A Wanton Tale (21 page)

Charlie now realised what Margaret meant when she had said that Jim made things up. However, there was something worrying about the earnest expression on the boy’s face. Jim knew that his father would soon believe.

‘The man I saw is a wizard.’ Said Jim.

‘There was no bugger there, never mind a wizard. Making up tales won’t get you anywhere in life lad. The sooner you stop this storyfying the better, it’s a big bad world out there.’ Charlie was cross. ‘You’d better keep quiet about all this, people will think you’re loony.’

Freddie was elated on his day of freedom. He couldn’t wait to return to his ‘duchess’ in Duke Street. The first thing on his mind was helping himself to a drink when he got there. ‘Mine will be a large whisky and soda, on the house.’ Freddie chuckled as he boarded the tram into town.

He arrived at the house in Duke Street wearing his broadest grin. It was soon wiped off by the sour faced greeting he received on the doorstep.

But Betsy couldn’t be angry for long. ‘Get in you old fool and don’t you ever put me through anything like this again.’

Freddie felt dejected. Like a naughty boy he crept into the hall, his humiliation was complete when she pinched his ear. Now standing in the dimly lit hall she examined behind his ears, then the nape of his neck. ‘Just checking for crawlers.’ She was satisfied that he was clean and led him into the parlour. Freddie’s eyes lit up at the sight of Betsy’s tantalus.

‘Why have you got the booze locked up in that fucking thing?’

‘I bought it yesterday because of you. You’re not getting any unless I decide you can have some. You will be the ruination of us Freddie Hale!’

‘What?’

‘A few changes have been made around here, I’ve now got two women living under my roof, two proper women and I’m not having anything ruined by you again. You can stop out of the way, make yourself useful, making fires and doing repairs. You can also go out shopping for provisions. You are fortunate that I am having you back.’

‘Why are you then?’

‘Business is bad Freddie, we need money. We need to find another young ‘un, that Maurice and a few of his type have been lurking around and I know their wallets are full. We need to relieve them of some of their dough. There will be a situation here shortly as one of the women will be leaving us, she’s in love with another woman and she doesn’t want to live here with a man present. I am too well known ‘round ‘ere, you can mix with women easier than I can. Get yourself to the public houses. They are good places, people who frequent them generally have no money. You know what to do. Find out who’s got young daughters, friends of friends perhaps.’

And so they continued in their quest. The evil pair were driven by money and where there was demand, there was opportunity. Neither of them cared about the consequences, nor about the harm that they were inflicting on children. They had no conscience and were prepared to continue breaking the law.

Betsy walked over to the tantalus, there were three bottles containing brandy, gin and whisky. She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a small silver key. ‘Now what’s your pleasure my Freddie?’

Freddie couldn’t wait for the taste of whisky again. His thirst for alcohol was insatiable as was his appetite for living off immoral earnings.

Their debauchery continued.

S
ince his release from jail Charlie Boyle had been working as a carpenter for Sally Walsh’s brother, Tommy. After working for him for a couple of years, Tommy had sadly died and his nephew Harry had taken over the business. For the last nine years Charlie had buried himself in his work, but he was still haunted by the past. He was almost punishing himself and had never given up hope that his three missing daughters would turn up one day.

Charlie was proud of Jim, who was now fourteen. His guardian Sally had passed away a year ago. Charlie was now able to care for his son and had taken over the rent on Sally’s house. He could now provide for him well.

Father and son were sitting by the range drinking a cup of strong sweet tea, this always set Charlie in good stead at the start of a busy day.

‘In the not too distant future, son, we will get away from here.’ Charlie always promised his son that he would find a nice house in a better neighbourhood. ‘There’s a nice respectable street in Everton called Westbourne Street and soon we’ll be moving up there.’

‘I don’t want to move from here Pa, I want to stay by Florrie.’

‘Don’t be telling me you’re still sweet on her, she’s only a friend I hope, you are far too young for any monkey business.’ His father’s tone was serious. ‘I am warning you, don’t you be getting her into trouble, look what happened to me and your Ma, saddled with a gang of children at an early age. I want you to make something of yourself now you’ve left school. You should be starting an apprenticeship.’

Charlie tried to sound upbeat but had some doubts about his son’s dexterity. He looked down at the floor and glanced towards his hands. Jim was holding his cup with his left hand. ‘Why do you do everything with your left hand Jim? It’s unnatural.’

‘It isn’t to me Pa, look at these scars on the back of me hand, that bastard teacher was always belting me with the ruler, I told him I can’t write with me right hand, he thought I was stupid or something.’ Complained Jim bitterly.

‘You’re far from stupid lad, I know that, but I don’t think you’d be any good in the workshop, Harry will not have left ‘handers’ working for him, said he can’t bear to watch them doing anything.’ He then added with a smile, ‘It’s like watching a woman with two left feet dancing.’

Jim sighed, his downcast expression made him look hurt, his rueful face became serious. ‘I want to be a cook. Soon I’ll have a job at The Enterprise Supper Bar, in town!’

‘Have you now? Dishing up fish and chips to the poor, frying all day and peeling spuds, that’s hardly a job for a young man.’

‘Well, I’ll be starting on Monday, three bob a week.’

‘Good. I’m off to work now and remember what I said about Florrie Ryan. I think you can do much better than her, besides I don’t like her mother, have an idea she’s been an old tail.’

The door banged shut leaving Jim more determined than ever to make a success of his job. He was thinking about his Pa’s remark about Florrie’s mother being an ‘old tail’. Exposed to the harsh realities of life from an early age, Jim knew exactly what that description implied.

By Thursday the following week Jim was feeling pleased with himself, he had earned his first week’s wage. The hours were long and the work was hard but he didn’t mind peeling sacks of potatoes and watching the activity in the shop. He had no idea why Harry wouldn’t employ left ‘handers’, in fact Jim could work with as much speed and dexterity as anyone else. As his left hand grasped his three shiny shillings, he smiled to himself. ‘ I don’t fancy doing wood work, being in a cold workshop with all that noise and dirt, nah.’

It was late in the evening so his Pa was already at home. ‘Did you get your wages then lad?’ Asked Charlie smiling.

‘I haven’t even got me foot in the door yet and you want me to tip up.’

‘You’re a grown man now, so you’ll have to pay your corner. We’ll put some of our wages in a tin here as savings, some for food, rent
and
a rainy day.’

‘I’ve got myself known around the market and I can get the food for us cheaper. I can get us fish and potatoes cheap to start with.’ He glanced at his Pa’s rough working man’s hands, his nails were dirty, they were scarred and his palms were covered in hard calluses. He knew he was doing the right thing, going into catering, above all he enjoyed the work. Manual labour was not for him.

As the residents woke up on Saturday morning, they could hear no birds singing in Circus Street. But between the grey roof tops and chimneys was a perfect, clear blue sky.

The rising sun was streaming through the front bedroom windows of Jim’s house. It was on the same side of the street as Florrie’s. They lived on ‘the sunny side’ because their houses got the sun in the morning which always woke Jim early in the summer.

He had planned to take Florrie out somewhere nice. He wanted to get out of town to enjoy the open spaces and the fresh air. He was up before seven o’clock. He tumbled out of bed and went down for a cup of tea. He could hear his Pa snoring, Jim decided not to disturb him. He washed and shaved then got dressed. He went downstairs and fried himself an egg. He made a sandwich which he ate sitting on the front step.

He was a ‘grown man’ now and came and went as he pleased. Apart from his work he took care of the home. Recently, he was seeing more of his friend Florrie. As time went by he was growing more fond of her.

Florrie was just fourteen, the same age as Jim. She was beginning to show the curvaceous figure of an older girl. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that she was growing into an attractive young woman. Her hair was dark and lustrous, with gorgeous, big brown eyes.

Jim was poised to knock on Florrie’s door when it opened right before him. Her mother Minnie was on her way out.

‘Good morning Mrs. Ryan, is Florrie there please?’ Asked Jim cheerfully.

Minnie looked rather flustered. ‘She’s in there eating toast.’ She gestured impatiently with her thumb towards the inside of the house. ‘Some of us have to work on a Saturday.’ She then called, ‘Florrie, your fella’s ‘ere.’

She hardly looked at Jim as she bustled passed him and went down the steps. She was on her way to work at the chemist’s in Castle Street.

Florrie came to the door to greet Jim. ‘Get your hat and coat, I’m taking you somewhere nice for the day.’

‘Where to?’

‘New Brighton, over the water, we are going on the steam ferry, how would you like that luv.’ Asked Jim beaming.

Florrie had never been on a boat before and going to New Brighton, was a big adventure. They set off for George’s landing stage at the Pier Head. Jim paid their penny fares as they climbed aboard and took their seats. The ferry was almost full of passengers, all on board were looking forward to fresh air and exercise. They were, mostly, well dressed townsfolk, keen to enjoy a day by the seaside.

The seagulls soared against a backdrop of clear blue sky. The river air was fresh and salty, as the gentle breeze swept over them.

‘The steamer goes straight to New Brighton. We can have a nice walk along the ‘prom’ when we get there, hope you’ve got good boots on you.’ Said Jim as he pointed across to the other side of the river.

Florrie’s Ma had always made sure that she had good boots, knowing how much she had suffered herself from wearing ill fitting second hand shoes as a youngster. In that way, she was a good mother, she always made sure that her daughter was well turned out.

The steam ferry was moving away from the Pier Head. He was pleased to see that she found the ride on the river exhilarating. He was slightly afraid that it might make her feel woozy. In fact, she was loving it.

The walk along the promenade was an adventure. Florrie liked people watching and enjoyed the views across the river to the city. Jim had enough money to pay for lunch at a cafe on Ham and Eggs Parade. The most exciting part of the day was a ride on the hand turned dobby horses on Tower Grounds, the fairground was a popular attraction for many of the seaside revellers.

‘We’ll have to take some dancing lessons Florrie.’ Said Jim, as he pointed to the Palace, ‘I’m going to take you dancing in there, in the Great Hall when we’re older. Let’s have a walk around the Winter Gardens, want to see all those tropical plants, there’s plenty going on over here.’

Throughout the day, Jim’s Pa’s comments about Minnie Ryan were running through his mind. He was now intrigued and determined to find out more about his girlfriend’s mother. Before that day, Florrie had told him that her mother worked in a chemist shop. Other than that, Jim knew nothing else about her, just that her name was Minnie Ryan and she was a widow. Minnie had always been civil towards him, she could be a bit brusque, without being rude. She was a woman who always seemed pre-occupied. Always dashing out and about, she was certainly the best dressed woman in the street. ‘A bit odd for a struggling unmarried mother.’ Thought Jim.

Minnie had always worked hard, even though her jobs didn’t pay much. She had taken care of her looks and made sure that she always looked smart and presentable, perhaps a little tarty.

Minnie had, previously, worked in a laundry. She now had a better job in a chemist in Castle Street, she was a counter assistant. She was an attractive woman, even in the laundry she had admirers. Here, there were opportunities to take advantage of this contact with men. She was worldly wise. She knew that the wealthy, older, men who approached her were out for all they could get. Minnie was never ashamed to take money or gifts for her favours. The cash that she had accumulated had gone towards buying good clothes and shoes for Florrie. There was always food on the table.

Their paths wouldn’t normally cross, but one day, Minnie had a chance meeting with Maurice. Something about him told her that he was a born bachelor, apparently wealthy and clearly liked the ladies. Minnie smiled and chatted to the man as she gave him his laundry ticket. Her body language and alluring smile made it abundantly clear that she might be available.

On a second visit, he asked her to walk out with him. Maurice knew that there would more than likely be something on the end of it, her, being a shop girl. He thought she would be easy prey. As for Minnie, she guessed that there would be a generous gift on offer if nothing else.

Before long she became a regular ‘guest’ at his house in Princes Park. Maurice would pay her for the privilege of the sexual acts to which she was not averse. He even admitted, to himself, that he enjoyed her company. In fact, Minnie also became quite attached to him. It was however, a relationship she never expected to last.

Maurice was unashamedly a lady’s man but he continued to have a predilection for young girls. The word paedophile was frequently being quoted in newspapers. Reports of court cases for what was known as statutory rape of girls under the age of consent, warned of long prison sentences. People felt able to speak out against the perpetrators of these heinous crimes. Increasingly, girls were being believed. Maurice kept his perversion to himself, he was wary of making any open approach.