Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection

He dismissed the notion from his mind as quickly as it had entered it.

Chapter 10 (#ulink_aac00bb9-ac07-5e33-92f3-ae4c4719248d)

SEPTEMBER HAD BEEN such a glorious month, it came as something of a shock when October arrived with a vengeance. For three days and nights the heavens opened and drenched the earth below.

Today was the first Tuesday of October. The heavy downpour had mellowed into a steady, soaking drizzle, but the wind was still strong.

‘Bugger me, Mrs Tooley …’ With a clatter and a thump, Daisy fell in through the door, her umbrella inside out and her hair standing up like the rag end of a floor mop, ‘it’s like all hell’s cut loose out there!’

Mrs Tooley remained firmly behind her counter. ‘Don’t you dare come near me dripping wet!’ she exclaimed, holding her hands up in protest. ‘I’m wearing my best clothes.’

Her smile all teeth and wrinkles, she proudly informed Daisy, ‘Mr Leyton has invited me to dine with him,’ she giggled like a dizzy girl, ‘at the Royal Hotel, no less.’

Wet to the skin and unable to muster any excitement on Mrs Tooley’s behalf, Daisy took her time in answering. She shook her brolly all over the floor and threw off her wet coat and hat, which she then hung over the radiator, and now she came forward, sneezing and coughing and frightening Ma Tooley into retreating a few more paces behind the counter.

‘Don’t you think that’s wonderful, Daisy?’ Mrs Tooley persisted, desperately needing to be told how clever she was at having secured a date with the man who owned two ironmonger’s shops, and wore suits from Jacob’s tailors.

‘Well, I never, Mrs Tooley!’ Daisy answered, in a manner that had the older woman bristling. ‘Aren’t we the lucky one. Ooh! The Royal no less! Bleedin’ hell, whatever next, eh?’

‘Hey!’ Incensed, Mrs Tooley dared to venture near. ‘I’ll not have you talking to me with that attitude, young lady. Moreover, I will not have someone working in my café who can’t keep a civil tongue in their head.’ Giving Daisy one of her commanding stares, she asked, ‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’

Daisy understood, and was mortified at her own rudeness. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Tooley,’ she answered meekly. ‘It’s terrible out there. The tram was late, then I stepped off into a puddle. The wind drove the rain right at me all the way here, and now I’m soaked to the skin and freezing cold. I didn’t mean to be cheeky, honest.’

‘Hmm!’ Mrs Tooley took note of Daisy’s red nose and bedraggled hair and the way her feet squelched as she walked, and she felt a wicked feeling of satisfaction. ‘So, it won’t happen again, will it?’

‘No, Mrs Tooley, it won’t happen again.’

As Mrs Tooley turned away with a condemning comment, Daisy put out her tongue, only to swiftly retrieve it when Mrs Tooley suddenly turned on her heel to tell Daisy, ‘I’m being collected in less than an hour. I’ve seen to the till and filled out the shelves and that’s my little bit done for today.’

‘Yes, Mrs Tooley.’

‘Go on then, young lady. Get a move on. Into the back and get yourself straightened up. You’ll find a new towel hanging on the loop, and make sure you replace it with a clean one when you’ve finished.’

‘Yes, Mrs Tooley.’ Half-tempted to curtsy, Daisy managed to contain herself. She didn’t want to risk losing her job, at least not yet. ‘I’m on my way, Mrs Tooley.’ Silently mouthing, she started off towards the back room.

‘And be sharp about it,’ Mrs Tooley called after her. ‘It’s market day. The customers won’t be long before they start arriving. They’ll be queuing for breakfast if you’re not careful.’

Daisy went away mimicking her. ‘Queuing for breakfast, my hat!’ she sniggered. ‘I’ve never known there to be a queue for anything in this place, not since the day I started.’

All the same, she was thawed and dried and ready for work in a matter of twenty minutes. ‘I’m all right now, Mrs Tooley. So you can go whenever you like.’ Thinking: the sooner the better, you miserable old cow!

Mrs Tooley was impressed. ‘There’s a good girl,’ she purred. ‘You look the part now.’

Daisy had on her blue overall with a white pinafore over, and her hair was enclosed in the white mobcap Mrs Tooley insisted upon – and which the minute her back was turned would go into a drawer.

Mrs Tooley smiled sheepishly. ‘Do I look smart, Daisy?’

‘Yes, Mrs Tooley. You look …’ Hesitating, Daisy searched for the right word, but for the life of her, she could not find one to describe the sight before her eyes.

The over-painted Bertha Tooley was not a pretty sight. Dressed in a brown bouclé two-piece with overlong arms, too tight a skirt and too loose a jacket, she had a spotted green blouse underneath and a yellowing pearl necklace enclosing her rubbery neck. Her hair had been permed so tight it resembled a scouring pad, and her crimson lipstick, which had partly spread over her teeth, was now melting into little rivers at the corners of her mouth.

‘You look … er … you look …’ Again she couldn’t find the words, so had to finish, ‘Good grief, Mrs Tooley! I do believe Mr Leyton won’t know which way to look.’

‘Oh, Daisy, I do hope you’re not just saying that to please me?’ Mrs Tooley’s chin dimpled in a surprisingly pretty smile. ‘Well, I never!’ She even blushed a slight shade of pink. ‘Do you know, Daisy, I actually think I might have found the right one, in Mr Leyton.’

‘That’s very nice, Mrs Tooley. I’m pleased for you, I must say.’

Every man over the past year had been ‘the right one’. Until the inevitable day when Mrs Tooley would march in, moaning and complaining about how men were not worth the ground they stood on, and however could she forget what monsters they all were.

Then the outrage would pass and she was on the rampage again, searching for the poor unsuspecting soul who would give her the attention she craved.

At half-past ten, a cab arrived, and Mrs Tooley sailed out in all her glory. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she told Daisy. ‘Mind you take care of the place while I’m gone.’

‘Don’t you worry, Mrs Tooley,’ Daisy assured her. ‘It’ll still be in one piece when you get back.’

After setting out the teacakes and flapjacks and turning on the oven for the sausage rolls and pies, which were bought in, delivered to the back door and needed only reheating, Daisy was ready for serving. All she needed now were a few likely customers.

‘I hope Amy comes in early,’ she sighed, leaning her elbows on the counter. ‘I’ve a feeling it’s gonna be a long, quiet day.’ Still, at least the Tuesday man would be in, though since the blossoming of her relationship with Roy, he didn’t feature in her daydreams so much these days.

Not too far away, Amy was happily meandering round the indoor market, buying some elbow patches, elastic and a potted chrysanthemum – all things Atkinsons’ Corner Shop didn’t stock.

Running a few steps ahead, little Johnny was having a wonderful time. Amy sometimes took him with her on her Tuesday bill-paying and shopping trip now, finishing with a treat at Tooley’s Café. Johnny and Maureen had become friends with Daisy, and the little boy was charmed that Daisy worked where cakes were sold.

Maureen, who had had numerous unsatisfactory jobs over the last few months, was, she had explained this morning, going to look for a job in the Brookhouse area of Blackburn, north of the town centre, so Amy had been happy to include Johnny in her Tuesday routine.

‘Don’t go too far,’ Amy called as he rounded the wet fish stall, ‘or I won’t be able to keep tabs on you!’

After pausing beside the hot-potato barrow, the boy came running back. ‘Can I have a potato, please, Amy?’

‘Best not, sweetheart. We’re on our way to the café to see Daisy. We’ll get summat to eat there.’

Johnny gave a half-smile. ‘I like Daisy.’

‘So do I.’ Smiling, Amy took him by the hand. ‘It’s only a few minutes now,’ she promised. ‘D’you think you can last till then?’

Johnny looked up, his big eyes round and wondering. ‘Can I have a cream cake?’

Amy laughed. ‘If you like.’

When they emerged from the market, it was still raining. ‘I hate this drizzly weather!’ Juggling with her shopping, Amy managed to put up her umbrella. ‘Hold on to me, Johnny,’ she warned. ‘The weather’s got worse, since we’ve been inside.’

Johnny liked the rain, because he could stamp in the puddles and send the water up in sprays, though Amy told him not to. ‘We’re already wet from before,’ she smiled. ‘We’ll steer clear of any puddles now, if you don’t mind.’

As they went down the busy street, Amy had to grab him close because of the vehicles driving near to the kerb and splashing their feet. After a time, she swapped her shopping bags into one hand and, holding the umbrella with the other, she told the boy to hang on to her skirt. ‘Come round this side,’ she instructed. ‘I don’t like you being too close to the kerb.’

It was when Johnny let go of her hand to come round her that he saw the long, meandering puddle, which for an excited little boy was too good to resist. To Amy’s horror he gave a skip and a jump and landed right in the middle of it. At that moment a beer wagon came hurtling down the street straight towards him.

‘God Almighty! JOHNNY!’ Horrified, Amy dropped her bags and made a desperate grab for him.