Read Online Liverpool Taffy by Katie Flynn - Free Book Online Page B

in the sunshine. And when we’ve had our talk perhaps I can walk down by the docks … I wonder what it costs to use the overhead railway? She could still remember how thrilled she had been as a child when her Da had taken her for a ride on it, all the way from the Pierhead to Seaforth and back, feeling like a proper princess as she peered into the docks, whilst her knowledgeable father told her all about the shipping that swung at anchor there.
    But she would not part with her hard-won money on a treat, even if it was within her means. And that was not impossible, because Biddy had discovered that she could earn a little money from time to time, though if Ma Kettle had known, Biddy imagined she would have put a stop to it at once, on the grounds that Biddy’s time and talents were hers, bought and paid for by the roof over her head and her meals. Because Kenny had insisted, Ma Kettle always gave Biddy at least a penny and sometimes more for the church collection each Sunday, but Biddy would not have dreamed of pocketing money meant for such a purpose. Her money, unlike Ma Kettle’s, was made by fair means only.
    It was Biddy’s neat handwriting which was in demand. Ma Kettle had soon discovered that a notice written out in Biddy’s hand was clear and legible as well as better spelt than anything she herself could produce. And then the grocer down the road, when Biddy had popped in on an errand, had asked if she could do some notices for his window.
    Biddy complied and was grateful for the pence which found their way into her pocket as a result. She refused to allow herself to spend them, however, no matter how desperately she might long to buy something, and as a result she had several shillings, all in pence, ha’pence and farthings, salted away inside her pillow, a small, hard lump amongst the feathers.
    She had transferred six pennies and four ha’pennies to her coat pocket earlier in the morning and now she jingled them thoughtfully as she walked. A ride on a leckie would be nice, but she grudged spending the money, especially on such a sunny day, when walking would be a pleasure. If she wasn’t asked to dinner she could always buy herself fish and chips … her mouth watered at the prospect … that was, if she decided not to go home to Ma Kettle’s until really late, though that would mean her deceit in not going to Mass might be discovered, which could have unpleasant consequences.
    Biddy had just decided to tell a few lies for once–enough were told in the Kettle emporium each day to make her ears burn – when she realised that she had been so busy thinking and walking that she was actually on Old Haymarket, where the trams lined up when waiting for passengers.
    ‘You want to go straight down Whitechapel, along Paradise Street and then turn left into Park Lane,’ Mrs Ruby had advised her when she asked the best way to Sparling Street. ‘Best tek care, though, chuck. It’s rough down by the docks.’
    So now Biddy crossed over the road junction with its mass of tramlines and started off along Whitechapel. She felt light and airy, pleased with herself. She was not running away, nothing so daring, but she did feel she was paving the way for a change in her circumstances.
    And a change was overdue. It isn’t that the work is so terribly hard, it’s just hot, monotonous and constant, Biddy thought now, wondering whether it would be all right to take off her blue coat and allow the sunshine to warm her arms, for the blouse had short sleeves. Wasn’t Ma Kettle ever young herself? Doesn’t she remember that finishing work, having a break, is what it’s all about? She does know, because look how she spoils the boys! Luke’s shirts must always be immaculate, his food always on the table, she doesn’t take money for his keep the way any other mother would, so he’s not thinking of marriage, he’s far toocomfortable. And then Jack, though he’s away most of the time, gets spoiled rotten when he does come