Backstreet Child by Harry Bowling Page A

with him now, and on the odd occasions he found himself licking his lips he was able to sate his thirst with cold, sparkling water. He sensed, too, that Carrie was coming round to the idea of getting married sooner rather than later, and he had been happy to hear Nellie speak to her daughter about their delayed marriage only a day or two ago.
     
    ‘Maybe yer should get it over an’ done wiv,’ she had said in her matter-of-fact voice. ‘What wiv yer change-over an’ the work yer’ve got ter do, yer won’t find the time. Don’t ferget yer gonna need a few days ter yerselves.’
     
    Joe whistled noisily as he put on a clean cotton shirt and tucked the ends into his trousers. He could hear the strains of a brass band coming from the wireless in the parlour and the sounds of the table being laid. As he walked into the small room Carrie gave him a warm smile. He looked handsome in a rugged way, she thought. His dark hair was greying at the sides and his stubbled jaw was square and firm-set. His eyes were bright as they appraised her and a little ripple travelled down her spine. She always got that feeling when Joe looked at her in that way. It was the unspoken word, the sign of his need, and she looked away, pretending to concentrate on a chore she could have performed with her eyes shut.
     
    Three places were laid for tea, which was always the main meal of the day for them. The evening was chilly for the time of year and a low fire was burning in the grate. Nellie was sitting in her favourite chair and looking down through her iron-rimmed glasses which were perched on the end of her nose as she patiently set about unpicking an old cardigan and rolling the frizzy wool round her first two fingers.
     
    ‘What’s fer tea, Nellie?’ Joe asked in an exaggerated whisper.
     
    ‘It’s plaice an’ new potaters,’ Nellie told him. ‘I got the fish meself at Israel’s. ’E always does a nice bit o’ plaice, does Sammy.’
     
    Carrie gave Joe a quick glance. ‘Mum made the parsley sauce. She knows yer like ’er sauce.’
     
    Joe took down a packet of cigarettes and then reached down into the fire with a taper. ‘I was lookin’ at that stable terday,’ he said, puffing a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling. ‘It’s gonna be a job fer a demolition firm. It’s a double fickness o’ solid stone.’
     
    ‘We’ll need ter make some enquiries this week,’ Carrie replied. ‘Once the ’orses ’ave gone I want that stable pulled down.’
     
    ‘I wonder what yer farvver would ’ave made of it all?’ Nellie remarked without looking up from her unravelling.
     
    ‘’E would ’ave understood, Mum,’ Carrie said softly. ‘Yer know ’ow much ’e loved the ’orses.’
     
    Joe eased himself back in his fireside chair facing Nellie and watched her deft fingers working away at the wool. As soon as Carrie left the room to get the food, he leaned forward. ‘I’m gonna ask Carrie to agree ter bring the marriage forward, Nell. Would yer mind?’ he asked in an attempt to make her feel fully involved.
     
    The ageing woman looked up at him without stopping what she was doing. ‘I fink it’s the right fing ter do, as I’ve already told Carrie,’ she replied. ‘After all, yer man an’ wife in every respect now, ’cept in the eyes of the Lord. Yer should get the blessin’.’
     
    Carrie came into the parlour at that moment carrying a steaming dish which she set down on the chintz tablecoth. ‘Come on, sit yerselves down,’ she ordered. ‘It’ll soon get cold.’
     
    The meal was eaten with little conversation and when Nellie was finished she pushed her plate back and folded her arms. ‘I’ope that daughter o’ yours is all right,’ she said, looking at Carrie reprovingly.
     
    ‘She’ll be fine, Mum,’ Carrie replied. ‘Derek’s a very nice young man an’ ’e’ll look after ’er.’
     
    ‘I wouldn’t ’ave let you go at that age,’ Nellie said firmly. ‘Not all the way ter Brighton