Try a Little Tenderness (43 page)

‘Ho, ho, very funny, I must say.’ Amy’s face was set, but everyone could see her tummy shaking. ‘Listen to me, buggerlugs, there’s only room for one comic in the house
and it ain’t you. So don’t be trying to get in on the act.’

John peeped in the kitchen. ‘Where’s Jenny?’

‘Oh, my God, will yer listen to this son of mine?’ Amy was nodding and shaking her head at the same time, which confused her layer of chins. They didn’t know whether to sway sideways or go up and down, so they stayed where they were. ‘His mam and dad are nearly coming to blows, and he wants to know where Jenny is.’

‘It’s all right, Amy, we’ve been through this with Mick. Our Jenny and Janet will be over in a minute, they’re dolling themselves up.’

‘I don’t know why me son and Mick bother.’ Amy shifted the suitcase to her other hand. ‘Jenny told me she’s got her eye on a feller at work.’

When Mary saw the look exchanged between the two boys, she could tell they didn’t think it was funny. ‘Ye’re a lying hound, Amy Hanley. One of these days someone’s going to take ye’re serious, and then yer’ll be in trouble.’

Amy bent down and glared into her face. ‘Is it my fault they can’t take a bleedin’ joke?’

Seamus held out his hand. ‘Let me put the case down for yer, me darlin’, before yer hit someone with it.’

Amy came over all sweetness and light. ‘It’s a kind man yer are, Seamus, and I really do appreciate it. But no one gets their bleedin’ hands on this case but me, so there.’

‘Come with me, me darlin’,’ Molly said. ‘Yer can hide it at the back of the pantry where no one will get at it. Yer have my promise, I’ll guard it with me life, so I will.’

The two boys had been eyeing the clock with growing impatience, and when the knock finally came they moved as one. Elbows and feet were being used, and as neither would give way to the other, they ended up getting stuck in the doorway. Ignoring the laughter behind them, Mick said, ‘Okay, pal, let’s be sensible about this. I’ll open the door and you bow them in. Okay?’

‘Oh, no yer don’t, mate! This might be your house, but
fair’s fair. I’ll open the door and you bow them in.’

Mick knew this would happen and was delighted. When the door was finally opened he was in full view, while John was stuck behind it and all you could see of him was his face.

‘Yer look very pretty tonight, Jenny.’ Mick didn’t care that everyone was listening. He had three months to get in the lead and he didn’t intend wasting any time.

John, nearly tripping over his feet, rushed to Mick’s side. ‘Yes, yer do, Jenny, very pretty indeed.’

Not noticing that all the grown-ups had their hands in their mouths to keep the laughter quiet, Janet tugged on John’s arm. ‘Don’t I look pretty, John?’

John looked into her face and felt ashamed. They shouldn’t make such a fuss of Jenny and leave her friend out, no matter how they felt. ‘Janet, yer look lovely. Doesn’t she, Mick?’

‘She certainly does,’ Mick agreed. ‘Nice enough to be on the lid of a box of Cadbury’s chocolates.’

Amy put her hand to her stomach and made a gurgling sound. ‘Seamus, if yer don’t put a glass in me hand this minute, I’ll be sick all over yer floor. And put those four outside, while ye’re at it. Sloppy beggars.’

‘Now, me darlin’, were yer not young yerself once? It’s a long time ago, I’ll grant yer that, but sure, yer must have some memories of being flattered and courted.’

Amy caught her husband’s eye and jerked her head. ‘Go on, you tell them how yer flattered and courted me.’

‘You tell a better tale than me, love,’ Ben said. ‘And ye’re a better liar than me.’

Amy, her chubby hands around a glass of stout, was in her element. ‘Well, when my Ben used to call for me, I’d open the door and he’d say, “Are yer ready, girl?” Then we’d walk down the street with him on the inside and me on the outside near the kerb. I always took me own quarter of wine gums, ’cos I knew he wouldn’t dream of buying
me sweets. We’d sit in the dark of the picture house, chewing on
MY
wine gums, without a word being spoken. If James Cagney and Pat O’Brien were on, and it came to an exciting bit, Ben used to close his eyes and I’d have to tell him when it was safe to look. Then when we came out of the pictures, I used to walk him home ’cos his mam didn’t like him being out on his own in the dark, and when we got outside his house he’d tap me on the arm and say, “Ta-ra, girl, see yer tomorrow”. If I was quick, I’d have a chance to kiss him on the cheek before he had time to put his key in the lock.’

Amy took a long swig of stout before gazing around the rapt faces. ‘I knew I’d always have to buy me own wine gums and walk in the gutter, but yer see, although yer wouldn’t think so now, he was dead handsome, was Ben. A real he-man, he was, knocked spots off the likes of Clark Gable. Sometimes, when we were walking, our hips would touch and I’d swoon with rapture. He’ll tell yer himself the number of times he had to lift me up out of the gutter.’

Ben, who had enjoyed the tale of fantasy more than anyone, cocked an eyebrow. ‘Yer were lying in the gutter the first time I set eyes on yer, love. Yer were dead drunk and slobbering. And I remember saying to meself, as I picked yer up, “This is the girl for me”.’

Amy grinned. ‘There yer are – didn’t I tell yer he was dead romantic?’

The laughter increased ten-fold when Janet said, ‘I don’t think he was dead romantic. Fancy him making yer buy yer own wine gums!’

Amy, the chair creaking beneath her, looked at her son. ‘John, spell it out for her, will yer? Or, better still, draw her a picture.’

‘Mam, she doesn’t know yer well enough yet. How was she to know that every word yer spoke was a lie? Janet’s mam’s not as daft as you.’

‘Ooh, er!’ There was a look of amazement on Janet’s
face. ‘Yer mean that was all lies, Mrs Hanley? Well, why was yer husband laughing?’

‘Because he’s sitting on a feather, girl, and it’s tickling his fancy.’ Then Amy felt sorry for her. ‘It was all a joke, girl, just to make people laugh. I often come out with these weird and wonderful tales, but they’re all in fun.’

Janet’s face broke into a wide smile. ‘In that case, Mrs Hanley, it was very funny. But will yer tell me in future, so I can enjoy the joke?’

‘Listen, sunshine,’ Mary said, ‘just treat everything me mate says as a joke and yer can’t go far wrong. She never gives a warning because she doesn’t know herself what she’s going to come out with.’ Mary chuckled. ‘Come shopping with us one day, Janet, and yer’ll find out what I mean.’

Janet put her hand on John’s arm. ‘Your mam is very clever, John, to be able to make up stories like that.’

Amy was delighted. ‘A girl after me own heart. She’ll make someone a good wife.’

‘All right, Mam.’ John felt it was time to shut his mother up before she said Janet would make a good daughter-in-law. The trouble with his mam was, she didn’t expect people to take to heart what she said. ‘Yer’ve hogged the stage for long enough, give someone else a chance.’

‘Ye’re right, son,’ Amy said. ‘I should be concentrating on me big performance later on. We artistes are very highly strung and temper – er, tempora –’ she glanced at Mary. ‘What’s the word I’m looking for, girl?’

‘Temperamental, sunshine.’

‘That’s what I am.’ Amy nodded. ‘So I’ll save meself for the big moment.’

And the big moment came at half-past eleven, after much beer and port had been drunk, songs sung and jigs and reels danced. Amy made her way into the kitchen and closed the door, telling Molly not to let anyone out there, even if they were desperate for the lavvy. ‘Tell them to cross their legs,’ she said.

While the adults were engaged in conversation as they waited for the star of the show, Mick said to Jenny, ‘Yer mam said yer can come to the dance with us after yer birthday.’

‘Did she? Oh, won’t that be great!’ Jenny’s pretty face was animated and flushed with all the laughing. ‘I’m really looking forward to it.’

‘Yeah, me too.’ Mick thought that was putting it mildly. He was counting the days. ‘We’ll have some fun.’

‘You bet,’ John said. ‘We’ll be that good we’ll be able to enter in competitions.’

‘Will yer teach me to dance proper, John?’ Janet asked. ‘You know, like they do in the movies?’

Why does she always ask me things, John asked himself. Why doesn’t she ask Mick? ‘Yeah, me and Mick will both teach yer. We’ll take turns apiece with you and Jenny until yer can do all the dances.’

There came a thumping on the kitchen door. ‘Molly, as yer’ve taken over as me manager, it’s up to you to introduce me and make sure the audience don’t get rowdy. This act I’m doing tonight is a real class act, and I won’t put up with any whistling or bawling. So if ye’re expecting to get paid for the job, get cracking and give me an introduction worthy of me many and varied talents.’

‘Oh dear,’ Molly said, ‘would somebody else like to be her manager? I’m out of me depths, so I am, and haven’t a clue what to do or say.’

There was a lot of pulling of faces and shaking of heads. No one wanted to be Amy’s manager when they didn’t know what she was going to look like when she came through that door. Oh, it was all in fun, a great big joke to Amy. And the person opening the door for her big entrance could end up in tears of laughter. But they could also end up with a very red face and wishing the floor would open and swallow them up. ‘Seamus,’ she pleaded, ‘will yer not be helping me out?’

Seamus was shaking with laughter. ‘With the best will, and all the love in the world, me darlin’, I’ll not be taking that chance. If Amy comes in here in her birthday suit, wouldn’t it be me being chased up the street by yer dear self, with the stiff brush in yer hand?’

Amy was getting impatient. ‘What the bleedin’ hell is going on in there? I’ve got me own flippin’ legs crossed now, yer’ve been that long.’

Molly breathed out through her teeth before opening the kitchen door slowly. Then, with a sigh of relief and a smile on her face, she announced, ‘Here she comes, for your entertainment, the one and only –
Amy Hanley
!’

When the laughter erupted, it was like an explosion. Amy was wearing her husband’s working clothes, right down to the dirty old cap, collarless shirt and braces. Now Ben was a big man, and his wife was swamped in his clothes. The jacket came down to her knees, the trouser legs had been rolled up and secured with large pins, and the waist was tied with a piece of strong string, knotted above Amy’s tummy. The sleeves had also been turned up half-a-dozen times to fit. It was the dirty old cap that had everyone rolling about. It came down over her ears and almost covered her eyes. All you could see was her chubby cheeks and the wide smile which told of her delight in the reception.

‘In the name of God, love, how did yer do that?’ Ben asked. ‘I had those clothes on for work today!’

‘I know, and I thought I was going to have to drag the bleedin’ things off yer, yer were that slow getting changed. Anyway, on with the show. Nobody join in till I tell yer, ’cos some of yer are tone deaf and yer put me off me stroke.’ With a thumb hooked each side of the braces, and a swagger to her walk, she began. ‘Anytime ye’re Lambeth Way …’ She’d told them not to join in, but the song was so catchy they had to do something, so they clapped their hands and stamped their feet.

What a sight Amy looked, a real scream. And there wasn’t
a soul in that room who didn’t feel like giving her a big hug. One song followed another, all with a Cockney theme. ‘Any Old Iron’ was followed by ‘Maybe It’s Because I’m A Londoner’. And as she sang, her legs and feet were never still. Till in the end, with sweat running down her face and her breathing laboured, she called it a day. ‘That’s all for now folks, I’m all in.’

There were shouts of, ‘Encore!’ and, ‘Bravo!’ but Amy shook her head. ‘I need two glasses of stout to catch up with the rest of yer. And until I get that, my backside stays on this chair.’

John, his mother’s biggest fan, looked across at her and said, ‘I don’t half love me mam, she’s a real corker.’

‘I love yer mam, too, John.’ Janet nodded her head. ‘I think she’s brilliant.’

‘We all love Auntie Amy,’ Jenny said. ‘Yer couldn’t help but love her.’

Although Mick agreed with their sentiments, he wasn’t very happy about it. If Jenny loved his mother, it gave John a head start. ‘I love Mrs Hanley, she’s great. But doesn’t anybody love my mam?’

‘Of course we do!’ Jenny giggled. ‘I always think of my mam, Auntie Amy and Auntie Molly as The Three Musketeers. They’re one for all and all for one. If a helping hand is needed, it is quickly offered. They’ve been friends for as long as I can remember, and I love the bones of the three of them.’

Mick and John were very happy with that statement. But it left Janet wondering whether they lived too far away for her mam to join the friends, so she could be loved by everyone. ‘Yer can’t have Four Musketeers, can yer?’

‘Nah,’ John said. ‘It doesn’t have the same ring to it, somehow.’ He looked at Mick and knew his friend was trying to figure out the same thing as him. Was Janet really as daft as she made out, or was she, in her own way, as funny as his mam?

It was a Monday morning, ten days into the New Year, when Cynthia decided to put her plan into action. She left for work as usual, in her old coat, scruffy shoes and a scarf over her head. In her handbag was the letter she’d written and an old pair of her father’s reading glasses. She worked through until the dinner break, then asked the supervisor if she could go home as she wasn’t feeling very well.

As she walked through the factory gates, Cynthia’s nerves were as taut as a violin string. The only thing that kept her going was the knowledge that if the letter had the desired effect, she’d finally get the revenge she sought. Larry and Jeff had made her life a hell, and she hadn’t asked for it. She may have been stupid to have taken up with Larry in the first place, but she didn’t deserve what he and his friend had done to her. Nobody deserved that. And it wasn’t only herself who had suffered at their hands, but others, too. They couldn’t be allowed to carry on; they must be punished and have their lives made a hell on earth.

Cynthia could feel sympathy for their wives, for she had no doubt they were married, but they had to know. They were the only ones who could put a stop to it. None of the women they forced into having sex would go to the police, because they’d be too ashamed to put into words what had happened to them. And too ashamed of their families and neighbours finding out. There was always one who would say, ‘I bet she asked for it. There’s no smoke without fire.’