The Railway Girl. Nancy Carson

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СКАЧАТЬ I’n got beer all down me coot,’ the man named Enoch told the girl. ‘Hast got summat to rub me down with afore it soaks through to me ganzy?’

      ‘I’ll bring you a cloth when I’ve mopped this up, Mr Billingham,’ the girl answered apologetically. ‘I’ll only be a minute.’

      As she cleaned, the owner of the offending terrier returned. ‘I swear, I’ll drown the little bastard in the cut if he plays up again,’ he muttered, and asked who else’s beer he’d knocked over. He duly went to the bar to make reparations.

      ‘Fun and games, eh?’ James Paskin remarked to Arthur.

      ‘That beer went all over my trousers, you know, James. I’m soaked through.’

      ‘Ask the girl for a cloth.’

      ‘Think I should?’

      ‘Course.’

      ‘I could catch a chill with wet trousers.’

      ‘It ain’t worth taking the risk, Arthur. Quick, before she goes.’

      Arthur hesitated but, just as the girl was about to go, he plucked up his courage and tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Excuse me, miss …’ She turned her head and he saw by the light of the oil lamp hanging overhead that her face was made beautiful by wide eyes which were the most delicate shade of blue, full of lights and expressions. ‘I … I got soaked in beer as well … Would you mind bringing a cloth for me?’

      Had it been any of the regulars she would have taken the request with a pinch of salt, knowing it was an attempt at flirting, to get her to wipe their trousers. But there was something in the earnest look of this man that made her realise he was not preoccupied with such triteness. So she nodded and smiled with decorous reserve.

      ‘I haven’t seen her before,’ Arthur remarked. ‘She’s quite comely.’

      ‘Fancy her, do you?’

      Arthur grinned self-consciously. ‘Like I say, she’s quite comely. She seems to have a pleasant way with her. Don’t you think so, James? But I expect a wench like that is spoken for already. Is it the landlord’s daughter, do you know?’

      ‘Not that I’m aware of. I’ve not seen her in here before. Not that I’m stuck in here every night of the week, you understand.’

      The girl returned and handed a towel to Enoch Billingham, apologising again for his being drenched. Then she turned to Arthur …

      ‘You wanted a towel as well, sir?’

      ‘Thank you …’

      ‘Shall I hold your beer while you wipe your trousers?’ she asked pleasantly.

      ‘Thank you …’ He began swabbing the spreading wet patch on his trouser leg, feeling suddenly hot. Just as suddenly he felt his bowels turn to water again and knew that he must make another rapid exit. With intense agony he held himself, noticing at the same time that at least the girl was not wearing a wedding ring.

      ‘What’s your name?’ he managed to ask. ‘I ain’t seen you in here before.’

      ‘Lucy,’ she said.

      ‘You live local?’

      ‘Bull Street.’

      ‘Funny I’ve never seen you before.’ Arthur was trying manfully to maintain a look of normality.

      ‘Why, where do you live?’ Lucy asked pleasantly.

      ‘The Delph.’

      ‘Fancy. Just up the road.’

      Arthur was effecting some severe internal abdominal contortions coupled with heroic buttock clenching, in an effort to maintain not only his composure, but his self respect and his eternal reputation. He was desperate to keep the girl talking as long as he could, to try and find out more about her, but he was even more desperate to win the battle against his wayward bowels. It was a battle he was losing ignominiously, however, for without doubt he had to go.

      ‘Yes, just up the road … You’ll have to excuse me, Lucy …’ He turned and fled.

      ‘What’s up with him?’ Lucy enquired of James.

      ‘Something he ate, I think,’ James replied, being as discreet as he knew how. ‘He’s had a problem all day, I believe.’

      Lucy chuckled. ‘Poor chap. Well, he’ll find nowhere to relieve himself that way.’

       Chapter 3

      Sunday was another lovely September day, a day when women kept open their front doors and sat on their front steps, gossiping with like-minded neighbours. They peeled potatoes and shelled peas which they would have with a morsel of meat for their dinners when their menfolk staggered back from the beer houses. Lucy strolled to the water pump carrying a pail. Bobby the sheepdog ambled wearily but proprietorially beside her, ignoring other animals that pointed their snouts at him and sniffed. Lucy tarried a minute or two with most of the women, pleased to comment on what beautiful weather they were blessed with, but said nothing of the dismal slag heaps and factory yards that rendered the immediate landscape squalid and colourless.

      ‘It’s a pity there ain’t no fine houses with well-tended gardens in this part of Silver End,’ she commented to one woman known as Mother Cope, who was smoking a clay pipe as she tearfully skinned onions in her lap. ‘’Cause the flowers, specially the roses, would still be in full bloom, and a sight to behold on a day like this.’

      ‘If you want to see flowers, my wench,’ Mother Cope replied, withdrawing her pipe from between her toothless gums, ‘I daresay as there’s a bunch or two in the churchyard you could gaze at, on the graves o’ the well-to-do.’

      Lucy returned to the house with her pail full of water and poured some into a bowl to give to Bobby, before using more to boil vegetables. At about three o’ clock her father returned hungry from the Whimsey and the three sat down to their dinner.

      ‘I reckon Ben Elwell could’ve done with your help again this morning, wench,’ Haden remarked to his daughter.

      ‘I’ve got too much to do here helping Mother of a Sunday,’ Lucy answered. ‘But he’s asked me to work tonight.’

      ‘Ar, well, there’ll be some beer shifted tonight an’ all, if the weather stops like this. Folk like to tek their beer into the fresh air and watch the world go by.’

      ‘I only wish they’d bring back their beer mugs when they’ve done, instead of leaving them lying around for me to collect.’

      ‘I reckon you’ve took to this public house working a treat, our Lucy,’ Haden said with a fatherly grin. ‘Her’s took to this public house working, you know, Hannah. Who’d have thought it, eh?’

      ‘Just as long as she keeps away from all them rough toe rags,’ Hannah replied.

      ‘Oh, СКАЧАТЬ