 8

‘You look like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.’ Matilda tapped Kathleen Murphy’s cold nose playfully with a finger.

‘Hello, Mrs Keiver.’ Noreen Murphy gave Matilda a smile. ‘It’s bitter today, isn’t it?’ She pulled her daughter’s hat down further over her ears then adjusted the collar of Kathleen’s coat in an attempt to shield her cheeks from the sharp breeze.

‘About time we had a bit more sunshine to warm us up now it’s April,’ Matilda said, clapping together her gloved palms. She’d been shopping for vegetables in the market when she’d spied Noreen pushing a pram and had ambled over to talk to her. Asleep inside the pram, swaddled to the chin with a woollen shawl, was baby Rosie. Little Kathleen was sitting on top of the coverlet, holding onto the handle to keep her balance, her little legs, bare above her socks, mottled purple with cold.

‘You off home now?’ Matilda asked. She’d noticed that a bag containing a very few potatoes was pegged on the pram handle, but Noreen seemed to be heading back in the direction of The Bunk.

Noreen nodded.

‘I’ll walk with you. I’m done here too.’ Matilda fell in step with her neighbour. ‘Has your husband had any luck finding a job?’ Matilda had bumped into Noreen earlier in the week and discovered that Kieran Murphy was scratching around for work. Noreen had told her that since they’d turned up in The Bunk he’d only managed to pick up a bit of poorly paid casual labouring but wanted something permanent.

‘He’s out looking now,’ Noreen sighed. She slanted a quick look at Matilda. ‘Don’t think I’m being cheeky, will you now, Mrs Keiver, but I remember you said your nephews were working on the demolition in the road, and I was wondering whether they might need an extra hand? Kieran’s a good hard worker.’ She praised her husband.

‘Not sure if they do, luv, but it’s always worth havin’ a word. Tell Kieran to ask for Stephen or Christopher, they’re the foremen in charge.’ In fact Matilda knew her nephew, Robert, who owned the firm, considered Wild Brothers to be already overstaffed. She’d heard him grumbling about his lack of profits and too many wage packets to be found at the end of the week. ‘How about the Irish gang working along there? Has your Kieran asked them for a shift or two?’

‘He thinks they’re up to no good, and I do too,’ Noreen said quietly, wiping little Kathleen’s runny nose with a hanky. ‘We’ve heard them talking … troublemaking …’ She broke off to rub at her daughter’s chapped knees as Kathleen whimpered she was feeling cold.

‘I reckon it’s wise to give ’em a wide berth ’n’ all,’ Matilda agreed with a nod. ‘But being sensible don’t help put grub on the table, do it?’

Noreen grimaced wryly at that.

‘You thought of getting yourself a little job of some sort?’ Matilda asked kindly. She guessed Noreen Murphy was about Christopher’s age: mid-twenties. She was an attractive young woman with the same long black tresses and large grey eyes as her eldest daughter. But she made no effort with her looks. Her hair was simply scraped back into a straggly bun and her pretty features were pale and permanently set in an expression of exhaustion. Matilda guessed Kieran was probably the same age as his wife yet he looked equally haggard and a decade older.

‘I think about a job a lot, but that’s all I do.’ Noreen gave Matilda a skewed smile. ‘Kieran’s not keen on me finding work. He thinks it’s his place to provide for us.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s all fine and noble but it’s an attitude that don’t feed and clothe kids. Sometimes it takes the two of yers pullin’ in a wage to make a decent life. If he ain’t having any luck finding work, perhaps you might do a bit better.’

‘I’ve said the same thing to him, and we always end up having a row about it, Mrs Keiver.’

‘Call me Matilda, we’re neighbours after all, and if you change yer mind I know of a woman down Tufnell Park way who’s looking fer a cleanin’ lady. I know she’s alright ’cos I used to do a bit of charring for her mum, in me time.’

The baby coughed and mewed plaintively and Matilda leaned forward to look in the pram. ‘Want to get that little ’un along to the doctor, don’t you …’

‘She’s fine … she teeths with a bit of bronchitis, that’s all it is,’ Noreen said quickly. ‘I have linctus at home.’

They turned into Whadcoat Street and ambled along in amiable quiet. As they drew close to the shop Matilda said, ‘Better go ’n’ pay something off me tab at Smithie’s. Miserable old git’ll be after me otherwise. You take care of yerselves …’ Having ruffled Kathleeen’s hair Matilda set off across the road.

‘Ain’t you had enough of hanging around in this stinking hole all week?’

‘You don’t have to hang about here if you don’t want to.’ Christopher ignored his friend’s scowl and blew into his cupped palms to warm them. Despite the approach of spring a light sleet was descending and treacherously coating the pavement so he trod carefully in his smart leather shoes and stuffed his hands into his pockets to protect them from an icy breeze. He came to a halt in front of his aunt’s dilapidated house. Once the door had been painted bottle green but now only a few flakes of colour clung to the splintery wood. Christopher turned to Ted Potts. He’d tried to shake him off earlier so he could visit his aunt on his own. ‘Why don’t you go and knock Vic up.’ He jerked his head, hoping to hurry Ted on his way. ‘I’ll meet you both at the dog track at about seven o’clock.’

‘Nah … ’s’alright.’ Ted gave a martyred sigh. ‘I’m here now, ain’t I. I’ll stick around with you.’ He didn’t relish going into this fleapit to see Christopher’s great-aunt, yet neither did he want to go to Vic’s home. If Vic’s wife were about he’d get an ear-bashing for luring Vic off out. Deirdre kept tabs on Vic and, considering that they’d only been married two years, and Vic had already been caught out with another woman, it wasn’t surprising.

‘Go on …’ Christopher twitched his head again. But his friend seemed content to slouch against the doorjamb and fiddle with a penknife. Once he had it open he started idly cleaning his nails. Christopher scowled and raised a hand to hammer on the door. A window above was shoved up and he stepped back to grin at the wrinkled face, edged by two plaited grey buns, peering out.

‘That you, Chris? Come on up. Door’s open,’ Matilda called down. ‘See you’ve brought yer mate with yer.’

‘Alright up there, Mrs K?’ Ted Potts called in greeting, a wonky fag wagging between his lips. ‘Brass monkeys out here, it is.’

‘Got the kettle on,’ Matilda informed them before ramming home the sash in its frame.

The two young men proceeded into a dingy damp hallway and up some perilously rickety stairs. Very few of the spindles remained and the handrail shuddered when touched. On the first-floor landing a door stood open and Christopher and Ted filed into Matilda’s home.

It never failed to amaze Ted why anyone would choose to continue living here now that the Council was clearing the street and re-housing people elsewhere. But Christopher had told him that his aunt would hang on in her first-floor room till she was forced out. Chris had said in an odd way he understood Matilda’s hankering to grip onto her past.

At present Matilda was the only person occupying this particular tenement house and Christopher had urged her to spread out a bit and make use of a couple of the other rooms too. The rent would be the same for one room or all nine of them. Mr Keane, the landlord, was glad to get paid anything at all. Over half of the properties in the street were now empty and producing no income for their owners. The worst examples had been abandoned completely by the freeholders.

But Matilda’s view was that it was easier, in the winter months, for a person living alone to keep cosy in a small space. So she lived, slept, ate in a single first-floor front room, much as she had for a good part of her life. Fortunately, in a road of derelict houses she’d found one that was slightly better than the rest. Most had never been connected to electricity but she’d managed to get a property where she could plug in her precious wireless that had been a Christmas gift from her nephew, Rob.

‘Kettle’s just boiled,’ Matilda said. ‘Who’s fer tea?’

There was no response to her offer because both her nephew and his friend were staring at the little girl sitting on the bed, chewing on a biscuit. The child gave them both a shy smile then ducked her face behind a curtain of long ebony hair.

Matilda grunted a laugh. ‘Say hello to Kathleen, you two. I’m keepin’ an eye on her for Noreen while she’s off out doing a bit of cleaning to earn herself a couple o’ bob.’

‘I thought the Murphys had two little ’uns,’ Chris said, recovering from the surprise of seeing his aunt doing a spot of babysitting.

‘Noreen’s taken Rosie with her in the pram. She’s not walking yet and still sleeps a lot, so ain’t a problem. But this little one gets fed up waiting fer her mum to finish work, don’t yer, Kathleen?’

Kathleen nodded her small head. ‘You’d sooner come and sit with yer Auntie Matilda, wouldn’t yer? Like me biscuits, don’t yer …’ She gave the child an affectionate grin. ‘Anyhow I know your daddy’s home now ’cos I saw him walking up the street out the window. So do you want to go home or wait for Mummy to fetch you?’

Kathleen slanted a peek at Ted. ‘Home …’ she whispered.

Chris burst out laughing. ‘That’s your ugly mug scared her off. Told you to go off to Vince’s, didn’t I …’

‘Take her back home fer us, Chris, would you, and I’ll make the tea.’

‘Me aunt saw you were back so asked me to drop Kathleen off home.’ Chris had been holding the little girl’s hand, but as Kieran Murphy cautiously opened the door to him, he offered it to her father to take.

Kieran Murphy continued staring at him, looking shocked. ‘Mrs Keiver’s been minding Kathleen?’

‘Yeah … while Noreen’s at work, didn’t you know?’ Chris could see the fellow’s freckled cheeks reddening in embarrassment or anger.

‘Please tell your aunt thank you very much,’ Kieran returned stiffly, drawing his daughter to his side. He was about to shut the door but quickly stepped forward before Chris had gone too far. ‘You work for Wild Brothers, don’t you. I’ve seen you driving one of their vans.’

Chris retraced his steps. ‘Yeah, I’m Chris Wild.’

‘Is there any work going at all?’

Chris stuffed his hands in his pockets. He’d had a feeling he was soon going to have this question fired at him by Kieran Murphy. He’d seen the fellow watching them working, trying to pluck up the courage to come over and ask for a job. And now he was going to have to disappoint him.

‘Sorry,’ he grimaced ruefully. ‘If me guvnor had his way he’d put someone off.’

Kieran gave a crisp nod and retreated back inside, mumbling his thanks.

‘That tea brewed?’ Christopher, now back at Matilda’s, pulled out a chair, parking himself at the battered planked table.

‘Not fer me, thanks, Mrs K,’ Ted said quickly, having noted the grimy chips on some cups in an enamel bowl. He was seated on a chair that was losing its stuffing and was glad Chris had quickly returned from taking the kid home because he’d run out of small talk with Matilda. He gazed about at old mismatched furniture that he knew his parents would have been embarrassed to put out for the dustmen to cart off. The iron bedstead shoved in the corner was strewn with tatty clothes and other odds and ends. A large oval mirror in a gilt frame hung on the wall, above the hob grate where the kettle was puffing steam, and was reflecting Ted’s expression of distaste back at him.

‘So how you lads doing up the other end?’ Matilda asked cheerily.

The last time she’d entered the demolition zone where the lads were working had been when she’d felt compelled to join her nephews in commiserating about the king’s death.

She set two cups and saucers on the table and gave the teapot a swirl to mix the leaves then tested the brew by pouring a few drops. It looked strong enough so she filled the cups and dripped milk from a half-empty bottle into them before handing one to Christopher.

‘Had another fight with the Paddies the other day,’ Ted conversationally told Matilda, ignoring Christopher’s quelling look. He took a peer in the biscuit box Matilda had stuck under his nose and selected a digestive. ‘Pikeys got a right good kicking, Mrs K …’ He blushed. ‘No offence, o’ course …’ He’d just remembered that Matilda’s second husband, Reg Donovan, had been a didicoi. And she also seemed fond of the Murphy family.

‘My Reg knew what he was,’ Matilda said with a fond smile, settling down at the table opposite her nephew. ‘You lot better make sure you keep yer wits about you if there’s punches getting thrown. Make sure yer dad keeps out of it,’ Matilda told Christopher, wagging a finger close to his face. ‘Stevie’s getting on a bit and shouldn’t be getting into scraps with younger men.’

‘Don’t you let me dad hear you say that, ’cos he still reckons he’s a bit of an ’andful, y’know.’ Joking aside, Christopher knew his aunt was right; his father should steer clear of getting involved in the worsening feud. But, worryingly, Stevie was allowing himself to get wound up by the Irishmen, and Declan O’Connor in particular.

‘Must be bleedin’ hard on you, having to work with them close by, but just ignore ’em best you can.’ Having given her concise advice Matilda drank some tea. ‘Wage packet at the end of the week’s what matters.’

‘Right ’n’ all, Mrs K,’ Ted stoutly agreed, and helped himself to another biscuit out of the box on the table.

A quiet descended on the musty room and Matilda turned up her paraffin lamp as it was a gloomy late afternoon. She twiddled the knob on the wireless set and some Light Programme music increased in volume. ‘Was listening to them talking about the Coronation Day plans just as you knocked,’ she explained. ‘Prince Philip’s the Chairman of the Commission doin’ all the arranging. It’s a while off till the big day but I’m reckoning on us all having a good old knees-up next June. Time’ll fly by till then.’ She paused, looked reflective. ‘Don’t seem five minutes since the old king died but it’s well over a month since he took his final journey to Windsor. All done for him now, God rest him.’

Christopher and Ted murmured agreement.

‘Speakin’ of George, bless him, I never told you, did I, that I went up to the palace on the day of his death,’ Matilda suddenly announced. ‘I stood around by the gates with all the other people. Should’ve seen the crowds up there! Couldn’t hardly get a foot on the pavement for somebody bumping you off again. Very sad atmosphere, it was; men and women crying their eyes out. Got a bit tearful meself, I don’t mind admitting. Lots of cars were going in and out of the gates …’ She broke off her rattling description to exclaim, with an emphasising thump on the table, ‘Guess who I saw there! Surprised me, I can tell you!’

‘Well, it weren’t the king,’ Ted weakly joked then fidgeted in embarrassment.

Christopher glowered at him. Like the majority of people, himself included, he knew Matilda was fiercely proud of late King George and wouldn’t appreciate tasteless mockery. ‘Who did you see?’ he asked his aunt.

‘Shirley Coleman and her daughter, Grace. They’d gone there as well to pay their respects.’

‘Thought the Colemans had gone to Suffolk,’ Christopher remarked, dunking his digestive in his tea.

‘No! They moved to Surrey. Grace and her brother Paul got evacuated there to a farm. Then Shirley went that way ’n’ all to live close to them when Wilf joined up.’

‘Oh … right,’ Christopher said and took a gulp from his cup.

‘Anyhow they’re back living in Tottenham … White Hart Lane way. And Grace’s got a good job in the City as a typist.’

‘What about old man Coleman?’ Ted joined the conversation. ‘Old Wilf were a bit of a miserable git as I recall. Used to play knock down ginger on him, didn’t we, Chris?’ He leaned forward to give Christopher’s arm a nudge. ‘Not that he ever stirred hisself to open the door. It was always his missus chasing us up the road, weren’t it?’

‘Oh, Wilf died some years ago. Never recovered from his war injuries, so Shirley said.’

The two young men exchanged a suitably solemn look.

‘Pretty girl, she is.’ Matilda gave her nephew a wink. ‘I remember you brought her here once or twice.’ She chuckled to herself. ‘She seemed surprised to know I still live here.’

‘Everybody’s surprised to know you still live here, Aunt Til,’ Christopher returned dryly.

‘Suits me,’ Tilly returned brusquely but with a twitch of a smile. After a silence she added, ‘You two look smart.’ She studied her nephew and his friend. They were both wearing sharp dark suits. But it was Christopher who redrew her admiring glance, and not just because he was her kin. He had a tall, muscular frame that suited the outfit whereas Ted was short and overweight.

The Wild men had always been handsome; even Chris’s evil, long-departed grandfather, Jimmy, who Matilda had despised, had been a looker in his day. Christopher’s lean, angular face, deep brown eyes and thick dark hair got him a lot of attention from the girls. In fact Matilda was surprised he hadn’t been snapped up long ago. But her great-nephew seemed in no rush, at twenty-four, to give up life as a bachelor, even though some of his friends were now settling down.

‘Where you off to then, all dolled up?’ Tilly asked.

‘Me ’n’ Ted ’n’ Vic are going to Harringay Stadium then to the Starlight Rooms,’ Chris explained.

‘Don’t you go wasting yer money!’ Matilda mockingly rebuked. ‘You know I don’t hold with drinkin’ ’n’ gamblin’!’

Christopher grinned at that. It was common knowledge in the family that his great-aunt Matilda had been a very heavy drinker and a bookie’s runner in her time.

Christopher drew out his cigarettes and offered the pack to Ted. He knew his aunt had never smoked, which he found quite a surprise as she’d had plenty of other vices. Having lit up and taken a long drag he settled back. ‘Any more tea in that pot?’

‘Make a fresh lot if there ain’t,’ Matilda offered, giving the pot a shake.

Christopher was aware of his friend slanting an irritated look at him. Ted was eager to get going and Chris was equally eager to get shot of him. In fact he wished Ted hadn’t accompanied him to his aunt’s because he’d wanted to speak to her in private about something. But Ted could be thick-skinned, and not easy to shake off, when he had nothing else to do.

‘Why don’t you get off now, mate? I’m stopping a bit for another cup of tea with me Aunt Til. Didn’t realise it was getting on.’ Christopher very obviously checked his watch.

‘Yeah … will do,’ Ted mumbled. He’d had enough sitting around in Matilda’s shithole. He got up with much shaking of his trouser legs and polished his shoes on the backs of his shins. ‘See yer then, Mrs K. Thanks fer the biscuits.’

‘Mind how you go, son,’ Matilda called as he closed the door. ‘What’s on your mind, Chris?’ she asked as soon as they were alone.

Christopher darted a look at her and shrugged, thinking she could be too cute and blunt at times. His aunt had realised straight away he had an ulterior motive in getting rid of Ted, but he’d not yet worked out how to go about things. What he wanted to talk about had always been a taboo subject in their family. ‘Just wondering what you can tell me about me mum,’ he blurted out.

Matilda dropped her eyes to her cup. She hadn’t been expecting that! It had been some years since Christopher had last quizzed her over his mother, and she’d thought she’d satisfied him that she’d nothing more to reveal. ‘What is it you want to know about yer mum that I ain’t already told you?’ she asked levelly.

‘Well, that’s just it … nobody’s really told me anything much about her.’ Christopher made an effort not to sound as if he was blaming anyone. ‘Dad won’t tell me nuthin’. Bleedin’ hell, wanted me to think she was dead for years and years, didn’t he!’ He gestured in annoyance. ‘You know what he’s like. He just clams up and gets narky soon as I mention her.’

‘Well … that’s understandable. They’ve been divorced a very long time, y’know. Weren’t married fer long in the first place.’

‘Yeah, I know; but I don’t see why he won’t even talk about her,’ Christopher insisted, his voice rising. ‘Ain’t I allowed to know anything other than her name was Pamela Plummer and they was only married a very short time?’

‘’Course you are,’ Matilda soothed gruffly. ‘But it were all a long time ago now, Chris, and things get forgot. Yer dad probably can’t remember a lot of what went on. Crikey … you’re twenty-four. You was only a babe in arms when they broke up and yer dad took on looking after you.’

‘Have you forgot everything about her?’ Christopher asked.

‘No … like I told you before, she was a pretty young woman, I thought so anyhow,’ Matilda said carefully. ‘Quite small and blonde, were Pamela, so nothing like you in looks.’ She gave her tall, dark-haired nephew a fond smile. ‘You’re the spit of your dad and Uncle Rob.’

‘Is there a photo of her, d’you know?’

‘I’ve not seen one in years,’ Matilda replied truthfully. ‘But I saw a picture of them on their wedding day. I know yer dad gave it to Pam when they broke up. He didn’t want it.’

That was a vital clue Christopher hadn’t known and he pounced on the information. ‘So me dad were the one wanted to split up?’

‘Don’t think it was just him,’ Matilda said gently. ‘As you know, yer mum ’n’ dad didn’t get on and both of ’em soon realised they’d made a mistake. They was too young, y’see. It just didn’t work out between them. It happens sometimes; people get caught up in the excitement of weddings ’n’ ferget that afterwards babies come along and it’s not all a lark but bloody hard work.’

‘So it was me that was the problem. When I come along …’

‘Don’t be daft!’ Matilda ejected quickly, cursing herself for phrasing things badly. ‘What I meant to say is: when money’s tight, and work’s tight, it puts pressures on people and …’

‘And they couldn’t be bothered to try and stick together, even though they had me …’

‘Now I didn’t say that, Chris!’ Matilda gave him a stern look. She felt she’d dug herself into a hole and must be careful how she climbed out.

‘And me mum never wanted to see me after that?’ Christopher asked earnestly. ‘Why not?’

‘I’m not saying she didn’t want to see you,’ Matilda answered slowly. ‘But I do know she went back home to live with her folks. Mr and Mrs Plummer moved away from round here shortly after the divorce came through. I think Pam went with them, and haven’t seen nuthin’ of her since. Could be she got herself hitched again.’

‘So I might have half-brothers or -sisters?’

‘S’pose you might …’ Matilda agreed.

Christopher drew out his cigarette packet and Matilda pointed at them, glad of a reason to change the subject.

‘And you can do with cutting down on them coffin nails, ’n’ all, Christopher, or you’ll be going the same way as poor old King George.’

She suddenly turned her head, frowning. The bang on the door was unexpected, but she was very glad of the distraction. She knew she’d have to say something to Stephen about Christopher’s renewed interest in his mother. She wasn’t too cowardly to get involved – in her time she’d upturned greater cans of worms within the family – but this truth was very personal and would be hurtful to Christopher. It was his father’s place – or his mother’s – to tell him the whole story about his past, not hers. The fact that Stevie avoided all mention of Pamela told Matilda he still harboured bitter memories about his brief marriage.

‘Go down and see who it is, will yer, Chris. Paid me rent so it can’t be Podge,’ she reassured him. Podge Peters had been collecting Mr Keane’s rents for decades. Only Podge wasn’t fat any more. He was a shadow of his former self now he had lung disease.

Chris shoved himself up out of his chair, a soundless sigh in his throat, knowing the conversation about his mother was finished and he’d discovered very little that was new, or might help him find her.

As Matilda heard him clattering down the stairs she shook her head sadly to herself.