Josephine Cox - Live the Dream

‘So what did you do?’

With a defiant look, he explained, ‘Well, what d’yer think I did? I paid him half what he said. I mean, what else could I do under the circumstances? I had no intention o’ paying him the full whack, I can tell you that. But y’see, I didn’t want no police on the scene. They’d have only made me later coming home to you, my darling.’ The expression on his face was a picture. ‘And we couldn’t be having that, could we now?’

All three laughed at his antics. It had been a good day, and an excellent meal, and as Dave went for his evening ‘constitutional’, Marie and Amy cleared away the dinner things. ‘It’s good to have him home,’ Marie said, and Amy agreed. Such contentment – she had envisaged such a marriage for herself, but she knew, even so, that she was fortunate to share in her parents’ happy lives. After all, what would Daisy give for this much love?

Dave returned just as Amy came down the stairs, having gone to get ready. ‘By! You look lovely, lass.’ He beamed with pride. ‘Off somewhere nice, are you?’

‘Me and Daisy are going to the pictures.’ Amy blushed at his compliment, but then she had taken a lot of trouble to look especially nice.

The long dark skirt had been a birthday present from her mother, and to go with it, Amy had bought a pale blue blouse and close-fitting jacket of darker blue. With her small-heeled ankle-strap shoes and the pretty spotted scarf at her throat she looked and felt good.

‘Your dad’s right,’ Marie agreed. ‘You look beautiful in that outfit.’

Aware that she was no beauty, but grateful for their compliments, Amy kissed her parents cheerio and promised not to be too late home.

‘And mind them roads!’ Dave warned. ‘It won’t be long afore the motor vehicles outnumber the horse and carts. Mind you, some of them drivers couldn’t even control a dog on a lead, let alone a thing with an engine in it.’

‘You worry too much,’ Amy chided as she hurried out the door. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Marie waved her daughter off at the door, then returned to the parlour and her beloved husband. ‘She’s a good lass, don’t you think?’

‘Aye.’ He smiled and nodded. ‘She teks after her mammy.’

Winking meaningfully, he patted his knee. ‘Look here, lass. There’s a sizeable lap going begging,’ he said invitingly. ‘All it needs is a pretty woman to plonk her bare bottom on it, and I’ll be happy as a pig in muck.’

Softly laughing, she went to him. ‘You’re a randy old thing, Dave Atkinson,’ she said, nibbling his ear.

‘And who can blame me, eh,’ hugging her tight, he kissed her full on the mouth, ‘when I’ve got the best-looking woman in the whole o’ Lancashire?’

Marie laughed, and as her smile met his, there was no doubting her love for him. ‘Are you after my body?’

‘What do you think?’

Marie smiled softly. ‘I think the same as you,’ she whispered. ‘What’s more, I think we ought to do summat about it.’

He kissed her again. ‘A woman after my own heart, that’s what you are, Marie Atkinson.’

A moment later the two of them went up the stairs together.

With Dave away all week it seemed such an age since they had made love.

A TRIP TO THE pictures was always a treat, and tonight was no exception.

‘Am I glad to see you!’ Daisy was already waiting in Blackburn town centre as Amy disembarked from the tram. ‘I’ve been waiting here for ages.’ Linking arms with her friend, Daisy was talkative as usual. ‘You should have seen this good-looking fella just now,’ she sighed. ‘He weren’t nearly as handsome as our Tuesday man, but I wouldn’t mind having him for a sweetheart.’

Amy laughed. ‘How do you know he hasn’t already got a sweetheart?’

‘I expect he has,’ Daisy groaned. ‘I expect every decent, good-looking man has already been claimed.’ The long-drawn-out sigh came from her very soul. ‘I can see I’m destined to grow old and miserable and never know what it’s like to have a fella of my own.’

Something in Daisy’s voice and manner told Amy things weren’t right. ‘What’s the matter?’ Drawing her to a halt, Amy asked gently, ‘There’s something wrong at home, isn’t there?’ She remembered Daisy’s barely concealed unhappiness at the café last Tuesday morning.

Daisy lowered her gaze. ‘How do you know that?’

Amy always knew. ‘Well, for one thing, I got here at the time we arranged, and yet you said you’d been waiting ages for me.’

Daisy nodded. ‘Well, if you must know, there’s hell going on at home,’ she admitted in a trembling voice. ‘That’s why I came out early, to wait for you.’

‘Have you had anything to eat?’

Daisy shook her head.

‘OK!’ Glancing about, Amy was relieved to see the hot-potato stand was here as usual. ‘The first thing we do is get you something to eat. Then we’ll skip the pictures and find a quiet little place where we can sit and talk.’

Daisy was emphatic. ‘I don’t want to talk.’

‘So, what do you want to do?’

‘Go to the pictures, like we said.’

‘Are you hungry?’

‘I might be.’

‘Well then, we’ve time enough, so it’s hot potatoes first, then the pictures. All right?’

In fact everything was ‘all right’ to Daisy whenever she was with Amy. It was only when she was home with her parents that life was unbearable. The sound of their angry screaming voices still rang in her head. No, she’d make an effort; she wouldn’t let them spoil her evening. Pulling her shoulders back, she straightened her coat and tossed her auburn curls. ‘All right,’ she grinned.

Linking arms again, the two of them went towards the hot-potato stand.

‘Evening, girls.’ A short, round little man in a grey coat, the stallholder resembled one of his own potatoes. ‘Off to the pictures, are you?’

While he served them, he chatted about the weather and told them how pretty they were and flirted outrageously. Daisy responded in a like manner and earned herself an extra large potato, while Amy laughed to see her friend determined to enjoy herself.

Amy paid for the two bags of hot potatoes smothered in salt, and butter, which dripped from the bottom of the bag. ‘Mind it doesn’t get on your coat,’ she urged Daisy, who was tucking in as she walked. ‘You’ll have a terrible job getting it out.’

Seating themselves on a nearby bench, they sat and enjoyed their meal; though Amy was full to bursting, having already had a good dinner. Still, she didn’t confess that to Daisy. Instead, under Daisy’s watchful eye, she ate every bit of her delicious potato.

Delighted to see how Daisy wolfed her food, Amy laughed at the way her friend puffed and blew and complained about how hot it was – ‘It’s burning my bloody mouth!’ But she soon devoured it, skin and all.

Afterwards, with Daisy seeming more content, the two of them took off for the picture house and, feeling too full for words, Amy was thankful for the brisk walk across the square.

The Roxy was a grand-looking place, with plush red seats in the auditorium, thick carpet underfoot, and a man softly playing the organ at the front.

‘There’s two seats along there.’

The usherette shone her torch along the dimly lit row, and carefully as she could, Amy led the way, while behind her she could hear chaos unfolding. When she glanced back it was carnage, with everyone they’d passed bending forward, clutching their poor mangled feet where Daisy had trodden on them.

The silent, hateful glances that followed hastened them to their seats, and Amy, for one, was thankful to sit down.

‘Clumsy devils!’ The last poor man they’d passed appeared to be in agony. ‘If folks would only get here in good time, there’d be none o’ this!’