Snow on the cobbles, p.9
Snow on the Cobbles, page 9
part #3 of Coronation Street Series
Lizzie was as relieved and delighted as anyone in the bar that night to think that there would be no more bombs and no more sirens, and she couldn’t help smiling at the very thought. She could at last begin to think about the new world Tommy, Seamus, and little Sammy would be growing up in, something she had once feared might not be possible. But her joy was edged with sadness, for she had already lost the two most important men in her life and no peace treaty now could bring them back. She swiped away the tears she felt forming before anyone could see them and she was relieved to hear Hilda’s voice trilling above the din, for her friend always managed to make her smile. To Lizzie’s surprise, Hilda looked like she was dressed ready for going out, in a pretty cotton frock and with her hair combed out into sausage curls.
‘I wanted to make sure you’d heard the news,’ Hilda said. ‘I can hardly remember what peace feels like.’ Her giggle was lost in the hubbub.
‘I thought the bank holiday wasn’t until tomorrow?’ Lizzie said. ‘But you look as if you’re ready to party now.’
‘I am,’ Hilda said. ‘Everyone seems to be buzzing and the streets are already crowded with people, so I thought maybe we should start celebrating too.’
‘That sounds like a great idea!’ Lizzie said. ‘Bob said I can get off early tonight.’
‘Ooh,’ Hilda said, rubbing her hands together. ‘I was thinking maybe we could go into town, though I hear Mr Churchill’s going to speak to everybody on the radio.’
‘Yes, but that’s not until tomorrow so there’s nothing to stop us having fun today,’ Lizzie said.
‘Maybe we should have a quick drink before we go?’ Hilda said.
‘Why not?’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ve some tips left in the pot.’ And she poured two port and lemons without waiting to be asked.
‘Just think, no more rationing,’ Hilda said, lifting her glass in a toast.
‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ Lizzie said but Hilda was softly humming an unrecognizable tune and seemed to be in a world of her own.
‘You do realize that means my Stan will be coming home any day now,’ Hilda said proudly, as if her husband had been personally responsible for ending the fighting. ‘He can’t be a prisoner of war if there is no more war, now can he?’ She chuckled.
‘No, Hilda, he can’t,’ Lizzie said, grinning at her friend’s logic.
‘They’ll have to let him go now so that he can be demobulated,’ Hilda said.
That made Lizzie smile. Hilda could always be relied on to say something that would make her want to laugh. ‘I’m sure you’re right, but don’t pin your hopes on it happening soon. There’s bound to be a lot of POWs to be released and it will probably take some time to get through all the paperwork. You know what the army’s like.’
‘Why’s that then?’ Hilda said. ‘Cos it took them no time at all to get him listed and sent off to Italy, so why can’t they be as quick now in sending him home?’
‘That’s because there was a war on then.’ Lizzie sighed. ‘It’s amazing how they can shift themselves when they want to.’
‘I’m sorry your dad won’t be coming home,’ Hilda said suddenly. She put a tentative hand out to pat Lizzie’s arm. ‘And your young man.’ She paused. ‘I know you don’t like to talk about it, but I want you to know I do understand. A GI, wasn’t he?’
‘Canadian airman.’ Lizzie was never able to say the words without her voice cracking as it did now, though she did her best to disguise it as she tried to smile. She took a deep breath. ‘But that doesn’t mean I can’t be happy for you, Hilda, and the thought of you getting your husband back.’ She glanced up at the clock. ‘Finish your drink and then we can walk down the road, see who’s about and what’s going on.’
‘That would be nice. Though there’s already that many people out there we might not be able to walk far. It’s heaving just like it was wakes week.’
‘Then we’ll have to take our chances,’ Lizzie said.
‘Why don’t we start off by popping into the Rovers,’ Hilda said. ‘You’ve always said you wanted to see what it’s like.’
‘What, like go on a pub crawl? You sound as if you intend getting drunk,’ Lizzie said with a laugh.
‘That’s as may be,’ Hilda said, then she leaned over the counter and added in a confidential whisper, ‘but I was actually thinking we could take a deck at the new manager I’ve heard so much about.’
‘Steve Carter? Oh, but I’ve already met him,’ Lizzie said. Hilda looked surprised. ‘Aren’t you the quiet one? When were that, then?’
‘He was there at our opening night, only he hadn’t got the job yet then. But he’s popped into the Pride since. Came to introduce himself to Bob, I think.’
‘More likely spying for the Rovers,’ Hilda said.
‘No more than we would be if we went there now.’
‘So, what did you think? Do you think he’s dishy?’ Hilda was excited.
Lizzie shrugged, not wanting to admit that she thought he was very good-looking. ‘He’s pleasant enough I suppose.’
The inside of the Rovers was much as Lizzie might have expected from what she had seen of the outside, although it was darker than she’d imagined. The wood panelling and the paintwork were dark and the lighting was dim despite the fact that the blackout curtains had been removed, and the heavy fug of smoke and beer fumes that hung in the air was oppressive. At least the booths were brightened up by the deep crimson upholstery of the seat covers. It matched the velvety material of the stools and chairs that stood round the little tables. It was more crowded than she’d been led to believe of late, particularly given how many people were out on the streets, and as they pushed their way through to the bar Lizzie was surprised how many faces she recognized, having served them at the Pride.
They’d hardly got inside the door than Lizzie felt Hilda’s elbow in her ribs. ‘He is a bit of all right, isn’t he?’ she said in an embarrassingly loud whisper. ‘Oh, but I’ll have to leave you to it. I’ve got to go to the lav.’
Suddenly alone, Lizzie looked round the well-filled room and was pleased when Elsie Tanner caught her eye. She was propping up the bar and called to her. ‘Lizzie! What are you doing in here? Come on over and let me get you a drink to celebrate the wonderful news. I don’t know about you, but my night’s only just getting going.’
Lizzie didn’t believe that, for Elsie already had that faraway look she’d seen before when she’d had one too many. Besides, she’d already caught the blast of gin on Elsie’s breath.
‘Hey, Mr Barman!’ Elsie called to the young man Lizzie recognized behind the counter. Steve Carter had a tea towel in his hand and was polishing some freshly washed glasses. Lizzie felt a strange frisson as he treated her to a beaming smile and she had to look away. ‘Can we get some service over here?’ Elsie said. ‘Give my young friend whatever she wants to drink. We’ve got lots to celebrate tonight.’
Steve looked up at Elsie’s shout and stopped what he was doing.
‘You remember your rival from the Pride of Weatherfield,’ Elsie said. ‘No doubt she’s checking out the opposition, so you’ll have to be on your best behaviour.’
‘Of course I remember.’ Steve smiled again and nodded in Lizzie’s direction, and this time there was no avoiding his gaze. ‘Nice to see you again,’ he said.
Lizzie was aware of the intensity of Steve’s gaze though she tried hard not to meet his eyes. From this angle she could see why he had reminded her of Joe, for he had the same strongly chiselled jaw, a similarly styled moustache, and he combed back his thickly Brylcreemed hair in the same way, highlighting his high forehead.
‘What can I get you?’ she heard him ask. Suddenly she felt hot and confused, trying to remember why she had come there.
‘Nothing, thanks. I don’t want anything.’ She turned to her neighbour. ‘Thanks anyway, Elsie,’ she said, ‘but I won’t be stopping long. I can’t, not right now … I–I just wanted to …’
‘Never mind, you can take a raincheck.’ Elsie giggled. ‘Isn’t that what the Americans always say?’
Lizzie bit her lip, for that was what Joe used to say as well. She looked up, aware that Steve was still staring at her though she couldn’t look directly at him.
‘Are you sure I can’t persuade you to stop and have one drink at least, to celebrate?’ he said, hanging up the glass over the bar. ‘After all it’s not every day the war ends. And I owe you a drink, so you really must let me show you that the Rovers is every bit as hospitable as the Pride.’ His voice was persuasive.
‘Thanks, Mr Car—’
‘Steve,’ he quickly corrected.
‘Steve,’ she said with a sudden diffidence. ‘Maybe some other time.’
‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he said. ‘But you must promise not to leave it too long or you might find me down at the Pride again.’
‘Oh!’ Lizzie didn’t know how to respond.
‘So how about you promise to come on your next day off?’
‘Maybe,’ Lizzie said, and she lowered her eyes as she turned back to Elsie. ‘Thanks for the offer, but we’re not staying,’ she said. ‘I’ll come again another night to have a drink with you, Elsie, but right now we’re going to join in the celebrations.’
‘Where are you off to, then?’ Elsie asked.
‘Everyone else seems to be heading into Manchester,’ Lizzie said. ‘I reckon that’s where we should go an’ all. And looking at the crowds already out there I think we should get started.’
‘I’m ready when you are,’ Hilda said cheerily as she came back wiping her wet hands on her thin raincoat. She looped her arm through Lizzie’s. ‘I’m sticking with you,’ she said. Lizzie hesitated for a second, then pulled Hilda away from the counter.
Lizzie watched as Elsie grabbed the arm of the young man in uniform who’d been drinking quietly beside her. ‘We’re going to celebrate by having a nice quiet night in, aren’t we, chuck?’ She gazed up into his face.
For a moment he looked bemused but then he smiled broadly and nodded. ‘Sounds good to me. It’s Elsie, isn’t it?’ he said. He gave her an exaggerated wink and Elsie chortled.
‘Be seeing you, then Else,’ Lizzie said, and with a wave of her hand in the general direction of the bar she turned quickly and left the pub.
‘Well, you’ve certainly made a hit there with that young man,’ Hilda said and she raised her eyebrows knowingly as they stepped outside. ‘The way that Steve was looking at you, I don’t know why you didn’t want to stop for a bit.’ She turned as if to go back. ‘There’s still time to change your mind.’
Lizzie shook her head and Hilda sighed. ‘I could have fancied him myself if I didn’t already have my Stan.’
Lizzie raised her eyebrows and smiled. ‘Shall we head towards Manchester and see how far we get?’ she said and they set off in the direction of the main road, picking up the crowds the further they went. Suddenly Lizzie felt the coarse material of army-issue khaki rub against her bare shoulder and looked up to see a soldier’s face peering down at her. He was trying to wrap his other arm around Hilda at the same time. ‘Now where are you two fair ladies off to tonight?’ He slurred his words. ‘Because wherever it is, I’m sure you could do with an escort.’
‘No, we couldn’t, thank you very much.’ Lizzie shook his arm off irritably but with such unexpected force that he lost his footing and slipped on the cobbles. Lizzie grabbed hold of Hilda, brushing his other arm away from her friend to ensure he didn’t pull her down with him. ‘We need nothing of the sort. What we need is to be left alone,’ Lizzie shouted over her shoulder, although Hilda seemed a little reluctant to follow as Lizzie tried to pull her away.
The two linked arms and walked away as quickly as they could. As they made their way through Weatherfield, Lizzie was amazed to find how many merrymakers were already on the streets, making it difficult in some places to walk. Everyone seemed to be caught up in the excitement and there were feelings of madness and euphoria all around them. Lights were on in all the houses and children of all ages were running up and down the streets while the adults were spontaneously dancing and singing on the busy pavements as if they never wanted to stop.
‘It doesn’t look like anyone will get much sleep tonight,’ Lizzie said.
Hilda gave a chuckle. ‘But it is quite exciting, isn’t it? I’ve never seen anything like it.’
They had come to the large open space people called the Field when Lizzie suddenly stopped and cried out, ‘Oh my goodness, will you look at that.’
‘What’s the matter?’ Hilda asked in alarm.
‘I haven’t seen one of them in a long while,’ Lizzie said in amazement. She was staring at the bonfire that was burning brightly on the normally deserted recreation area.
‘Oh, that! I thought there was a problem. I’ve seen lots of bonfires, much bigger than that one, on Guy Fawkes’ night when we were kids. We used to ask for a penny for the Guy when what we wanted really was to cadge some money to buy liquorice and ha’penny chews.’ Hilda giggled.
‘Yes, we did that too,’ Lizzie said. ‘And we’d roast spuds in the fire. At least, my dad did; we weren’t allowed anywhere near.’ Lizzie’s eyes filled as she remembered better times when the twins had been the babies in the family and her father had still been alive. ‘But I’ve not seen any kind of fire like that since before the war.’
‘Well, we couldn’t show any lights when there was all those bombers flying overhead, could we?’ Hilda said with a shudder. ‘One flash of light and we’d have had one of them warders after us like we was the crinimals, not the Jerries.’
Lizzie laughed as a rocket flew up over her head, scattering a shower of coloured sparks in its wake. ‘Yes, those ARPs were a bit like jail warders, weren’t they? Keeping us prisoners in the dark the whole time. It’s great to see people having so much fun. Though I’m amazed that the little ones don’t seem to be afraid of the bangers. Me, I jump every time one goes off.’
‘Here, I’ll have one of them,’ Hilda suddenly called out to a young boy who was running past her, waving a handful of sparklers. He stopped and handed her one. ‘Her’yah, Missus,’ he said, a cheeky grin on his face. ‘It’ll cost you a ha’penny, though.’
Hilda’s face fell.
‘Here, I’ve got some change, but you’ll have to settle for half that, I’m afraid,’ Lizzie said. She fished in her skirt pocket and produced a farthing that she handed over to the boy.
‘Ta, Missus, be glad I’m feeling generous,’ he said as he gave Lizzie a sparkler too. ‘But I’ll tell you summat for nothing …’ He turned to Lizzie, a serious look on his face. ‘Did you know we just won the war?’ Suddenly a huge smile lit up his face and he began to cackle loudly as he ran off.
Hilda was almost squealing with childlike delight as she jigged about, whirling the firework round and round in front of her. ‘I’ve not had one of these since I was a nipper,’ she shouted to Lizzie, though it was getting harder to hear her above the screams and shouts of the over-excited children who were now dancing round the fire. Sparks flew as she continued to whizz the stick of the firework round and her face lit up as if she was a child too. Then suddenly her face changed and her voice sounded fearful as she cried out, ‘Help! It’s going to burn my fingers! What do I do with it now?’
‘You must be holding it too far up. Chuck it on the fire,’ Lizzie said, but Hilda panicked, and without looking where she was throwing it, tossed the still glowing remains into a nearby box that looked to be full of rubbish.
‘You’ve not burnt yourself, have you? Where did it go?’ Lizzie was concerned.
‘No, I got rid of it into that box in good time, thank goodness, so no harm done.’ Hilda sounded relieved.
Suddenly there was a whirring and a whooshing noise, followed by a series of loud bangs and there were rainbows of sparks flying everywhere and explosions of light accompanied by the sounds of people screaming, ‘It’s a bomb!’; ‘The Germans are back!’; ‘What’s happened to the sirens?’ while others shouted, ‘Get down!’ ‘Get out of the way!’ as parents threw their children to the ground and tried their best to shelter them with their bodies.
Lizzie grabbed hold of Hilda and did the same thing. She forced herself to lie quite still, trying to calm her friend until there was a momentary silence when she dared to look up, but all she was in time to see were the brightly coloured flashes dying away, leaving thin trails of smoke. Lizzie was still breathing hard and her body was trembling, but she sat up and looked around before gingerly standing up when there were no more bangs or flashes. She heard several small children crying.
‘Have the bombs stopped now, Daddy? Will the planes be coming back?’ a little boy wanted to know, between sobs. ‘I want to go home!’
‘It wasn’t a bomb,’ Lizzie heard his father say in an authoritative voice. ‘There weren’t any planes and there are none now.’ She looked up into the clear sky and then at the man who was staring down at a charred patch of grass. He disturbed the ashes of a burnt-out box with the toe of his shoe. ‘It’s all right, son,’ he said. ‘It looks like some bloody idiot dropped a sparkler into our fireworks’ box and set the whole bloody lot off at once.’ He picked up what was left of the sparkler’s wand and regarded it ruefully. At that the little boy peered into the remains of the box and began to wail. ‘They’ve all gone! All our fireworks have gone,’ he cried, and it was then that Lizzie realized that it must have been Catherine wheels and bangers and rockets that had exploded all around them, not flying bombs.
