The '80s Actual soap.... Dare you return to 1986 and the market place? In this episode, Keith discovers that married life can be hard, Eileen plans to meet Geoff, Morris worries about computers, Lynne and Viv clash - again, the mystery of Dermott's underpants continues for Debbie, Carol gets her sales pitch right, and Chan could be in danger...
As his head blinked into
consciousness, Keith's arm snaked out and did a quick circuit of the
side of the bed he wasn't occupying. It was cold and empty. He dragged
his head from the pillow and looked at the alarm clock on the bedside
cabinet: 6:48 am.
Louise wasn't home.
She'd been out all night.
Where was she?
Who was she with?
Keith felt as though an
invisible force was pressing him down against the mattress. His body felt heavy - so very heavy...
He closed his eyes and burrowed down under the quilt, pushing the day away.
He closed his eyes and burrowed down under the quilt, pushing the day away.
"So, the food won't go to waste?"
"No, honestly - we can have
the pie with salad and tinned potatoes tonight," said Eileen. "And the
mash I'll turn into a spud pie for tomorrow."
Lynne looked at her admiringly: "You're really good. I never got into cooking. I think Fanny Cradock put me off at a young age!"
"Me mother taught me," said
Eileen. "I enjoy it - it's all simple stuff, with the odd experiment
here and there - but I'm happy in the kitchen. Well, most of the time!"
"Sounds good to me! What are your plans for today?" Lynne took a drag on her fag.
"I'll contact the agency I
worked for - I'm still on their books, so I should be able to get a bit
of work," said Eileen. "Get some money comin' in. Once I've done that,
I'll think about Geoff. I should see 'im as soon as possible. I don't
want you and Lisa to 'ave to keep up this secrecy about me bein' here."
Lynne looked at her
admiringly: truth to tell, much as she liked Eileen, she'd always
thought her a bit wet, a bit of a wimp. Yet here she was planning,
taking control, thinking things through.
"Don't worry about stoppin'
'ere," Lynne said. "You're welcome for a week or two at least. We could
do with somebody who cooks around the place!"
"Ta, Lynne - I appreciate that!" Eileen smiled.
Lisa came in. "Mornin'!" she said, sitting at the table and pouring herself a cuppa."Think that early night did me good."
"Not like you, stayin' in!"
Lynne teased. "We didn't 'ear a sound from you after half-nine. I
called up about half-ten when we made a cuppa, but you must've been dead
to the world!"
"It's what I needed," said Lisa. "I've been burnin' the candle a bit." She reached for a slice of toast from the rack.
"That's cold," said Eileen. "I can make you some fresh..."
"Oooh, no, ta," Lisa
grinned. "I've been eatin' cold toast for years, an' I love it. Nice
thick scrapin' of marge an' I'm away! How'd you find the settee last
night?"
"Went out like a light," said Eileen.
"That's good..." Lisa crunched toast and swilled tea.
"I can't get over what
you've been tellin' me about the market," Eileen said to Lynne. "I mean,
Geoff went there after he got made redundant and it always seemed quite
a steady place..."
"Oh aye, bit of a revolution this past few months," said Lynne.
"And Geoff and the cassette recorder in his shirt pocket..." Eileen shook her head. "Like somethin' out of a spy thriller!"
"The old place has been
well shook up," Lynne grinned. "That was Alan Curtis. He saw nowt wrong
in wheeler dealin'... it was turnin' into a right little den of
intrigue. You know, I still can't believe the Riggs've gone. Larry was
bound to come unstuck sooner or later, but I'm sorry about Brenda. She
was never in favour of his shady stuff."
"I didn't know them that well, but I enjoyed their wedding reception on the market..." said Eileen.
Lynne sighed: "Whatever
made 'em go must've been pretty bad. They'd been there donkey's years.
Still, I s'pose they'll survive... I 'ope Alan weren't too rough on 'em,
though. Poor old Brenda."
Eileen nodded.
"Not that all Alan's idea were bad," Lynne continued.
"But a lot weren't good, either - especially when he had a bit of encouragement," Lisa broke in, eyeing her mother coldly.
"Lisa, don't start again!" Lynne warned, stubbing her fag out viciously in the ashtray.
There was an uneasy
silence. Eileen wondered what on earth had been going on. Something
personal. Something that had caused - and was still causing - ill
feeling between Lynne and Lisa, that much was obvious.
"I'm glad Morris and Miriam didn't have to retire," she said brightly, to fill the awkward silence.
"Me an' all, " Lynne was
smiling again. "Mind you, it's not all good news. Dermot Thornburgh's
still about. 'Ere did I tell you about his underpants?"
Eileen smiled and shook her
head. As Lynne filled her in, Eileen managed a quick glance at Lisa,
quietly finishing her tea and toast, looking slightly sulky. For the
sake of a happier atmosphere, even if it was just for her own benefit,
Eileen decided she'd try and avoid any topic that might lead to Alan
Curtis during her stay.
Keith had put Jenny in her highchair and was feeding her when his mother came downstairs.
"The mornin's are turnin'
chilly," she commented, switching on the gas fire. "Oh, my poor old
knees..." She hobbled into the kitchen and poured herself a cuppa.
"Did you sleep well?" Keith kept his voice bright.
"Terrible," Mrs Naylor made
her way to her favourite armchair with her tea. "State my knees were
in, it was like purgatory. What time did Madam get in? I never 'eard
'er."
"Didn't yer?" Keith held out a plastic spoon of goo to Jenny.
Mrs Naylor looked at him hard. "She did GET in, I take it?"
Keith was silent.
Mrs Naylor's voice rose: "You mean she's still OUT?!!"
"Look, don't make a fuss, Mam, she probably missed the bus or somethin' last night."
"Well, she knows we're on the phone!"
"She probably 'asn't memorised the number yet. She must've missed the last bus and stayed at her friend's."
"And you believe that?" Mrs
Naylor looked hard at the back of her son's neck. He wouldn't turn and
face her, not even for a moment.
"Well, what else could it be?"
Mrs Naylor sighed: "I
despair, I really do. It's like she's got you under some kind of
spell... You deserve better, Keith, you really do!"
Keith's voice revealed his pain: "Look, just leave it, Mam, PLEASE!"
Mrs Naylor sniffed: "I
shan't say another word. But if you ask me, you brought trouble into
this house the day you married that girl. Big trouble. No good'll come
of it, you mark my words. This is just the beginning..."
On the way into work in their old transit van, Lynne decided to clear the air with Lisa.
"Look, Lisa, I know what
you were gettin' at in front of Eileen. But I've explained and I've said
I'm sorry. I can't do no more."
"And that makes everything OK?"
Lynne found herself losing
patience: "Oh, God 'elp me - it's not as if Alan was special to you.
You were seein' other blokes. And the way you and a few others were
goin' on about me, I felt like Granny Grunt, sat there with the telly
every night. When Alan paid me some attention... well, I went a bit mad.
I'm sorry, I wouldn't've done it if he'd been your one and only, but
you'd said it wasn't serious..."
"Still kind of weird though, isn't it - mother an' daughter sharin' a bloke? I'm not sure I can cope with it!"
"Well, it's done, gone,
finished," Lynne sighed. "An' you 'ave my word nothin' like that will
ever 'appen again. Can we leave it now, please? Look at the weather -
September, but the sun's crackin' the flags and there's not a cloud in
the sky!"
Lisa said nothing. Truth
was, she didn't want to row with her mother, but whenever the thought of
Lynne and Alan together entered he head, she felt annoyed. And odd.
Mother and daughter sleeping with the same bloke... she and Lynne had
shared many things during Lisa's short life so far, but never a bloke.
The rest of the journey to Albion Market was completed in silence.
"You know, I don't know why
Julian was so set on getting a computer," sighed Morris over on the
crockery stall half an hour later.
"To help with his studies," Miriam sat down after serving their first customer of the day. "They are very helpful, Morris."
"How?" asked Morris.
Miriam sighed, "Well I don't know, but they are. You don't begrudge the money we spent, do you?"
"No, of course not, I just
don't understand it, that's all," cried Morris. "I mean, our Julian's
going to be a doctor, looking after
people, nothing to do with computers."
"Well, you hear quite a lot about computers these days," Miriam
picked up the baby bootees she was knitting and set to work. "Things are
going to change."
"I think they are changing," Morris was gloomy. "They seem
different to how they were even a couple of years ago... They're
teaching computers in schools now. Imagine that, kiddies learning
computers!"
"It's looking to the future, Morris, the year 2000's not that far
off. Can you imagine?" Miriam slowed her knitting and stared into the future. "The Year 2000... People'll probably take
computers for granted by then and be havin' day trips to the moon,
houses will be made of plastic - and there'll be hundreds of telly
channels, not just four."
"I daresay you're right..." Morris sighed again. He didn't like change.
"What do you think, Carol?" Miriam called, as Carol Broadbent walked past the stall.
"Oh, mornin'!" smiled Carol. "What do I think about what?"
"Computers, modern technology, the Year 2000 and how things are going to be?" asked Miriam.
Carol sighed, "Well, to be honest, Miriam, I haven't given it any thought. I'm just concerned with finding some work NOW..."
Miriam was immediately sympathetic: "No luck, lovey?"
Carol sighed: "No."
"Well, don't fret, you only started putting the word round yesterday. Something might turn up."
"Yeah," Carol smiled and shrugged. "Cheers, Miriam, see you later."
Miriam shook her head sadly: "This unemployment's terrible, it really is. Poor Carol..."
"I've heard tell that she
helped to lose herself the job at the cafe," said Morris. Miriam shot a
look at him, sharply disapproving. Morris noticed and, desiring to be in
his wife's good books for once, added hurriedly: "Still, at least she is looking for work - unlike a lot of 'em!"
"Flippin' 'eck, where?" Debbie was thoroughly fed up.
"There!" said Sean. Debbie
checked the floor, bending over to give it a close look, and found at
most two hairs. She sighed - Sean must have microscopic eyes - and went
for the broom.
"Good girl," said Viv, who was pleased that things were settling down. "Remember 'grin and bear it'."
"Yeah, I know," Debbie
smiled away her irritation. "I've never worked with a creative type
before. Temperamental so-and-sos, aren't they?"
"Always, in my experience,"
said Viv. "But bookings are up and that's good for all of us. And it
doesn't stop here. I've got my eye on another young stylist with a great
following."
Debbie sighed: "Don't s'pose I'll be doin' much more than wash hair and make the coffee for a long time to come."
"You'll progress. And,
remember, while you're watching me and Sean you're learning. And the
atmosphere you create on the phone and when you greet customers coming
in is vital. I wanted the right person for the job, I've been observing
you, and I think I've got it."
"Thanks!" Debbie grinned. "It's smashin' to 'ave a bit of spendin' money in me pocket."
"Keep this up and you'll have a bit more," said Viv.
Debbie nodded, then passed onto other matters: "Viv, can I ask you something?"
"Depends," Viv smiled.
"Well, what's all this I keep hearing about Dermot Thornburgh's underpants?"
"Oh, that!" Viv laughed. "I'm surprised you don't know. It's all round the place. It was like this..."
The phone rang. Debbie
sighed and picked up the receiver. Then, remembering what Viv had just
said, she put on her best professional welcoming voice: "Viva Hair
Salon, good morning..."
"I wrote to Brenda, but I
don't expect I'll hear anything," Miriam and Peggy were discussing the
Riggs and their sudden departure at the cafe.
"I wrote too," said Peggy.
"And ditto. I suppose they've got their pride. The way they packed up
after closin' that evenin' and just disappeared like that... couldn't
face us."
"It's seems a funny thing
to say, and he'd never admit it in a million years, but Morris misses
Larry. I know a lot of what Larry did went against everything Morris
believes in, but after all these years he was fond of 'im. He's a big
softie, my Morris!"
"I sometimes thought they enjoyed their little... er... exchanges!" laughed Peggy.
Derek Owen appeared: "Cup of tea please, Peggy. Make it a strong 'un. I've got a feelin' it's gonna be one of those days!"
"Why, what's up?" Peggy stirred the teabags in the pot, adding a bit more body to the brew.
"Keith's phoned in -
he's gonna be late, and then Chan rang - she's down with some sort of
bug and won't be in at all today. Lisa is not a happy young woman... I
wouldn't mind, but I'm only the messenger!"
Lisa was certainly not
happy. "I wouldn't mind," she told Geoff Travis, "but I wanted to take
advantage of the good weather - it's still attractin' people out onto
the wharf. I don't even know if it'll be profitable to keep the second
stall goin' when the cold weather starts."
"I don't know, you young business tycoons!" grinned Geoff.
"It's not funny, Geoff!" Lisa was in no mood to be amused. "Can you think of anybody who might be willing to help out?"
"Sorry, love..." Geoff started.
But then a new voice entered the conversation: "'Ello, Leeze, 'ello, Geoff!"
Lisa turned to find Carol Broadbent standing behind her.
"'Allo!" said Geoff. "It's good to see yer, Carol. How are you gettin' on?"
"Well..." Carol grimaced. "You know, it's not easy..."
Lisa eyed her: "I 'eard you'd been back to see Peggy."
"News travels fast in this place, don't it?" Carol grimaced again.
"You can say that again!" said Lisa, with feeling.
Carol looked at her
curiously, then continued: "I've asked Peggy if she'll give me a
reference, seems a bit of a cheek, I know, but she's the only one that
can. In the meantime, I wondered if I could pick up a few bits and
pieces of work here. Just cash in hand. You never know where it might
lead..."
"Into trouble if the DHSS find out," said Lisa.
"I'll risk it," said Carol.
"Thing is, I wondered if you might have an hour or two goin', Lisa?
When you have to nip off to collect clothes you've bought? I'd be glad
of anythin'..."
Lisa looked at Carol. With
her yellow trousers, pink canvas shoes and stripy T-shirt, not to
mention her weird pink-tinged hairdo, she didn't look exactly look like a
seller of classic clothing. But she did look keen.
And things were desperate.
"Come and 'ave a quick cuppa in the cafe," said Lisa. "And we'll 'ave a talk..."
"You don't OWN me, you
know!" Louise was standing in front of the mantelpiece, sullen and
annoyed, last night's outfit rumpled and ugly, last night's make up
streaked and fading.
"But you should've said you wouldn't be back. Or phoned!" cried Keith. "I were worried. Anythin' could've 'ad appened to yer!"
I AM a grown-up!"
"Yeah, well, perhaps you should act like it..."
Louise made to sweep out of
the room, but Keith grabbed her arm. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's just
that I 'aven't slept well... I really was worried, Louise."
"It's like 'avin' a
blinkin' nanny!" Louise jeered. "Well, if you must know, I went out to a
night club with Sharon and Lorna, 'ad a few, and then kipped at
Sharon's. I'm not tied to this place, you know! I don't have a ball and
chain round my leg! I'd 'ad Jenny all day. What was wrong with you
'avin' 'er for the evenin'?"
Keith felt so weary and
Louise's manipulation of the facts made his head throb. "It's not that.
As I say, just let us know in future."
"Humph!" The door slammed and Louise clumped off upstairs.
Mrs Naylor appeared in the kitchen doorway: "She's a right little madam!"
"Just leave it, Mam," Keith reached for his leather jacket. "I've gotta get to work."
"And who'll be seein' to
this one all day?" Mrs Naylor indicated Jenny, who was still in her high
chair and looking like she was getting ready for a really good howl.
"Because it won't be Louise. She'll be dead to't world till at least
late afternoon."
"Well, if you wouldn't mind..." Keith edged his way over to the door.
"With my knees?" Mrs Naylor cried. "Little consideration I get!"
Keith closed the door behind him and escaped down the hall just as Jenny began to wail...
"It'd only be while Chan is ill and I couldn't pay you that much..." Lisa was saying in the cafe.
"Oh, Leeze, it'd be brilliant!" Carol was thrilled.
"And if the DHSS should
send a snoop out or Derek should ask questions, we'll just say you're
doin' it for nowt to gain experience and a reference," said Lisa. "Not
that the Social should be on your trail in just a couple of days. After
that, I'd like to call you in if I have to go out to look at or collect
fresh stock. That'd only be for an hour or so at a time."
"Suits me. I'm really grateful!" beamed Carol.
"But how do I contact you? You're not on the phone, are yer?"
"We are now!" Carol laughed. "Me Mam's workin' at Boots and the first thing she did was have us put on!"
"That was brave of 'er, with you in the 'ouse!" grinned Lisa.
"Oh, she's put a lock on it," Carol sighed. "But I can take incoming calls."
"Well, no lettin' me down if I do take you on," Lisa warned. "No sulkin' or making customers feel unwelcome just because you don't like 'em."
"Cross my heart!" said Carol.
"Right then. What do you know about style?"
"Style? Fashion you mean?"
Carol was puzzled. "I like to keep up with fashion trends, you know
that. I got some lovely bulldog clips on Saturday as a matter of
fact..."
"No, I don't mean fashion,"
Lisa sighed. "Style's about bein' more mature, about being
individualistic, about classic elegance..."
Carol's eyes glazed: "Is it?"
Lisa sighed: "Never mind!
If anybody's got any questions, fetch me. We can swap stalls whilst I
explain an' hopefully make a sale. You'll be on the outside stall, by
the way..."
"So, you're workin' Chan's stall, and it's sellin' your stuff?" asked Carol.
"No, they're both my stalls," said Lisa.
"Yer what?" Carol was puzzled. " 'Owd you manage that then?"
"Alan Curtis 'ad different
rules to Derek," Lisa could feel herself going slightly red. "He wanted
to encourage different lines, more upmarket stalls, Chan wasn't doin' so
well on her own account, so he came up with the idea of me takin' over
and Chan workin' with me. She's more like a partner, really. She does a
lot of repair work on the clothes."
"Oh, I see," Carol drained her tea mug. "Well, I'm ready to get started when you are!"
As they left the cafe
together, Lisa sighed. It was good to see Carol again. But she hoped she
wasn't making a big mistake in unleashing her on O'Shea's Classics.
"Are you all right, lad?"
Derek asked Keith when he arrived at the market superintendent's office.
Keith looked at him. The darkness under his eyes and his otherwise pale
face said otherwise, but nevertheless he replied: "Yeah, fine, thanks,
Derek. Things aren't too good at home, but I needed to come into work."
Derek, who had drawn comfort from market routine more than once himself over the years, nodded and said no more.
Louise stared up at the ceiling.
She'd stripped and flung herself into bed, thinking that sleep would come. But now, over two hours later, it hadn't.
She thought of the night
before... of Baz... Baz and his designer stubble... Baz and his "I'm
gonna be rich one day very soon, girl," patter... Baz and his hands and
body, all over her...
Unhappy with her thoughts, she turned over.
She hadn't set out to meet Baz. But it had happened and, "drink's in, wits out" as her mother so often said...
Baz had not been a great success in bed. The whole operation seemed to be geared totally towards him,
any pleasure he induced in her simply another boost for his masculine
pride. "Make more noise," he'd told her... Today he'd probably be
telling his mates at the garage where he worked: "I 'ad 'er screamin'
for more!"
Louise had not actually enjoyed it.
But then she didn't really
enjoy sex with Keith, either. There, she had to take the lead, and Keith
was receptive, warm and tender, wanted to please. But she didn't find
that much of a turn-on.
She'd gone out last night
because the atmosphere in the house made her feel wild, like screaming,
like spitting in the fireplace and smashing Whimsy Wade ornaments or
smacking one of Keith's gawping tropical fish in the gob...
She hadn't liked the hurt
look on Keith's face when she'd finally arrived home. He cared for her.
And yet he was such a wally, so soft... he irritated the life out of her
at times...
For a moment, she felt sorry for him, but then the disgruntled feeling twisted inside her again, and she became angry.
Why the hell had she
married him? For security for herself and baby Jenny? Because she should
have known that wouldn't work. She couldn't settle for just that.
"What's wrong with wantin' a bit of life?" she asked the continental quilt aloud.
Downstairs, Jenny began to cry. Louise put on her dressing gown and went down.
Mrs Naylor was making her
painful way over to Jenny's carry cot when Louise entered the living
room. "It's all right, I'll take care of her," she said.
Mrs Naylor glared at her:
"Just as it should be! All right then, I'm goin' next door for a while.
Be back about four..." She struggled into the hall, put on her coat,
picked up her handbag and was gone.
Louise stared after her
with a look of intense dislike. As the front door slammed, her gaze
shifted to the sickly display of Whimsy Wade animal ornaments in the
corner cabinet. All presents to Mrs Naylor from Keith and Bernard when
they were kids, and greatly prized by Mrs Naylor. Louise held Jenny
close to her, and pictured the little animals with their heads brutally
chipped off.
One day...
Lynne and Viv had just had
another skirmish on the market. The two had come face-to-face, Lynne on
her way to see how Carol was getting on, Viv on her way to fetch some
cakes from Peggy's cafe for her staff's elevenses tea break.
"Ooh, look who it isn't! Shall I stand aside for Lady Muck Heap?!" jeered Lynne.
"Why don't you just shut your mouth?" Viv asked, affecting a bored air.
"Gonna make me, are ya?" Lynne looked like the original street fighting woman.
"I wouldn't soil my hands. You're just plain stupid. Stupid - and jealous!" Viv moved around Lynne and carried on her way.
"JEALOUS? What of YOU? Don't make me laugh!" Lynne called after her. "What would I be jealous of YOU for?!"
Viv turned and spoke calmly
and clearly. Stallholders and customers in the vicinity were
transfixed. "I've no idea really. Unless it's my success at business.
The life I've led so far. The fact that I know how to act in public and
couldn't sound like a fishwife if I tried!"
"Ooh, hark at La-De-Dah!" Lynne sneered.
"Perhaps you'd be a bit
more la-de-dah yourself if the sum total of your life's achievements
wasn't selling Vim!" Viv countered coolly.
"Well, it's better than
rippin' people off with over priced poodle cuts!" Lynne was getting
thoroughly hot under the collar now. "There's some right frights comin'
out of your so-called salon!"
Viv's nostrils flared
slightly, but she replied calmly: "Those are modern, sophisticated
haircuts for modern, sophisticated people. Of course, you wouldn't
appreciate them. You've got no style at all. You look like something
the cat dragged in. And you're jealous of anybody who doesn't!"
Lynne saw red: "That's it..." she surged forward, one fist raised, but Geoff was suddenly there, with Morris in attendance.
"Come on now, love, no need for that!"
"I'll bloody kill 'er!" Lynne bellowed.
"Came too close to the
truth, did I?" Viv asked quietly, which provoked another forward surge
on Lynne's part, but Geoff was too strong for her. Viv walked calmly
away.
Lynne turned her anger on Geoff: "Look, just leave me alone, can't yer? Don't interfere!"
"What, and let you start brawlin'?" asked Geoff. "Great way to keep your stall, Lynne, if Derek should happen to be passing!"
Lynne breathed deeply: "One
day she'll get what's comin' to 'er!" And, fumbling for her fags, she
flung herself through the doors and out onto the wharf.
"What is it with those two?" Morris asked Geoff.
Geoff shrugged: "I've no
idea. They're both strong women I suppose... Between you and me, Morris,
I wonder if Viv 'ad a point with what she said just now. Lynne's got
loads of oomph, who knows where she might've ended up if she hadn't had
to look after Lisa? Lynn'll be thirty-seven next birthday... maybe she
sees lots of lost opportunities in Viv?"
"You're startin' to sound like a regular Marje Proops!" said Morris.
"I'm probably wide of the mark as well," smiled Geoff. "I'm no expert when it comes to women..."
Jaz, taking a breather on
the wharf an hour or so later, was confused. Staring across the river at
him was the scene of Oliver's death... but without the snow and the
freezing damp permeating through to his bones, it looked and felt like a
totally different place. September was being so kind, the sun shining,
the breeze gentle... the Irwell and the bank opposite looked like
nowhere remotely resembling THAT day earlier in the year... the river
was still there, the steps leading down from the bank... but he could
feel no link...
What a difference the
seasons made... but with the return of autumn and then winter, the
terrible events would be so much easier to place...
"'Allo, Jaz!" Jaz was startled. He turned to find Carol Broadbent standing beside him.
"Carol... I... What are YOU doin' 'ere?"
"Don't worry, love, nowt stupid" Carol smiled.
"Nowt stupid?" Jaz repeated.
Carol smiled again and moved closer to him. "You know! I accepted what you said before, and truth to tell I was bein' daft. Got all wrapped up in me own dreams and the way you fitted in to 'em. I'm sorry I put you through it."
Jaz smiled. Despite
everything, he'd missed Carol. "In a way I was flattered... anyway, it's
good to see yer back! What brings you here? Lookin' up old friends?"
"I'm helpin' Lisa run the
second stall here," Carol said. "Chan's off sick for the day. I'm just
lookin' for a bit of money, some work experience and references. The
official story is I'm helpin' Lisa out for nowt, just for the experience
and a reference - that's in case the gossips get 'old of it!"
"There's quite a few here,
fiddling the Social," said Jaz. "I don't think anybody'd tell on you
even if they knew. People tend to stick together when it comes to things
like that."
"I've missed this place,"
said Carol. "I've been catchin' up on the gossip. Morris gave me a blow
by blow account of the tale of Dermot Thornburgh's underpants! 'Ow are
yer, anyway?"
Jaz smiled: "I'm fine..,"
he saw by the look on Carol's face that she wasn't fooled by this, and
genuinely wanted to know. He backtracked: "Well, to be honest, I can't
say it's been easy. I've felt so tired. And I can't stop thinkin' about
Oliver and the trial and being locked up and reportin' to the police
station and everythin'... I reckon I'll feel better as time goes on. In
the meantime, I've had a couple of lads' nights out, and I've been
takin' things slow... Things don't feel as safe 'ere as they did."
Carol touched his arm
sympathetically. "I think yer do right, takin' it slow. Time's a great
healer, well, that's what me gran always says."
Jaz smiled at her,
genuinely. Whatever else, Carol had been an excellent support to him
during the run-up to the trial, and he detected a new-found maturity in
her now which eased the memory of some of her stroppier moments.
"So, how are you findin' the world of classic fashion?" asked Jaz.
Carol looked around and
lowered her voice: "Well, to be honest, these clothes give me the creeps
a bit. Just imagine, somebody could have died in them! I should think
the owners are mostly dead now anyway... it scares me if I get thinkin'
about it!"
"You're not supposed to
think like that!" grinned Jaz. "These things are actual relics from the
age of style. Think Bette Davis..."
"Ooh, I think she's really
creepy an' all," said Carol. " She got really big eyeballs. There was
this film I saw her in one Sunday afternoon: she ended up gettin'
murdered because..."
"Excuse me, are you
serving?" A woman looking at the crafts jewellery display, previously
unnoticed by either Jaz or Carol, broke in.
"Oh, yes, love. Can I 'elp?" Carol turned to her.
"See yer, Carol," said Jaz quietly.
"Yeah, see yer, Jaz," said Carol.
He made his way back into
the bustling hall. It was good to see Carol again. And she did seem to
have grown-up a bit. He spotted Geoff Travis, having a quiet moment on
his stall, apparently deep in thought, and made his way over. "How are
you, Geoff?"
Geoff jerked out of his reverie. "Oh, fine, mate..."
Jaz hadn't had much chance to talk to Geoff over the last few weeks, and said now: "Any news of Eileen?"
Geoff shook his head. No.
But things are settlin' down with me now. Maybe they've worked out for
the best... we couldn't go on as we were doin'..."
"Good. Look after yourself," said Jaz and passed on, heading towards his own stall.
Seeing Carol, and then
seeing Geoff and hearing his positive attitude - maybe things have
worked out for the best... Jaz felt cheered by his encounters. Maybe
things WOULD work out for the best in his life, too... after all, he was young, he had friends, and the sun was shining... Time was a great healer...
He suddenly became aware of
somebody looking at him over to the left. Turning, he saw Simon Walker,
standing near Lynne's stall, Oliver's old stall, subjecting him to that
familiar level gaze - eyes cold and hard. As Jaz forced himself to meet
that gaze, Simon turned slowly away and made his way over towards the
cafe.
Jaz felt fear grip him. The
sun seemed to have vanished and once more Oliver was floating,
face-down, in the water, as the snow drifted down...
Shaking himself back into
the present, Jaz hurried back to Raju and his own stall, all thought of
things working out for the best for him personally now many miles
away...
"Two grown women like that, almost brawlin' in the middle of the market!" Morris was saying.
"They don't seem to get on at all, do they?" Miriam sighed.
"But they could conduct themselves with dignity," cried Morris. "Instead of turning the market into a cheap entertainment!"
"Sounds more like a one o' them flippin' disco places at the moment," winced Miriam as the sound of The Smiths' How Soon Is Now? assailed her ears from the salon.
Morris scowled at her: "We
'ave to move with the times, Miriam. I reckon that Miss Harker's done us
a favour with that salon. We've 'ad a few customers of a very different
class to usual buyin' here recently..."
"One or two," Miriam
concentrated on the baby bootees she was knitting for a moment and pondered with amusement Morris's sudden "got to move with the times" attitude after their conversation about computers earlier that day. Then:
"Anyway, what do you think lays behind all this bad feeling with Lynne
and Viv Harker?"
"Eee, I'm blowed if I
know," Morris puffed out his cheeks. "Geoff reckons Lynne may be jealous
of Miss Harker, but I can't see that meself."
"Hmmm...," Miriam
considered the idea. "Well... Geoff may 'ave a point. After all, Viv's
had a glamorous life and achieved a lot. Lynne's had no chance."
"I don't see why Lynne
should be jealous," said Morris. "She's got something a lot more
precious than Miss Harker's salon: a daughter. Miss Harker doesn't have
children, you know, she told me the other day."
"Yes, but Lynne didn't plan her daughter, did she?" asked Miriam. "I mean, Lisa was completely unplanned, born out of wedlock."
"I wish you wouldn't talk like that!" snapped Morris.
"But it's the truth,"
Miriam insisted. "Lynne had her life taken away from her at a very young
age if you stop and think about it. Maybe she sees Viv Harker as
something she might've been if she'd 'ad chance?"
"I never knew Lynne wanted to be a hairdresser..." Morris was puzzled.
Miriam sighed. "I don't
necessarily mean a hairdresser. I mean a businesswoman, or a success
in some other area of life. Lynne never got a chance to explore the
possibilities, Morris. She's got a lot of energy, lots of what they call
'drive' nowadays."
Morris sniffed: "You women
and your pyscho-wotsit. Life would be a lot simpler if you stopped
reading things in... And now Geoff's started... I'm getting worried..."
"He's probably becoming one of them Eighties Men ," said Miriam, innocently.
"Eighties... whatever's that?!!"
"Some people call 'em New
Men, lovey. I read about 'em a while back. They're a new breed of
sensitive, caring men," Miriam hid her smile. "Able to do housework,
look after kiddies, explore emotions... a lot more like women. It's a
good trend if you ask me."
Morris was horrified.
"You SOLD it?!!" Lisa was incredulous.
"Yeah, not half an hour since," said Carol.
"HOW?!" Lisa gaped.
"Well, this woman were
lookin' at it, and she asked me what I thought of it, an' I said, 'Puts
me in mind of Bette Davis,' an the woman said, 'Do you think I'd look
like Bette Davis in it?' an' I said, 'Depends what you do with yer 'air,
but yer could do. Mind you, I don't know what colour Bette's 'air was
back in the '40s, I've only ever seen 'er in black and white, but I'm
sure there are colour photos around,' an' the woman said, 'Right, I'll
take it!' "
Lisa let out a whoop of
joy. The item in question, a black evening dress, had apparently been a
bad buy on her part. She'd regretted buying it as soon as she got it
home. It was so ugly, it momentarily destroyed her faith in '40s dress
styles. She'd put it on the stall for twenty-five quid, and there it had
hung for over a fortnight. Over the last few days, Lisa had finally
begun to face the painful truth - that she would have to sell the dress
at a loss.
And now this. Carol,
guiless Carol with her oh-so-honest approach to selling had sold
something in a day that she, Lisa, with her growing knowledge of the
vintage clothing market and increasingly honed and refined sales patter
had failed to in a fortnight...
And not only that, Carol
had also sold another dress, two blouses and a stack of the crafts jewellery. Carol had sold one lady a pair of large round black studded
ear rings by simply telling her they'd make her ears look a lot smaller.
"She 'ad a bit of a thing about her ears - went on and on about 'em," said Carol.
"Well, I wasn't convinced I
was doin' right havin' you here, but, going by today, you're
priceless!" Lisa laughed, giving Carol a hug. She lowered her voice: "I
was gonna pay you ten quid as we arranged. I've still gotta pay Chan
somethin' cos she put in a lot of work on some of the clothes, but I'll
make it £15 for you to celebrate gettin' rid of me worst buy!"
"Cheers, Leeze!" grinned Carol. "It's good to be back on the market!"
Debbie Taylor had popped into the cafe for a cheese roll to scoff on
the way home. She'd be having an evening meal almost as soon as she got
home, but was far too hungry to wait for that...
"How's business, then?" asked Peggy.
"Seems to be goin' great," said Debbie. "Viv's talkin' about takin' on another stylist soon."
"Oh,
well, that's good," said Peggy, who never seemed terribly happy when
discussing the salon. Debbie got the idea that Peggy still didn't quite
know what to make of Viv.
Peggy popped a cheese roll in to a brown paper bag. "That's thirty five, please, love," she said.
As Debbie handed over the money, Paul emerged from the back with his coat on. "I'll be off now, Peggy!"
"All
right then - and for 'eaven's sake 'ave an early night tonight!" cried
Peggy. "You were worse than useless first thing this morning!"
"PAUL!" called Debbie. "Walk along with me."
Paul sighed but, as he and Debbie were walking in the same direction, saw no polite way out of it.
"'Ow
are you gettin' on then?" Debbie asked as they made their way through
the nearly deserted market, peopled only by a few stallholders taking stock
out to their vans or drawing covers round their stalls.
"I'm fine," said Paul. "Busy. A slave to the hotplate!"
"I couldn't do that," said Debbie chattily. "I think I'd faint with the heat!"
"I always have a pint glass of water on-hand," said Paul, sounding all scientific. "It's essential to avoid dehydration!"
Dermot Thornburgh passed them on his way out. "Night!" he called, with that big cheesy grin of his.
Paul
and Debbie replied in kind minus the grins, and Debbie suddenly
remembered something: "'Ere, Paul, what's all this I've been 'earin'
about Dermot's underpants?"
Paul
looked at her soulfully: "You poor, poor child. An innocent cast upon
the waters, coming to dock in this seedy place, and already you're
craving cheap gossip!"
"I'm just curious, that's all," said Debbie as they emerged on to the main road.
"Fight
it, Debbie, resist!" said Paul mock seriously: "Or gain the curse of
the Albion Market Mind, a mind never questing for the higher truths, the
secrets of creation, the beauties of poetry and art, but instead,
ceaselessly seeking an endless supply of trivial drivel..."
"So, you're not going to tell me then?"
"I wouldn't sully you with the sordid banality of it all," said Paul.
Debbie sighed. "You going out with Sean tonight?"
"You heard my boss. Tonight I am early for bed!" said Paul.
"Do you always do what Peggy says?"
"It is sensible to take the advice of those older and wiser."
"Why are you in such a daft mood?"
"Me?" Paul turned wide innocent eyes on her. "Daft mood? I assure you I speak with all seriousness."
There
was no talking to Paul when he was like this. Debbie munched on her
cheese roll and was almost glad when they reached Bolton Road - the
parting of the ways for them.
"See you tomorrow!" she said.
Paul
sighed at the darkening sky: "When I return to the market and continue
my quest for the perfectly prepared black pudding and you continue your
intensive exploration of mousse and gel and the impact of beautifully
shiny and manageable hair on the human soul..."
He strolled away, hands in pockets, apparently pondering.
"What a prannock!" Debbie muttered to herself.
A cute prannock though...
Keith managed to leave
work early, somewhere in his jangled thoughts the notion of trying to
have a talk with Louise. When he arrived home, Mrs Naylor was in the
kitchen. Jenny was gurgling happily in her carry cot. Mrs Naylor had had
a lovely day nattering with her friend, Mrs Bennett, and had returned
home seeing herself in a new light: as a heroine determined to make life
as happy and comfortable as she could for her dear son, who had been
led astray be a wicked Jezabel.
"I'm doin' all I can," she'd told Mrs Bennett. "I don't interfere, but I do try an' see that Keith's well fed and gets some relaxation. Poor little lamb..."
And having painted herself
in that light to Mrs Bennett, it was in that guise that Mrs Naylor had
returned home. She'd snubbed Louise, disregarded her aching knees, and
set about making dinner. At just after six, Louise had gone out,
slamming the front door behind her.
Now, Mrs Naylor told Keith:
"I'm afraid she's gone out again, son, but I've got your favourite
dinner, shepherd's pie. It'll be on the table in ten minutes."
"Did Louise say where she were goin'?" asked Keith.
"I'm afraid not, son, she
tells me nowt. But never mind. Go an' wash your 'ands and I'll serve up.
We'll get the baby settled and then watch the telly. That programme we
like is on at nine. It'll be just like when you were little. I used to
get you settled, your dad used to nip out to the Labour Club, and me an'
Bernard used to settle down an' watch Googie Withers. Of course, he was
a lot younger back then than you are now..." She pinched Keith's cheek
affectionately. "Go on, son, don't let your dinner spoil."
"But Louise..." Keith faltered.
"Never mind about 'er," said Mrs Naylor. "We'll 'ave a lovely time tonight, just the two of us..."
Lynne went home unhappy, knowing that Lisa had stayed on for a drink at The Waterman's with Lady Cowpot - Viv Harker.
Sitting down to a
delicious plate of salad, cold meat pie and tinned potatoes with
Eileen, she began to unburden herself: "I don't know what it is about
that woman, Eileen, but she really gets on my wick."
"Sounds a bit flash to me," said Eileen.
"Yeah, she is, but it's
more than that... And Lisa 'avin' these heart-to-hearts with 'er. I
mean, what can she talk to 'ER about that she can't talk to ME about?!"
"Well... I think it's often
easier talkin' to an outsider," said Eileen. "They stand back more
and it's sometimes easier to tell them things. That's why I wanted to
come 'ere rather than stay with me mam."
"Yeah..." Lynne sighed. "I
know what you're sayin'. An' it's not like me, gettin' the needle into
somebody like this. Live an' let live, that's always been my motto. I'm
gonna have to watch meself or I'll be turnin' into a bitter old
biddie. 'Ere, what are these red things in the salad by the way?"
"Peppers," said Eileen. "Do you like 'em?"
"I DO!" grinned Lynne, to
whom salad had always meant a bit of lettuce, cucumber and tomato and a
blob of salad cream. "Wonderful what you can get these days - and this
pie's a treat. Anyway, 'ow 'ave you been gettin' on, love?"
"Oh, fine. Contacted the
agency, they say there's plenty of work on so I'll phone in each day.
Thought a bit more about me 'n' Geoff, did me washin' and ironin'...
I've enjoyed bein' able to potter about the place."
"Well, thanks a lot for the hooverin' an' dustin'!" said Lynne, munching on a mouthful of red pepper and lettuce.
"Least I could do," Eileen steeled herself: " 'Ow's Geoff?"
"He seems fine," Lynne wolfed down a chunk of pie. "Makin' the best of things."
"I'm goin' to see 'im tomorrow," said Eileen.
"Well, Carol's return
appears to have pleased you, brother!" Raju smiled as he drove the van
home that evening. "It's good to see you smiling!"
"Yeah, it was good to see
her, and I'm glad she's OK," said Jaz. "But just after that, I saw
Simon Walker. I'm sure he's watchin' me, Raju."
"Simon watches EVERYBODY," said Raju soothingly.
"But I'm not sure I can
take it," Jaz was trembling. "Day in, day out... and working where
Oliver died... I don't think I can stay at the market, Raju..."
"But you can't leave!" said
Raju. "We're a partnership, and when it comes to the ladies you sell
by far the most. We only get our own stall last year... we worked so hard for it... we can't throw
it away, Jaz..."
"I know what you're sayin',
and it's all very logical," Jaz took deep breaths so that he could
continue speaking: "But I'm scared, Raju, I'm so scared..."
Jaz put his head in his hands and began to cry.
"Good evenin', ladies, and
may I say how pleased I am to see two such fine specimans of the female
form adorning my humble hostelry this fine evenin'?"
It was Ted Pilkington,
collecting glasses, stopping off at Viv and Lisa's table to deliver a
great dollop of his own personal brand of charm. Bound to make their
evening, he reasoned.
"Cheers!" said Viv with a cool smile.
"Yeah, er, thanks, Ted!" said Lisa.
And Ted sailed happily on
his way. That was one of the most important things about running a pub,
he thought - knowing how to talk to the customers.
Lisa and Viv laughed. "He's such a wally!" said Lisa.
Viv got her cigarettes out
and toyed with them. Then took one from the packet and lit it. "I'm
trying to give these up, trouble is they seem too much like old
friends..."
"I never
took it up," said Lisa. "Well, I tried 'em a couple of times at the
back of the school playin' field, but they just made me cough. Janice,
one of my mates at school, said they wouldn't if I stuck with 'em... but
it didn't seem to make any sense."
"Sensible girl," said Viv. "Now, what did you want to talk to me about?"
"Well, firstly, I'm sorry me mam started up again today..."
"Not up to you to do her apologising," Viv replied firmly, "and what your mum says doesn't affect our friendship."
Lisa smiled gratefully.
"So, what did you want to talk about?"
"It's... well... Oh, Viv,
it sounds a bit daft, but it's just that I'm bein' talked about. On the
market. Have you heard anything?"
Viv blew out smoke and shook her head. "Me? No. I'm still very much an outsider."
"Well, it concerns
something' I said to Alan Curtis weeks ago when me mam got 'er own
stall," said Lisa. "I gave him a hug and he asked if that was his
reward or summat. I said somethin' like: 'Just wait and see what you
get when I get me own
stall...' I was carried away... jokin'. But it's not the sort of thing
you should say stood in the middle of the market. Of course, it was
just after that I GOT me own stall an' then I DID have a bit of a fling
with Alan..."
"And now people are talking?" asked Viv.
Lisa nodded. "A couple of
people I used to talk to, be quite friendly with, are ignoring me now
and talkin' behind my back, and a couple of others 'ave been givin' me
some very frosty looks..."
"Does it bother you?"
"I'd like to say 'No', but it does a bit. More
than a bit," said Lisa. "It's as if they think I sold my favours for a
stall, like some whore. It wasn't like that, Viv. I was attracted to
Alan anyway, I'm not that cold blooded. And I don't regard my body as a
useful commodity."
"Well... I think I can see
how it happened," said Viv. "At your age, everything's a rush of
excitement and youthful hormones. Nothing's thought through that well.
Well, at least that's how it was for ME when I was twenty-one."
"I still don't want to be regarded as the bike of Albion Market," Lisa whispered.
"And you won't be. Not for
long anyhow," Viv reassured her. "Just let it blow over. They'll soon
find somebody else to pick to pieces. And, in future, if what the
gossips are saying is likely to bother you, just be more discreet."
Lisa was bright red: "I just can't get over 'ow I came across - to Alan as well!"
"You can't undo what's
done," Viv flicked ash into the ashtray. "It's over. Just try and learn
by it. You're still finding out about yourself - what you are, what
you want to be, how you want others to see you. It all seems really
difficult to you now, but I'm telling you, Lisa, the time I spent in my
late teens and early twenties is now my favourite period to look back
on of my whole life. It's a magical time, and it goes far too quickly.
Don't let one slip-up and a few old gossips spoil things for you. Just
learn by your experiences, sort out what you want and whether you give a
damn how others see you. I chose not to, by the way."
"You're a really good
listener," said Lisa. "As you know, things got really messed up with
Alan, thanks to my mother... I was surprised when you told Alan that me and me mam
were gonna tick him off in 'ere afterwards though."
"Too right," said Viv. "Alan used to be a good mate of mine. A very good mate. As the three
of you weren't behaving very well - Lynne sleeping with Alan, Alan
sleeping with Lynne, you seeing other blokes without telling Alan, I
didn't think it was fair that Alan was singled out for a wigging."
"And yet you didn't tell
Alan the other stuff - what Derek, Geoff and them had planned to get
him off the market...," said Lisa. "I reckon you're really into people,
Viv. I mean, you saw what Alan was doing, watched the Riggs and Morris
and Miriam being thrown off, and you came down on our side."
"You could be right, Lisa,"
Viv grinned. "But just as likely is the notion that I could see which
way the wind was blowing, see that Alan was going to come unstuck, and
so kept my mouth shut for the sake of my own popularity. It's not easy
setting up a business in the midst of united hostility, you know: opens
the way to the possibility of broken windows, slogan daubing,
break-ins, petrol all over the furnishings - and with a lighted match
thrown in for good measure, it could all turn very nasty!"
"I don't think anybody on
the market would do owt like that," said Lisa. "I still think you kept
quiet 'cos seein' what Alan was doin', folk being chucked off 'ere and
all that, went against what you believe in. I think you're very caring."
"Maybe!" Viv smiled. "Just
maybe! Remember, you've only known me five minutes. It doesn't pay to be
too trusting. Now, how about a last drink and then I'm for home?"
Derek left the small block
of 1950s council flats where Chan lived and climbed into his car. There
was no doubt about it, she had the flu good and proper. He'd hated
leaving her. She'd lain there in bed, face flushed, breathing heavy:
"Oh, Derek! Every bone in my body seems to ache..."
"Can I contact your family? Maybe get Hoa to come over?"
Chan shook her head weakly
on the pillow. "No. It is the flu. The doctor has been in, I have my
prescription to ease things. Now it is just a matter of time. If
anybody was here, I would just want to sleep anyway..."
He'd sat on the chair
beside the bed, holding her hand, staying with her for as long as he
possibly could. He'd make some excuse to Barbara tomorrow and leave for
work early so that he could call back in.
Seated behind the steering
wheel, he looked up at Chan's unlighted window and almost got out of
the car and went back up to her. It seemed so cruel to leave her there,
in the dark, ill and all alone... but Chan was right. It was a matter
of time. Now she needed rest and plenty of it.
Derek struggled with his
conscience, but finally started the car and drove away - unaware that
he was being watched. Somebody was peering at him from behind a scrubby
looking bush, growing in the middle of a threadbare patch of grass by
the flats. As the car swept away down the quiet side road, the watching
figure scurried up the concrete steps to Chan's front door...
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