Free The Bells of Scotland Road by Ruth Hamilton Page B

everybody. Here, it’s different.
Cathy will have to learn to take care in these parts.’
    Big Diddy nodded sagely. ‘She’ll learn all right. I’ve told you, they grow up quick round here.’ When the tea was poured, Diddy kissed her departing husband, then dragged
Maureen away from the mirror. ‘If you carry on like this, you’ll need laughing gas while we peel you off that bloody dresser. And the job’ll be gone. Remember, no cheek and no
batting the eyelashes. You’re there to serve Dolly Hanson’s customers, not to make eyes at anything in trousers.’
    Charlie wiped his mouth on a corner of the tablecloth, belched and stood up.
    ‘That’s right, love,’ said his mother. ‘You go and help Mr Bell.’
    Charlie shuffled out, almost colliding with the door while grinning at Bridie.
    ‘He likes you,’ announced Diddy. ‘He’s special, our Charlie. There’s a lot more to him than what you see. Deep, he is.’ She pushed a pint pot of tea at her
guest, then ladled out enough porridge to feed a small nation. ‘Put yourself outside of that,’ she ordered. ‘It’ll line your ribs right through Christmas.’
    Bridie tasted the porridge, found it delicious and said so. ‘Do all your children work?’ she asked between mouthfuls.
    Diddy parted the digits of her right hand, counted off with the left index finger. ‘Charlie’s me eldest – he’s seventeen and he works nearly full time for Sam. Our Monica
– she’s very hard-working. Only fifteen, but she runs a stall on Paddy’s, sells things from junkshops including Bell’s.’
    Bridie waited, watched the large woman’s frown.
    ‘I worry about our Maureen. Thirteen going on thirty, she is. This is her last year at school. She does a couple of hours in a morning for Dolly Hanson, then a couple more hours after
school. She’s getting dancing lessons at Mary Turner’s.’
    ‘Fairy Mary’s?’ asked Bridie.
    Diddy nodded. ‘You’re catching on, girl.’ She sat down opposite Bridie. ‘There’s always a crowd of lads chasing our Maureen, like flies round a jam pot.’ She
shook her head. ‘There’ll be trouble with her sooner or later.’
    ‘Try not to worry.’
    Big Diddy smiled at her newfound friend. ‘Funny. I’m talking to you like I’ve always known you. Must be your face. It’s very open.’ She took a slurp of tea.
‘Tildy-Anne’s ten. She’s another hard worker.’ Diddy beamed at her daughter. ‘Reminds me of meself at her age. Then Jimmy’s the youngest. He’s nine and
everybody knows him as Cozzer. A good lad. But he’s always losing his boots. Takes them off down the landing stage, pretends to be poorer than he really is. Says people feel sorry for him and
give him work. He’s a bloody character.’
    Bridie admitted defeat and laid down her spoon. ‘It’s wonderful stuff, Diddy, but my stomach’s full.’ She eyed Tildy and Cathy. ‘Wouldn’t you like to take
another look at Mr Costigan’s pigeons?’
    Big Diddy pointed to a carton on the dresser. ‘You can feed them for me.’ She waited until the girls had gone out with Shauna hot on their heels. ‘He’s a lovely feller,
my Billy, but the pigeons get me down. Still, men have to have an interest, like. If they’ve got interests, they don’t get into mischief down the pub.’
    Bridie took a sip of tea strong enough to take the breath away. ‘Sam’s interest is fishing, I’m told.’
    Diddy stirred a fourth spoonful of sugar into her own measure of the bitter brew. ‘He just sits there,’ she said. ‘With a long pole and a hook and a little bucket full of
maggots. Breeds the buggers in his meatsafe, so watch your food, ’cos they have been known to travel.’ She blew into the blue-and-white striped mug. ‘I don’t know what he
gets out of it, Bridie. Reels them in, measures them, chucks them back most of the time.’
    ‘You don’t like him,’ said Bridie.
    ‘I never said that.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘He’s not a man you love or hate.