A Woman’s Fortune. Josephine Cox

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      ‘Right, Mum, I’m off to see Evie,’ said Billy, putting a cup of tea down beside his mother’s armchair. ‘Have you got everything you need? I won’t be late.’

      ‘You’re a good lad, Billy. I’m right as rain, don’t you fret.’

      Billy wasn’t looking forward to helping Michael Carter sort out his problems repaying Mr Hopkins. Being a postman, Billy tended to know more than most what happened in several neighbourhoods, though he wasn’t a gossip. He’d heard of at least two men who had been beaten up when they couldn’t pay Hopkins, and some who had had their possessions taken by Hopkins’ men in payment of their debts. Billy had thought before now that, what with Michael’s drinking and his betting, if it hadn’t been for the laundry the family would probably have gone under.

      Billy got as far as the corner shop on Lever Lane, at the junction with Shenty Street, when Geraldine Sullivan emerged, rummaging in her handbag and bringing out a packet of Craven ‘A’ cigarettes.

      ‘Hello, Gerry. Just finishing work, are you?’

      ‘Yes, it’s been a long day. Mr Amsell does the evening papers but it’s my job to sweep up and tidy the storeroom. I’ll be glad to get home and take these shoes off – and these stockings. It’s that hot in the shop.’ She fanned herself prettily and Billy tried not to think about her taking off her stockings.

      Geraldine Sullivan was a real looker, with her glossy dark hair and her big blue eyes. If Mary had more than her fair share of brains, there was no doubt that her elder sister had got the beauty. Geraldine had worked at the corner shop ever since she’d left school. Billy thought she was seventeen or eighteen now but it was hard to tell, what with her red lipstick and her hair always nicely done. She had an easy way with the customers and Billy thought Mr Amsell had realised her beauty was an asset behind the counter as well as her manner, because he knew of several men, old and young, who would choose to go to Amsell’s shop just to be sold a paper by Geraldine Sullivan.

      ‘It’s the way her hand brushes mine when she counts out the change,’ Patrick Finlay had joked. ‘Gives a man hope.’ Patrick Finlay was sixty if he was a day, and was sweet on half the women in the neighbourhood, including Evie’s mum.

      ‘I hope Ma’s got something nice saved for my tea,’ Geraldine was saying. She laughed and added, ‘That’s if Da, Stephen, Jamie, Paddy, Niall and especially Cormac haven’t scoffed it all.’ Cormac was her youngest brother, aged five, who of all her siblings resembled her most. Plump and cute, he looked like a dark-haired cherub.

      Billy joined in her laughter. ‘Aye, you want to watch out for the little ’un. I reckon he’s got the appetite of a brickie.’

      Geraldine offered the open packet of cigarettes but Billy shook his head.

      ‘No, thanks. That’s one vice I haven’t taken up,’ he smiled.

      Geraldine lit her cigarette, tipped her head back with a flick of her hair and blew a plume of smoke into the air. ‘Why, Billy, what vices have you taken up, then?’ She looked him directly in the eye. ‘Do tell. I’m interested.’

      ‘Ah, man of mystery, me,’ Billy replied.

      ‘I like a mystery,’ Geraldine said. ‘That’s what we need round here, a bit more excitement, don’t you agree?’

      ‘Mmm …’ Billy nodded, unsure quite what he was agreeing with. Still, it was pleasant strolling down to Evie’s in easy and attractive company, and fortunately, before Geraldine’s flirting got too much for him, they reached her house.

      ‘Thanks for walking me home, Billy. Always nice to see you.’ She gave the merest wink, produced her key from her bag and opened the front door. ‘See you soon,’ she promised with a glamorous red smile over her shoulder, and closed the door behind her.

      Phew, that Geraldine is getting to be quite a girl, Billy reflected. Not many round here had her style. She reminded him of Elizabeth Taylor in that comedy he’d seen with Evie at the cinema – Father of the Bride. Evie’s prettiness was more homely, with her short brown hair clipped back behind her ears, her natural complexion and her girlish figure.

      Reluctantly his thoughts turned to the task ahead of him at the Carters’. Best get it over with, and he’d be pleased to help allay Evie’s worries if he could. She was a darling girl and she shouldn’t have to be worried about her father owing money. He crossed over the road, went up the side to the back door and was surprised to find it closed. He gave a knock and Evie came to open it. Her eyes were red and it was clear she’d been crying.

      ‘Oh, Billy, thank goodness you’re here.’ She pulled him inside and closed the door. ‘It’s worse than I thought. Dad’s lost his job and there’s all this money to find to pay that Mr Hopkins and we don’t know what to do now.’

      ‘Sit yourself down, love.’ Sue poured Billy a mug of tea. ‘Michael’s told us the worst and it’s twenty-five pounds he owes.’

      ‘It’ll never be paid,’ sobbed Jeanie, wiping her eyes with an already sodden handkerchief. ‘How on earth will we ever get that much?’

      ‘We need to know a bit about this Mr Hopkins,’ said Sue. ‘Evie says you’ve heard of him.’

      ‘I have, Mrs Goodwin.’ Billy glanced around to see if Peter and Robert were within earshot but there was no sign of them.

      ‘I’ve sent the boys to their bedroom,’ said Sue, correctly understanding him.

      ‘It’s not good news, I’m afraid. Mr Hopkins runs a card game upstairs at the King’s Head. I’ve heard the stakes start low, but once you’re drawn in they soon get a lot higher.’

      ‘The King’s Head?’ gasped Jeanie. ‘Michael, you told me you went to the Lord Nelson with Brendan as usual. I thought this was something to do with the horses. How many other lies have you told me?’

      ‘I did go to the Nelson with Brendan,’ said Michael. He added in a small voice, ‘But I hadn’t had much luck with the horses lately so when I heard there was a card game at the King’s Head I thought I’d give it a go. I didn’t mean to get in deep. I thought if I went on a bit longer my luck would change and I’d be on to a winning streak.’

      ‘Pathetic!’ said Sue wrathfully. ‘Go on about this Hopkins, lad.’

      ‘Well, he tends to win at the cards and then he makes a point of collecting his debts.’

      ‘You mean by force?’ asked Michael, looking even more worried.

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