An Old Pub Near the Angel

Wednesday

‘Jimmy! Jimmy! Come on, it’s half past.’

‘What? What is it?’

Billy was leaning over me shaking my shoulder. ‘Half past five man come on.’

‘I’m not going.’ I closed my eyes as I realised today was Wednesday. Day before pay day. We had no money. No food. No cigarettes. Nothing at all. ‘I’m not going man.’

‘You’re daft you bastard.’ Billy looked disgusted. ‘What’s the point in staying here? There’s no grub. Nothing. Might get a tap in work.’

I opened my eyes. ‘It’s raining.’

‘So you’re not going?’ He put on his jacket.

‘No sir. No sirree. Tell old Dick. Oh tell him anything at all.’

Billy opened the door and looked around. ‘You tell him tomorrow.’

‘OK.’ I pulled the blankets up to my chin. ‘Christ it’s really terrible in here. So cosy and warm. Oh it’s really bad. I wish I could go to work. You’re lucky.’

‘Aye I know,’ he looked angry, ‘I’m getting a new place Jimmy, this is hopeless.’

‘Oh no,’ I mumbled sleepily.

The door slammed as I turned over.

About 10.30 a.m. I awoke with a clear conscience and began searching for food. Billy and I had looked everywhere last night but unknown to him I had found an egg which I had secreted among the old ash in the fireplace. I looked elsewhere for something more but found nothing.

I washed the egg before breaking the shell and emptying it into the frying pan. Then I realized I should have boiled it. Too late now. One fried egg for breakfast. Still there were three or four tea leaves left and enough dust to make at least one cup of tea. No milk though. I noticed the old empty tin of Carnation lying on top of the rubbish box. Yes! I could pour some boiling water into it and swirl it about. Enough for a cup. Things were looking better.

I switched on the kettle and turned on the electric ring before returning to the room to make the bed and tidy up a bit. There was a chance of finding a dowt somewhere. Perhaps in the fireplace? Billy had looked there last night though. Not much hope. I searched around for a while before discovering the large butt of a Capstan under the carpet. That sneaky bastard! He must have tapped it from a lodger. Well, well, well. What a dirty bastard. I thought I smelled smoke this morning. What! Something up! The kettle had not whistled.

I put the dowt behind my ear and walked through to the kitchen. The switch! Electricity! The slot! Jesus no shilling. No breakfast. Overcome with despair I sat down, close to tears. My mind was completely blank for some time. Then. Raw eggs! Very healthy. Yes and there was some Yorkshire relish to mix in.

‘Hullo there!’ I cried for joy and jumping to my feet ran through to the kitchen where I spooned the egg from the frying pan up into a cup. I took the sauce bottle down from the shelf and laid it on the sink, then drank some ice-cold water, straight from the tap. Ah, even Manchester water is so refreshing.

I grabbed the bottle and shook the liquid into the cup. Closing my eyes I raised the cup to my lips and drank half. Immediately I spluttered and coughed and spewed into the sink. Groaning I bent my head down between my knees realising what I had done. I could still taste it. My God I had picked up the Fairy Liquid instead of the Yorkshire Relish. I straightened and turned on the tap to wash away the breakfast. Something attracted my attention. The ultimate piece of all the bad luck which had ever befallen me. The cigarette butt had fallen from my ear and was now soggily floating with the tide of green-coloured yolk towards the drain.

I staggered into the room and collapsed onto the bed a raving maniac. Somehow I must have undressed and crawled under the blankets, as the next thing I knew, the door had opened and the landlady’s cleaner was staring down at me. She held a broom and shovel in one hand.

‘Sorry, thought you were at work. Always do in here Wednesdays.’

‘That’s OK.’ I sat up, ‘If you start in the kitchen I’ll get up.’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘No, I was about to get up anyway.’

‘All right then.’

She walked through to the kitchen closing the door behind her.

I dressed quickly, rather embarrassed as she had noticed my clothes strewn around the room and my underwear had not been changed for a fortnight although I doubt whether she had noticed that.

‘OK?’

‘Yes,’ I answered.

The kitchen door opened and she peeped around, ‘Somebody been sick in here?’

I nodded, ‘Bad stomach, that’s why I didn’t go in to work.’

‘Ah there’s a germ going the rounds.’ She returned to her duties.

I picked up a book and sat down. I could not concentrate, my mind was on food and my orchestral stomach began tuning up. Ten minutes elapsed then on impulse I rose and opened the kitchen door.

‘Fancy some tea?’ I asked.

‘Please.’

‘Fine, I’ll just go and wash first.’

I retreated quickly to the communal bathroom hoping for a miracle. I sat meditating on what to say when I returned. In all I must have had about a dozen different replies ready for her possible questions.

When I eventually got back to the flat I found the cleaner had left; however, her tools were still lying on the kitchen floor. God what could I say to her? All my answers sounded ridiculous. Suddenly the door opened and she entered carrying a shopping bag.

‘Here.’ She passed me a single shilling which I accepted silently and slid into the slot.

‘You remind me of my son and my man.’ She smiled faintly, ‘and my father and brothers.’

I stood saying nothing.

‘You tidy up the room and I’ll make the tea,’ she said.

‘Thanks.’

With some relief I watched her go into the kitchen. I set to making the bed again. My nose was going mad. Just as I had finished cleaning out the fireplace the door opened and she came through carrying a tray. There was a plate straining under a pile of buttered toast and another two, each containing three sausages, an egg, beans and a fried potato scone.

‘I’m hungry too,’ she said with the glimmer of a smile, placing the tray on the table. ‘Sit down and I’ll bring in the tea.’

A morning paper could be the only other thing I desired at that moment. When we finished the meal she gathered up the plates and I sat back with the book. She reappeared five minutes later with her bag and tools.

‘Thanks an awful lot missus. You saved my life there, you really did.’

‘Time you got married,’ she commented, leaving the room.

A great woman. Truly great.

I returned to my book aware of the rain still battering down outside. It was pathetic. A typically dismal day before pay day. The only possible way to be happy on a day such as this would be to have your insurance cards, two weeks’ wages plus holiday money and a ticket to London.

I could not concentrate on my book. Would it be possible to nip the landlady? I mean Christ, I paid two weeks in advance and there’s a tenner deposit on top of that. Surely one miserable pound would be forthcoming! Eh?

An hour had passed before I had plucked up the necessary courage to descend to her office. If she refused I could threaten her. Tell her I’d shop her to the busies for allowing brass nails on the premises. And she must be getting something for it! No doubt about that.

Yes I would see her. First I had to go for a shit, the combination of egg and beans was deadly. I left the flat and as I descended the flight of stairs leading to the toilet the door opened and one of the aforementioned ladies came out. She smiled demurely, brushing by me in a loose floral dressing gown. She smelled good.

‘Good morning,’ I called after her.

Prospects there if I ever won a few quid on the horses.

As I sat with my trousers around my ankles, hunched over reading an ancient copy of the People’s Friend which had been placed on the newly washed linoleum, I noticed a £1 note lying near the washhand basin. I continued reading aware of the blood pounding through my temples then I closed my eyes and opened them slowly. Good God Almighty it still lay there with the green lady winking up at me. Struck constipated I pulled up my trousers and pounced upon it. I silently half opened the door peering around. No one! I stole up the stairs and tiptoed into my flat.

‘Hullo there! Hullo you good thing.’ I burst out laughing and threw myself on the bed holding the pound note in the air. Guilt! Guilt pangs? That girl’s hard-earned bread. Who are you kidding man, handful for a short time? Jesting! Might not even be hers. Could be the cleaner’s? Christ it gets worse. No! Must be the girl’s. Girl? Must be near thirty man. Anyway.

I lay back staring at the ceiling. When she finds out she’ll know it’s me. Suss that out right away. Well, well, well. Some thief. Some bloody thief right enough.

I stood up and decided to return it immediately. Anonymously would be best. I crept along the corridor and quietly inserted it in her letter box then I returned to the lavatory and resumed where I had left off.

About half an hour later, back in my flat, I had managed to get involved in the book when there came a knock on the door. I opened.

‘Hullo,’ she was still wearing the floral dressing gown. ‘Did you find this?’ she asked, holding the pound note out.

I nodded and blushed.

‘Here,’ she smiled handing me a ten bob piece, ‘thanks a lot.’

‘No!’ I shouted, ‘No thanks, that’s all right,’ mumbling now.

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah. I’m OK. Yes thanks.’ My neck was beginning to ache with the amount of nodding my head was doing.

‘Well if you’re sure,’ she smiled seriously. ‘Thanks very much.’

I closed the door still nodding my red head. What a stupid bastard. I lay back on the bed utterly spent. Ten bob. Not even a fag. I jumped to my feet, opened the door and marched down the corridor. I knocked loudly on her door. It opened almost immediately.

‘Have you a cigarette to spare,’ I faltered then added lamely, ‘Don’t have any. None at all.’

She smiled, ‘You should have said. Come in.’

I entered. A man stood by the far window watching quietly. An older woman sat on the settee with a drink in one hand.

‘What’s your name?’ the girl asked.

‘Jimmy.’ I nodded, ‘Jimmy.’

She turned and introduced me. The man smiled pleasantly remaining silent, he was over six feet tall but kind of thin.

‘Jimmy found the pound,’ she looked at me quite proudly, ‘I’m Joan; Alice, pour him a sherry.’

I accepted the drink to be sociable and Joan gave me a Rothman King Size, motioning me to take a seat on the long settee.

‘Well girls,’ the tall man crossed the room, ‘that’s settled then?’

Joan shrugged, ‘If you like.’

Alice gestured from the settee with her sherry glass, muttering to herself. Frowning, he made as if to say something, changed his mind and left.

The door had barely closed when Alice snorted loudly, ‘Good bloody riddance!’ I half expected him to come back. He must have heard her. ‘I don’t know Joanie,’ Alice continued, ‘I really don’t. He expects too much. Far too much.’ She looked across at me. ‘Too bloody much. So he does.’ I sipped the sherry. Never seen the bloke before and yet he had to be the pimp. ‘Anyway,’ Alice stood up and drained her glass, ‘I’m off to do some shopping.’ Joan yawned as she lifted the bottle of sherry.

‘OK, Alice,’ she said, leaning over and topping up my glass.

‘Cheerio,’ I said.

‘Bye lad,’ replied Alice staring at me.

The door closed behind her and I sat back enjoying the drink and smoke.

‘Is she at it too?’ I asked.

Joan nodded with big eyes.

‘Is she not a bit old?’ Good God what a ridiculous question.

‘Too old for what?’ she smiled at me, ‘Alice isn’t even forty.’

‘She should be settled down by now,’ I said by way of an explanation.

‘She was married. Three kids as well. She left them all about two years ago,’ Joan walked to the sink. ‘Coffee?’

‘Yes thanks,’ I answered, ‘Where’d you meet her?’

Joan busied around the oven for two or three minutes and I was beginning to think she had not heard. Then she turned mock dramatically.

‘She’s my auntie.’

‘Your auntie?’

She burst into laughter at the expression on my face.

‘Do you want to hear a sob story?’

I held out my glass for a refill. ‘Not particularly.’

‘Just as well, don’t know any anyway.’ Joan came over and sat facing me. I thought she had been wearing a bra earlier. Must have been mistaken.

‘He’s gay.’

‘What?’

‘Him!’ she pointed to the door. ‘He’s bent.’

‘Oh!’ I was surprised. ‘Are you sure?’

She looked at me like I was daft or something.

‘Did you not notice?’

‘Well it crossed my mind.’

‘Bloody liar.’ She was laughing at me again.

‘Well sometimes it’s difficult to tell.’

‘That’s probably why he rushed away,’ she continued.

‘Why?’

‘Jealous. That’s why.’

‘Ha ha ha,’ I said finishing the drink to cover my blushes.

‘No,’ she said, ‘Young fellow like you.’

‘Good stuff this,’ I waved to the bottle playing for time.

‘Home brew,’ she poured me another. ‘Never mind that label, it’s very potent stuff.’

‘Aphrodisiac qualities?’ I laughed half heartedly. ‘I mean has it? Eh?’

‘Alice made it so it’s very possible,’ she said pouring herself one.

‘Randy old bugger she is. You want to watch her too.’

The kettle shrilled and she walked over to the cooker.

‘Still want some coffee?’

‘No, not for me, thanks,’ I replied.

Standing with her back to me for a few moments, she switched off the gas, absentmindedly it seemed.

‘Nice of you to return that pound. Don’t suppose you’ve got any money either.’

‘Well it’s pay day tomorrow,’ I explained.

Old Alice’s brew was beginning to take a hold of me.

Wonder what she put in it? I poured myself another.

‘Like it?’ asked Joan sitting back down on the settee.

I nodded and passed her one of her cigarettes, taking one myself. My hand was shaking uncontrollably as I reached across to give her a light.

‘All right?’ she asked behind those big, big eyes.

‘Whoo I’m okay. Powerful stuff that stuff.’

My hand was not shaking because of the bloody drink. No, no, no! Her dressing gown had opened almost down to her waist as she leaned forward to light up. What a pair of tits she had on her!

‘You have a fine pair of, eh! breasts there, Joan. You really have.’

‘Thanks but they are a bit small.’

‘What are you talking about? Whoo they’re perfect.’

She smiled gracefully.

I placed my glass carefully on the carpet and as I leaned across to her, knocked it over.

‘Don’t mind it,’ said Joan, ‘just leave it lying.’

Her gown lay precariously round her shoulders, she jerked forward slightly and it fell on to the cushions behind her.

I placed a forefinger on each of her nipples feeling remarkably fine for a Wednesday.