LITMIR.BIZ

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of poorly paid casual labouring but wanted something permanent.

      ‘He’s out looking now,’ Noreen sighed. She slanted a quick look at Matilda. ‘Don’t think I’m being cheeky, will you now, Mrs Keiver, but I remember you said your nephews were working on the demolition in the road, and I was wondering whether they might need an extra hand? Kieran’s a good hard worker.’ She praised her husband.

      ‘Not sure if they do, luv, but it’s always worth havin’ a word. Tell Kieran to ask for Stephen or Christopher, they’re the foremen in charge.’ In fact Matilda knew her nephew, Robert, who owned the firm, considered Wild Brothers to be already overstaffed. She’d heard him grumbling about his lack of profits and too many wage packets to be found at the end of the week. ‘How about the Irish gang working along there? Has your Kieran asked them for a shift or two?’

      ‘He thinks they’re up to no good, and I do too,’ Noreen said quietly, wiping little Kathleen’s runny nose with a hanky. ‘We’ve heard them talking … troublemaking …’ She broke off to rub at her daughter’s chapped knees as Kathleen whimpered she was feeling cold.

      ‘I reckon it’s wise to give ’em a wide berth ’n’ all,’ Matilda agreed with a nod. ‘But being sensible don’t help put grub on the table, do it?’

      Noreen grimaced wryly at that.

      ‘You thought of getting yourself a little job of some sort?’ Matilda asked kindly. She guessed Noreen Murphy was about Christopher’s age: mid-twenties. She was an attractive young woman with the same long black tresses and large grey eyes as her eldest daughter. But she made no effort with her looks. Her hair was simply scraped back into a straggly bun and her pretty features were pale and permanently set in an expression of exhaustion. Matilda guessed Kieran was probably the same age as his wife yet he looked equally haggard and a decade older.

      ‘I think about a job a lot, but that’s all I do.’ Noreen gave Matilda a skewed smile. ‘Kieran’s not keen on me finding work. He thinks it’s his place to provide for us.’

      ‘Yeah, well, that’s all fine and noble but it’s an attitude that don’t feed and clothe kids. Sometimes it takes the two of yers pullin’ in a wage to make a decent life. If he ain’t having any luck finding work, perhaps you might do a bit better.’

      ‘I’ve said the same thing to him, and we always end up having a row about it, Mrs Keiver.’

      ‘Call me Matilda, we’re neighbours after all, and if you change yer mind I know of a woman down Tufnell Park way who’s looking fer a cleanin’ lady. I know she’s alright ’cos I used to do a bit of charring for her mum, in me time.’

      The baby coughed and mewed plaintively and Matilda leaned forward to look in the pram. ‘Want to get that little ’un along to the doctor, don’t you …’

      ‘She’s fine … she teeths with a bit of bronchitis, that’s all it is,’ Noreen said quickly. ‘I have linctus at home.’

      They turned into Whadcoat Street and ambled along in amiable quiet. As they drew close to the shop Matilda said, ‘Better go ’n’ pay something off me tab at Smithie’s. Miserable old git’ll be after me otherwise. You take care of yerselves …’ Having ruffled Kathleeen’s hair Matilda set off across the road.

      ‘Ain’t you had enough of hanging around in this stinking hole all week?’

      ‘You don’t have to hang about here if you don’t want to.’ Christopher ignored his friend’s scowl and blew into his cupped palms to warm them. Despite the approach of spring a light sleet was descending and treacherously coating the pavement so he trod carefully in his smart leather shoes and stuffed his hands into his pockets to protect them from an icy breeze. He came to a halt in front of his aunt’s dilapidated house. Once the door had been painted bottle green but now only a few flakes of colour clung to the splintery wood. Christopher turned to Ted Potts. He’d tried to shake him off earlier so he could visit his aunt on his own. ‘Why don’t you go and knock Vic up.’ He jerked his head, hoping to hurry Ted on his way. ‘I’ll meet you both at the dog track at about seven o’clock.’

      ‘Nah … ’s’alright.’ Ted gave a martyred sigh. ‘I’m here now, ain’t I. I’ll stick around with you.’ He didn’t relish going into this fleapit to see Christopher’s great-aunt, yet neither did he want to go to Vic’s home. If Vic’s wife were about he’d get an ear-bashing for luring Vic off out. Deirdre kept tabs on Vic and, considering that they’d only been married two years, and Vic had already been caught out with another woman, it wasn’t surprising.

      ‘Go on …’ Christopher twitched his head again. But his friend seemed content to slouch against the doorjamb and fiddle with a penknife. Once he had it open he started idly cleaning his nails. Christopher scowled and raised a hand to hammer on the door. A window above was shoved up and he stepped back to grin at the wrinkled face, edged by two plaited grey buns, peering out.

      ‘That you, Chris? Come on up. Door’s open,’ Matilda called down. ‘See you’ve brought yer mate with yer.’

      ‘Alright up there, Mrs K?’ Ted Potts called in greeting, a wonky fag wagging between his lips. ‘Brass monkeys out here, it is.’

      ‘Got the kettle on,’ Matilda informed them before ramming home the sash in its frame.

      The two young men proceeded into a dingy damp hallway and up some perilously rickety stairs. Very few of the spindles remained and the handrail shuddered when touched. On the first-floor landing a door stood open and Christopher and Ted filed into Matilda’s home.

      It never failed to amaze Ted why anyone would choose to continue living here now that the Council was clearing the street and re-housing people elsewhere. But Christopher had told him that his aunt would hang on in her first-floor room till she was forced out. Chris had said in an odd way he understood Matilda’s hankering to grip onto her past.

      At present Matilda was the only person occupying this particular tenement house and Christopher had urged her to spread out a bit and make use of a couple of the other rooms too. The rent would be the same for one room or all nine of them. Mr Keane, the landlord, was glad to get paid anything at all. Over half of the properties in the street were now empty and producing no income for their owners. The worst examples had been abandoned completely by the freeholders.

      But Matilda’s view was that it was easier, in the winter months, for a person living alone to keep cosy in a small space. So she lived, slept, ate in a single first-floor front room, much as she had for a good part of her life. Fortunately, in a road of derelict houses she’d found one that was slightly better than the rest. Most had never been connected to electricity but she’d managed to get a property where she could plug in her precious wireless that had been a Christmas gift from her nephew, Rob.

      ‘Kettle’s just boiled,’ Matilda said. ‘Who’s fer tea?’

      There was no response to her offer because both her nephew and his friend were staring at the little girl sitting on the bed, chewing on a biscuit. The child gave them both a shy smile then ducked her face behind a curtain of long ebony hair.

      Matilda grunted a laugh. ‘Say hello to Kathleen, you two. I’m keepin’ an eye on her for Noreen while she’s off out doing a bit of cleaning to earn herself a couple o’ bob.’

      ‘I thought the Murphys had two little ’uns,’ Chris said, recovering from the surprise of seeing his aunt doing a spot of babysitting.

      ‘Noreen’s taken Rosie with her in the pram. She’s not walking yet and still sleeps a lot, so ain’t a problem. But this little one gets fed up waiting fer her mum to finish work, don’t yer, Kathleen?’

      Kathleen nodded her small head. ‘You’d sooner come and sit with yer Auntie Matilda, wouldn’t yer? Like me biscuits, don’t yer …’ She gave the child an affectionate grin. ‘Anyhow I know your daddy’s home now ’cos I saw him walking up the street out the window. So do you want to go home or wait for Mummy to fetch you?’

      Kathleen

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