My Mam Shirley Read online

  It certainly seemed to be. Keith was merry in both senses of the word when they stumbled the 500 yards or so back to his. This too would be a first – with Keith’s mam going off to Margaret and Bob’s straight from Annie’s, she’d been given permission by her mam and dad to spend the night of the funeral at Tamar Street. And, as Keith unlocked the door and the younger boys dispersed, she knew that even if she hadn’t been given permission, this would be one occasion when she would feel obliged to defy them. She didn’t yet know what the future held for her and Keith now, but she knew that he would need her more than ever.

  ‘You can have our Malcolm’s bedroom,’ Keith told her, for about the fourth time that evening. ‘And there’ll be no funny business, Shirl, I promise.’ As if, Shirley thought. Tonight of all nights. But he was in earnest, his dark eyes glittering in the little light from the nearby street lamp. ‘I just need to know you’re there when I wake up tomorrow, because when this beer wears off, I think I’m going to need you.’

  She kissed the top of his head, turned him around and shooed him off up the stairs, following his unsteady progress till he safely turned the corner of the landing.

  She kicked off her shoes then, rolled up the sleeves of her blouse and headed into the back room to tidy up before heading to bed herself. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be here, my love,’ she whispered.

  Chapter 12

  October 1961

  Shirley grabbed the knocker and slammed the door as hard as she could, tears streaming in twin tracks down her face. She had no shoes on, her furious exit having taken precedence over practicality, and the cold immediately seeped into her soles. The door hadn’t shut – she’d slammed it that hard that it had bounced back, as if in indignation – and she wondered fleetingly if she should take advantage of the fact and slip back inside to get them. No, she thought. No fear. She wasn’t going back in there. It wasn’t far to her grannie’s house, in any case. So, instead, she grasped the knocker again and pushed the door further inwards. ‘I hate you, Dad!’ she yelled, before slamming it again and running barefoot down the street.

  It had been, without question, the best night of her life. Not least because it had begun in such an ordinary fashion, the kind of ordinary on which contented lives were built. She’d quickly freshened up her make-up and changed her shoes and Keith had met her after work. Then, despite the autumnal chill eddying around them along with the first of the fallen leaves, they’d taken a slow stroll through Horton Park to the chippy on Central Avenue, where they’d bought a fish – just the one, as they were keen to save their pennies – before walking down to meet Reggie and Vera in the Lister’s Arms.

  By now, Shirley felt very close to Vera and Reggie. Particularly Vera, not least because they worked together at Sutcliffe’s and seemed to share the same outlook on most things in life. She also loved spending time with their two little ones, Colin and Barry, whom Keith and she would often look after and take to the park.

  It had been about six o’clock by the time they’d got to the Lister’s Arms. It hadn’t long opened but, because it was Friday, it was already quite full. The juke-box was blaring, the weekend was beckoning, and you could almost taste the sense of fun in the air. There was only one fly in the ointment, as far as Shirley could see, and it was Keith himself. He’d gone all strange on her almost as soon as they’d arrived.

  ‘What’s wrong with you, Keith?’ Shirley had eventually asked after he’d disappeared to the toilets for the third time in an hour. ‘You’re like a cat on hot bricks. There’s not going to be any trouble, is there?’

  She certainly hoped not, but she was always alert to the possibility. Thankfully, punch-ups were rarely on the agenda when it was just the four of them out, but with Keith, and particularly with his older, more confrontational brother, you never could tell when something might start. She wasn’t stupid, either. She could read Keith like a book now, and seeing the brothers glancing furtively at one another put the lid on it. Something wasn’t right.

  ‘Reggie!’ she snapped at him. ‘Come on. What’s going on? What are you two up to?’ she finished, becoming more convinced by the minute. That would really make her mad, them being involved in some rumpus, when she’d been looking forward to her Friday night out all week. She looked across at Vera, because she didn’t doubt she’d clocked them too, but Vera’s expression made it clear that she was as clueless about what they were up to as Shirley.

  ‘Don’t be so mental!’ Keith chastised, hopping from one foot to the other in what she presumed was supposed to be a display of innocence. ‘Nowt’s going on, love. Just enjoy your drink and stop being so moody,’ he continued. ‘Frigging hell, we’ve come out for a good time tonight, haven’t we? Not the bleeding Spanish Inquisition!’

  Shirley wasn’t convinced. She knew him well enough to know that his dancing feet were saying the exact opposite of his mouth, but having no choice but to accept it, she decided she would do so. Which wasn’t to say she wouldn’t be keeping a close eye on the pair of them, much like she’d been keeping an eye on the rest of the younger brothers just lately, in fact.

  Since their mum had left for Preston after the death of Reggie senior, the house on Tamar Street had become a very different place. No longer did all the family turn up en masse with kids and significant others, and as a consequence, gone were the shouting, the laughter and the general life and soul of the place. Charlie was off in a world of his own now, his time filled with drinking, fighting and regular spells in prison. At least Malcolm had settled down a little, even had a fiancée now, Valerie, but as a consequence spent most of his time round at her mam’s. Even Joe and David were living elsewhere most of the time, spending weeks on end with either friends or other family members. Which just left Keith, who these days was the only one who regularly used the house for sleeping in.

  It seemed incredible that so much had changed in such a short space of time, that a family of that size and closeness could disperse in such a way. Not that they had in their hearts, she supposed, and that was what really mattered. For all the physical distance between the various members, the Hudsons were still thick as thieves, and something told her they always would be. Her now, as well.

  The highlight of the evening was a local group called the Tomboys and Helen and, as Keith and Reggie knew the lead singer, Ellen, they were all keen to show their support. Shirley had seen Ellen sing before, in a band called the Dingos, so she too was looking forward to the show, and soon her anxiety about whatever it was the boys seemed so antsy about faded into the background, as the four of them caught up on their days.

  The live music kicked off at nine o’clock with Chubby Checker’s ‘The Twist’, and the effect on the pub was electrifying. People leapt up en masse and it took no more than a few seconds for the dance area to fill up and throb with movement. Where only moments before it was just the route from one part of the pub to the other, now it was a sea of jiving couples, skirts and coat-tails twirling, dotted with groups of bopping males – some confident and cool, and others self-conscious – all trying to attract the girls’ attention.

  Shirley felt the warmth of Keith’s hand grasping her own and barely had time to put her glass down before he hauled her to her feet. ‘Come on,’ he said, as Reggie did likewise with Vera. ‘Let’s all go and have a twist, shall we?’

  There were already a couple of lines forming, as was generally the case, and it was when they joined one that Shirley saw a face she thought she recognised.

  ‘Isn’t that Tommy Butler?’ she asked Keith as she nodded towards one of the male singers. ‘You know, the coal man who stole your Ronnie’s wife?’

  Shirley knew all about the day Charlie had tipped up Tommy’s coal cart and the whole of Tamar Street had fallen upon the spoils. She barely needed Keith to have told her about it, either. It had passed into the realms of local folklore. Was that the issue, she wondered? That Keith and Reggie knew he’d be playing? That they were planning on giving him a pasting at some point? She ho
ped not. It had been years ago now, after all. But Keith’s expression was benign as he nodded his confirmation. ‘Yeah, it is,’ he said, then presumably seeing Shirley’s anxious face, added, ‘Don’t worry, Shirl. We’re letting bygones be bygones – he’s not a bad bloke these days, as it happens.’

  Shirley felt relief wash over her. Perhaps she’d been imagining things earlier, then; seeing things that weren’t there. Perhaps it was going to be good night after all. Her Keith was certainly mellowing. There was no doubt about it. If he’d been after a fight tonight, then surely he would have started trouble with Tommy. And their Reggie wouldn’t have been far behind him. The Hudsons were big on retribution, no matter how many years had passed. It was one of the things that made the family so notorious.

  But not tonight. And after a few numbers, the four of them took a break, and as they headed to the bar, glistening with sweat, breathing heavily, Shirley felt the cares of the working week melt away. There was nothing quite like dancing to make you happy, she decided as they shouldered their way to a space at the bar and Reggie ordered them all fresh halves of bitter. And with the place fairly buzzing now, there was almost as much fun to be had just by standing at their vantage point, with its great view of the stage, and watching others spinning round and having fun.

  Keith sipped the top off his half and winked at her. Despite the exertion of the dancing, he didn’t seem to have a hair out of place. ‘Best stay here for a bit now,’ he advised, ‘hang on to our spot. If we don’t it’ll take ages to get served again.’

  Shirley nodded. She was happy to stand, having been sitting at her machine all day, and was content just to watch and listen for a while. It was a chance to talk girl-talk with Vera as well – if Annie was the twin sister she’d always wished she had, Vera really was the older one, full of wisdom, her Colin and Barry the surrogates for the kids she couldn’t wait to have herself.

  ‘How’s your new house coming along, V?’ Shirley asked her. ‘Keith said your Reggie is building a bar in the front room. Very posh, I must say. Whoever heard of it? A proper bar in a person’s house!’

  Vera smiled. ‘Oh, it’s not even his first, Shirl. We had one in our last house as well. He’s good with his hands is my Reg.’ She nudged Shirley. ‘And in more ways than one, and all,’ she finished, grinning.

  Shirley felt herself colouring. She couldn’t stop herself. She was getting used to the way the Hudsons were so open about certain matters, but it still embarrassed her when the girls said things like this. She hoped Vera wouldn’t notice in the dim light spilling from the bar wall, because she didn’t want to seem the innocent that she was. She hoped not. And she wondered if she’d feel less self-conscious when she eventually gave up her virginity for the man she loved. She doubted it; her mam had done a good job of drilling it into her that some things were private and not to be spoken about. ‘You don’t let any man put his pencil in your notebook, Shirley,’ she’d told her. ‘Not till you’re sure that if he puts a bun in your oven he’s going to do the decent thing and marry you.’

  Shirley had never been sure how you could ever be sure – not about something like that. She trusted Keith completely, but she wasn’t silly. Men were men, weren’t they? And she heard too much down at Sutcliffe’s not to know that some of them could sweet-talk you into going all the way with them then turn around and let you down at the drop of a hat.

  Not that she’d ever feel able to chat to her mum about things like that anyway. That had been the one and only time sex had ever been hinted at in their house, and Shirley still cringed at the thought of her mam and dad knowing such things. And as for doing such things together – yuck!

  The music stopped at ten o’clock, prompting the girls to stop chatting, and the singer, Ellen, took the mic in her hand. ‘I hope you’re all having a great night, boys and girls!’ she said. ‘And now I’d like to bring up a guest singer. I’ve sang with his sister Annie many times,’ she went on, causing Shirley to turn around, realising what was happening, ‘but tonight, boys and girls, I give you … KEITH HUDSON!’

  Keith leant to kiss her cheek as he placed his beer back down on the bar, and as the crowd clapped and parted so he could make his way to the stage, she felt herself blushing all over again. It never changed. However many times she watched him sing at the Lister’s she still found it as excruciating as she found it enjoyable, both because she knew girls were scrutinising her as well, and because, well, because she loved him and it made her tummy squirm to think he might forget his words.

  Which was ridiculous, she knew, because he never forgot his words. She sometimes thought he must have been born on a stage, already singing. As their Annie had once told her when they were watching him a few months back, he had natural charisma. Shirley smiled to herself as she watched Keith saunter to the stage and grab the microphone, remembering Annie’s follow-up observation about her brother – ‘and you’d better keep an eye on the girls down the front, because we both know what the little bleeders would like to do with him’.

  ‘Thanks, Ellen,’ Keith said now, turning his gaze towards the bar. ‘I’m singing this for Shirley. Let’s hope I remember the words,’ he said, almost as if he’d read her mind. He grinned at everyone. ‘Now, I’ve had a few.’

  The crowd laughed and applauded as the music started up, and, for only the second time in the three years they’d been together, Shirley recognised the familiar strains of her favourite Anthony Newley song. She felt the hairs stand up on her neck. Keith was going to sing ‘Why’.

  It was difficult to watch, because the tears sprang so quickly to Shirley’s eyes, and instead of giggling and calling her a wet for being so sentimental, Vera’s eyes, she noticed, filled up as well. And as Keith reached the close of the song and started to walk across to her, still singing, she was torn between wanting the ground beneath her to swallow her up and running towards him and flinging her arms around him. As it was, hugely embarrassed now, she just stayed rooted to the spot as the song finished and the crowd roared their approval. And then, seeing Keith’s silence, they seemed to act as a single being, shutting their mouths, stilling their hands, watching and waiting, while Shirley, transfixed, held her breath.

  Keith suddenly dropped down onto one knee before her. ‘Shirley,’ he said quietly, ‘will you marry me?’

  The tears kept coming now as well. She could feel the wetness of them slipping down her neck as she gulped in lungfuls of cold autumn air. The best night of her life. The best night she’d ever had. And now her bloody dad was threatening to ruin it all.

  He’d not let it be, either, even now she’d left. He’d pushed open the front window, determined to have the last word. ‘And if he’s hiding up the road,’ he’d roared, ‘you can tell him that an’ all, Shirley! Not a cat in hell’s chance, you hear me?’

  The window had slammed shut then, blocking out her retort. Why was her dad so bloody stupid? So bloody stubborn? She sobbed her frustration. Well, she could be stubborn too! And she bloody would be. She’d spent her whole life having to submit to his rules and regulations, but standing there now, on Lidget Terrace, her feet growing numb, she thought back to the little girl who’d had the strength to defy him – to him appearing in her life, to those long hours at the table, to the will she had then and still had now.

  She stopped running and looked up and down Lidget Terrace, reflecting on the choices she now had. The little street of back-to-backs now housed quite a lot of her family. Her mam and dad had number 5, Granny Wiggins was at number 9, her Auntie June – Mary’s sister – now lived at number 6, and just two months ago, to her delight, Reggie and Vera had moved in too – cocking a snook at her dad and his holier-than-thou ways by buying and doing up number 11. Rubbing her eyes, she made a decision. It wasn’t fair to bring her grannie or Auntie June into this. No, she’d go where it was right to go – into the arms of her fiancé, who was indeed hiding up at number 11.

  ‘Oh, love, what is it?’ Vera asked, concerned, as Shirley pushed the do
or open, the tears of frustration and anger springing once again as she saw Keith’s anxious face.

  ‘I take it your dad wasn’t too happy, then?’ Keith asked, pulling her against him, while Vera went to make a pot of tea.

  Shirley cried hard into his shoulder for some time. ‘What can we do?’ she sobbed eventually. ‘I can’t marry you, Keith – not without both them agreeing. Dad’s got to sign the papers, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Look at your feet!’ Vera gasped as she came back into the room. ‘What were you thinking! You’ll catch your death. Here,’ she said, kicking off her slippers. ‘Have these. And don’t you worry, love,’ she added. ‘I’m sure he’ll come round eventually. Once he knows you mean it, he will. My dad did in the end.’

  Shirley wasn’t so sure. Vera didn’t know what her dad was like, did she? He was as stubborn as they came. She pushed her feet into Vera’s slippers and accepted the tea gratefully, but the gloom that had descended wouldn’t shift. It was all wrong. She was an adult, near as good as. How could he do that? And didn’t he want to see her happy?

  She was just about to say so when there was a noise outside the house, closely followed by the appearance of her mam in the front room, hands on hips and looking like she was about to crack someone.

  ‘Mam!’ Shirley cried, leaping up and nearly spilling her tea. Oh, God, she thought. She hoped she wasn’t going to show her up. ‘What are you doing here? Where’s my dad? Is he with you?’

  Her mother tutted. ‘Never mind him,’ she retorted irritably. ‘He’s sat at home drying bleeding socks, as per usual!’ She glanced at Vera. ‘I’ll have a cup of that tea, love, if you’ve some in the pot still. I’m knackered with all the running about.’

  Shirley was confused. She’d only left her house half an hour ago, if that. What could possibly have happened in that space of time?