‘I can’t believe that Rosie has got herself a bloke. And a copper at that!’ Angie said to Dorothy at the end of the day’s shift as they walked up from North Sands to a part of the town known as the Barbary Coast.
‘I’ve still not forgiven you for chickening out on me,’ Dorothy said in all earnestness.
‘Ahh, you’ll get over it!’ Angie laughed out loud before dropping her voice. ‘Not a bad move that, is it? Getting a boy in blue in yer pocket. Never know when you might need one. Especially in Rosie’s line of work.’
Dorothy threw her friend a look of reprimand.
‘Shh,’ she looked daggers at Angie, before whispering in her ear, ‘remember, no talking about the boss’s other job in public.’
Angie nodded her compliance but thought Dorothy was being both overcautious and overly dramatic, as usual.
‘She seems dead happy, though, doesn’t she?’ Angie carried on chatting as they walked along Dundas Street.
‘Yes, she does,’ Dorothy agreed, stopping to look in one of the shop windows at a dress that was being put on a mannequin.
‘So, Ange, we won’t be hanging about at yours, will we?’ Dorothy always got a little tense whenever they had to ‘just nip’ to Angie’s house, which was always full of feral-like children yelling at the tops of their voices and creating chaos. Dorothy had met Angie’s parents on just a couple of occasions as most of the time she opted to wait outside. Angie’s mother wasn’t exactly over-friendly, but seemed all right. Angie’s father, however, was a brute of a man and put the fear of God into Dorothy.
‘Nah, we’ll be in and out in a jiffy,’ Angie said. Lately she had been spending less time at home and more at Dorothy’s where it was much quieter and calmer; Dorothy’s mum and stepdad didn’t bother them – the house was that big they rarely even bumped into them – and there was the added bonus of an indoor toilet and a proper bathroom.
As Angie and Dorothy walked through Angie’s front door, they were instantly hit by the smell of a roaring coal fire and the usual screeches and screams of Angie’s younger siblings.
‘All right!’ Angie called out to her dad over a few bobbing heads playing chase around the house.
‘Aye, aye,’ he replied, barely looking up from his paper.
Dorothy had got to know Angie’s parents’ daily routine over the past year since she and Angie had become firm friends; she knew that her dad would do the early shift at the Wearmouth colliery and that her mam did the late shift at the nearby ropery. Lately, Angie’s mam had been doing quite a bit of overtime, so she hadn’t been about as much. Angie had told Dorothy that she reckoned it worked well as it meant there was less chance of her mam and dad kicking off – something that, by the sounds of it, was a common occurrence.
‘Mam gone already?’ Angie asked as she picked up the youngest offspring and smothered the little blonde girl in a barrage of kisses.
‘Aye, she’s deeing time and a half today. So,’ Angie’s dad nodded over to Dorothy, who was being used by the other children as some kind of slalom pole to dodge around, ‘if Liz isn’t back in the next five minutes, you’ll have to stay with yer mate here ’n’ look after the bairns.’
Dorothy immediately shot an anxious look over at Angie.
‘Ah, Dad, I’m sorry. Me ’n’ Dor’s got overtime. I’ve just popped back for a few things before we have to get back,’ Angie said without a trace of deceit.
Dorothy looked at Angie’s father, who was like one of those musclemen pictured on adverts for the local circus under the banner of ‘The World’s Strongest Man’. His arms were like boulders. She could even see the thick veins through the smears of dirt and coal dust.
‘Ah, yer a good girl, Angela,’ he said with a wide smile that showed off a surprisingly good set of teeth. ‘Yer a hard worker. I’ll grant yer that. Go on then, get what yer need and bugger off. Yer don’t want to be late. I’ve heard they’re right tight bastards down those yards. One minute late ’n’ yer docked a whole hour.’
Angie forced a laugh. ‘Yer right there, Dad, “right tight bastards”.’
As Dorothy quietly exhaled, Angie dumped the baby she was holding into Dorothy’s arms and hurried off out the back to fill her bag with the essentials needed for her night out.
By the time Dorothy had jigged the baby up and down and made her gurgle and then giggle, Angie had reappeared with her haversack, which was stuffed full to the brim.
Angie’s dad stood up and to Dorothy’s shock and surprise took the baby from her and gently held her in his huge arms. The baby let rip a loud, excited cry and made a reach for her father’s long moustache that curled ever so slightly at the ends. Seeing him and the baby made Dorothy think of Beauty and the Beast.
Angie pushed Dorothy out the lounge door, dodging the rest of her young siblings and shouting ‘Ta-ra, Dad,’ over her shoulder.
‘Dinnit forget. Take care down them yards,’ her dad shouted by way of a goodbye.
A few minutes later Angie and Dorothy were back on the main road.
‘Bloody Nora, close call there!’ Angie gasped as they hurried down the street and away from the house.
‘God, Ange. You’re a good little actress when you need to be.’ Dorothy was secretly breathing a huge sigh of relief that they hadn’t got cornered into playing nursemaids. She didn’t know if she could actually have stuck it there for an entire evening.
‘Lifetime of practice!’ Angie was quick to reply.
As they made it to the end of Dundas Street and turned into St Peter’s View, they slowed their pace.
‘So where’s it to be tonight?’ Angie asked, but as she looked at Dorothy she saw that her attention was elsewhere – she looked captivated by something happening down one of the back lanes.
Angie followed Dorothy’s stare.
‘Eee, Ange, it’s your mam!’ Dorothy exclaimed.
Angie took one glance at her mother and then back at Dorothy, who looked like she was about to shout out a greeting and was raising a hand to wave to her.
‘Dor!’ Angie grabbed her friend’s arm.
At that moment, a tall, young-looking bloke stepped out of one of the backyards. He slid his arm around Angie’s mam’s waist and pulled her towards him. The next moment the pair disappeared and the cobbled back lane was once again empty.
‘You can let go now,’ Dorothy said.
‘Sorry, Dor, I didn’t want my mam to see us.’
‘And I bet you she didn’t want us seeing her either,’ Dorothy said quietly. ‘I thought she was meant to be at work?’
‘So did I,’ Angie said.
‘But you don’t seem that surprised that she’s not.’ Dorothy followed Angie as she started to walk back along the main street in the direction of the Wearmouth Bridge.
Angie didn’t say anything. Nor did it seem that she wanted to, either.
As they hurried to catch the tram over to the south side, Dorothy’s only thought was that Angie’s mother must be completely out of her mind.
You didn’t do the dirty on a man like Angie’s father.
No way.