Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection

‘You look nice, lass.’ Old John’s eyes lit up. ‘By! I wish I were young again. Off to see young Daisy Robertson, are you?’

‘Yes, she is!’ Marie pushed Amy towards the end of the counter. ‘And if you keep her talking, she’ll never catch her tram.’

To Amy she murmured, ‘He’s right though, lass. You do look lovely.’ Amy had on a pale pink blouse with loose neck and long sleeves, and a brown straight skirt that showed off her curves. Her hair was bouncy and her eyes were shining, and altogether she looked lovely.

‘Thanks, Mam.’

Amy was really looking forward to spending a few hours with Daisy. ‘I wonder if she remembers where we’re meeting this time?’ she remarked with a hearty chuckle. ‘Last time we arranged to meet, she waited on Ackeroyd Street instead of under the market-clock. It was nearly an hour before she remembered. Then it started raining and by the time she got to me, the pair of us were all wet and bedraggled.’

Marie laughed out loud. ‘That’s Daisy for you!’

As Amy went out the door, she heard the old man telling Marie, ‘I feel for that young Robertson lass. Her father is a right bad lot, and as for the mother, well … every man in Blackburn knows how she earns her spending money.’

When the other customers joined in to condemn Daisy’s parents, Marie wisely and light-heartedly put a stop to it. She knew what they were saying was the hard truth, but it wasn’t the kind of banter she wanted to hear; especially not when Daisy was her daughter’s best friend.

The shouting and screaming had gone on for a full hour.

‘Get your hands off her, you bastard!’ Painted with rouge and lipstick, her hair bleached to the roots and wearing a dress that revealed too much for comfort, Daisy’s mother knew how to handle herself.

Taking the poker from its stand, she confronted Daisy’s father. A mountain of a man, he had Daisy pinned to the door, his two arms folded across her neck and his considerable weight pressing against her. ‘You’re going nowhere!’ he growled. ‘Not till you tell me who was in here last night. And don’t try lying through your teeth, because I know she had a bloke in here. I might be thick, but I’m not bloody stupid!’

Her face stained with tears, Daisy stared him out. ‘I’ve already told you,’ her words came out in a strangled muffle, ‘I don’t know anything.’

‘You’re a madman! Let go of her!’ Daisy’s mother screamed, prodding him repeatedly with the poker. ‘There’s been no fella in here … not last night or any other sodding night! There were only me and Daisy. Now let her go, or I swear to God, I’ll do for you!’

In a sudden move that left her buckled against the door, he threw Daisy aside and, grabbing hold of the woman, wrapped his hands about her neck. ‘So! You’ll “do for me”, will you?’ he laughed. ‘Well now, let’s see you try, eh?’ Wrenching the poker from her hands, he grappled her to the ground. There then followed a lot of shouting and threats as they tore at each other with blind hatred.

Suddenly there was a bang on the wall, and a neighbour yelled, ‘If you don’t stop the racket this minute, I’m fetching the police!’

‘See what you’ve done now, you silly, jealous bugger!’ As he continued to bear down on her, Daisy’s mother fought like a tiger. ‘You’ll be getting us thrown out on the streets with your shenanigans!’

‘Aw, come on, tek no notice of them buggers next door.’ Stroking her breast he gave a knowing grin. ‘What say we make up, eh?’

In a matter of minutes, the two of them were rolling about on the floor, laughing and teasing, and blatantly petting each other.

‘You make me sick!’ Disgusted with what was now happening before her eyes, Daisy ran to the scullery where she sobbed for a while. Then she washed her face, tidied her hair, straightened her tight little dress and checked her stocking seams, then, going out the back door, prayed the neighbours would not stop her as she ran down the street.

‘I hate them!’ she muttered. ‘I wish they’d kill each other!’

Twenty minutes later, she stepped off the bus at the market square, where Amy was patiently waiting under the clock.

‘Daisy!’ Catching sight of her, she ran forward. ‘Where in God’s name have you been? I began to think you weren’t coming.’

Daisy hurried to meet her. ‘No you didn’t,’ she teased. ‘You thought I’d forgotten and gone to the wrong place again, didn’t you?’

Amy laughed. ‘The thought did cross my mind.’

‘Well, I’m here now,’ Daisy told her, ‘so stop nattering and let’s get going.’

Amy hesitated. In spite of Daisy’s jolly manner, she could see she’d been crying and, knowing how Daisy was sometimes reluctant to talk about what was going on at home, Amy offered all the same. ‘You can tell me what happened if you like?’

Daisy shrugged. ‘Who says anything happened?’

‘I can see for myself. All I’m saying is,’ Amy gently assured her, ‘if you want to talk about it, I’m here for you.’

On the way to the shops Daisy outlined the cause of the trouble. ‘It’s always the same. He keeps accusing her of having a fella in the house when he’s not around. Oh, I’m not defending her, because she’s a disgrace – one man after another, and no shame to go with it. But she never brings them home … not as far as I know, anyway.’

‘Why don’t they split?’ It seemed a natural solution to Amy. These were two people who already seemed to live separate lives, with each carrying on with whomever they fancied. Yet they fought over each other like a pair of crazed animals, with poor Daisy caught in the middle of it all.

‘They’ll never split,’ Daisy answered. ‘They love each other – at least that’s what they say.’

‘But it doesn’t make sense.’ Amy had never been able to understand it.

Daisy was quiet for a time, then in a sombre voice she confessed, ‘Sometimes, Amy, I hate them so much it frightens me.’

Then suddenly, and before Amy could answer, Daisy was running ahead. ‘Come on, slowcoach!’ she cried. ‘Let’s get a move on, or the shops will be shut before we get there.’

Realising it was Daisy’s way of telling her she didn’t want to talk about her parents any more, Amy went along with her. ‘Race you to the Co-op!’ she called, and the two of them ran down the street as though everything was right with the world.

They wanted new dresses to wear to a dance that evening. But the Co-op, even in the town centre, didn’t carry much stock, so could not really help.

‘We haven’t got such a big dress selection,’ the assistant told them, ‘but we’re looking to move to larger premises soon, and when we do, we’ll have much more room for a clothes department.’

Leading the way, she ushered them into a small area at the back of the shop. ‘There.’ Pointing to the rack of garments, she said confidently, ‘I’m sure you’ll find something suitable.’

As the assistant walked away, Daisy sniggered. ‘Bloody Nora! Now there’s a frightening sight, I must say.’

Amy discreetly glanced at the woman. ‘As long as she helps us to find what we want, she’s all right by me.’

Though Amy had to admit she hadn’t felt altogether comfortable in the woman’s company. With her straight black skirt, starched white blouse and her dark hair scraped back so tightly it threatened to spring from the roots, the woman really did look quite unfriendly.

It didn’t take long for the girls to realise they would not find what they wanted here. After fifteen minutes of rummaging through the rack, they had seen and tried all the frocks, and none of them was right.

‘Have you found anything suitable?’ The woman was back, arms folded and a grim look on her face, as though she was ready for a fight.

Amy shook her head. ‘Sorry, but there’s nothing there we fancy.’ It was no use beating about the bush, she thought.

The woman was not pleased, and it showed. ‘If that’s the case, you might as well leave, because that’s all we have, I’m afraid.’ That said she turned her back on them and began straightening the dresses, all the time muttering and complaining.

‘I wouldn’t like to meet her on a dark night,’ Daisy said as they made their way out.

‘Happen she wouldn’t care to meet you neither!’ Amy quipped.

They were in merry mood as they burst into the second-hand shop.

‘We’re looking for party dresses,’ Daisy informed the proprietor. ‘We’d like something pretty and cheap, with no stains or holes.’

‘Well, now …’ Bald-headed and round as a pumpkin, the man looked like a leprechaun perched on a stool. ‘You’ve come to the right place, ladies.’