Lizzie thought for a moment. ‘I can believe that.’

  ‘Why, Lizzie, have you seen something going on at the Pride?’

  She nodded, hesitating to say anything more at first for she didn’t want to be disloyal, but eventually she said, ‘I’ve seen him talking to some men in the yard. A very unsavoury lot. The kind of men that made me wonder how he could seriously consider being involved with them,’ she went on. ‘Goods and money have definitely changed hands, I’ve seen it myself.’ And she told him about some of the mean-looking characters she’d seen hanging around the yard at the Pride and how they’d filled her with fear when they’d tried to approach her. ‘You don’t think Bob could have been responsible in any way for all this?’ Lizzie shivered as she gestured up the street. But before Steve could reply, a familiar and cantankerous voice broke into their conversation.

  ‘What about the breakages, that’s what I’d like to know?’ Ena Sharples demanded as she tapped Steve on the shoulder. ‘Who’s going to pay for them, can you tell me that?’

  ‘They were some of my best plates as got smashed,’ Minnie Caldwell added in her high-pitched whine as she came to join them.

  ‘Never mind that,’ Ena snapped at her, ‘you should have known better than to put out your best china in the street. I’m more worried about my broken chairs.’

  ‘But they didn’t belong to you in the first place, you only brought them up from the mission, Ena.’ Minnie sounded indignant now.

  ‘That’s hardly the point, is it?’ Ena argued. ‘It was down to those hooligans that they got broken, but that doesn’t help me any as we don’t even know who half of them were. But if that Billy Walker was involved, then I’m telling you—’

  ‘Come, come, Ena,’ Steve spoke up. ‘We need to be reasonable here and not bandy about names when we’ve got no proof of anything. Besides which, you’re talking about a child. And if you start making unfounded accusations you’ll get us all into trouble.’

  ‘I still need to know who’s going to pick up the bill.’ Ena was insistent. ‘And if it’s Annie Walker …’

  As if on cue, at the mention of her name Annie Walker appeared, directing the drinkers carrying out the piano from the bar and into the street, where everyone would be able to hear it, but before she could stop her Ena Sharples sat down on the music stool and started belting out her repertoire of hymns. She didn’t seem to care that only a few people were politely singing along. It was a relief to everyone when one of the neighbours suddenly appeared with an accordion, while one of his companions pulled a harmonica from his pocket and they struck up some modern dance tunes. It wasn’t long before several couples had cleared a space and begun to dance. This brought Elsie Foyle from the Rovers’ kitchen and she began to sing along with the musicians. With such competition, Ena was forced to abandon her attempts at ‘Jerusalem’ and the twenty-third psalm and she grudgingly allowed Elsie Foyle to replace her at the keyboard. Elsie had a powerful singing voice and she knew how to make the most of it as she had once been on the stage, so others were encouraged to join in and, before long, everyone was singing and dancing to Vera Lynn and Judy Garland favourites.

  ‘Perhaps we should be setting an example,’ Steve said as the tempo picked up, and he stepped in front of Lizzie and held out his arms as if ready to dance. When she didn’t respond immediately, he grasped her hand while at the same time placing his other hand in the centre of her back. It was the lightest of touches, but it still felt like a bolt of electricity to Lizzie and momentarily she stiffened. She hadn’t been held in this way for so long. Before she could say no she was in Steve’s arms, moving with him in time to the music.

  ‘Is your leg giving you gyp, moving like this?’ Lizzie had to raise her voice to be heard over the music.

  ‘Is it that obvious?’ Steve said.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t intend to pry and I understand if you don’t want to talk about it,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘I suppose it’s not something I can easily keep secret, even if I wanted to.’

  ‘I’m afraid not, but that was rather clumsy of me, blurting it out like that.’

  ‘I’m glad you did, for I honestly don’t know how long I can last jigging about on it like this. But my physical therapist keeps telling me exercise is good for me.’ He laughed.

  Lizzie had begun to relax and was astonished at how much she was enjoying dancing with him, but after a few numbers he pulled up. ‘I’m really sorry, I hope you don’t mind if we sit down. I’ve proved I can do it, but it’s been a long day,’ Steve said, and Lizzie could see that he was trying not to wince as he led them back to the chairs.

  ‘At least the day hasn’t been a total disaster,’ Lizzie said, ‘even though someone was obviously trying to make it so. I think you did well to save it after the way things looked this morning.’

  ‘Weatherfielders are obviously made of tough stuff,’ Steve said. ‘It’s been fun.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘But right now it’s time to listen to Winston Churchill’s address. Coming to join us?’ he asked. ‘We’ve got the radio set up in the Rovers and I could buy you that drink that I owe you.’ He smiled and raised his eyebrows by way of invitation. Lizzie suddenly felt flustered and had to look away. Then she shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I’d best be getting off home to help my ma with the baby,’ she said. ‘I’ve left her to it for long enough on her own, cheerio.’ And without further ado she turned and walked quickly away.

  Lizzie woke the next morning to hear one of the twins crying, an unusual sound in the Doyle household where normally the boys hated to be seen as ‘soft girls’ and were only anxious to show off how big and brave they were. She was about to throw off the covers, wondering what could be wrong, but as she tried to lift her head from the pillow she felt a blinding flash of pain across her eyes. It only took a few seconds for her to realize that if she tried to move, not only would she be sick, but she wouldn’t make it to the midden in time. She called out to her mother that she needed a bucket or a bowl quickly, but she got no response and by this time she realized the other twin had joined in the cacophony and that baby Sammy too was wailing pitifully and calling for her. She took a deep breath, trying to stave off the inevitable for as long as possible and closed her eyes, uncertain what to do, then she heard someone murmur her name.

  ‘Lizzie! I’m not well,’ Cora’s voice whispered. ‘Can you go and see to the boys?’

  ‘No.’ Lizzie was aware that her own voice was barely above a whisper. She would have preferred to shake her head rather than talk but the slightest movement threatened to unleash the unpredictable contents of her stomach. Then Cora retched and Lizzie heard the swiftly retreating patter of her mother’s feet as she padded down the wooden stairs and when the back door banged shut she swallowed hard and lifted herself up from the bed in her own attempt to flee downstairs to the kitchen sink before it was too late. She paused at the boys’ bedroom only long enough to register their distress, but at that moment there was nothing she could do about it.

  It wasn’t until the afternoon that some kind of order was restored. There was a knock at the front door and a white-faced Elsie Tanner let herself into the living room calling softly, ‘Anyone home? Is everything all right here?’

  Lizzie was sitting at the kitchen table by this time, wrapped in her outdoor coat while the only warm nightdress she possessed was soaking in the kitchen sink. ‘There’s only me up and about so far, Elsie,’ Lizzie said, sipping water from a cup. ‘And I wouldn’t say I was either up or getting about much.’ She gave a wry laugh. ‘So, on the whole no, things are not all right. We’re all poorly, me, the boys, the baby and Ma.’ She looked at Elsie and frowned. ‘And you as well, by the looks of you.’

  ‘Me and everyone else apparently. I’ve been throwing up all night. It must have been something we’ve ate. And it seems to have affected almost everyone in the street. Not that there’s much we can do about it mind, except wait it out.’

  ‘No, there’s not much anyone can do.’ Lizzie sighed. ‘But I will have to find a way to get a message to Bob.’ She put a hand to her brow which felt warmer than usual. ‘I couldn’t possibly go in to work today. I can’t stand for more than two minutes at a time.’

  ‘You don’t have to worry about letting Bob know,’ Elsie said. ‘I’m feeling a bit better now so I should be able to pop down to the Pride to tell him, a bit later on. If not, I can get our Linda to do it. I don’t know why, but she seems to be all right. Got the constitution of an ox that one.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear someone’s OK. It’s taken ages for Ma and me to sort out everyone here. Ma’s crawled back into bed not half an hour since, and I presume she’s sleeping but I couldn’t face the idea of lying down.’ Lizzie put her head in her hands and closed her eyes. When she opened them again Elsie had gone and Cora had taken her place at the table. ‘I wonder if Hilda’s all right?’ Lizzie said. ‘She was with us most of yesterday.’

  ‘Then I’d take bets she’s not,’ Cora said.

  ‘Oh dear, I’ll have to try and get in touch with her. I worry about her living on her own,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘She’s got a landlady, hasn’t she?’ Cora said. ‘Hopefully she’ll do the right thing if Hilda’s sick.’

  ‘Do you think any of the folk in the neighbouring streets might have been affected?’ Lizzie said.

  ‘I’ve no idea and I’m not about to do a door-to-door poll to find out,’ Cora quipped.

  Lizzie started to laugh and as a result had to rush out of the back door.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ she said when she came back. She sat down gingerly by the table again and buttoned up her coat in an effort to stop shivering.

  It was some time later when Elsie reappeared and this time she came in without knocking. ‘Just wanted to let you know I got your message through to Bob and it does seem that loads of people were affected.’ Elsie sat down and drummed her fingers on the table. ‘I’ve had a thought,’ she said.

  ‘Congratulations! Is that a first?’ Lizzie attempted humour though she didn’t really feel like laughing.

  ‘Cheeky monkey! I’m talking about where all this might have started,’ Elsie said.

  ‘Well?’ Lizzie was curious.

  ‘It could well have been them pork pies.’ Her lips were drawn into a thin line.

  ‘And where …?’ Lizzie said, but she knew the answer without asking. The pies had come from the Pride.

  ‘I did wonder why Bob offered me such a great deal, but he said not to ask questions.’ Elsie drew in a deep breath and wagged her finger at Lizzie. ‘And I shan’t be telling that to no one else but you.’

  ‘The funny thing is they tasted all right to me,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘And I didn’t hear anyone complaining when they were busy stuffing their faces, did you?’ Elsie was scornful.

  ‘Definitely not,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘But we’ll hear them now. No doubt they’ll take great delight in telling us how much they’ve suffered. And they’ll be quick to point the finger, you mark my words.’

  ‘Do you think Bob knew there could be a problem?’ Lizzie asked. She didn’t want to believe that he would have offered Elsie bad stock knowingly. ‘It wouldn’t do his reputation much good …’ She paused. But it wouldn’t matter, because he had sworn Elsie to secrecy as to where they’d come from so it would be the Rovers who got the blame.

  Elsie shook her head. ‘Only he knew why he was being so generous.’

  ‘But you can hardly accuse him,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘No? Just watch me,’ Elsie said.

  The next day Steve was on his own serving behind the Rovers’ bar and he had to put on a brave front. Gracie had gone to New York on a transport ship arranged by Chuck’s parents so that she would be there in good time to greet her fiancé when he was eventually sent home from Europe, and Annie Walker was upstairs tending to Billy who had been very sick. Steve was upset when he found out how the party had ended for most of the Coronation Street residents, but he wasn’t sure what he could do. No one had accused him or Annie directly but they had been sounding off about Elsie Tanner and he knew that the Rovers had to bear the brunt of the blame. He hadn’t had time to eat anything at the party, so to his relief he’d been spared the distressing symptoms. But fingers were naturally being pointed in the direction of the Rovers, and in particular at Elsie, and people wanted answers.

  ‘Not the best party I’ve ever been to.’ Ena Sharples’ voice was the loudest in the bar as usual as she waited impatiently for her bottle of milk stout. ‘First that gang of hooligans trying to spoil everything, then the next day everyone going down like ninepins with upset stomachs. If you ask me, that was down to them blooming sandwich fillings. I never did trust them jars of paste. They might call them fancy names, but you never know what they really put into them.’

  ‘I think it was those wretched cake concoctions,’ Ida Barlow said, cautiously sipping her pint of lager. ‘Did you go in for one of them competitions to name the ingredients?’ she asked Ena.

  Ena shook her head. ‘I didn’t waste my time on such nonsense.’

  ‘Aye, well I thought I knew the answers but it turned out I was way off the mark. And when I found out what they’d really put into them I was sorry I’d eaten them. You couldn’t call them real cakes.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know about the sandwiches or the cakes, as far as I’m concerned it was the meat that was rotten.’ Minnie Caldwell’s voice sounded strong and determined for once.

  ‘You mean them sausage roll thingies and the supposed pork pies?’ Ena said, scornfully. ‘I doubt there was much meat in any of them.’

  ‘It still could have been off, though,’ Minnie said.

  ‘I never did trust Elsie Tanner further than I could throw her. What she knows about food could go on the back of a postage stamp,’ Ena said. ‘It’s all her fault, as far as I’m concerned. She knows nowt about catering but I bet she’s not above a bit of black-marketing on the side.’

  Ena cleared her throat. ‘Never put your faith in a Grimshaw, I’ve always said. I don’t imagine too much catering went on in the slum where she was dragged up.’

  Steve had his own theories about the cause of the problem as he listened to all the comments. But he knew that trying to expose the real culprit and provide some kind of proof, would not be an easy task.

  Steve had to wait until the next day for Annie to be available once more to serve in the bar before he was able to take an hour off to venture over to the Pride. But he was anxious to see if he could shed any light on Elsie’s supplier.

  The Pride was busy and as he scanned the bar through the hazy atmosphere he was disappointed to find not only that Bob was nowhere to be seen but that there was only one barmaid on duty and it was not Lizzie. Pat Evans was rushing from one side of the bar to the other and it took some time for Steve to get served. ‘What can I get you? I’m really sorry about the delay,’ she eventually apologised and he was glad she didn’t seem to know who he was.

  ‘Is Lizzie not here?’ Steve asked, although he already knew the answer.

  ‘I believe she’s still poorly,’ Pat said, ‘but hopefully she’ll be back tomorrow. Any message? Want to leave your name?’

  Steve shook his head and picked up his pint. In a quieter corner of the room he’d spotted several Rovers’ customers deep in conversation and as he moved away from the counter they beckoned to him to join them.

  ‘We don’t usually see you in here,’ Albert Tatlock said. ‘Busman’s holiday?’

  Steve laughed. ‘Believe it or not, I fancied a change.’

  ‘Fancied the barmaid more like!’ Albert chuckled. ‘Only she’s not here, as you can see. Not that I’ve owt against Pat, nice enough girl even if she is married, but that Lizzie is in a different class. She’s a bit of all right. Pity she’s gone down with the sickness bug that seems to have caught everyone on the hop.’

  ‘A bad end to the day,’ Steve said.

  ‘From where I was standing it didn’t start off too well either,’ Frank Barlow said. ‘What on earth was all that about?’

  Steve shook his head. ‘Not really sure. Unfortunately, everyone seems to have a different version of events,’ he said.

  ‘It seemed plain enough to me that it was that bunch of scalliwags that hang around the back yard here of a night,’ Frank said. ‘They riled up the younger kids to get them to cause mayhem. They told them to grab as much food as possible and tip everything upside down. I think the idea was to mess things up and make it look as bad as possible for the Rovers.’

  ‘Well, they certainly succeeded in that,’ Albert said.

  ‘But the idea must have come from someone at the top,’ Frank said.

  ‘It doesn’t take a great brain to work out who that is,’ Albert muttered. ‘From what I heard it was Bob himself who paid the older lads to get things going.’

  ‘Hey!’ Steve warned. ‘We’ve got to be careful before bandying about accusations we can’t prove.’

  ‘They might not stand up in a court of law, but I’d put my money on it. And as to the food business, that were all Elsie Tanner’s fault.’ Albert sounded unequivocal in his indictment.

  ‘You can’t say things like that,’ Steve protested, ‘not without definite proof. Besides, Elsie was hardly to blame. She was just doing what she’d been asked to do. It wasn’t her fault if she was given damaged goods.’

  ‘It’s what folk are saying hereabouts,’ Albert said with a shrug.

  ‘To be fair, it’s not clear what the cause was,’ Steve said. ‘And it won’t be so easy to find out.’

  A shadow suddenly fell on his pint and Steve looked up to see Bob Bennett standing over him.

  ‘Sorry to hear that the Rovers’ party didn’t go exactly to plan,’ Bob said, emphasising the word Rovers as he folded his arms across his broad chest. He shook his head. ‘It nearly didn’t get going at all from what I heard. All them unruly kids. They can be quite a problem.’

  ‘You could say that.’ Steve had to take a deep breath to hang on to his temper.

  ‘What was it? Some kind of gang warfare?’ Bob said, but Steve didn’t answer.

 

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