Free Try a Little Tenderness by Joan Jonker Page A

could ever say yer were daft. Use my basket indeed, and let me do the carrying.’
    ‘For crying out loud, girl, I only want a couple of things from the Maypole. It’s not as if I’d asked yer to get me a hundredweight of bleedin’ coal.’
    ‘Shut yer face, Amy Hanley, and let’s get cracking. And do us a favour, try and behave yerself.’
    Their first stop was the Maypole. A young girl assistant came over, smiling. ‘What can I get for yer?’
    ‘Nothing against you, girl, but I want to see the manager,’ Amy said, pulling herself to her full height and thrusting her bosom forward. ‘I have a complaint to make.’
    Mary grabbed her arm. ‘Amy, for heaven’s sake, don’t be making a scene.’
    ‘Me! Make a scene! Now as if I would.’
    The manager, Greg, came in answer to the young assistant’s call. ‘Good morning, ladies, can I help yer?’
    Amy’s face was so serious, no one would guess the laughter that was going on inside of her. ‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you. Well, I don’t know whether bone’s the right word to use. Do bluebottles have bones?’
    Greg looked to Mary for guidance, but as she was as wise as he was, she could only shrug her shoulders. ‘Why do you ask, Mrs Hanley?’
    ‘’Cos the half of margarine I got off yer yesterday had a ruddy big bluebottle in the middle of it. Fair made me sick, it did.’
    Mary stepped back so she was standing behind her friend, and she shook her head at the bewildered manager. ‘She’s pulling yer leg,’ she mouthed.
    ‘I’m sorry about that, Mrs Hanley.’ Greg kept his face straight. ‘But you can rest assured I did not charge yer for the bluebottle.’
    ‘I never said yer did, did I? No, I’m a fair-minded woman, and I only want what’s due to me. What I’m asking for is me money back for the margarine the bleedin’ bluebottle ate.’ The shoulders were stiffened and the jaw set. ‘I can’t afford to be feeding no ruddy bluebottles, and yer should have seen the ruddy big hole in the margarine, yer wouldn’t believe it.’
    ‘Yer should have brought it back, Mrs Hanley.’
    ‘Brought what back – the hole? Oh, I couldn’t do that! Yer see, I used the hole for me husband’s carry-out.’
    All the staff and customers were listening by this time. Amy was noted in the neighbourhood for pulling people’s legs, and if there was free entertainment going, they wanted some.
    ‘Well, you should have brought the bluebottle back. Atleast that would have been some proof that what ye’re saying is true.’
    ‘Ah, I couldn’t bring that back.’ Amy’s eyes went around her audience. ‘Yer’ll all cry yer eyes out when yer hear this, it’s that sad. Yer see, poor Bluey died from over-eating. Near broke me heart it did, to see him on his back, his little legs waving about until the end finally came. I put him in a matchbox, but I haven’t buried him yet because yer can’t have a burial without flowers. So to give him a decent send-off, I’m here to collect for a wreath for him – and I know yer’ll all be generous. Especially you, Greg, because it’s your fault he’s dead. If you hadn’t been careless enough to let him fly on my margarine, the poor bugger would be still alive. He’d be sitting in your window right now, flying from the brawn to the bacon, really enjoying himself with his sister. She’s sitting on yer boiled ham right now, using it as a lavvy, and wondering where he is.’
    The Maypole was usually a very quiet shop, except when Amy Hanley was in it.

Chapter Four
    ‘Ay, isn’t this the gear, girl?’ Amy’s round face beamed. ‘All the food and presents in, and nowt to do but sit back and enjoy ourselves.’
    ‘You’re looking on the bright side, aren’t yer?’ Mary had finished wrapping the dress she’d bought Laura for Christmas and was tying the parcel with green string. ‘What about preparing all the spuds and veg, cooking the turkey, making the stuffing and gravy? There’s stacks of jobs to do