Maggie Sullivan - Christmas on Coronation Street - The perfect Christmas read

Elsie saw Stan again sooner than she’d expected. Early the next morning as she came out of the front door ready to go to work, she was surprised to find him leaning against the wall, one foot flat against the brickwork. The window beside him was so grimy it was impossible to see in or out. Casting an anxious glance over her shoulder, Elsie was relieved to see that she was the first one up and out of the house as usual. If for once her father had been up and about, he would have had a mouthful to say about a lad sniffing around at that hour of the morning.

‘What are you doing here so early?’ she said. ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’ She treated him to one of her teasing smiles. ‘Nice of you to want to walk me to work, but it’s only just down the road, you know. By the time you’ve said, “How do you do?” we’ll be there.’

Stan grinned. ‘I know.’ He lifted his cap to flick the straying lock of hair underneath it, then jammed it back down again. ‘I wanted to see you.’

‘You’ll be seeing me soon enough at the pub tonight. Can’t it wait?’

‘No, it can’t. But don’t fret. It won’t take a minute. Shall we just nip down the side so no one can see us?’

At this Elsie giggled. ‘Why? What are you planning on doing? Isn’t it a bit early in the morning for that?’ She was surprised to see him blush.

‘It’s nothing like that. I want to tell you summat, and it’s a secret.’

‘Well, that’s all very flattering. Thank you very much. But I daren’t be late for clocking on or they’ll be docking me wages. They use any excuse they can get, you must know that.’

‘Aye, I do. They’re all the piggin’ same, the bosses.’

They scurried to the end of the James’s house next door at number 20, and Elsie leaned up against the wall in what she thought was a provocative pose. But he didn’t seem to notice.

‘Well?’ she said. ‘I’m waiting.’ She was aware of the minutes ticking by. ‘Spit it out.’

‘Can you keep a secret?’ Stan looked suddenly agitated and Elsie felt a tingle down her spine. What was this about?

‘Of course I can,’ she said. ‘What kind of secret is it anyway?’

He hesitated before blurting out, ‘I’m going off to war.’

Elsie was puzzled. ‘But there is no war. Not yet, at any road. And there may not—’

‘Not that war,’ he cut in. ‘The civil war in Spain.’

‘Oh.’ Not wanting to admit she wasn’t sure of the difference, she nodded as if she knew all about it and then said, ‘Why?’

‘Because we have to stop the bloody fascists from taking over the country.’

‘I see,’ she said, though she wasn’t sure she did. ‘But why do you have to go? Spain’s a heck of a long way. Haven’t they got enough men in their own army?’

‘No. Not now that people like Hitler have muscled in. They need help or the next thing we know those fascist buggers will be running all over the shop here, too.’

‘It doesn’t sound right that you have to go all that way to fight someone else’s war.’

‘Actually, there’s men going to fight from all over the world.’

Elsie was flummoxed. She was only just getting to know Stan Walsh as she’d heard one of the regulars call him. So far she liked what she saw. She certainly didn’t like the idea of him buggering off to Spain to fight in some war. Who knew what might happen. He might never come back. ‘So what does your mam have to say about all this?’ she said.

‘I haven’t said owt to her. I told you: it’s a secret.’

Elsie frowned. ‘Don’t you think we’ve got enough problems here in Weatherfield, without the likes of you waltzing off to Spain.’

‘But it’s important that Franco is stopped.’ Stan was adamant.

‘Well, that’s all very well. But why do you need to get involved? And what if Hitler takes a fancy to coming on to us? Don’t you think you’ll be needed here?’

Stan looked thoughtful. ‘I can see what you mean, but …’ He looked uncertain.

Elsie moved away from the wall, preparing to leave. ‘Look, I haven’t got time to stand here arguing the toss. I’ve got to get to work.’

‘I know, I’m sorry.’ Stan took off his cap and raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I just wanted you to know what I was thinking, that’s all.’ Stan lowered his eyes. ‘I shan’t be telling anyone else.’

‘I see.’ Elsie didn’t know what to say. ‘Well, thanks for telling me.’

‘So, I’ll see you at the pub tonight?’ His voice was eager.

Elsie liked that. She nodded. ‘Right.’

‘And you won’t tell anyone what we talked about?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Only I don’t want Mr Harehill to know what I’m planning.’

‘You’ve no need to worry. He won’t hear it from me,’ she said. She started to walk away but Stan caught hold of her by the shoulders. He leaned forward with pouted lips, but Elsie had turned her head so he ended up pecking her on the cheek.

‘Thanks, Else. I’ll see you tonight then.’ He turned to go. ‘And don’t forget: mum’s the word.’ He put his finger to his lips and disappeared while Elsie had to run all the way down the road to reach the factory gates on time.

It was exhausting being rushed off her feet at the Butcher’s Arms, particularly after a long shift at the factory, but Elsie enjoyed working alongside Stan. As Mr Harehill had predicted, Christmas was a particularly busy time, but it was also a time when customers were more generous than usual with their tips. In the privacy of the bedroom, when she was sure none of the other occupants were around, Elsie was gratified to see her small stash of money was steadily mounting as she carefully checked it on a Saturday night. She shared knowledge of the contents of the old biscuit tin with nobody. Not even Fay. And she made certain never to touch it if any of her sisters were around. She was looking forward to the day when she would have enough to buy her first present for herself. It would have to be something new. That would make it very special and it would be her very own. She dreamed of having her first proper lipstick.

Although she saw Stan every day, they never had time for more than a bit of playful banter as they were flying about clearing and refilling the glasses. Mr Harehill didn’t encourage what he called ‘chattering’ among the staff, and most nights she left before Stan did, so he couldn’t even walk her home. But there was something comforting about him just being there that gave her a warm glowing feeling inside. She was considering hanging around after her shift now and again so they could have the chance for a chat, but before she had a chance to act on it, she was surprised one night, a few days before her birthday, to find Stan had come in search of her.

Elsie and the other workers at the factory came out of work late that day as they’d been asked to put in an extra shift. Things were changing in the factory and rumour had it they would all be expected to do different kinds of work soon, though nobody knew quite what that meant. It was as if, despite all the optimism that was in the air, the country was still preparing for war.

As always, Elsie came out arm and arm with her friend Aggie and they said goodbye at the gate. Then as she turned to head for home, she felt someone tug at her sleeve.

‘Stop messing about, will you – let go of me,’ she snapped, thinking it was one of the ragamuffins who hung around the factory gates. They loved to plague the life out of the young workers, waiting with their hands out and pleading for spare change in their pitiful, whining voices. She turned round testily, ready to give the little so-and-so a telling off, for she was tired and ready to go home. But to her surprise, she came face to face with Stan.