Coronation Day

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 slanted a peek at Ted. ‘Home …’ she whispered.

Chris burst out laughing. ‘That’s your ugly mug scared her off. Told you to go off to Vince’s, didn’t I …’

‘Take her back home fer us, Chris, would you, and I’ll make the tea.’

‘Me aunt saw you were back so asked me to drop Kathleen off home.’ Chris had been holding the little girl’s hand, but as Kieran Murphy cautiously opened the door to him, he offered it to her father to take.

Kieran Murphy continued staring at him, looking shocked. ‘Mrs Keiver’s been minding Kathleen?’

‘Yeah … while Noreen’s at work, didn’t you know?’ Chris could see the fellow’s freckled cheeks reddening in embarrassment or anger.

‘Please tell your aunt thank you very much,’ Kieran returned stiffly, drawing his daughter to his side. He was about to shut the door but quickly stepped forward before Chris had gone too far. ‘You work for Wild Brothers, don’t you. I’ve seen you driving one of their vans.’

Chris retraced his steps. ‘Yeah, I’m Chris Wild.’

‘Is there any work going at all?’

Chris stuffed his hands in his pockets. He’d had a feeling he was soon going to have this question fired at him by Kieran Murphy. He’d seen the fellow watching them working, trying to pluck up the courage to come over and ask for a job. And now he was going to have to disappoint him.

‘Sorry,’ he grimaced ruefully. ‘If me guvnor had his way he’d put someone off.’

Kieran gave a crisp nod and retreated back inside, mumbling his thanks.

‘That tea brewed?’ Christopher, now back at Matilda’s, pulled out a chair, parking himself at the battered planked table.

‘Not fer me, thanks, Mrs K,’ Ted said quickly, having noted the grimy chips on some cups in an enamel bowl. He was seated on a chair that was losing its stuffing and was glad Chris had quickly returned from taking the kid home because he’d run out of small talk with Matilda. He gazed about at old mismatched furniture that he knew his parents would have been embarrassed to put out for the dustmen to cart off. The iron bedstead shoved in the corner was strewn with tatty clothes and other odds and ends. A large oval mirror in a gilt frame hung on the wall, above the hob grate where the kettle was puffing steam, and was reflecting Ted’s expression of distaste back at him.

‘So how you lads doing up the other end?’ Matilda asked cheerily.

The last time she’d entered the demolition zone where the lads were working had been when she’d felt compelled to join her nephews in commiserating about the king’s death.

She set two cups and saucers on the table and gave the teapot a swirl to mix the leaves then tested the brew by pouring a few drops. It looked strong enough so she filled the cups and dripped milk from a half-empty bottle into them before handing one to Christopher.

‘Had another fight with the Paddies the other day,’ Ted conversationally told Matilda, ignoring Christopher’s quelling look. He took a peer in the biscuit box Matilda had stuck under his nose and selected a digestive. ‘Pikeys got a right good kicking, Mrs K …’ He blushed. ‘No offence, o’ course …’ He’d just remembered that Matilda’s second husband, Reg Donovan, had been a didicoi. And she also seemed fond of the Murphy family.

‘My Reg knew what he was,’ Matilda said with a fond smile, settling down at the table opposite her nephew. ‘You lot better make sure you keep yer wits about you if there’s punches getting thrown. Make sure yer dad keeps out of it,’ Matilda told Christopher, wagging a finger close to his face. ‘Stevie’s getting on a bit and shouldn’t be getting into scraps with younger men.’

‘Don’t you let me dad hear you say that, ’cos he still reckons he’s a bit of an ’andful, y’know.’ Joking aside, Christopher knew his aunt was right; his father should steer clear of getting involved in the worsening feud. But, worryingly, Stevie was allowing himself to get wound up by the Irishmen, and Declan O’Connor in particular.

‘Must be bleedin’ hard on you, having to work with them close by, but just ignore ’em best you can.’ Having given her concise advice Matilda drank some tea. ‘Wage packet at the end of the week’s what matters.’

‘Right ’n’ all, Mrs K,’ Ted stoutly agreed, and helped himself to another biscuit out of the box on the table.

A quiet descended on the musty room and Matilda turned up her paraffin lamp as it was a gloomy late afternoon. She twiddled the knob on the wireless set and some Light Programme music increased in volume. ‘Was listening to them talking about the Coronation Day plans just as you knocked,’ she explained. ‘Prince Philip’s the Chairman of the Commission doin’ all the arranging. It’s a while off till the big day but I’m reckoning on us all having a good old knees-up next June. Time’ll fly by till then.’ She paused, looked reflective. ‘Don’t seem five minutes since the old king died but it’s well over a month since he took his final journey to Windsor. All done for him now, God rest him.’

Christopher and Ted murmured agreement.

‘Speakin’ of George, bless him, I never told you, did I, that I went up to the palace on the day of his death,’ Matilda suddenly announced. ‘I stood around by the gates with all the other people. Should’ve seen the crowds up there! Couldn’t hardly get a foot on the pavement for somebody bumping you off again. Very sad atmosphere, it was; men and women crying their eyes out. Got a bit tearful meself, I don’t mind admitting. Lots of cars were going in and out of the gates …’ She broke off her rattling description to exclaim, with an emphasising thump on the table, ‘Guess who I saw there! Surprised me, I can tell you!’

‘Well, it weren’t the king,’ Ted weakly joked then fidgeted in embarrassment.

Christopher glowered at him. Like the majority of people, himself included, he knew Matilda was fiercely proud of late King George and wouldn’t appreciate tasteless mockery. ‘Who did you see?’ he asked his aunt.

‘Shirley Coleman and her daughter, Grace. They’d gone there as well to pay their respects.’

‘Thought the Colemans had gone to Suffolk,’ Christopher remarked, dunking his digestive in his tea.

‘No! They moved to Surrey. Grace and her brother Paul got evacuated there to a farm. Then Shirley went that way ’n’ all to live close to them when Wilf joined up.’

‘Oh … right,’ Christopher said and took a gulp from his cup.

‘Anyhow they’re back living in Tottenham … White Hart Lane way. And Grace’s got a good job in the City as a typist.’

‘What about old man Coleman?’ Ted joined the conversation. ‘Old Wilf were a bit of a miserable git as I recall. Used to play knock down ginger on him, didn’t we, Chris?’ He leaned forward to give Christopher’s arm a nudge. ‘Not that he ever stirred hisself to open the door. It was always his missus chasing us up the road, weren’t it?’

‘Oh, Wilf died some years ago. Never recovered from his war injuries, so Shirley said.’

The two young men exchanged a suitably solemn look.

‘Pretty girl, she is.’ Matilda gave her nephew a wink. ‘I remember you brought her here once or twice.’ She chuckled to herself. ‘She seemed surprised to know I still live here.’

‘Everybody’s surprised to know you still live here, Aunt Til,’ Christopher returned dryly.

‘Suits me,’ Tilly returned brusquely but with a twitch of a smile. After a silence she added, ‘You two look smart.’ She studied her nephew and his friend. They were both wearing sharp dark suits. But it was Christopher who redrew her admiring glance, and not just because he was her kin. He had a tall, muscular frame that suited the outfit whereas Ted was short and overweight.

The Wild men had always been handsome; even Chris’s evil, long-departed grandfather, Jimmy, who Matilda had despised, had been a looker in his day. Christopher’s lean, angular face, deep brown eyes and thick dark hair got him a lot of attention from the girls. In fact Matilda was surprised he hadn’t been snapped up long ago. But her great-nephew seemed in no rush, at twenty-four, to give up life as a bachelor, even though some of his friends were now settling down.

‘Where you off to then, all dolled up?’ Tilly asked.

‘Me ’n’ Ted ’n’ Vic are going to Harringay Stadium then to the Starlight Rooms,’ Chris explained.

‘Don’t you go wasting yer money!’ Matilda mockingly rebuked. ‘You know I don’t hold with drinkin’ ’n’ gamblin’!’

Christopher grinned at that. It was common knowledge in the family that his great-aunt Matilda had been a very heavy drinker and a bookie’s runner in her time.

Christopher drew out his cigarettes and offered the pack to Ted. He knew his aunt had never smoked, which he found quite a surprise as she’d had plenty of other vices. Having lit up and taken a long drag he settled back. ‘Any more tea in that pot?’

‘Make a fresh lot if there ain’t,’ Matilda offered, giving the pot a shake.