Chapter Fifteen
CHARLIE LIKED A nap in the afternoon. Today was no different except, as he stretched himself awake, he peeped through the window, delighted and surprised to see Adam striding down Penny Street towards the barge.
‘Well, look at that!’ Addressing a bright pink and yellow parrot in its cage, he pointed to the approaching figure. ‘We’ve got a visitor.’ Wagging a finger at the parrot he ordered it, in mock-severe tones, ‘Straighten yourself up, you lazy article! Look smart now. We don’t want the young man to think we run a sloppy ship.’
Still half-asleep and stretching its feathers, the parrot cocked its head to one side. Closing one eye and peering through the other, it replied in a high, squeaky voice, ‘Where’s me whisky? Want it now!’ Having itself been woken from a comfortable nap, it ran up and down its perch, demanding attention, until Charlie had to threaten it with being cooked for dinner, if it wasn’t quiet.
As always, that did the trick.
Adam called from outside, ‘Charlie, are you in there?’
In a minute Charlie had pulled his slippers on and was at the door. ‘Come in, lad! Come in. I’ve told you before, if me flag’s flying, I’m at home,’ he chuckled, a loud, hearty sound that sent the pigeons soaring into the air. ‘I might not be the Queen of England, but this is my castle and that’s my flag.’
He pointed to the flag at the forward-mast, and seeing it tightly wrapped round the pole, he slapped his hand across his forehead and groaned. ‘Oh, will you look at that! I did go out a while ago and then I had a nap, and completely forgot to set it loose.’ Emerging from the barge, he fumbled his way to the front and painstakingly unravelled the flag, letting it ripple free. ‘There! So now I’m home, and everybody knows it.’
Adam waited at the door. He loved the barge and everything about it, and Charlie was the most colourful, likable, most eccentric man he’d ever known. ‘Come inside, lad.’ Charlie slapped a long, heavy arm round Adam’s shoulders. ‘There’s no reason why the two of us should stand out here in the cold. It’s nipping my arse, so it is.’ His wide, podgy nose was blue at the end, though whether that was with cold or drink was another thing, and his bright green eyes were as sharp and all-seeing as the parrot’s. One thing was for sure: once you’d seen Charlie, you would never forget him.
‘Come on then, lad!’ He propelled Adam through the door so roughly that the pair of them fell headlong into the sofa; which caused the parrot to squawk and panic, and knock its water trough over. Disentangling himself, Charlie gave another hearty laugh, sending the parrot scurrying for cover. ‘It’s gonna be one o’ them days,’ he told Adam, who was thoroughly enjoying himself. ‘I can see it a mile away.’
Charlie had a set routine. When visitors arrived, he would first make them comfortable, then break open a bottle of whisky. They would sit opposite one another – the visitor on the small, narrow sofa, and himself in the big armchair – and the two of them would talk about politics and women, and enjoy a drink or two, and after a while, the visitor would roll home, and Charlie would fall asleep.
Today was different. Adam might not be too young for women and politics, but whisky was out. ‘I’ve no tea nor coffee to offer you,’ Charlie told him, ‘but I’ve lemonade, or shandy . . . with not too much beer, ’cause I made it meself and it’s a shameful waste o’ good beer if you ask me. I’ve got a friend who’s partial to it though, so I always keep a bottle at hand.’ He grimaced. ‘I never touch the stuff meself. Give me a good measure o’ whisky any day.’
Going to the tiny fridge in the comer, he flung open the door. ‘Look at that!’ He drew out a string of fish, complete with tails and heads, and staring eyes. ‘Caught ’em meself last week.’ Pausing, he bent his head forward and sniffed the fish. ‘Phew! There’s a fair old stink an’ no mistake!’ Much to Adam’s amusement, he flung open the window and slung the fish out. They dropped into the water below with a resounding splash.
Forlorn, Charlie shook his head, but chuckled all the same. ‘There goes me supper, lad.’ He eyed the parrot mischievously, warning in a loud voice, ‘I can always cook the parrot. I’m told they make a right tasty stew.’
When the parrot began shouting, ‘Where’s me bloody whisky?’ he threw a shirt over its cage, and there wasn’t another peep. He laughed so much he rocked the barge. ‘Somebody’s taught that bird to swear.’ He wagged a long, chubby finger at Adam. ‘It wasn’t you, was it?’
Adam shook his head. He couldn’t talk, because he was laughing so much.
Charlie returned to the fridge. ‘Right then, as I were saying, I’ve no coffee nor tea to offer you. There’s homemade shandy, or lemonade . . . and by the way, I left the lemonade out all night and forgot to put the top on, so . . .’ He scratched his ear and made a suitably guilty face. ‘I might as well tell you now, it’s as flat as a pancake.’ He held the bottle of lemonade in one hand and another bottle in the other, labelled Malt Vinegar, which, according to Charlie, contained the shandy. ‘So, which is it to be?’
It seemed Adam had no choice. ‘It sounds like I’d best have a drop of your homemade shandy.’
‘Wise lad.’ Replacing the lemonade in the cupboard, Charlie poured himself a glass of whisky, and gave Adam a tumbler of shandy. ‘There you go, matey. It’s good stuff, but it’s not potent, if you know what I mean.’
Not sure what to expect, Adam took a sip and found it invigorating. ‘It’s good,’ he said, smacking his lips.
Charlie was proud as punch. ‘Though I say it meself, I’m a dab hand at making shandy. My old dad taught me the way.’
They drank up and had another one, only this time, Charlie warned Adam, ‘If you start feeling a bit merry you’d best tell me, ’cause I’m not sure how much beer I put in it. Usually I measure it out, only I can’t find my measure. So, you be wary, lad. I don’t want to send you home feeling woozy, or like as not, I’ll have that grandmother of yours down on my head.’ He gave a wink. ‘From what you tell me, she sounds just the woman I’ve been looking for all my life.’
He took a swig of his whisky. ‘Tell me some more about her,’ he urged. ‘Does she wear ’jamas or a nightie, ’cause in my experience, a woman as wears jamas can be a cold fish. I prefer a woman as wears a nightie – preferably silk, mind. None of your cotton or Winceyette.’
Adam wasn’t about to get drawn into that particular conversation. Instead, he asked, ‘Why don’t you come and meet her?’
‘I just might do that.’ Charlie had thought about it for a while now, ever since Adam had sung his grandmother’s praises. ‘You’ve got me curious, and it’s an age since I enjoyed some female company.’ He took stock of Adam’s good looks and his strong build, and he wondered, ‘And what about you? Have you got a sweetheart?’
Taken unawares, Adam considered his answer carefully. ‘No, not yet,’ he answered warily.
‘Ah!’ Charlie had seen how his question had made Adam think. ‘But you’ve got somebody in mind, is that it?’
‘Not really.’ Adam was always happy to confide in Charlie. ‘There is a girl, but she’s too young. Just now, we’re good friends, but . . . she’s really nice. Very pretty.’ He blushed. ‘She’s not silly or flirty, like some of the girls. She’s sensible and we get on really well. If she was older, I’d ask her to be my girl, but . . .’ He shrugged. ‘Like I said, she’s much too young.’
Sitting up in the chair, Charlie observed Adam for a moment, then in a fatherly tone he advised, ‘If she’s all those things you said, I reckon she might well be worth waiting for.’
‘I think so too.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Just a girl.’
‘How old?’
Adam took a deep breath. ‘She’ll be eleven next birthday.’
‘Whoo!’ Charlie rolled his eyes. ‘So she’s got nearly six years before she catches up with you, eh?’
‘I said she was too young.’
‘What does she think of you?’
‘I’ve never asked her, but I think she likes me.’
‘As a friend?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want some advice from an old sea-dog who’s had more women than holes in his socks?’ Lifting the sole of his foot for Adam to see, Charlie displayed at least six holes from toe to heel.
Adam smiled. ‘What advice would you give?’
‘Only that nice girls are harder to find than beans in a pea-pod. You’re obviously in love with the lass. So, if she’s as sensible and lovely as you say she is, and if you get on really well with her, then you’d best wait for her to catch up with you. By the time she’s sixteen, you’ll still only be twenty-one or two. To my mind, that’s a good age for a couple to get wed.’
He made a face. ‘Mind you, I got wed at seventeen. Six months later we’d gone our separate ways. So you’d best not take me as a prime example.’
Adam had stopped listening. He’d already worked the ages out for Jinnie and himself, and had come to the same conclusion as Charlie, but, ‘I don’t even know if she’d want me,’ he said. ‘She might prefer somebody else.’
‘Does she like being with you?’
‘I think so.’
‘Does her face light up when she sees you?’
Adam had to think about that. ‘I never really noticed, but yes, I’m sure of it.’
‘Well then, I reckon you’re meant for each other.’
Adam had a vision of Jinnie in his mind. ‘She looks older than she really is,’ he revealed. ‘She takes an interest in everything and everybody, and she’s never afraid. When we moved into the house on Craig Street, my sister Hannah was in a terrible state.’
Charlie nodded gently. ‘I remember you saying.’ The bargee had shared almost all of Adam’s fears. But not the big one, when he and Hannah hid in the cellar. Not that one. Not yet.
Adam went on, ‘We had a terrible time with her . . . nightmares and everything. But Jinnie came to see her every day; they talked and talked, and Jinnie never got tired. She started coming in the morning to walk Hannah to school, and now they’re the best of friends. Hannah’s the oldest, but you’d never think it.’ Then he realised Charlie wasn’t listening.
Preoccupied with something he’d seen through the window, he was sitting bolt upright, his gaze stretched beyond Adam as he stared out. ‘She looks lost, poor thing.’
Curious, Adam got off the sofa to take a look, but ‘she’, whoever she was, was already gone.
‘You frightened her away,’ Charlie said. And Adam thought no more about it.
‘I’d best be going now, Charlie,’ he told him. ‘I’ve places to go yet.’
‘Still looking for work, are you, lad?’
Adam nodded. ‘It would be nice to go home and tell Gran that I’ll soon be bringing in a wage. It’s not easy for her.’
‘Aw, lad, you worry too much. There’s work to be had, but not for the old ’uns like me. A young lad like you, though – well, you’ll soon be fixed up.’
FROM HER VANTAGE point, Jinnie peeped round the corner; the sight of Charlie and then Adam looking out of the window had panicked her. Now, with the two of them emerging from the barge, she took to her heels and ran all the way to the tram-stop. ‘I shouldn’t have come here,’ she muttered as she ran. ‘It was a bad idea.’ Luckily there was a tram waiting. She hopped on board, giving a sigh of relief when it pulled away.
Behind her, Charlie was giving Adam more advice. ‘Bring that lass of yours for me to see,’ he said with a wicked smile. ‘I’ll not have you getting wed before I give my approval.’
Adam said he would like that.
‘And tell your grandmother I’ll be popping in to see her one of these fine days – though you’d best warn her what a big ugly lug I am. I don’t want her fainting at my feet.’ He laughed again, that loud, hearty laugh that sent cats and dogs running for shelter. ‘Mind you, it’s been a long time since a woman swooned at the sight of me. Happen you shouldn’t warn her at all. Happen I’ll let her have the surprise of her life. What d’you say, lad?’
The parrot’s shrill squawk sailed through the air. ‘What woman in her right mind would want you?’
Charlie groaned. ‘That bugger’s getting too clever for his boots. It sounds like he’s managed to pull the shirt off his cage.’ Cursing and chuntering, he went back inside to give it a telling-off.
As he walked away, Adam could hear the two of them, arguing and back-chatting. ‘One more word out of you, and I’ll wring your scrawny neck!’ Charlie threatened.
‘Bugger off, Charlie. You’re a pain in the arse!’ There was a screech and a flurry, and Charlie fell over the sofa.
‘You bit me!’ The old sea-dog couldn’t believe it. ‘I nearly broke me bloody neck into the bargain! Oh, you just wait till Sat’day. I’ll have you down that market so fast your feathers’ll fall out in the rush. I don’t care how much I get for you either, ’cause if nobody wants to pay money for you, I’ll damned well give you away! D’you hear me? I’ve had enough of you. Maniac bird! You’ve gone too damned far this time!’
There was another squawking and what sounded like a full-scale battle going on, then Charlie was yelling and shouting, and the bird was screaming at the top of its voice, and all hell seemed to be let loose.
Secure in the knowledge that Charlie would never harm a feather on the parrot’s body, Adam chuckled all the way to the tram-stop.
Coming to the bottom of Penny Street, he passed the time of day with old Mike Ellis, who was on his way back from delivering potatoes to the local greengrocers. ‘Where are you off to then, son?’ the little fella asked.
‘Up Mill Hill way.’ Adam had a mind to cover that same ground again.
‘Climb on. I’ll give you a lift.’
Michael pulled the horse and cart over to the kerb while Adam climbed on; behind him cars tooted and drivers yelled, and Michael took not the blindest bit of notice. Just like his father before him, and himself since a lad of twelve, he had travelled these same streets, hawking his trade without interference. That was over fifty years ago, long before the roads were choked with cars and buses. Ignoring them all, he pulled out, much to the abuse and astonishment of more drivers, who angrily hung out of their car windows to give him a piece of their mind. ‘Impatient devils!’ But he never acknowledged them nor did he give them any abuse in return. These were his streets, and they could damned well wait!
‘Finished for the day, have you, Michael?’ Adam had learned to respect the old man.
‘One more delivery to make,’ came the reply. ‘I promised Mabel Preston I’d take her a sack of potatoes, but it won’t hurt to keep her waiting. It’s like this, lad – the more time I spend on the road, the less time I need to spend with her.’
‘I thought you liked her.’ Because Michael delivered milk and vegetables throughout Blackburn, Adam, like everybody else, was aware of the love-hate relationship between Mabel and Michael; both in their seventies, and each as fiery as the other.
He gave a toothless grin. ‘Well, o’ course I do.’ The grin gave way to a scowl. ‘The trouble is, she can’t leave it at that. Every time I get anywhere near her, she goes on about wedding bells and setting up home together.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t be doing with that . . . not at my age.’
He urged the horse on. ‘Besides, if we got wed, I’d have to see her first thing of a morning, without her teeth and her hair in curlers and God only knows what else.’ He winked at Adam. ‘This way, I go and see her when she’s got her teeth in and her make-up on, and all her other secrets hid away.’
Adam could not get a word in while Michael chatted on, and ambled along, and the drivers swore at him in vain. His ears burning from the verbal abuse, Adam wisely kept his gaze averted from them.
Amazingly, Michael was oblivious to it all. ‘Mind you, I haven’t got all my own teeth, but I’m not about to tell her that, am I? Oh no. If a man can’t have his little secrets, then what’s the world coming to, eh? She keeps quizzing me, you see . . . “How much is your cottage worth now? How much money have you got in the bank? You must be worth a bob or two after all these years. And how many women have you been with?”’
He looked just the slightest bit embarrassed on divulging, ‘If you ask me, she’s got too many o’ them “carnal” instincts.’
‘Has she?’ Adam had an idea what he was getting at, but didn’t like to say.
His weathered old face breaking into a grin, Michael declared, ‘She’ll not have her wicked way with me so easy, I can tell yer.’ Leaning over, he confided in a whisper, ‘I’m not the man I was twenty year ago, y’see, lad. Me bits and pieces won’t do what me brain tells ’em to, that’s the trouble.’
When there came the sound of angry motorists trailing behind them, the volley of car-horns drowning out his voice, Michael put his hand behind his back and made a rude gesture. ‘Wait on, yer miserable buggers!’ he yelled. ‘Can’t you see we’re having a conversation!’
When the din increased to an unbearable pitch, he straightened up and gave the horse a tap with the reins, making gestures as the motorists overtook him one after the other. ‘Yes! You an’ all!’ he replied as they gave him an earful.
‘Have you ever thought about getting a car?’ Adam asked, wincing.
‘What!’ Michael was flabbergasted. ‘You’ll never see the day when I ride about in one o’ them things. Oh no! This cart has seen three horses out, and my dad with ’em. It served him well, and it’s served me better, an’ I’ll slice the ’ead off anybody as tries to separate me from it.’
Wisely, Adam said no more on the subject.
‘Well? What d’you reckon, lad?’ Mike asked, returning to the matter in hand. ‘Do you think I’m doing wrong in not telling Mabel the truth – about me bits and pieces, I mean?’
Adam shook his head. ‘It’s not for me to say.’
The old man sucked in a deep breath, then winked knowingly. ‘We’ll keep ’er guessing then, eh? Aye, that’s the thing to do. We’ll keep ’er guessing a while longer.’
By the time they’d reached Mill Hill, Adam knew more about old Michael than Mabel would ever know.