The Girl From Number 22 (43 page)

‘I won’t stay till the end, Mrs Fenwick. I promised me mam I’d be home by half past ten.’

‘Don’t worry about yer mam, sunshine, I’ll be keeping me eye on her. That is a promise, so you go and enjoy yerself. And tomorrow yer can tell me what these dancing partners are like. Danny talks about them, but won’t say what they’re like, or if he’s got a favourite.’

Across the street, in number twenty-two, Annie was at the window, watching her husband walking up the street towards the pub. She was about to drop the curtain when she saw her daughter step down on to the pavement, followed by Danny. And her eyes followed them until they were out of sight. Ada’s plan was working a treat so far.

‘I’m paying me own tram fare, Danny, so don’t argue.’ Jenny had the tuppence ready in her hand. ‘Don’t embarrass me, just take the money.’

Danny took the coins, but wasn’t happy. ‘This goes against the grain, Jenny. A girl shouldn’t pay for herself when she’s with a bloke.’

‘But I’m not yer girlfriend, Danny, I’m only a neighbour! It’s bad enough yer’ve been talked into taking me, without yer having to fork out.’

‘I wasn’t talked into bringing yer, Jenny! And seeing as ye’re getting all anxious about it, I’ll let yer pay yer own tram fare. But let’s get one thing straight before we get to the dance hall and yer start kicking up a fuss. If yer refuse to let me pay, then yer’ll make me feel about two foot tall. I’d really take it as an insult. So shall we call a truce? You pay yer own fare, I pay for the dance tickets? Okay?’

When Jenny found herself looking into Danny’s eyes, her heart skipped a beat and her tummy turned over. She looked away, wondering what had hit her. Then in her mind she told herself that her home life had made her wary of boys, and she’d never let one get so close to her before. She was being silly and childish. ‘I’m sorry, Danny, I didn’t mean to insult yer. And yeah, I’ll do like yer said. I pay me tram fare, you pay for the dance ticket.’

He looked relieved. ‘Yer see how easy it is when yer don’t take the huff? Life’s too short, so make the most of it while yer can.’

When they reached Blair Hall, Jenny left Danny buying the tickets while she went to the cloakroom. She didn’t want him to think she was clinging to him, and that he had to stay with her. So when they went into the dance hall, she said, ‘You go and get one of yer partners up, I’ll be all right. I’ll be a spy for yer mam, and report back to her what yer partners are like. In other words, I’ll be a sneak.’

There was a quickstep playing, and Danny could see Dorothy waving to him. ‘Stay here until the dance is over, Jenny, and I’ll come back to yer.’

However, Danny had only just walked away from her when Jenny felt a hand on her arm. ‘Would you care to dance?’

The blond-haired boy looked very presentable, and Jenny didn’t have the heart to turn him down. ‘I’m not the best dancer in the world,’ she told him, ‘but I’ll do me best.’

‘I’m no Fred Astaire meself,’ the lad said, showing a fine set of white teeth when he smiled. ‘But I think we can get round without tripping each other up.’

They suited each other very well, their steps matching easily and gracefully. They were halfway down the dance floor when they passed Danny and his partner. To say Danny was surprised would be an understatement. His jaw dropped and his step faltered. But he quickly pulled himself together and smiled. ‘All right, Jenny?’

She smiled back at him and nodded. Her spirits were lifted, and she could actually feel her confidence growing. At least Danny would know now she wasn’t going to be a drag on him all night. It would leave him free to dance with his regular
partners. But, Jenny told herself, that was wishful thinking. She might not get asked up again for the rest of the night.

Her partner, however, had other plans. And when the dance was over, he walked her back to the edge of the dance floor and stood with her. ‘The next dance will be a waltz. Will yer dance with me?’

‘Yes, if yer want.’

The blond boy smiled. ‘I’m Tony, by the way. What’s your name?’

‘Jenny.’

‘That’s a nice name. Are yer a friend of Danny’s?’

‘We’re neighbours. We live in the same street.’

The next minute Danny was beside them. ‘Hiya, Tony, I see yer’ve been dancing with me friend. She’ll be all right now, I’ll look after her. I promised her mam, yer see.’

Tony grinned. ‘Get lost, Danny. I’ve already asked Jenny, and she’s promised me the next dance.’

Danny didn’t let his surprise or disappointment show. ‘Okay, I’ll let yer have this dance with her, but if yer stand on her toes, I’ll tell her mam on yer. And the next dance is mine, whether yer like it or not.’

Tony rubbed his chin. ‘Right, that means Betsy will be free for the quickstep. I’ll book it in advance. Then after that I’m back with Jenny, if she’ll have me.’ The music started up for the waltz, and he put his arm round Jenny’s waist. ‘See yer later, Danny.’

Danny scratched his head. He wasn’t feeling very happy about the situation, and couldn’t understand why. Never mind. He’d better look for Janet before someone else did. But as he walked towards the girl, he muttered under his breath, ‘The bloody cheek of him! Who does he think he is? If he thinks
he’s going to hog her the whole night he’s mistaken. And he can forget about taking her home. She came with me, and she’ll go home with me. If he starts getting funny, I’ll clock him one.’

‘Are you talking to yerself?’ Janet asked as Danny led her on to the dance floor. ‘I could swear I saw yer lips moving.’

‘I was singing the words of the song,’ Danny said. ‘They can’t lock yer up for singing, can they?’

‘Ooh, er, don’t bite me flipping head off,’ Janet said, then stayed silent until they were dancing. Then she asked, ‘Is that one of yer girlfriends dancing with Tony?’

‘She’s not a girlfriend, she’s just a neighbour. I promised her mam I’d keep an eye on her, so I’ll be having a few dances with her.’

‘She’s very pretty,’ Janet said, ‘but when it comes to dancing, she’s hardly in the same class as you.’

‘Perhaps it’s her partner holding her back.’

‘Come off it, Danny, yer know as well as I do that Tony’s a good dancer.’ Janet moved back to look him in the eye. ‘Are yer sweet on this girl? I wouldn’t blame yer if yer were ’cos she’s nice-looking. I wish I had that mop of hair, it’s gorgeous.’

Danny huffed. ‘Look, she lives in our street, me mam’s a mate of her mam’s, and yes she has got nice hair. As for her dancing, I’ll let yer know later, ’cos I’m having the next dance with her.’

‘Ye’re very touchy tonight, Danny. Has someone rubbed yer up the wrong way?’

‘Janet, ye’re beginning to sound like me mam. Will yer concentrate on yer dancing and stop the third degree? Ye’re putting me off me stride.’

When the dance was over, Janet said, ‘I might see yer later, then, Danny?’

‘Yeah, of course yer will.’ Danny lifted his hand, then went looking for Jenny. He didn’t have to look far; she was standing near the door with Tony. And she was glad to see him walking towards her. For Tony was asking her for a date, and she was having trouble trying to find a believable excuse.

‘Right, I’ll take over now, Tony,’ Danny said. ‘Otherwise Jenny will tell her mam I left her on her own all night. And her mam will tell my mam, and I’ll end up getting a thick ear.’

Tony was grinning as he shook his head. ‘Yer can’t half talk, Danny Fenwick. Ye’re worse than a flipping girl. And ye’re taking over for the next dance, not for the whole night. Jenny’s promised me the next waltz.’

‘Yer don’t know Jenny like I do,’ Danny told him. ‘She’ll tell yer one thing and mean another. Anyway, on yer way, pal, I’m taking her for this slow foxtrot. If yer move yerself, yer might be in time to nab Dorothy before someone more handsome gets to her first.’

When Danny led her on to the dance floor, Jenny said, ‘Yer don’t have to dance with me, yer know, Danny. I bet yer regular partners are calling me for everything.’

‘I know I don’t have to dance with yer, Jenny. There’s a lot of things I don’t have to do if I don’t want to. Like walking into a bus, for instance.’

‘There’s no clock in here, Danny, and I haven’t got a watch. Can yer tell me the time?’

Danny looked at his wristwatch. ‘It’s a quarter past nine, why?’

‘I want to leave at ten, so will yer give me the wire just before then?’

‘Why is it so important that yer leave at ten? The dance isn’t over until half past.’

‘I want to be home by half ten,’ Jenny told him. ‘Me mam will be expecting me. So don’t let me down, will yer. Give me a nod just before ten.’

‘I’ll come home with yer. We can get the tram together.’

‘You will do no such thing!’ Jenny said. ‘I’m quite capable of getting home on me own.’

Danny’s dimples showed when he grinned. ‘Ay, I’ve just noticed something, Jenny. Ye’re a good dancer. Ye’re following me as though we’ve been dancing together for years.’

‘Don’t change the subject, Danny.’ But secretly Jenny was pleased with what he said. She’d been worried she wouldn’t be as good as his partners. ‘I’m off at ten, you’re staying until the dance is over. There’s something going on at home, concerning me dad, but me mam wouldn’t tell me what it was. And I’m worried about her. But that’s no reason to spoil your night, so do as ye’re told.’

‘The more anyone tells me not to do something, the more I dig me heels in. Besides, if ye’re worried about yer mam, that’s more reason for me to be with yer.’

‘I’m going home on me own, Danny, will yer be told!’

‘I’ll be told, yes. But if I happen to get on the same tram as you, don’t be surprised. I can be very stubborn when I want.’

And Danny did get on the same tram as Jenny. Not because he was stubborn, but because he knew of his mother’s plans, and wanted to be there in case of trouble.

Tom Phillips was one of the first out of the pub when the landlord called time, and put towels over the pumps. He wasn’t drunk, even though he’d had two pints and was still under the influence of the three he’d had a few hours previously. He was able to walk a straight line, and was full of bravado, congratulating himself on his cunning. He’d cut down on his drinking for one reason, which he thought was really clever. The tanner he’d saved might come in useful if the prostitute was outside the dockside pub again. He’d decided that it would be worth sixpence to see what she had to offer. Particularly when he intended to get more money from his wife. If she knew what was good for her, she’d hand it over without any trouble. And he’d have enough to pay back what he’d borrowed, pay the tart, and still have some over for a pint or two.

‘Not a bad day’s work,’ Tom muttered as he walked home. ‘And I’ve got the wife coming in me bed tonight. She might kick up a stink, but she’ll give in eventually because she won’t want to upset her two brats. So I’ll get a bellyful tonight, then see what the tart has to offer tomorrow. I might learn a few tricks I can teach that stupid cow I’m married to.’

As he put the key in the door, Tom was telling himself that if the kids were there, he’d send them up to bed. But there wasn’t
a sound, so they were either still out, or in bed already. Not that it made any difference, because if his wife protested about sleeping with him, he’d only have her to fight, and one blow would do the trick. But while he had everything sorted out in his head to his satisfaction, he wasn’t prepared for the sight that met his eyes when he threw open the living-room door. For sitting round the table, all with playing cards in their hands, were his wife, the nosy cow from across the street, and two women he’d never set eyes on in his life before.

‘What the bleeding hell is going on here?’ Tom was about to let rip with a mouthful of obscenities when Ada beat him to it.

‘You remember me, Mr Phillips, I’ve met yer before. And these two ladies are yer neighbours from either side. Jean Bowers, and Edith Watson.’ Ada felt like roaring with laughter at the look on his face. But she kept to the plan they’d worked out. ‘With Annie being on her own, we thought we’d keep her company. And it’s been really nice, we’ve enjoyed ourselves. Even though we haven’t been playing for money.’

Jean and Edith both smiled, and said in unison, ‘Pleased to meet yer, Mr Phillips.’

Tom’s earlier good humour quickly evaporated and his temper was rising fast. These stupid bitches had upset all his plans. Not for long, though, because he was the master here, and he wanted them out. ‘Well, yer’ve had yer fun and games now, so pack up and bugger off. This is my house and I don’t want bleeding strangers in it.’

‘We might be strangers to you, Mr Phillips,’ Ada said calmly, ‘but not to yer wife. We’re all friends of Annie’s. But I can understand yer wanting a bit of peace after a day’s work, so when we’ve finished this hand we’ll vamoose and leave yer in peace.’

‘Oh, yer’ll just finish yer game of cards, will yer, yer cheeky
cow?’ Tom’s voice was shrill with anger. He wasn’t going to have a bleeding woman talking to him like that in his own house. ‘Some hopes yer’ve got, ’cos if yer don’t leave of yer own accord, I’ll throw yer out on yer backsides. So move yerselves, and be quick about it.’

Jean had been told how rude their neighbour was, but she had never dreamed any man would talk like that to women. ‘If my husband heard yer calling me a cow, he wouldn’t take very kindly to it.’

‘Nor mine, either.’ Edith glared at him. ‘What a rude man you are.’

Tom’s lip curled in a sneer, as he imitated Edith’s voice. ‘Oh, what a rude man yer are.’ He thumbed his wife. ‘Get them out, or I’ll throw them out. I was going to say I’d throw you out with them, but I’ve got a job for yer to do here. You stay, they go.’

Tom had his back to the front door, and didn’t see two figures hovering behind him. ‘Don’t sit there like stuffed bleeding dummies, get those fat arses off my chairs and scram, before I take me belt to yer.’

A quiet voice behind him asked, ‘Are you threatening my wife?’

Tom spun round, and found himself looking into a man’s chest. He let his eyes travel upwards, angry words ready to spill from his mouth. But when he’d reached the top of Gordon Bowers’s six foot five frame, he swallowed hard. The man was a bloody giant! But he couldn’t lose face in front of the women. ‘Who the bleeding hell are you, and how did yer get in my house?’