‘Hoy Pete, what’s up with the kid? Nearly knocked me over the bloody fool.’
‘God knows Patrick. Something in the middle of the road.’
‘Aye he said something like that. Come on. Let’s find out.’
They set off walking side by side in case of emergencies, although neither admitted as much. Pete was whistling uneasily while Patrick’s pipe-stem seemed to be about to snap due to the pressure exerted on it by his false teeth.
As they turned a bend in the path they could vaguely make out a dark shape filling the pathway.
‘Jesus!’ Pete moved one pace forward and laughed with relief.
‘A cow!’ he said, ‘It’s a bloody cow.’
‘A bloody old cow,’ answered Patrick in disgust. ‘Just what you’d expect. You better go and find that boy.’
‘What about you? You not coming?’
‘Me?’ the old man snorted, ‘see you tomorrow boy.’
‘You rotten old bastard,’ said Pete grinning.
‘Bloody dancing he should’ve been, that’s what. Eh? Bloody dancing.’
Patrick laughed and lighted his pipe then, giving a wave, ambled on home.
Pete watched him go then turned and set off to discover whether Dave had reached St Helier.
Wednesday
‘Jimmy! Jimmy! Come on, it’s half past.’
‘What? What is it?’
Billy was leaning over me shaking my shoulder. ‘Half past five man come on.’
‘I’m not going.’ I closed my eyes as I realised today was Wednesday. Day before pay day. We had no money. No food. No cigarettes. Nothing at all. ‘I’m not going man.’
‘You’re daft you bastard.’ Billy looked disgusted. ‘What’s the point in staying here? There’s no grub. Nothing. Might get a tap in work.’
I opened my eyes. ‘It’s raining.’
‘So you’re not going?’ He put on his jacket.
‘No sir. No sirree. Tell old Dick. Oh tell him anything at all.’
Billy opened the door and looked around. ‘You tell him tomorrow.’
‘OK.’ I pulled the blankets up to my chin. ‘Christ it’s really terrible in here. So cosy and warm. Oh it’s really bad. I wish I could go to work. You’re lucky.’
‘Aye I know,’ he looked angry, ‘I’m getting a new place Jimmy, this is hopeless.’
‘Oh no,’ I mumbled sleepily.
The door slammed as I turned over.
About 10.30 a.m. I awoke with a clear conscience and began searching for food. Billy and I had looked everywhere last night but unknown to him I had found an egg which I had secreted among the old ash in the fireplace. I looked elsewhere for something more but found nothing.
I washed the egg before breaking the shell and emptying it into the frying pan. Then I realized I should have boiled it. Too late now. One fried egg for breakfast. Still there were three or four tea leaves left and enough dust to make at least one cup of tea. No milk though. I noticed the old empty tin of Carnation lying on top of the rubbish box. Yes! I could pour some boiling water into it and swirl it about. Enough for a cup. Things were looking better.
I switched on the kettle and turned on the electric ring before returning to the room to make the bed and tidy up a bit. There was a chance of finding a dowt somewhere. Perhaps in the fireplace? Billy had looked there last night though. Not much hope. I searched around for a while before discovering the large butt of a Capstan under the carpet. That sneaky bastard! He must have tapped it from a lodger. Well, well, well. What a dirty bastard. I thought I smelled smoke this morning. What! Something up! The kettle had not whistled.
I put the dowt behind my ear and walked through to the kitchen. The switch! Electricity! The slot! Jesus no shilling. No breakfast. Overcome with despair I sat down, close to tears. My mind was completely blank for some time. Then. Raw eggs! Very healthy. Yes and there was some Yorkshire relish to mix in.
‘Hullo there!’ I cried for joy and jumping to my feet ran through to the kitchen where I spooned the egg from the frying pan up into a cup. I took the sauce bottle down from the shelf and laid it on the sink, then drank some ice-cold water, straight from the tap. Ah, even Manchester water is so refreshing.
I grabbed the bottle and shook the liquid into the cup. Closing my eyes I raised the cup to my lips and drank half. Immediately I spluttered and coughed and spewed into the sink. Groaning I bent my head down between my knees realising what I had done. I could still taste it. My God I had picked up the Fairy Liquid instead of the Yorkshire Relish. I straightened and turned on the tap to wash away the breakfast. Something attracted my attention. The ultimate piece of all the bad luck which had ever befallen me. The cigarette butt had fallen from my ear and was now soggily floating with the tide of green-coloured yolk towards the drain.
I staggered into the room and collapsed onto the bed a raving maniac. Somehow I must have undressed and crawled under the blankets, as the next thing I knew, the door had opened and the landlady’s cleaner was staring down at me. She held a broom and shovel in one hand.
‘Sorry, thought you were at work. Always do in here Wednesdays.’
‘That’s OK.’ I sat up, ‘If you start in the kitchen I’ll get up.’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘No, I was about to get up anyway.’
‘All right then.’
She walked through to the kitchen closing the door behind her.
I dressed quickly, rather embarrassed as she had noticed my clothes strewn around the room and my underwear had not been changed for a fortnight although I doubt whether she had noticed that.
‘OK?’
‘Yes,’ I answered.
The kitchen door opened and she peeped around, ‘Somebody been sick in here?’
I nodded, ‘Bad stomach, that’s why I didn’t go in to work.’
‘Ah there’s a germ going the rounds.’ She returned to her duties.
I picked up a book and sat down. I could not concentrate, my mind was on food and my orchestral stomach began tuning up. Ten minutes elapsed then on impulse I rose and opened the kitchen door.
‘Fancy some tea?’ I asked.
‘Please.’
‘Fine, I’ll just go and wash first.’
I retreated quickly to the communal bathroom hoping for a miracle. I sat meditating on what to say when I returned. In all I must have had about a dozen different replies ready for her possible questions.
When I eventually got back to the flat I found the cleaner had left; however, her tools were still lying on the kitchen floor. God what could I say to her? All my answers sounded ridiculous. Suddenly the door opened and she entered carrying a shopping bag.
‘Here.’ She passed me a single shilling which I accepted silently and slid into the slot.
‘You remind me of my son and my man.’ She smiled faintly, ‘and my father and brothers.’
I stood saying nothing.
‘You tidy up the room and I’ll make the tea,’ she said.
‘Thanks.’
With some relief I watched her go into the kitchen. I set to making the bed again. My nose was going mad. Just as I had finished cleaning out the fireplace the door opened and she came through carrying a tray. There was a plate straining under a pile of buttered toast and another two, each containing three sausages, an egg, beans and a fried potato scone.
‘I’m hungry too,’ she said with the glimmer of a smile, placing the tray on the table. ‘Sit down and I’ll bring in the tea.’
A morning paper could be the only other thing I desired at that moment. When we finished the meal she gathered up the plates and I sat back with the book. She reappeared five minutes later with her bag and tools.
‘Thanks an awful lot missus. You saved my life there, you really did.’
‘Time you got married,’ she commented, leaving the room.