directly adjacent to their own were respectable and well kept and when Lonnie was a bit older she could, if she wished, go further along the road and get to know the Father Branny boys. Ben knew from his own experience that they were a friendly lot and guessed they would welcome a neighbour popping in for the odd game of football or cricket.
Walking past the house into which his kitten had disappeared, Ben glanced up at the attic windows and was gratified to see a small face pressed wistfully against the glass. So he had been right! The miserable little girl and her companion must occupy the attic rooms, for even at this distance he recognised Lonnie’s limp hair and pallored, unhealthy-looking complexion. What was more, the child in the window was holding up something small and furry, clearly letting the kitten see what a grand home it now possessed. Much heartened by this, Ben waved and shouted and after a moment Lonnie waved back, though no one could have called it an enthusiastic greeting and indeed, immediatelyafterwards, she disappeared from behind the glass and did not re-appear again, though Ben waited for several moments more before turning his steps homeward.
Chapter Two
The first person Ben saw when he turned into the jigger at the back of Elmore Street was his sister Phyllis. She was crouching in the middle of the alley with a number of small objects spread out in front of her on a wooden orange box. Ben saw two pieces of broken china, some very weary-looking cabbage leaves, an apple core and several curled-up crusts of dried bread. On the other side of the orange box Phyllis’s friend Annie stood, head on one side, contemplating the display of goods on the make-believe counter, for Ben knew at once that the little girls were playing ‘shop’.
‘I’ve very sorry, Mrs Jones, but me prices aren’t to be argued over,’ Phyllis was saying stoutly. ‘Them cabbages is fresh as can be; look, they’ve still got the dew on them petals. So I’m afraid it’s pay up or clear out, Mrs Jones.’
‘But I’ve gorra make blind scouse for me whole fambly and I’ve got fourteen kids as well as me and me old man,’ Annie said plaintively. ‘I think your cabbages is too dear. I’ll have a pound of carrots instead.’
‘Well, Mrs Jones, you’re missin’ a real bargain,’ Phyllis warned her friend. She dug out a greasy brown paper bag from somewhere about her person – Ben suspected her knicker leg – and grudgingly put a couple of crusts inside it, then screwed the bag closed and held it out towards her friend. ‘That’ll be sixpence please, Mrs Jones.’
‘Sixpence! For two mouldy old carrots?’ Annie squeaked. ‘That’s scandalous, Mrs Bailey. In future, I’ll do me messages up on the Scottie, where a bargain’s a bargain.’
‘No you won’t, ’cos your mammy won’t let you go up the Scottie by yourself,’ Phyllis said triumphantly. ‘If you shops local, you pays local prices, I’ve heard me mammy say so many a time. Anyway, you can be shopkeeper now and I’ll be the customer – and don’t you try to cheat me or you ain’t the only one that’ll be shoppin’ elsewhere.’
‘No, I’m sick of this game,’ Annie said discontentedly, throwing the paper bag down on to the counter. ‘You’re a cheat, Phyllis Bailey! When you’re the shopkeeper, nothin’ I want is ever under sixpence, but when you’re the customer you nag and nag till I drops me price, so you always gets the best of it. I ain’t playin’ with you no more.’
Phyllis was nearly five and Annie a year older, but Ben knew that his sister usually got her own way and was not surprised to hear Phyllis say, as he walked past her: ‘Here’s me big brother Ben. If you won’t buy from me, I’ll tell him to give you a clack round the ear and that’ll learn you.’
Ben turned and grinned down at his small, grimy sister. She had buttercup yellow curls, big blue eyes and a rosy, dimpled face, but today you would scarcely
Walking past the house into which his kitten had disappeared, Ben glanced up at the attic windows and was gratified to see a small face pressed wistfully against the glass. So he had been right! The miserable little girl and her companion must occupy the attic rooms, for even at this distance he recognised Lonnie’s limp hair and pallored, unhealthy-looking complexion. What was more, the child in the window was holding up something small and furry, clearly letting the kitten see what a grand home it now possessed. Much heartened by this, Ben waved and shouted and after a moment Lonnie waved back, though no one could have called it an enthusiastic greeting and indeed, immediatelyafterwards, she disappeared from behind the glass and did not re-appear again, though Ben waited for several moments more before turning his steps homeward.
Chapter Two
The first person Ben saw when he turned into the jigger at the back of Elmore Street was his sister Phyllis. She was crouching in the middle of the alley with a number of small objects spread out in front of her on a wooden orange box. Ben saw two pieces of broken china, some very weary-looking cabbage leaves, an apple core and several curled-up crusts of dried bread. On the other side of the orange box Phyllis’s friend Annie stood, head on one side, contemplating the display of goods on the make-believe counter, for Ben knew at once that the little girls were playing ‘shop’.
‘I’ve very sorry, Mrs Jones, but me prices aren’t to be argued over,’ Phyllis was saying stoutly. ‘Them cabbages is fresh as can be; look, they’ve still got the dew on them petals. So I’m afraid it’s pay up or clear out, Mrs Jones.’
‘But I’ve gorra make blind scouse for me whole fambly and I’ve got fourteen kids as well as me and me old man,’ Annie said plaintively. ‘I think your cabbages is too dear. I’ll have a pound of carrots instead.’
‘Well, Mrs Jones, you’re missin’ a real bargain,’ Phyllis warned her friend. She dug out a greasy brown paper bag from somewhere about her person – Ben suspected her knicker leg – and grudgingly put a couple of crusts inside it, then screwed the bag closed and held it out towards her friend. ‘That’ll be sixpence please, Mrs Jones.’
‘Sixpence! For two mouldy old carrots?’ Annie squeaked. ‘That’s scandalous, Mrs Bailey. In future, I’ll do me messages up on the Scottie, where a bargain’s a bargain.’
‘No you won’t, ’cos your mammy won’t let you go up the Scottie by yourself,’ Phyllis said triumphantly. ‘If you shops local, you pays local prices, I’ve heard me mammy say so many a time. Anyway, you can be shopkeeper now and I’ll be the customer – and don’t you try to cheat me or you ain’t the only one that’ll be shoppin’ elsewhere.’
‘No, I’m sick of this game,’ Annie said discontentedly, throwing the paper bag down on to the counter. ‘You’re a cheat, Phyllis Bailey! When you’re the shopkeeper, nothin’ I want is ever under sixpence, but when you’re the customer you nag and nag till I drops me price, so you always gets the best of it. I ain’t playin’ with you no more.’
Phyllis was nearly five and Annie a year older, but Ben knew that his sister usually got her own way and was not surprised to hear Phyllis say, as he walked past her: ‘Here’s me big brother Ben. If you won’t buy from me, I’ll tell him to give you a clack round the ear and that’ll learn you.’
Ben turned and grinned down at his small, grimy sister. She had buttercup yellow curls, big blue eyes and a rosy, dimpled face, but today you would scarcely
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