‘Why do ye tink I came in?’ Paddy was insulted.
‘Well, I don’t know, do I? That’s why I’m asking.’
‘For your information, I came in because I got a fright. I don’t mind telling ye, I heard the music, and the loveliest voice, and I thought the angels had come to fetch me, so I did!’
Granddad Bob chuckled. ‘That tells me you had a few pints too many last night. Am
I right?’
‘I’m saying nothing.’ Patrick made a comical face.
‘You don’t need to.’
‘I will say one thing though, Bob.’ Patrick’s gaze softened as it fell on Casey. ‘That wee boy is too talented to be one o’ yours.’
‘You’re right, Patrick. When I sing, the dogs howl in the street.’
When Granddad Bob looked on Casey he saw a small, lost boy, who pined for his daddy, and his heart ached. Without
a word, he opened his arms and the boy ran to him.
‘I wish Daddy was here.’ Casey’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘Do you really think he was listening, Granddad?’
‘Aye, lad, I do. An’ I reckon he’s celebrating up there, telling everyone how proud he is.’ Placing his finger beneath the boy’s chin, he lifted his face to look at him. ‘We’re all proud of you, lad.’ He smiled at his old friend. ‘And
look there, you even brought Patrick in off the streets. What d’yer think to that, eh?’
‘I think it’s really good.’ With a shaky smile, he looked at Patrick. ‘Thank you, Patrick. I’m glad you came in to listen.’
‘I couldn’t help it,’ Patrick confessed. ‘Sure, the minute I heard you play the guitar, oh, and then the singing …’ he threw his arms out in a gesture of amazement, ‘… well now, I’m
telling ye straight, me feet had a mind o’ their own. Before I knew it, I was inside the shop, an’ me feet were glued to the floor, so they were.’
Delighted with the Irishman’s involvement, Casey asked, ‘Did
your
feet get glued to the floor, Mr Morrison?’
‘Well, young man, like your friend here,’ he gestured to Patrick, ‘I think I also must have been glued to the floor, because even if the shop
caught fire, I would have had to stay until you’d finished your song. In all my life, I have never heard anything more beautiful.’
‘Thank you, Mr Morrison, and I think your shop is beautiful too, so I hope it doesn’t catch fire.’
Granddad Bob had listened to these two men – so different in taste and background, yet brought together by the talents of his grandson – and he was so proud he could
burst. ‘He’s right, lad!’ he told Casey. ‘They’re both right. And we mustn’t forget we owe Mr Morrison a debt of gratitude, for bringing your guitar back to life.’
When Casey thanked Jake again, he replied solemnly, ‘With great respect, your granddad is wrong, Casey. It wasn’t me who brought your guitar back to life, it was you. All I did was to put the pieces back together again.’
Patrick had
an idea. ‘I’m wondering if you’d like to earn a bob or two playing your guitar, lad – if your granddad will allow it, I mean?’ He gave a wary glance at the old fella. ‘As you know, Bob, I keep a market stall of a Saturday, an’ I were wondering if the lad might want to play beside my stall? Folks would be so delighted, they’re sure to drop a coin or two into his hat. What d’you say?’
Casey began
jumping up and down with excitement. ‘Please, Granddad, can I? Oh, I’d like to play for the people … please?’
‘Mmm.’ Granddad Bob needed to think. He pursed his lips, then he sucked his bottom lip, and now he was staring down at the boy. ‘You’ll still need to do your schoolwork, and be in bed by eight thirty … every night, mind!’
‘I will, Granddad, I promise.’
‘And if the folks like you so
much that they drop coins into your hat, like Patrick said, what would you do with ’em?’
‘I’d give them to you.’
‘Think again, lad.’
‘All right, if you don’t want them, I’d give them to Dolly.’
‘Nope.’
‘I’d save them in a jar then.’
‘No, you won’t, lad.’
For a moment, Casey was confused as to what he should do if the people gave him coins. And then it dawned on him. ‘I’ll give them to Patrick.’
‘Well said, lad. And why would you do that?’
‘Because if it wasn’t for him letting me play at his stall, the people would never hear me, and so the coins would be a thank you to Patrick for being our friend.’
‘Hey! You’ll do no such thing.’ Patrick protested. The coins would be yours and yours alone. I’m not in the habit of taking coins from a lad. What next, eh?’
Casey was disappointed ‘I
just want to say thank you.’
‘All right then,’ Patrick had an idea, ‘I’ll tell you what, lad …’ he gave a sly wink at Bob, ‘… if you’re really set on saying a little thank you, I’ve got a suggestion.’
‘What’s that then?’ Casey brightened up.
‘Well … you know how the flowerseller lets the flowers go for a few pennies at the end of the day?’
‘Yes, I know that, Patrick.’
‘Right, well then, what
if you spend a few of your pennies on buying a little bunch o’ flowers for my wife?’ He groaned. ‘It might stop her nagging at me. She never stops nagging at me. If it’s not about the birds who’ve been pecking at the milk bottle top, she’s nagging about the lavvie leaking in the cellar.’ He adopted a hangdog expression. ‘The woman drives me mad, so she does. I keep telling her, if it affects her
that badly, I’ll fetch the wash bucket up of a morning, and we can leave a plate out for the milkman to cover the bottle tops. But as for the lavvie, I’ve got that in hand. John Lassiter owes me a favour, and from what I’ve heard, he’s a dab hand at mending leaks. I’m seeing him next week to see if we can cobble a deal together. So now, lad, if you’re in agreement about the flowers, we’ll both
be satisfied. Mind you, I want you to have enough pennies left over, to treat yourself OK?’
Casey gazed up. Waiting nervously for an answer, he kept his sorry gaze on Patrick’s weathered old face.
‘OK, yes. And this has to be the last time you spend any of your hard-earned pennies on me, or the missus, so you remember that, lad. And remember also that you will always be free to play your guitar
beside my stall.’
Bob clapped his hands. ‘You’ve got a deal, yes! It’s no different from what we’ve allus done. You help us and we help you. It doesn’t really matter what we barter, as long as we’re helping each other.’
‘Right, so make sure you get the boy to my stall on Saturday, round about one o’clock. Folks are always in a good mood by then, ’cause they’ve had their bite to eat and they’re
in a mood to spend their hard-earned brass, so they are.’
Patrick was tickled pink at the prospect of his woman getting a little bunch of flowers. ‘I’ve never been one for soppy gestures like that,’ he muttered as he went away down the street, ‘… but you never know. If she gets a bunch o’ flowers, I might get a thank you of the like I’ve not had for many a month.’
He chuckled at the naughty
thought, and went away with a renewed spring in his step.
A
FEW DAYS AFTER
rescuing the woman from her attackers, Steve was still in Blackpool. All was not going to plan with his site purchase, and he was having to stay longer in the North to see it through. Luckily it was the school holidays and so Alice and Susie were able to stay on too, with the little girl enjoying the seaside.
After reluctantly agreeing to read her a story at the
end of a long day, Steve tucked Susie into bed. ‘Now then, Little Miss Know-all, you’d best remind me which page we were on, because I’ve forgotten.’
‘It’s all right, Uncle Steve, I remember.’ Collecting the book from under her pillow, she handed it to him. ‘We got to page fifteen.’
‘Oh, yes, I remember now. Wasn’t it where Mandy fell out with her best friend, and now she’s unhappy?’ Since reading
to Susie, he should have discovered a great deal about female relationships, but all he’d learned was to keep his nose out wherever possible.
‘I want them to make up and be good friends again, don’t you, Uncle Steve?’
Steve assured her in a solemn voice, ‘There is nothing I want more,’ thinking the sooner the characters made up with each other, the sooner he would be let off the hook. ‘Why didn’t
you let Mummy read it to you? Then you’d be fast asleep by now.’
‘Mummy doesn’t read it like you do,’ Susie told him. ‘You make the characters seem alive, and you change your voice, and it’s really funny.’
Flattered but weary, he took a deep breath and commenced, ‘
Mandy did not know what to do. Her friend Jenny had really upset her, because she had told lies, and that was a bad thing
…’
‘Was
it?’ Susie interrupted.
Steve glanced up. ‘Absolutely! Always remember, lies will get you nowhere.’
‘I know that.’
‘So why did you ask?’
‘Stop talking, Uncle Steve. I want to know what Mandy does.’
He read on, ‘
At school on Tuesday, Mandy saw her friend Jenny talking to the other girls, and they were all staring at her. It made her feel very uncomfortable
…’
‘That’s awful! Jenny shouldn’t
do that, should she, Uncle Steve?’
Exasperated with the interruptions, Steve asked, ‘Susie, do you want us to talk, or do you want me to read?’
‘I want you to answer my question, please. After that, I want you to read.’
‘Well, I’m reading now … and please don’t interrupt, because it puts me right off my stride. You can ask your questions when I stop. All right?’
‘You said I put you “off your
stride”. What does that mean?’
‘Well, I’m just getting into the characters and then you blurt out a question, and then I don’t know where I am.’
‘Are you angry with me?’
‘Not yet, but I’m getting there.’
‘OK, I’ll stop interrupting.’
‘Good!’ Fixing his gaze on the page, he searched for the line. ‘See that! I’ve lost my place now.’
‘Well, you should concentrate. Don’t you know anything?’
Beaten as always, Steve had to agree. ‘You’re right, but I’m very tired and I’ve had a setback with the property, and your mummy and I haven’t had time to speak with each other today.’
‘Please, Uncle Steve, read the story.’
‘I will, if you stop chattering.’
Susie crossed her chest. ‘I won’t chatter. Hand on heart, promise.’
Steve took a deep breath, and resumed the story.
For the next few
minutes it flowed beautifully, though he twice looked up from the reading, eager to assure himself that she was paying attention.
The first time he glanced up, Susie was so tired she was struggling to keep her eyes open; then a few moments later, he was relieved to find that she’d slithered down between the sheets and was fast asleep.
Gently, so as not to wake her, he drew the bedcover up to
her shoulders, then he placed the book inside the drawer and crept out on tiptoe, softly closing the door behind him.
Once outside, he gave a sigh of relief. I thought tonight we might actually get to the end of the story, he told himself as he ran down the main stairs two at a time.
A moment later, he was relieved to find Alice in the bar, perched on a stool and looking pretty as always.
‘I thought you might have gone up already,’ he remarked. ‘The reading took longer than I expected, what with Miss Chatterbox interrupting every other word.’
‘Huh! If you think her interrupting the story is hard, you wouldn’t have wanted to be with us today.’ Alice rolled her eyes in frustration. ‘Susie marched me all over the place as if she intended seeing and doing everything before we have
to go home.’
‘That’s our Susie for you. When her mind is set, she won’t take no for an answer.’ Steve gestured to a small table by the window. ‘How about we sit over there?’
‘Fine by me,’ Alice smiled. ‘So, you managed to get her off to sleep, did you?’
‘Eventually, after a little banter or two, and always when I’m in the flow of the story.’
‘She does that to me, then it takes a while to find
the place where I left off.’
‘Really?’ Steve laughed out loud. ‘Well, it’s time you learned to concentrate. Don’t you know anything?’
‘Cheek!’ She gave him a playful slap on the arm. ‘That sounded like something Susie might have said.’
They both laughed, recognising Susie and her old-fashioned ways.
Steve gave the bartender the order, and signed for the drinks. ‘It’s quiet in here tonight.’
He was surprised to see just one other couple in the bar.
‘It’s a quiet time of year,’ the bartender answered. ‘It’s been mostly businessmen this week, and they’ve moved on.’
‘Which is what I had planned to do.’ Steve had been disappointed in the need to stay another week, to discuss his plans in greater detail. ‘I should have known it was too ambitious a plan.’
Making the drinks, the bartender
was thinking he had his own problems. ‘Shall I bring your drinks over, sir?’
Thanking him, Steve joined Alice at the other end of the room. ‘You look tired,’ he told her kindly. ‘So, our Susie’s been giving you the run-around, has she?’
‘You could say that. We went to Blackburn today and we must have been in every shop in the town centre. Then she wanted to walk along King Street, and she heard
some boy playing the guitar in one of the shops. She wouldn’t even budge until he’d finished.’
Alice, too, had been amazed by the boy’s talent. ‘I’m telling you, Steve, she had her nose pressed tight to the window for ages. Then all the way back to the bus stop, she kept talking about him, saying how the boy had been on the bus the other day, and he was really nice, and she wanted to go inside
the shop to listen, but she was too shy.’
‘Shy? Our Susie? I don’t think so.’ Steve recalled the boy on the bus. ‘More like she was too embarrassed to go inside, in case he recognised her. The boy on the bus didn’t know where to put himself when she kept smiling at him. So, if he was the same lad, he wouldn’t have thanked her for going into the shop to watch him play the guitar.’
Alice made
a serious face. ‘It’s no good,’ she said mournfully, ‘my daughter is out of control. If she doesn’t pull herself together, I’ll have no choice but to put her in a nunnery.’
Steve laughed out loud. ‘Have a heart for the nuns. Our Susie would run rings round them. I reckon you should get her a job on a building site. That’ll teach ’em.’