The work at Westmacott’s was hard and the hours were long but I got used to the routine. Angela and Hilda became close friends and although we joined in the community singing and laughed with the others at the rude jokes and catty remarks, we didn’t take an active part. We preferred quiet conversation amongst ourselves and we didn’t go in for rowdy behaviour. Angela lived with her parents and two younger sisters in George Leigh Street opposite St Michael’s Church. Hilda lived with her parents, grandparents, and her younger brother, Eric, in their pork butcher’s shop on Dantzig Street. Her dad was also a bird fancier and bred racing pigeons in his backyard loft, she told us. Angela and I said we hoped he didn’t use the birds as reserve for whenever meat was in short supply.
‘It’s strange what some of our menfolk do for a hobby,’ I remarked. ‘My Uncle Barney keeps rabbits and my Aunt Sarah threatens to use them for rabbit stew.’
‘And I have an uncle who breeds whippets,’ Angela said. ‘They’ve never won anything but so far no one’s talked about eating them. But you never know.’
Once or twice, we met Angela’s boyfriend, Jimmy, when he collected her after work. He was certainly handsome but we found him to be a bluff and outspoken character. A true northerner who could always be relied on to tell you
in a loud voice just what he thought, whether it embarrassed you or not. But Angela loved him, and since we liked Angela, we had to like him as well.
One evening Jimmy advised Hilda to wear built-up shoes, pile her hair up high, and try stretching exercises so she could look taller. He told me my eyebrows were too thick and I should have them plucked.
‘Thanks very much,’ I said and, not to be outdone, retorted, ‘and you should find yourself a decent barber and not one who uses a basin to style your hair.’
‘That’s nothing,’ Angela said when I reported the conversation to her. ‘He once asked me if I’d got my coat off a rag-and-bone man’s handcart. The cheeky bugger. But I love him ’cos he has no airs and graces, never beats about the bush, and always says what he thinks.’
Most nights when we finished the day’s stint, we walked arm in arm down Oldham Road, laughing and talking, happy to be in each other’s company. Though Angela reserved the weekends for Jimmy, that didn’t mean us three couldn’t go out occasionally during the week for a quiet drink and a visit to Queen’s Park Hippodrome. We left the organisation to Angela as she seemed to know her way around. My only problem was my landlady who was a stickler for keeping early hours. Once or twice I’d persuaded her to extend my curfew to half past ten but I was only too glad when, in the spring of 1907, we moved into our new house.
First, we visited the railway office at Red Bank, handed over the reference and four weeks’ rent in advance. In exchange we were given the key to the front door. We were in seventh heaven and we carried that key as if it would open the door to paradise.
I drew out the last few pounds from my savings and with Mam’s profits from the business, we visited a second-
hand furniture shop on Rochdale Road and bought some furniture for the bedrooms: three single beds, a couple of wardrobes, along with flock mattresses, pillows and bedding. One bedroom was to be for Danny and Eddie, another for Cissie and me, and the third for Mam. I wanted to put the cot and a single bed in Mam’s room but she insisted on a double bed ‘in case Frank stays over’. That was something I didn’t want to hear but I was so happy at the prospect of moving in, I brushed the thought from my mind. We even acquired a little kitten, Flossie, from a neighbour across the street. Our home was complete.
That same day Mam flitted her stuff across and I collected my few bits and pieces from my lodgings.
‘You’ve been a good tenant,’ Mrs Hudson told me when I said goodbye. ‘If ever you want to come back, you’ll be most welcome.’
‘Why, thank you, Mrs Hudson. And you’ve been a good landlady. If ever I want to come back, I’ll remember your words.’
After the hustle and bustle of working in the Macclesfield household. I’d found life at Mrs Hudson’s dull and restrictive. Not only because of the curfew she’d imposed but also because of the quietness, the solitude and the fact that there was, as we say in Lancashire, ‘nowt to do’. I’d ended up counting the blobs on the wallpaper for a bit of excitement.
A little later, Danny arrived carrying his trunk on his shoulder. He’d taken up smoking a meerschaum pipe and it gave off a lovely smell when he took a puff.
‘That’s the St Bruno tobacco,’ he told me. ‘But I took up the pipe ’cos people treat you seriously. It makes a man look intelligent and wise.’
I could see my long-cherished dream coming true at last. As for Eddie, he was like a young pup, almost wetting
himself with excitement as he dashed from room to room, asking over and over again, ‘Is this ours? Really ours? Can I bring my pals to play in the yard?’
‘Yes, yes - it’s all ours! Course you can bring your pals,’ we called, our bliss matching his. And when Eddie grasped that his big brother Danny was back and they were to share a room, his delight knew no bounds.
Next, we had a visit from the Guardians. They came and inspected every nook and cranny, every room, the back yard, the lavatory, the bedrooms, the kitchen. They checked the place for vermin - mice, rats, bugs, fleas. The house passed with flying colours. And so it ought ’cos Mam and me had spent a couple of days scrubbing the place out from top to bottom.
The following week, Cissie came home. We hugged and hugged and we cried a lot for we’d all been through so much since we were last together as a family. That night, watched by our little family kitten, I addressed my glass swan which had place of honour on the mantelpiece next to the boat-shaped teapot.
‘Well, swan,’ I said, ‘we’ve been through some rough times together, you and I, but here we are in the place where we belong. Home!’ I could swear I saw the swan smile. The kitten was looking at me curiously,
‘I must be going mad, Flossie,’ I said. ‘What am I doing? Talking to a glass swan!’
This period was one of the happiest in my life. Everybody seemed content with the way things were going. Cissie helped Mam and Aunt Sarah with the clothing business, Danny went to his carpentry job in Newtown, Eddie was settled in at St Michael’s School. As for me, I’d become an old hand at Westmacott’s. I was good at my job, or so Declan assured me. Not that the job required much skill.
I had the respect of the other women, and the close friendship of Hilda and Angela. We continued to go out occasionally during the week but now I didn’t need to worry about being told off by a landlady for coming back late. Our little weekday excursions were innocent enough - a shandy maybe in the Bonnie Gray or a visit to a fairground when there was one in town. One week, though, it was different.
‘I’ve got a surprise for the two of you,’ Angela announced one bright morning. ‘I won’t tell you what it is or it would spoil it. I’ll just say that it will cost you threepence each. I’ll call for you this evening at seven o’clock. So make sure you’re wearing your best bib and tucker. We’re going to town.’
Promptly at seven, Angela and Hilda called at Angel Meadow. I was ready - had been for half an hour - and wondering what she’d organised. Angela was always thinking up something new. I introduced my friends to the rest of the family and we were ready to go. Before we set off I couldn’t help noticing the way Danny and Hilda looked at each other. Uh-oh, I thought. Cupid is around firing his arrows.
We took the electric tram into Piccadilly and walked to Oxford Street from there. Our destination? St James’s Theatre. There was a massive placard advertising the night’s programme: For One Week Only! Straight from the Biograph, London! Moving Pictures with Sound Effects!
‘Oh, is that the surprise?’ I said, disappointed. ‘We’ve already seen moving pictures at the fairground. They were smudgy, jerky pictures of people walking up and down and a bunch of kids jumping about. Amazing but boring. Each picture was about one minute long. Cost tuppence. Daylight robbery, if you ask me.’
‘No, happy Harriet,’ laughed Angela. ‘This is not the same as the freak show at the fairground. It’s different, as you’ll see.’
‘It looks different,’ said Hilda encouragingly. ‘For a start, there are films with titles and the programme is forty minutes. And what do they mean by sound effects?’
Next to the silver screen the effects man sat at a table with two half-coconut shells for horses, a piece of sandpaper for water, and a box filled with pebbles for marching soldiers, and many other ingenious devices. His farmyard imitations supplied the animal noises whilst a heavily built lady provided atmospheric music on a battered piano.
There were five short films each telling a different story. The first one was called Watering the Gardener and showed how one man accidentally stood on the hosepipe whilst the gardener looked down the nozzle to see why there was no water. When the man stepped off the pipe, the gardener got it in the face. This short act brought gales of laughter from the audience and had them in stitches. There followed a series of films by a Cecil Hepworth. One entitled Rescued by Rover about how a dog rescued a baby had everyone hanging onto their seats, with the audience cheering, hissing and booing in all the right places. Last, there was a crime film entitled The Life of Charles Peace, about a murderer in Sheffield. I went through every emotion that night - laughter, joy, excitement, fear, and horror.
‘What a wonderful evening and isn’t it marvellous what they can do nowadays?’ I remarked to my companions as we came out into a Manchester drizzle and to sober reality.
And what was waiting for me at home was reality all right but not the sober kind.
As I stepped off the tram at the top of Angel Meadow, I could already hear the human cats’ chorus coming from Number 5. The voice of Frank McGuinness bawling out
‘ Ta-ra-ra Boom de-Ay ’ was louder than all the rest. I could hear baby John crying his heart out upstairs.
I turned the key in the front door and went into the living room. They were all there - Mam, Aunt Sarah, Frank McGuinness and half a dozen hangers-on from the Land o’ Cakes. A large pitcher of beer and bottles of whisky and brandy stood on the table. Judging by the racket they were making, they’d been guzzling for a few hours. And there was that sickly sweet smell of alcohol that I forever associated with the McTavish family and the workhouse. The slightest whiff of whisky was enough to bring back the terrifying memory of the day Old Jock was poised to give Danny the flogging of his life.
‘Hey up!’ Frank bawled. ‘Here she comes, our little Katie. Come and give us a kiss, sweetheart.’
‘She’s a love, is our Kate,’ Mam said thickly. ‘Come and have a drink with us, love.’
The scene filled me with dismay. Was this what I’d been making the effort for? Was this the dream I’d carried around in my head all those years? I ignored Frank’s slobbering invitation and addressed Mam and Aunt Sarah.
‘Can’t you hear baby John crying upstairs?’ I said.
‘Ah, he’ll be all right,’ Mam said. ‘Don’t be so bloody miserable, Kate. Come and have a drink.’
‘No, thanks, Mam. Not for me.’
‘Get down from your high horse, Kate,’ Mam drooled. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a little drink. We’re only having a bit o’ enjoyment. God knows we deserve that after all our work walking round Didsbury and Fallowfield.’
‘I agree, Mam. Nothing wrong with a drink -1 have one myself occasionally. But I hate heavy boozing and drunkenness, like this tonight. Besides, you’re keeping half the district awake. And when people are in their cups, they don’t know what they’re doing.’
‘We’re not like that,’ Sarah said, refilling her glass from the jug.
‘Look, Aunt Sarah,’ I said, ‘this place smells like a brewery. Is this what you’re going to spend your profits on - jugging it every night?’
Dropping the idea of greeting me with kisses, Frank McGuinness now changed tack. ‘Listen you,’ he spluttered, ‘your mother can do as she bloody well likes in her own house. It’s got bugger all to do with you. Who do you think you are, barging your way in and spoiling our party?’
‘Look, Frank,’ I exploded, ‘your son’s screaming upstairs while you’re boozing down here. Why don’t you push off and take your sozzled mates with you so Mam can attend to the baby.’
‘I think we’d better be on our way, Celia,’ one of the old hags in the party wheezed. ‘We’ll not stop where we’re not wanted.’
The party began to break up and drift towards the front door.
‘If things go on like this,’ I continued, ‘I’m tempted to return to my lodgings. At least there was peace and quiet there.’
‘Ah, let the bugger go,’ Frank McGuinness barked at Mam. ‘She’s brought nothing but misery since she carne back from Macclesfield. She doesn’t realise that you’ve got a new family now. Tell her the good news, Celia, about the baby.’
I felt the hair on my head stand up.
‘I’m expecting again,’ Mam mumbled. ‘Frank and me are going to have another.’
The news hit me like a thump in the chest. Things were not going according to plan, at least not to my plan.
I went up to my room and found Cissie weeping.
‘They’ve been at it since you went off with your friends,’
she said through her tears. ‘Singing, shouting, swearing, dancing. I couldn’t get to sleep and I’m so weary. My feet have been killing me. I must’ve walked miles with Mam today.’
We were joined by Eddie.
‘I can’t sleep,’ he sobbed, ‘because of the noise. It keeps wakening young John up in the next room and I have to go in and see to him.’
‘How long has this been going on?’ I asked.
‘A long, long time,’ Eddie replied. ‘Not only tonight but all the time you were working in Macclesfield, Kate. I wish Frank McGuinness would go away.’
You’re not the only one, I thought. I said nothing about the latest development which I hadn’t fully absorbed myself. They’d find out in time.
Later, Danny came home and in hushed tones in the little bedroom the four of us discussed the situation.
‘I gave up my lodgings and came home hoping for the best,’ said Danny, ‘but now I’m not so sure. I still have plans to join the Territorial Army. Probably the Manchester Regiment. There’s always demand for men to join as bandsmen.’
‘I feel the same,’ Cissie said. ‘I miss my friends and the teachers at Swinton. I think I’d like to get a job in service like you, Kate. Miss Morrell said I’d make a good underparlour maid.’
Eddie felt he had to join in. ‘I’d like to be a bandsman like Danny,’ he said, ‘if I could get a place in Swinton. Do you think they’d have me, Kate?’
‘Of course, they would,’ I said, ‘but let’s not rush things. I’ve spent half my life planning for this time and I don’t want to throw it away so easily. Let’s wait and see if there are any more of these binges and communal singing sessions in the living room. If there are, then we’ll have to act.’
On that note, we said our goodnights. Before we settled down to sleep, Danny popped back for a moment.
‘One last thing, Kate, before we turn in.’ He grinned. ‘What about that gorgeous girl you introduced me to? I’d love to get to know her better.’
‘You mean Hilda,’ I answered with a smile. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ My heart wasn’t in the smile. I was still reeling from the shock of the news that had been dumped in my lap.
When things had gone quiet, I lay staring at the ceiling, my mind working overtime. The night’s clash had been upsetting enough but Mam’s announcement had knocked me for six. To me, it was becoming obvious that her first family had been relegated to second place. Had my dreams been in vain? Had I been kidding myself all this time with the crazy notion of re-creating the past? Living in a fool’s paradise? That night, the wool had well and truly fallen from my eyes. Dad had died in 1897 and there was no way I could bring him or that idyllic family life back. The past was dead and gone; maybe that’s where I should have left it.
Next morning, I could think of nothing but yesterday and as I crossed Oldham Road on my way to work, I was almost knocked down by a big dray horse and cart. I hardly noticed the young man who had greeted me each morning with a cheery ‘Good morning. Sh-sh-should be a fine day, today.’ I nodded to him absent-mindedly. He was not my type.The fortune-teller Susie and I had visited in a mad moment in Macclesfield had told me I would meet a tall, dark, handsome man. This man was only of medium build and when he raised his cap to greet me, I noticed his hair was light brown. Besides that, he wasn’t handsome and there was that nervous stutter. Nice-looking maybe,
but that was all. I had to admit, though, that he had a lovely, friendly smile.
At work, I joined my two friends and soon we were busy washing bottles. The talk was mainly about the cinema and the film Rescued by Rover.
‘Did you notice the filthy attic where the young kidnapped kid was kept and the lovely home where he lived with his mam and dad?’ Angela gushed.
‘Yes,’ said Hilda, equally enthusiastic. ‘And the way the Gypsy was swigging from a bottle of gin. But I loved best the way the dog dashed through the streets. I don’t know how they managed to get the camera to follow it so fast.’
‘Marvellous,’ Angela said. ‘And I read in the Evening News that they produced the film for just over seven pounds.’
‘Fantastic,’ said Hilda. ‘What did you think of it, Kate?’
‘It was all right, I suppose,’ I replied. My brain was occupied with other matters.
‘Cheer up, Kate,’ said Angela. ‘It might never happen. Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you.’
I gave my two friends a thin smile. ‘Sorry, Angela,’ I said. ‘I’ve got things on my mind.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘Family things.’
‘You’re too serious about your family,’ Angela told me. ‘You worry too much. But we’re friends here, Kate, and so you can confide in us.’
‘It’s the heavy drinking that’s going on in our house,’ I said. ‘I know only too well from my workhouse days what terrible things booze can do. I’ve come to hate the smell of the stuff, especially whisky.’
‘I’m sure your family will be all right,’ Angela assured me.
Putting on a brave face, I said, ‘Talking of family, Hilda. I think you’ve made a conquest. My brother Danny has
taken a shine to you. He wants to know if he could meet you some time.’
Hilda’s face lit up. ‘I’d love to, Kate. Danny looks like a real gentleman.’
‘Not only that,’ laughed Angela. ‘He’s young, handsome and available. Look, I don’t want to butt in here but why don’t we organise a little party on Friday - pay day? We could book seats at the Grand. I hear there’s a wonderful variety bill this week. The usual turns plus a big star - Harry Lauder. What about it, Kate?’
‘Not for me, thank you, Angela,’ I said. ‘I’d be the odd one out. Five people going out together would seem a bit strange, to say the least. And anyway, I’m not in the mood, as I said before.’
Angela was insistent. ‘You need cheering up, Kate, and a visit to the Grand is what the doctor ordered. I’ll ask Jimmy if he knows anyone suitable, preferably a tall dark stranger.’
‘Going out with an unknown man? You must think I’m desperate. Not for me, thank you, Angela.’
‘We’ll wait and see,’ said Angela, smiling mysteriously.
The usual banter from the crowd left me just as cold.
‘My old man’s idea of helping with the housework,’ Brigid announced to everyone, ‘is to shift his feet when I want to sweep under his chair.’
‘You’re lucky,’ yelledTessie. ‘Mine won’t even move his feet except when he makes tracks for the boozer.’
I was not in the mood to join in. It was the same when the community chorusing started up. My thoughts were dark and depressing. I could see our little family breaking up - the family that I’d so painstakingly got together.
When I got home that night, Mam had gone to the pub for one of her business conferences and so I cooked the tea for the rest of the family. The evening passed quietly and
there was no repeat of the drunken orgy. Mam came home with Frank McGuinness and later they went quietly to bed. Perhaps, I thought, they’ve taken my words to heart and decided to calm down.
On my way to work next day, the same man with the sandy-coloured hair passed me with the usual sunny smile. This time he managed to say a little more than he had on previous occasions.
‘Good morning. A bit of sun-sh-shine at last, eh!’
‘Good morning,’ I replied. ‘Yes, it looks promising, doesn’t it?’
Friendly enough but not exactly a dazzling conversation. My personal weather man, I said to myself. If I ever want a weather forecast, I’ll know who to ask.
When I went into the bottle-sluicing room, Angela and Hilda were already there.
‘Great news, Kate,’ Angela announced. ‘I’ve booked a box for the second house at the Grand, Friday night.’
‘A box! You must be mad or made of money,’ I exclaimed.
‘If there’s going to be six of us, it’s quite cheap. And if we go Dutch, it won’t break the pockets of the men either.’
‘I hope you’re not including me in the six,’ I said. ‘I don’t fancy the idea of going out with a bloke I’ve never met. He could be anyone, for all I know. Charlie Peace or even Jack the Ripper.’
‘We’re going out as a group,’ Hilda said. ‘I can’t see any problem. Why not take a chance?’
‘That’s right, Kate,’ Angela added. ‘Take a chance! You might meet Charlie Peace but then again, he might be the man of your dreams. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’
At home that night, I broached the matter with Danny. Unlike me, he didn’t need to be asked twice.
‘Thanks, Kate, for fixing it up for me. You’re a great sister.’
‘Don’t thank me,’ I said. ‘Angela is the one to thank - she’s a born organiser. At least you know who you’re going with but she’s trying to persuade me to go in the company of some mysterious friend of a friend. God knows who it is and what he’s like.’
‘I’m sure Angela wouldn’t set you up with a rough, undesirable type,’ he said. ‘Why not come along and enjoy yourself? You take life too seriously.’
Next day, Angela and Hilda kept at me on the same subject for so long that for the sake of peace I reluctantly agreed. I hoped the peace was not of the Charlie kind.
‘Just for this one night,’ I insisted, ‘and I hope the unknown gentleman, whoever he is, is aware of that.’
When Friday came, my two partners talked about nothing else - the show we were to see, the men we were going with, the dresses we were to wear. The prospect even brought the normally quiet Hilda out of her shell.
‘I’ve got something wonderful to wear for this special occasion,’ she gushed. ‘My old grandma has given me a hat she once wore at an opera in Berlin. She preserved it in mothballs all these years. It’s still like new. It does something for me - makes me look taller. Wait till I show you.’
At the dinner break, Hilda produced Grandma’s gift from a battered leather hat box she’d humped to work that morning. The hat was one that featured an imitation bunch of cherries on the top and it was hard to tell the front from the back. It was a disaster. Proudly Hilda arranged the thing on her head. It made her look like something from a costermonger’s barrow.
‘Well, what do you think?’ she asked, surveying our expressions anxiously.
‘You’re right, it does do something for you,’ I exclaimed, turning to Angela for support.
‘Yes., you’ll certainly cause a stir in the theatre,’ Angela said, smiling fixedly but taking great care to avoid my eye.
When Hilda took the hat box back to the staff cloakroom, we could no longer hold back the laughter. It burst forth like a dam breaking its banks and we couldn’t resist a couple of choruses of ‘Where did you get that hat?’
‘What are we going to do?’ I giggled. ‘She can’t go to the theatre wearing that monstrosity. But how are we going to tell her? She’ll be so hurt - it’s her grandma’s pride and joy.’
‘ We mustn’t be the ones to tell her,’ Angela chortled. ‘If she turns up in that hat tonight. Jimmy’ll tell her and no mistake. She’ll take it from him as she knows how blunt he can be.’
We thought the hooter would never go that night and when it finally did at six o’clock, we were halfway down Oldham Road before the sound had died away.
When I got home, I examined my wardrobe. What to wear? I remembered those wonderful garments I’d acquired at the Macclesfield charity shop. It was now that they would come into their own.
Watched by Cissie, I opened up the wardrobe and took out my purloined outfit - the long black velvet skirt and the cream silk blouse with the high neck, to which I fastened the cameo brooch given me by Gran’ma on my eighteenth birthday - thank God she hadn’t given me one of her hats. Daringly, I applied a little face powder, a touch of rouge, a smidgen of lipstick, and finally I sprayed myself with the latest perfume, 4711. I wondered if the drop earrings might be overdoing it but I thought, in for a penny, and I put them on. I examined myself in the long mirror and saw a strange glamorous girl looking back at me - one wearing stolen clothes.
‘Well, what do you think, Cissie? Will I do?’
‘You’ll do, Kate,’ she said quietly.
Finally, I put on the fur-collared coat, my cream kid gloves with the pearl buttons and I was ready. The last touch was my evening bag containing a hanky, a powder compact, and a few coins for the tram.
I met Danny waiting on the landing outside the bedroom. He greeted me with a wolf whistle.
‘Kate!’ he exclaimed. ‘You look like one of them debutantes you see in magazines.’
I should, I thought, as these garments once belonged to one.
‘Why, thank you, Danny.You look pretty good yourself.’
Danny was wearing his best Sunday suit and a white shirt with a starched collar.
We called out goodnight to Mam in the kitchen and to Cissie and Eddie who were leaning over the upstairs banister.
‘Shall we go, Lady Catherine?’ Danny grinned and offered his arm.
The second house of the variety was due to begin at eight fifteen and we’d arranged to meet at quarter to eight outside the Grand, intending to have a quick drink before the show. Just after seven, Danny and I caught the tram to Piccadilly, walked down Mosley Street to Peter Street, and arrived at the theatre just on time. Angela and Jimmy were already waiting with warm, welcoming smiles. There were greetings all round with much shaking of hands but I could see no sign of my blind date, nor of Hilda. I looked around anxiously, expecting to see a one-eyed hunchback with a twisted mouth.
‘What’s that funny smell?’ Jimmy grinned, looking straight at me. ‘Has someone been using turps?’
‘He’s referring to your perfume, Kate,’ said Angela. ‘The
cheeky devil! It’s his way of paying you a compliment.’
‘Glad you like it, Jimmy,’ I said.
Angela and I exchanged looks. The cracks about my perfume confirmed our opinion that we could rely on Jimmy to tell Hilda about the ‘you know what’.
A few minutes later, Hilda arrived wearing the hat.
‘Now for the fireworks,’ Angela whispered to me.
‘What a beautiful hat!’ bellowed Jimmy when he saw her. ‘It makes you look taller and definitely becomes you. And I love those cherry things on the top.’
Hilda flushed with pleasure, or so we thought. How wrong Angela and I had been about Jimmy’s reaction! Hilda excused herself and went off to the ladies, no doubt to make last-minute adjustments to her hideous headgear. She was back in two minutes minus the hat.
‘If Jimmy likes it,’ she said to us in an aside, ‘there must be something wrong with it.’
God works in mysterious ways.
‘If you’re looking for your young man, Kate,’ Jimmy said, ‘Tommy’s gone to buy cigarettes and a programme. Don’t worry, he’ll be back - that is, if he hasn’t developed a case of nerves at the last minute and done a bunk.’
Then I saw him. He was smoking a cigarette and he had a programme in his hand.
‘But I already know him!’ I exclaimed. ‘I see him every morning. He’s my weather man!’
‘The real name of your weather man,’ Jimmy laughed, ‘is Tommy Hopkins and he’s been a good friend of mine since we were at St Patrick’s School together. Tommy, meet Kate.’
We shook hands. His grip was warm and reassuring.
‘I hope you’re not too disappointed to find I’m to be your partner for the evening,’ he said with a smile.
‘I should bloody well hope not,’ said Jimmy, grinning at
me. ‘Once Tommy knew that Angela was a friend of yours, he’s not stopped pestering for an introduction. Anyway, let’s not stand outside here in the cold, we’re wasting good drinking time. Let’s go in and have one at the bar.’
As we went inside, Tommy held the door for everyone. At least he has good manners, I thought.
This was my first visit to a theatre and there was something about it that I found strangely exciting. The sights, the sounds, and the smells combined to produce a special atmosphere. Perhaps it was the manager in his magnificent white tie and tails presiding over the well- dressed crowd thronging the foyer, or the smell of cigars merging with the heady perfumes of the ladies, or the bright lights and the colourful placards in the glass cases displaying past performances, or the thick plush carpets and the smart military uniform of the commissionaire. Maybe it was simply the sense of anticipation about the show we were going to see. But how I loved the gaslight glow in the foyer - back at home we still had oil lamps and candles - for it seemed to cast a soft light on the people’s faces, giving them a gentle, friendly look.
The bar was on the first floor, and as we climbed the staircase my eyes took in the signs pointing the way to the different seats of the theatre - the gallery, the balcony, the stalls and one set of seats with a foreign-looking name - the fauteuils. And we had tickets for the poshest of them all - a private box. The saloon was crowded when we got there but we managed to find a table and the men went to the counter for the drinks - beer for them and port and lemon for us ladies.
‘Well, what do you think of him, Kate?’ Angela suddenly asked. ‘Jimmy tells me that Tommy’s been going out of his way each day to pass you on the road to say good morning. He must be pretty keen.’
‘Too early to tell,’ I said. ‘He’s good-looking, got nice eyes and he’s well-mannered, I’ll say that for him.’
‘I think the three of ’em are good-looking,’ Hilda said, ‘and I’m so glad they don’t have whiskers, moustaches or beards that hide their features. I think all that hair on a man’s face makes him look ugly and a bit like an ape.’
‘It’s the latest fashion for young men to be clean-shaven,’ Angela told us. ‘Didn’t you know that? Ever since they brought out that new safety razor thing to replace the old cut-throat.’ Angela was well-informed about men. I suppose that was because she’d been going out with Jimmy a long time.
We turned our attention to the signed pictures of star artistes which decorated the walls, until the men came back with the drinks.
‘Should be a good show tonight,’ said Jimmy. ‘Not only because of the top of the bill but for some of the other smaller acts as well.’
We finished our drinks and went into the auditorium. I think this was the first time any of us had had seats in a box because we were taken aback by how close we were to the stage.
‘I don’t know about coming to see a sh-show,’ laughed Tommy. ‘I think we’re going to be in it!’
The safety curtain was down and we spent the first ten minutes reading the advertisements for the best places to eat, the best pubs to drink, and the best Turkish cigarettes to smoke - Abdullah of course. The murmur of the audience gradually quietened down when the musicians began filing through the door at the back of the orchestra stalls and started switching on their little lights and trying out their instruments. As the safety curtain rose - oh so slowly - the sense of excitement and expectation rose with it. The spotlights lit up, cutting through the tobacco smoke
and tinting it with an assortment of beautiful colours. The conductor appeared, bowed and smiled to the audience, tapped his baton on his stand, and the orchestra let rip with a series of rousing, cheerful tunes. The theatre was like a huge palace but to me it seemed warm, cosy, and intimate.
The show began with a series of minor acts - acrobats, performing dogs, trick cyclists, jugglers, conjurers, a comedian telling bawdy jokes and making rude noises, and one or two singers who warbled about their lost mothers and unfaithful sweethearts. None of them to my taste.
After the interval came the star we’d been waiting for.
Harry Lauder dressed in his kilt, his tam-o’-shanter bonnet and carrying his familiar twisted walking stick.
Before he sang, he made a small speech to introduce himself. A speech which brought waves of laughter from the audience.
‘I’ve just come down frae Scotland. It’s a long way, I can tell you. But who’d waste twelve and six on the train fare when I’ve got a good pair o’ walking boots. They say we Jocks are mean wi’ our money but it’s no’ true - we’re just careful with it. Mind you, tak ma Uncle Donald - please! Now he is mean. Why, the other day, he accidentally broke a bottle of iodine. So he cut his ain finger just to use it.’
He broke into ‘I love a lassie, a bonnie Highland lassie (as pure as the lily in the dell)’ in his own inimitable style.
He paused for a moment to make a request. ‘I want everyone to join in when we come to the chorus bit for it’ll save my voice, you understand. And if you can save a Scotsman anything at all, it’ll be much appreciated.’
The audience didn’t need asking twice. They lifted the roof off.
Harry sang only three songs, interspersing them with his patter about his relatives back in Glasgow.
‘My brother Angus came round the other day and asked if I believed in free speech. When I told him I did, he asked if he could use my telephone.’
One of his songs caused a private chuckle in our party. When he announced that he’d be singing ‘Stop your ticklin’ Jock’, we ladies exchanged knowing glances and burst out laughing, which left our escorts wondering what we’d found so funny. Needless to say, we sang the official version with the rest of the audience.
Harry’s act was short. Too short as far as I was concerned for I could have listened to him for hours. He finished with a typical request.
‘I hope you’ll tell your friends and family about me and ask them to come and see ma show. I’m not wastin’ ma money advertisin’. I believe in word of mouth.’
He left the stage singing ‘Just a Wee Deoch-an-Doris’.
When he’d gone, we shook our heads in wonder for we knew we’d watched a great professional at work.
‘Pure genius!’ exclaimed Tommy. ‘But I’ll bet he’s not popular with his fellow Scotsmen with those stories of their meanness.’
Too soon my first variety came to an end.Tommy helped me on with my coat and it was back to reality.
Outside the theatre, we shook hands and said goodnight.
‘That was one of the most wonderful evenings of my life,’ I said to Angela. ‘Thank you for arranging it. And thank you,Tommy,’ I added, ‘for escorting me and looking after me. I’ll expect your weather report on Monday morning when you pass me on Oldham Road.’
He nodded and smiled. ‘I’ll have to make sure it’s correct then.’
‘We must do it again,’ said Angela.
‘Leave it with Angela and me,’ Jimmy said. ‘We’ll book for next Friday.’
‘That’ll be great,’ Tommy said warmly, ‘but maybe this time ordinary seats so that we’re not part of the show.’
Everyone laughed and we made our different ways home.
It was gone eleven o’clock when Danny and I reached Angel Meadow. Outside Number 5 we found a small crowd of tut-tutting women, their shawls wrapped tightly round them. We were not left long in doubt as to what they were tutting about. From the front parlour of our house came the most awful caterwauling, along with wild music played on an out-of-tune fiddle. Judging from the screams and yells of delight, it sounded as if Mam had organised a ceilidh in the front room. The racket could be heard several streets away and the front door had been left wide open for anyone from the street to walk in.
Above the din could be heard the booming voice of Frank McGuinness belting out yet another Boer War song from his bottomless repertoire.
‘What-ho!’ she cried
On Mafekin ’ night! On Mafekin 3 night!
What happened outside?
On Mafekin 3 night! On Mafekin 3 night!
‘That bloody row,’ whined one of the women, ‘has kept my kids awake for the last two hours.’
‘We should set the law on ’em,’ said another.
‘It’s bringing the tone of the bloody district down,’ added her husband. ‘It’s enough to waken the dead. Riffraff like them should be locked up.’
Danny and I sighed in resignation and exchanged
glances which said ‘What a scene to come home to!’
‘Right,’ Danny said. ‘We’ve got to put a stop to this.’
First port of call was to check on the young ’uns upstairs. There we found Cissie and Eddie both tearful and trembling with anxiety. The baby in the front bedroom was bawling his head off.
‘What are we going to do, Kate?’ Cissie complained. ‘We can’t stay in this house with this row going on every night.’
My hackles rose. ‘We’ve got to do something, Danny,’ I said.
We stormed downstairs.
Danny flung open the door of the front parlour and we found a dozen men and women lolling about and swilling beer from two large pitchers. Once again, there was that awful workhouse smell of whisky. In the midst of it all stood Frank bellowing out his song about Mafeking. They were all well and truly sloshed.
‘Well, lookee who’s here!’ McGuinness yelled, pointing to Danny and me. ‘Saint Catherine of Ancoats! And her sidekick the Prince of Collyhurst! The two miseries!’
I wondered what he’d have said if he’d known that I was standing there in clothes I’d pinched. Still, we had to do something to break up this boozing session for the sake of the neighbours and the kids.
‘It’s our Kate and Danny,’ Mam slurred. ‘Won’t you join us in a little drinkie?’
‘Not for me, thanks,’ Danny snapped. ‘And I think you lot have had enough.’
Beer was spilt on the new table cover and the peg rug, the vase lay broken on the hearthstone, glasses and half-eaten sandwiches were everywhere. And tragedy of tragedies, my glass swan lay on the hearth - in pieces!
I blew my top. I was blazing.
‘Out! Out!’ I shouted, pointing to all the hangers-on. ‘All of you! You drunken slobs! Out of the house! Now!’
Drunk though they were, the crowd got the message and began to slink towards the door. I felt like Christ ordering the money-changers out of the temple.
‘Don’t you talk to us like that, Miss High Horse,’ Frank gibbered.
‘You’ve made this house into a boozer,’ I yelled, ‘and brought your sozzled rowdy cronies home to go on with your drinking. You’ve disturbed the peace of the district and I’m surprised you’ve not had the police round. Not only that, you’ve terrified the life out of the kids upstairs. But that’s it! I’ve had enough!’
‘Now, Kate,’ Mam wheedled. ‘No need to be nasty! These are our friends, come for a little party!’
‘Party? Party!’ I yelled. ‘I’ll show you party!’With that, I picked up one of the pitchers from the table, carried it to the scullery and poured the ale down the sink.
‘You’ve no bloody right to pour good ale away like that,’ Frank McGuinness barked. ‘I’ve half a mind to give you one,’ he added, raising his hand.
‘You try that,’ Danny said dangerously, ‘and you’ll have to deal with me first.’
Big though he was, McGuinness saw through his glazed eyes that Danny was bigger and meant business. He lowered his hand.
‘Either he goes or I do,’ I snapped. ‘But there’ll be no more jugging it here tonight.’ I picked up the second pitcher, intending to give it the same treatment as the first.
‘You’ll not bloody well waste another jug of beer,’ McGuinness shouted, taking my arm.
‘Hands off my sister!’ Danny said, grabbing McGuinness’s lapels.
Mam now joined in and cracked a plate over my head.
The jug of beer fell from my hand. Beer ran over the floor and a trickle of blood down my forehead.
The blow from Mam sent me reeling and left me in a state of shock, not so much from the physical damage or the pain in my head but more from the idea that my own mother could be so violent towards me. The hurt wasn’t to my head but to my heart.
‘That’s the last straw!’ Mam bawled. ‘You can bloody well sling your hook. Pack your bags and bugger off. We don’t want you here!’
Though still dizzy from the blow, I could see it was time to bring matters to a head.
‘Right, Mam, That is it\ I’ve reached the end of my tether,’ I cried. ‘I’ll pack my bags tomorrow.’
‘The same goes for me,’ Danny declared. ‘Tomorrow, I’m off back to my digs. I don’t want any more of this yelling and scrapping. Right now, I’m going to bed.’ He turned to face Mam and Frank McGuinness. ‘And thanks for ruining one of the happiest days of my life.’
Danny and I returned to calm the kids who’d witnessed the scene from the landing.
‘What about us, Kate?’ Cissie whimpered. ‘If you and Danny are leaving, I don’t want to stay.’
‘Neither do I,’ Eddie sobbed. ‘I want to go with you, Kate.’
I tried to reassure them both. ‘Leave it to me,’ I said. ‘I’ll not desert you. I’ll fix up something for you.’
I didn’t sleep a wink that night. My mind was racing with plans for the future, not only for myself but for Cissie and Eddie as well. Next morning, I packed my suitcase and went downstairs.
I met Mam in the kitchen. She was seated at the table with her head in her hands. She looked crestfallen and for a moment I felt sorry for her and the nasty hand fate had
dealt her since the death of my father. But my mind was made up.
‘Look, Mam,’ I said, ‘maybe I went too far pouring your beer down the sink but I do hate drunkenness. I came back from Macclesfield and tried to get the family together again. But I was wrong. Things have moved on and you now have a second family to think of. It’s obvious that things are not going to work out between us and it’s best I leave. Danny feels the same and is going back to his old lodgings.’
‘I’m sorry about last night,’ she said plaintively. ‘We got carried away drinking and all that. When I hit you with that plate, I didn’t know what I was doing. I hope it’s not a bad cut on your head.’
‘It could be worse.’ I grinned ruefully. ‘Only a scratch - I’ve got a hard head. A dab of iodine soon fixed it.’
‘I know the way you feel about things here living with a stepfather,’ she continued. ‘So I’m not going to ask you to stay ’cos I think you may be right about me having a new family to care for. I have a young baby and another on the way, and it’s as much as I can cope with at the moment. Frank isn’t as bad as you make out, he does care about me and his kids.’
Yes, I said to myself, about his own kids but not us Lallys.
‘Will you be able to manage?’ I asked.
‘We should be all right,’ she said. ‘The business is doing pretty well and Frank has his war pension.’
I thought this might be a good time to raise the matter of Cissie and Eddie but I wasn’t sure how she would take my suggestion. She might think I was interfering. I had to tread carefully. I didn’t want to stir up fresh trouble.
‘I think Cissie and Eddie might also be better off,’ I began tentatively, ‘if they made a new start.’
Mam’s reaction surprised me.
‘They’ve been on my mind as well,’ she said slowly. ‘I don’t think they’re happy here with Frank and our new family. Do you have any ideas?’
Did I! I’d been up half the night thinking and worrying!
‘Cissie is now fourteen and has completed a first-class education at Swinton. She could take up domestic service like I did. If you like, I could write to my old employer, Mrs Lamport-Smythe, and see if she knows of any vacancies. As for Eddie, he would like to go to Swinton and do a course in music and one of the manual skills, like carpentry or plumbing. He talks about following in Danny’s footsteps.’
‘Could you fix it up, Kate? I’d be so grateful,’ she said earnestly. ‘It would solve a lot of problems.’
When I left home that morning I wouldn’t say I was on good terms with Mam but we’d come to an understanding. We’d settled our differences but things were no longer the same. Friendly but distant. The presence of Frank McGuinness in the house had driven a wedge between us.
It was a Saturday morning when I moved and it meant taking the day off work. I was sure my workmates would be making cracks on Monday morning about me going on the booze on Friday night and having a hangover the next morning. I’d laugh with the rest of them, and I couldn’t see any great problem with Declan Dowd when I explained the circumstances.
I slunk back to Mrs Hudson’s place in Sherratt Court to ask for my room back. She was glad to see me.
‘You’re welcome to come back, Kate, on the same conditions as before.’
‘Thanks, Mrs Hudson, but I’m not so keen on those curfew hours you imposed. And this time I’d like a key to the front door.’
‘Well, I suppose, since I know you, it’ll be all right. But what would you be wanting a key for? You won’t be stopping out till all hours, will you?’
‘No, it’s just that on Friday nights me and my friends like to visit the variety theatre and we may be back later than ten o’clock. Say around eleven or eleven fifteen.’
‘Very well, I’ll give you a key on condition you’re back no later than eleven thirty. As for the variety theatre, isn’t that where a lot of half-naked painted women prance about the stage?’
‘No,’ I replied. ‘Variety’s now respectable and has famous singers like Caruso and Dame Nellie Melba.’ I hadn’t seen either of them on variety programmes but Mrs Hudson wasn’t to know that. It seemed to convince her that variety may have become respectable. What she’d have said if she’d known about Marie Lloyd’s singing and kicking her legs, the Lord only knows.
In the following weeks I was busy arranging things for Cissie and Eddie. A visit one Sunday to see Mr Birkby at Swinton ensured a place in Mr Maguire’s class for him and he also took up a musical instrument - the cornet. He was a quick learner and it wasn’t long before he had a place in the army cadet band of the Manchester Regiment. I wrote to Mrs Lamport-Smythe about Cissie and as luck would have it, the under-parlour maid, Lottie, had recently left - a piece of news which did not surprise me, given all her blunders. Cissie had no problem in securing the position since she came highly recommended by Mr Birkby and Lucy Morrell. Danny finally joined the Territorials at the Ardwick depot and was soon promoted to corporal because of his early military training at Swinton.
As for me, I continued in my job at Westmacott’s but in one important way I’d changed. I no longer harboured notions of re-creating the past. I could look back fondly on
the happy times that used to be. Nothing wrong with that. But now I realised that the past was the past. Those days of childhood bliss had gone for ever and could never be brought back, no matter how much I dreamt and prayed. No, my thoughts looked to the future and all its possibilities.