Free Paradise Lane by Ruth Hamilton Page A

‘Playing snap with that daft lump of mine. She thinks he’s letting her win, but he’s not. Twenty-odd year that man’s needed glasses, only he won’t admit it.’ Rosie glanced over her shoulder, approached the fence. ‘How’s Derek?’
    ‘Morphine,’ replied Ivy.
    ‘Eeh, lass, I’m that sorry.’
    ‘So am I. Joe Heilberg’s with him. Doctor’s coming again later on. I think . . .’ She drew an unsteady breath. ‘I think you’d best find some excuse to send our Sal round to see her dad before bedtime. Derek might not be here come morning. And ta for letting our lass stop with you tonight while Maureen’s at her evening blessing.’
    ‘She’ll be praying for Tom Goodfellow to see the light and marry her. And she’ll say one or two for your Derek, love. Any road, Ivy, I’ll send Sally across to you for sugar. Do you want me to come and sit the night with you after I’ve settled Sally in bed?’
    Ivy gazed sadly at the little woman. ‘If you’re well enough to miss a night’s sleep.’
    ‘I’ll bring me knitting. And some stout. It’ll be a long night, Ivy.’
    ‘Not long enough, Rosie. Not long enough . . .’
    ‘I think she knew,’ pronounced Ivy. ‘She’s deep, is our Sal, takes it all in and says nowt. Only the last thing she said to her dad were about hoping he weren’t in any pain, like.’
    Both women turned from the fire and looked at the still figure beneath the window. Apart from some slight movements in the region of his chest, he looked as if he were dead already. ‘Last time he spoke were to Joseph Heilberg,’ continued Ivy. ‘Joe told me after – they’d been talking about elephants.’
    ‘Eeh, this lad of yours has always loved animals,’ said Rosie. ‘Dotes on that cat, he does. He’d have had a dog but for yon Lottie. You know, it makes no sense to me at all, this. His wife’s beggared off, he’s not long to live, and there’s Sally to think about. Where’s God been while all this were going on? On His holidays in blinking Blackpool?’
    Ivy, mellowed by the stout, nodded sleepily. ‘The road I see it, Rosie, is that we gets born and we puts up with it. God’s there, you know. He’s give us all these things to use like coal and gas. But He never tells us how to go about getting our hands on these things, like. Same as the Garden of Eden. Eve sees this apple, thinks it looks good, has a taste. God put it there. All God’s gifts has a dark side. If we want coal and gas, we’ve got to find a way of getting it, a way that doesn’t kill people like it’s killing our Derek. God’s give us the brains, so we’ve to use them.’
    Rosie stared admiringly at the Speaker of Worthington Street. If only Ivy Crumpsall had been a bloke. If she’d been a man, she’d have sorted Westminster out right down to washing, ironing and telling the Germans they’d best not try again or else. ‘What time did the doctor say, Ivy?’
    ‘Midnight.’ She glanced up at the newly mended clock. ‘I gave him that clock, you know. When it broke down, he had it mended, then it stopped again. Three or four times it’s been back to the shop. Then he realized as how Lottie were overwinding it on purpose to spoil the spring. She told him once that having my clock in her house made her feel as if I were supervising her all the while. Mind, if I’d been in charge of her, she’d happen have changed some of her mucky, slapdash ways.’
    The front door opened, causing a draught to enter the kitchen. ‘In here,’ called Ivy.
    Maureen Mason entered the room. ‘I couldn’t sleep, girls. Is Sally next door?’
    Rosie nodded. ‘Fast asleep in our back bedroom, cat and all. Is yon clock right, Maureen?’
    ‘Yes. Going on midnight.’ As Maureen finished speaking, the Town Hall chimes drifted through the night and into Paradise Lane.
    ‘Doctor’ll be here in a minute,’ said Rosie.
    Another draught announced a second caller. Tom Goodfellow walked in, stopped for a split second when he