On Mother Brown's Doorstep Page 6

  ‘Excuse me, lovey, but we’re half and half,’ said Susie. ‘Bet you two bob Annie Ford is pretty.’

  ‘Will, would yer like to give me the sixpence now?’ said Sally. ‘And the penny for doin’ the errand?’

  Determinedly, Freddy tried yet again.

  ‘If I ’ad a penny for—’

  ‘Daffodils suit pretty girls,’ said Mrs Brown, and Freddy’s determination went to pot then.

  ‘Biggest mistake I ever made, opening my mouth about Annie Ford,’ said Will. ‘In front of anyone in trousers, that wouldn’t have mattered, but in front of anyone in bloomers—’

  ‘’Ere, d’you mind?’ said Sally. ‘I get enough of that from Freddy, ’e don’t ’ave any respect for unmentionables.’

  ‘I don’t ’ave no bike, either,’ said Freddy. ‘Mind, it’s a relief someone’s noticed I’m alive, I can’t tell yer what a blessin’ that is. Now if I could just say—’

  ‘Will, you still haven’t told us if Annie is pretty,’ said Susie.

  ‘That’s done it, that ’as,’ said Freddy, ‘I might as well go an’ sort meself out a plot in the cemet’ry.’

  ‘No, don’t leave the table yet, love,’ said Mrs Brown, ‘there’s syrup puddin’ for afters.’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ said Freddy gloomily, ‘I’ll stay for that, a bloke can drown ’imself easier when ’e’s got a full stomach.’

  ‘Sit up, Freddy love,’ said Mrs Brown, and brought the syrup pudding to the table.

  ‘Susie, Will still ’asn’t told us if Annie Ford’s pretty,’ said Sally.

  ‘I didn’t notice,’ said Will.

  ‘That’s it, Sally, she’s seventeen and pretty,’ said Susie.

  ‘Well, we hope so,’ said Mrs Brown, serving the pudding.

  ‘What’re you up to, you hope so?’ asked Will.

  ‘I’m only sayin’, Will love,’ said Mrs Brown.

  ‘Fancy our Will only just ’ome from India an’ findin’ someone seventeen an’ pretty,’ said Sally.

  ‘Fancy findin’ your syrup puddin’ down your gymslip?’ said Will.

  ‘Funny thing, yer know,’ said Mr Brown, ‘I found yer mum when I was about Will’s age.’

  ‘Why, was she lost, then?’ asked Freddy bitterly.

  ‘Lost?’ said his dad.

  ‘I only asked,’ said Freddy. ‘Look, I dunno I can eat all this syrup puddin’. Still, I will. If it kills me, no-one’ll notice, and it’ll save me ’aving to drown meself.’

  ‘Yes, eat it up, love,’ said Mrs Brown fondly, ‘syrup pudding’s good for a growin’ boy.’

  ‘D’you want to tell us any more about Annie, Will?’ asked Susie.

  ‘Right, monkey, I’ll come clean,’ said Will, going on the attack, ‘I only noticed her legs.’

  ‘You shocker,’ said Susie, putting aside any suggestion that she liked to see Sammy looking at her own legs.

  ‘Not my fault,’ said Will, ‘they kept staring me in the face.’

  ‘You listening to that, Mum?’ asked Sally.

  ‘Well, I must say you and Susie’s both got ever such nice legs, lovey,’ said Mrs Brown, equability undisturbed.

  ‘Wooden ones, that’s what Sally’s got,’ muttered Freddy.

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ said Mr Brown.

  ‘Well, ’ow could she get inches taller in a few months unless she’s wearin’ wooden ones bought off a market stall?’ said Freddy.

  ‘I don’t think you can buy wooden ones off a stall, Freddy,’ said Mrs Brown. ‘You have to go somewhere special for wooden ones.’

  ‘I bet she bought special ones from Mr Greenberg,’ said Freddy, ‘you can get anything from ’im. I bet if you looked, you’d see ’is sold label on Sally’s.’

  ‘Sounds a good bet, Freddy,’ said Will. ‘Let’s all take a look after supper.’

  ‘I’ll scream for me mum,’ said Sally, ‘and I won’t get the daffs for yer, not even if you give me tuppence for goin’.’

  ‘’Ere, listen,’ said Freddy with reborn determination, ‘if I’d ’ad tuppence for ev’ry errand I’ve done, I’d ’ave ’ad me own bike years ago. Mind, if Susie feels—’

  ‘What’s that blessed boy talkin’ about?’ asked Sally.

  ‘I expect ’e’d like some more syrup puddin’,’ said Mrs Brown.

  Bitterness uppermost again, Freddy decided to have his own back by dropping a bombshell. He addressed his mum. Loudly.

  ‘I suppose Susie knows I ain’t wearin’ no trousers at ’er weddin’?’

  ‘What?’ said Susie.

  ‘Nor I ain’t,’ said Freddy, ‘I already informed Mum, an’ she knows me mind’s made up.’

  ‘I’m dreamin’,’ said Susie.

  ‘And I ain’t wearin’ no sailor suit, either, not at my age I ain’t,’ said Freddy. ‘Just a scarf an’ shin. I just ’ope the day won’t be windy. If it is, well, I’ll just ’ave to grin an’ bear it.’

  Sally shrieked. Mr Brown hid his face in what was left of his helping of syrup pudding. Well, nearly. Will laughed his head off. Susie’s face was a study.

  Mrs Brown said, ‘Bless us, Freddy, I don’t know you ought to ’ave said a thing like that. It don’t sound a bit nice.’

  ‘Can’t ’elp that, Mum,’ said Freddy firmly, ‘I told yer, me mind’s made up.’

  ‘Well, take precautions if it’s windy, Freddy,’ said Will, ‘wear a long shirt.’

  ‘I’ve only got me short ones,’ said Freddy.

  Sally had hysterics and fell off her chair. Mr Brown choked on his pudding this time. Mrs Brown giggled like a girl. Susie held herself in check. She waited until the supper table had stopped rattling before she made herself heard.

  ‘So your mind’s made up, is it, Freddy Brown? Well, so’s mine. You’re goin’ to wear a suit.’

  ‘No, I ain’t,’ said Freddy, ‘not unless it’s got long trousers. I ain’t wearing short ones, not at your weddin’, Susie, and it ain’t my fault if I ain’t got long shirts.’

  ‘Wear one of Dad’s,’ said Will.

  Sally had more hysterics, on the floor.

  ‘Listen, my lad,’ said Susie, ‘it’s goin’ to be a boy’s suit or nothing.’

  ‘I ain’t wearin’ nothing,’ said Freddy, ‘it ain’t decent.’

  ‘I mean you won’t be there,’ said Susie.

  ‘Susie, I got to be there,’ said Freddy, ‘your weddin’ is special to me.’

  Susie smiled.

  ‘Really special?’ she said.

  ‘Special special,’ said Freddy.

  ‘There’s a good boy,’ said Susie. ‘Dad, buy him a suit with long trousers. You can get one at Gamages.’

  ‘I’m ready to fork out, Susie,’ said Mr Brown, who knew one thing for sure. Sammy Adams, important businessman and a decent bloke though he was, was getting a lovely, warm and generous girl on his wedding day, the kind a duke wouldn’t say no to.

  ‘There, that’s settled,’ said Mrs Brown happily.

  ‘Mind, Susie, if I ’ad a bike as well, I could cycle to the church and do weddin’ errands for yer,’ said Freddy.

  ‘Sally, get up off the floor, there’s a love,’ said Mrs Brown, ‘you been down there long enough.’

  ‘Talk to yerself,’ muttered Freddy.

  Later, Susie spoke to her dad.

  ‘Dad, Sammy said he’d like to see you first thing in the morning.’

  ‘What about?’ asked Mr Brown, who was employed by Sammy as a full-time odd-job man.

  ‘He didn’t say.’ Actually, Sammy had said he didn’t think his future dad-in-law ought to be seen doing odd-jobbing around the offices and the Olney Road scrap metal yard. He’d have to talk to him, he’d said.

  ‘Right you are, Susie, I’ll go an’ see ’im first thing in the morning.’

  ‘Good old Dad,’ said Susie, and then got Will on his own. Will at once said she’d got a look in her eye. ‘Oh, I only want to ask if you’ve been all right today,’ she said.

  ‘Is this a crafty way of b
ringing up that girl again?’

  ‘No, we were only pullin’ your leg, love. I was wonderin’ about your chest, that’s all.’ It was difficult for the family to believe Will had a serious complaint when he looked so healthy. If the doctors had talked about consumption, well, that really would have been serious. It was something Walworth people dreaded. ‘You didn’t get an attack through helpin’ that girl, did you?’

  Will thought about it and decided not to worry her.

  ‘No, left me as fit as a fiddle, Susie.’

  ‘That’s good,’ she said, ‘only Boots mentioned that asthma can be a bit of an unsociable headache.’

  ‘Well, I could do without it, and that’s a fact,’ said Will. His little grin showed. ‘Specially at my age,’ he added.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Susie, ‘so look after yourself. You don’t know how pleased I am you’re home for my weddin’.’

  ‘I think you like the idea of marryin’ Sammy,’ said Will.

  ‘Love it,’ said Susie, ‘even if we do have ups and downs.’

  ‘Mum and Dad have had a few, I suppose.’

  ‘Every married couple have some,’ said Susie, ‘but Mum’s always been able to sort hers out with Dad.’

  ‘Who’s goin’ to sort out those you have with Sammy?’

  ‘Me,’ said Susie, ‘it’ll never do to let Sammy be on top.’

  ‘Never?’ smiled Will.

  ‘What? Oh, you,’ laughed Susie, but turned just a little pink. Susie may have been twenty-one and adult, but she was still a virgin.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MR SAMMY ADAMS, managing director of Adams Enterprises, Adams Fashions and Adams Scrap Metal, had a handsome office above his established shop on the Denmark Hill side of Camberwell Green. Its old-style furniture was handsome, especially his large desk that sat on part of the square brown carpet.

  Mr Brown knocked.

  ‘Come in,’ said Sammy, a tall young man in his twenty-fourth year and the energetic engine of the business.

  Mr Brown entered.

  ‘You wanted to see me, guv?’ he said. It was a bit of an awkward relationship in a way, with his elder daughter Susie engaged to his young boss, and he’d settled for calling him guv. He’d tried Mister Sammy and Mister Adams, but come the engagement and he’d fixed on guv. Sammy didn’t mind. Most of his employees called him Mister Sammy, distinguishing him from his eldest brother Boots, general manager of the business, whom they called Mister Adams. Sammy questioned whether this was right or not, seeing he’d founded the business. Boots said it was right all right, he was the eldest of the family and Sammy was still a lad. Ruddy rhubarb, said Sammy, did I hear you say that? It’s a question of respect for my old age, said Boots. Sometimes, said Sammy, I ain’t sure you’re believable.

  He looked up from his desk.

  ‘Hello, Jim,’ he said. That was how he’d always addressed his hard-working and loyal odd-job man. ‘Take a pew.’

  ‘Nice of yer, guv,’ said Mr Brown and sat down, not without thinking that it meant something serious was about to happen.

  ‘How’s the fam’ly?’ asked Sammy, blue eyes showing, as always, something of his inner energy.

  It’s serious all right, thought Mr Brown.

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Well, except we can’t ’ardly believe Will’s got a touch of asthma.’

  ‘Yes, perishin’ hard luck,’ said Sammy, ‘and highly incredulous as well. But he’ll beat it. Young man like him,’ he added, speaking from the position of being as old as nearly twenty-four. ‘I’ve been thinkin’, Jim.’

  ‘You do a lot of that,’ said Mr Brown, frankly admiring.

  ‘Well, if I don’t,’ said Sammy, ‘me competitors’ll start walkin’ all over me, and gettin’ walked over can hurt considerable. Jim, it’s like this. You’re Susie’s dad, which for a start ought to earn you several medals. Now you can appreciate I don’t want you as me dad-in-law mendin’ our shop doors and keepin’ our Olney Road scrap yard consistently tidied up.’

  ‘You can give it to me straight, Sammy.’ Mr Brown spoke as the future dad-in-law. ‘You don’t reckon it’s right me workin’ for yer.’

  ‘You can chuck that notion out of the top window right now,’ said Sammy. ‘It’s not good business, sackin’ anyone who earns his wages as well as you do. But it won’t look right, keepin’ you doin’ odd jobs here and at the scrap yard. Now, I’m about to acquire a new scrap yard in Bermondsey, Jim. You know all about scrap metal from bein’ efficiently acquainted with the Olney Road yard. So I’m puttin’ you in charge of the new yard in Bermondsey. You’re startin’ next Monday. You’ll get a yard manager’s wage, of course. Is that proposition agreeable to you?’

  Jim was gaping.

  ‘Sammy—’

  ‘Good,’ said Sammy briskly, ‘I like a man who makes up his mind quick.’

  ‘I tell yer straight, you just flabbergasted my mind,’ said Mr Brown, ‘but that ain’t goin’ to stop me askin’ if I can shake yer hand.’ They shook hands across the desk.

  ‘That’s it, then, Jim,’ said Sammy, ‘I’m off out now.’

  ‘’Alf a tick,’ said Mr Brown, ‘you givin’ me this job because you think I can do it, or because—’

  ‘You’re gettin’ it because I’ve got trust in yer, Jim.’

  ‘Well,’ said Mr Brown, ‘I’ll say this much, young guv, if there’s any bloke good enough for Susie, it’s you.’

  ‘As the manager of one of me scrap yards, you can call me Sammy in or out of business hours. Right, good on yer, Jim. Don’t forget the weddin’, you’re givin’ Susie away.’

  ‘It’ll be me special pleasure,’ said Mr Brown.

  Will Brown had been mentally toughened by his years of hard soldiering, but he still had a soft spot for his family, particularly his parents. His mother was just about the most easy-going woman alive. They’d known desperate poverty when the family lived in Peabody Buildings in Brandon Street, but his mum had never had a cross word for any of them, especially not for his dad, who had come out of the trenches with a gammy leg and no job until Sammy Adams had taken him on. Dad with his optimism and Mum with her ability to always make the best of things, had kept the family going even when hunger stalked and clothes were things of darns and patches.

  So, being the son of his warm-hearted parents, Will arrived on the doorstep of Annie’s home at half-past four on the day after she’d suffered what she obviously felt was multiplied misfortune. Will knew he’d laughed, that he’d made her want to spit. So he was carrying a bunch of daffodils, wrapped all over. It would be asking for catcalls from street kids for a grown-up bloke, especially a soldier, to be seen carrying a bunch of flowers. He was still wearing his uniform. None of his old clothes fitted him, since he’d only been fifteen when he joined up as a drummer boy, and he hadn’t yet bothered to shop for new stuff. But he had ordered a grey suit for Susie’s wedding.

  Nellie answered his knock. With Cassie and Charlie, she was home from their school in Trafalgar Street.

  ‘Oh, ’ello,’ she said, ‘it’s you.’

  ‘I see it’s you too, Nellie,’ said Will, ‘I thought I’d come and see how the patient is.’

  ‘Our Annie? Oh, she went to work this mornin’, at Urcott’s the grocers, but Mr Urcott let ’er come ’ome at two o’clock. She was limpin’ a bit. She’s in the kitchen, she’s just been chuckin’ things at Charlie because ’e said she wasn’t as bossy as when she was lyin’ down. And she chucked the tea cosy at me because I said one of the street kids asked if she was goin’ to ’ave another ride in a pushcart. Would yer please come in?’

  ‘She’s not goin’ to chuck something at me, is she?’ said Will, stepping in.

  ‘Oh, it won’t actu’lly ’urt,’ said Nellie, closing the door. ‘We’re ’aving some bread an’ marge an’ cups of tea—’

  ‘Nellie, who’s that?’ The voice of the young mistress of the house rang out loud and clear from the kitchen.

  ‘It’s yer soldier friend,’ call
ed Nellie.

  ‘It’s what?’

  ‘It’s ’im, Annie, ’e’s come to see how you are.’

  There was a short silence, then Annie called, ‘Has he got that pushcart with him?’

  ‘No, course ’e ’asn’t, have yer, Will?’ said Nellie.

  ‘Well, is he laughin’, then?’ demanded Annie.

  Nellie looked at Will. He tucked his grin away.

  ‘No, ’e’s not laughin’, Annie.’

  ‘He’d better not be. He can come in, then.’

  Nellie led the way to the kitchen. Cassie and Charlie were sitting at the table, eating bread and marge and drinking tea. Annie was standing with her back to the range. On one leg. Her hand was on the back of a chair, supporting herself. She looked attractively slender in a jumper dress of dark green. The style was a bit out of fashion, particularly as it was waisted, but Annie had bought it half-price at a sale and it suited her. She’d shortened it to knee-length, and that was fashionable at least. Well, these days it was death to a girl not to look a bit fashionable.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ she said.

  ‘Same to you,’ said Will, inspecting her one standing leg.

  ‘D’you mind tellin’ me what you’re lookin’ at?’ asked Annie, with Cassie and Charlie keeping the peace for the moment. She’d told them to.

  ‘I’m lookin’ for your other leg,’ said Will.

  ‘I’m restin’ it,’ said Annie.

  ‘Yes, but where is it, upstairs on your bed?’ asked Will.

  ‘No, it’s at the doctor’s,’ said Annie, and Cassie burped a giggle she’d tried to suppress. Charlie grinned.

  ‘What’s it doin’ at the doctor’s?’ asked Will. ‘Havin’ an operation?’

  Nellie spluttered.

  ‘Annie, you’ve got it behind you,’ she said.

  Annie lowered it, and Will saw both legs then. Annie’s eyes danced, and she laughed.

  ‘Caught you there,’ she said.

  ‘Feelin’ better, are we?’ said Will.

  ‘She was ’aving you on, Will,’ said Charlie, ‘she said she’d give me an’ Cassie what for if we let on.’

  ‘Well, it’s my turn to laugh today,’ said Annie.

  Charlie said how’s your father to Will, and then told Annie he’d got to go out and bash Georgie Simmonds. He owed him one on his conk. Annie told him to stay where he was or she’d tie him up. Cassie asked Will if he’d just come from guarding the Tower of London. Will said no, that was a job for the Beefeaters.