less than a success, especially when his temper was on him. Clumsy, often tired, late with his tea, losing things and sometimes nagging … she listed her faults. He’d always had an eye for other women but perhaps he had needed to look elsewhere because of her. If she’d just tried a bit harder …
She looked up and down the street as though expecting someone to leap out and march her back inside to share her husband’s punishment.
‘Where to, lady?’ A cabbie drew up alongside her, seizing his opportunity.
‘I don’t need a cab, thank you very much,’ Maureen told him, ‘not when there’s a perfectly good tram service.’
‘How much is the tram compared to my cab?’ he asked. ‘Not much more than the price of a cuppa tea, I’ll bet.’
‘So, how much will it cost me to Derwent Street?’ she enquired.
The cabbie looked her up and down. He saw how she was down at heel and straight out from visiting some poor sod in gaol. ‘Go on then,’ he answered. ‘I’ll run you there for a tanner. How’s that?’
Maureen did a mental calculation and realised he was doing her a good enough deal. ‘All right, Derwent Street it is.’ Taking a great gulp of fresh air she climbed in.
All the way there he talked: about the state of the nation and how, unless the heads of government got their thinking together sooner rather than later, they’d all be heading for a second world war. He talked about a recent visit to London, and how horses and carriages were becoming rarer and rarer. ‘Soon, there won’t be a horse on the streets, and that’ll be a proper shame,’ he complained.
‘There are still horses and carriages round here,’ Maureen observed. ‘And we still have the milk brought round by horse and cart.’
He had an answer for that too. ‘Ah, well,’ he commented smugly, ‘this is the North, and they do say as the North is allus lagging behind. But I’m glad of it, and so should you be. Things are changing too damned fast, if you ask me.’
Before they reached Derwent Street, Maureen was informed of the ‘crippling, rising prices’. ‘These days, if you want a smart suit for going out somewhere special, you’ve to pay as much as two pounds. And look at the picture house. Only last year, you could sit through a three-hour picture for sixpence. Now you’ve to pay eightpence. Prices never go down, they allus bloody well go up, if you’ll excuse the language …’
By the time he dropped her off, Maureen would have ‘excused’ him anything to let her out of his cab. ‘I don’t suppose you can afford a tip as well,’ he griped, holding out the fare in the palm of his hand.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I can’t afford tips.’
‘Well, then, good luck to you, and mind how you go.’
‘You too.’ She waved him off with a smile on her face. ‘It was a good try, I’ll give you that,’ she told the rear end of his cab as he went away up the street. Then she hurried into the shop.
‘Hello, Maureen.’ Marie was at the till, serving a customer. ‘Our Amy’s in the back, if you want to go through?’
After thanking Marie and enquiring about her busy day, Maureen made her way to the living quarters.
‘Mammy, Mammy!’ On seeing her in the doorway, little Johnny ran to her. ‘Me and Amy went to see Daisy, and the man who got me out of the road was there and he told me about his friend …’
He would have gone on, but Maureen quietened him down. ‘Not so fast,’ she laughed. ‘What’s all this about the man “getting you out of the road”?’ That was the one remark that registered. ‘What were you doing in the road in the first place?’ She raised a quizzical gaze to Amy, who quickly explained.
Once she was armed with the facts of the matter, Maureen could see that it was no one’s fault really. ‘It’s a good job this man was there,’ she said. ‘And as for you, lad,’ she wagged a finger at her son, ‘you’d best do as you’re told in future and stay close to Amy.’
Uncomfortable, the boy looked from one to the other. ‘I won’t run out again,’ he promised.
‘Now then, what’s all this about a friend?’ Maureen gave him a hug.
Growing excited, Johnny explained, ‘She’s called Velvet, and one day me and Amy are going to see her. You can come too if you like?’
‘I should think the poor man has seen enough of you, without taking you to meet his friend,’ Maureen said. ‘And here you are, inviting me and Amy into the bargain.’
‘The man won’t mind,’ Johnny assured her. ‘He’s nice.’ He then returned to his toy train and Amy made Maureen a cup of tea.
They had just settled down for a long chat, and Amy was coming round to ask Maureen if she’d found suitable work, when Marie came rushing in. ‘The shop’s getting busy,’ she told Amy. ‘I’m sorry, love, I know I gave you the day off, but I’d appreciate your help just for an hour or so.’
Amy leaped up. ‘Aw, Mam, you should have called me earlier.’
Marie sighed with relief. ‘Thanks, love. Oh, I nearly forgot, Maureen,’ she added. ‘There’s a man in the shop to see you. I think he said he were a cabbie.’
Leaving Johnny to his playing, both women followed Marie out to the shop, Amy to help serve the customers, and Maureen to see who wanted her.
On seeing Maureen come across the room, the taxi driver stepped forward. ‘I found this. I knew it must be yours ’cos you were the last fare I picked up.’ Handing her the umbrella, which she had not missed, he went on, ‘It was caught up in the offside door …’
Shifting his gaze to Amy, who had just dropped a packet of sugar, he told her with a grin, ‘Your mate here were in a right state when I picked her up from outside the prison. All white and shocked she were, as if she might faint any minute. No wonder she weren’t thinking right when she climbed into the cab.’
Deeply shamed, Maureen none the less had to thank him. ‘Do I owe you anything?’ All she wanted was to be rid of him. She propelled him towards the door. ‘I mean, what with you having to come back and all … how much d’you want?’ All she had in her pocket were two small coins, but he could have them if only he’d bugger off, she thought angrily.
‘Keep your coppers in yer pocket, it’s all right,’ he answered. ‘I were in this neck o’ the woods anyway. Got a fare to collect from Penny Street.’ With that he bade her goodbye and hurried off ‘to earn a crust or two’, as he put it.
It wasn’t only Amy who had been in the vicinity when he mentioned how Maureen had been to the prison; it was also Marie and the customer she was serving – though Mr Wagner was deaf as a post, his hearing destroyed by a shell explosion in the war, and he wouldn’t hear the ceiling come down, not even if it fell right on top of him.
After the customers had all gone, Amy saw that Maureen was close to tears.
‘Is it all right if we go into the back, Mam?’ she asked, her arm round Maureen’s shoulders.
Marie could see the turn of events and her heart went out
