Everywhere and everything is grey. The clouds are grey, the cobbles are grey, the flagstones are grey, the old folks hair is grey. It had been a grey year, so far, even if it was only the first week of a very grey February.
The year is 1952, the date February 6 and two ten-year old lads sit huddled in paper-thin jackets and short pants on adjoining top steps outside a couple of Manchester terraced houses. An icy easterly wind digs deep into everything in its way - houses, doorsteps, front doors, cats, dogs, half-dead sparrows, milk bottles and kids...especially the kids.
A lady can be heard crying from down the lobby of one of the houses as her front door is slightly open. Mickey Dripping is the weeping lady’s grandson, Kenny Riley is his freezing best friend next door.
MICKEY:
‘Raining again, Kenny.’
KENNY:
‘Never stops, Mickey. What you doing?’
MICKEY:
‘Same as you. You sit on your top step and I sit on me Grannie’s top step, both of us watching the rain coming down. Nowt much else to do around here. Freezing to death I am.’
KENNY:
‘They say Manchester’s the wettest place on earth, you know.’
MICKEY:
‘How about Niagara Falls?’
KENNY:
‘Well, err...yeah...you might have a point. Maybe here’s the wettest after you take all the waterfalls out of the competition.’
MICKEY:
‘So this is a competition, now, is it? What’s the prize?’
KENNY:
‘An umbrella. Used by one careful, loving owner; sort of.’
MICKEY:
‘Who?’
KENNY:
‘Our Shannon, when she fought off the attack by fifteen men trying to rape her last week.’
MICKEY:
‘Fifteen?’
KENNY:
‘Yeah.’
MICKEY:
‘That wasn’t an attack as far as she was concerned, more of a group booking. And she wouldn’t have put up much of a fight, for sure.’
KENNY:
‘Well, it wasn’t a football club like the eleven man attack last month was.’
MICKEY:
‘Boots on or off?’
KENNY:‘
Off I would think. Shin pads too.’
MICKEY:
‘So this time it was a rugby club, eh? Brings new meaning to the expression ‘She’s on the game’ if you ask me.’
KENNY:
‘Maybe, and don’t forget the three reserves and the coach.’
MICKEY:
‘What! They brought their own coach? Blimey, talk about comfort on the velvet back-row seats. None of the usual back alley quickies for that lot, eh?’
KENNY:
‘I’ve no idea where it all happened and I meant the trainer bloke – the coach. Not a big bus.’
MICKEY:
‘Oh, I see. So how did the umbrella get involved.’
KENNY:
She used it to beat off her attackers.’
MICKEY:
‘More like to hook them in through the coach window with the curved handle, if you ask me. The happy hooker and all that.’
KENNY:
‘And the rather pleased fly-half with a smile on his face and a tanner change in his pocket.’
MICKEY:
‘So does she concentrate on servicing sporting groups nowadays?’
KENNY:
‘She’s not that fussy, as long as they pay up. The other week it was a bunch of D-Day Invasion veterans.’
MICKEY:
‘First wave?’
KENNY:
‘First battalion, bayonets at the ready. Can’t be sure if they waved her into action with them though. Probably, she’s very helpful when on the job.’
MICKEY:
‘She’s obviously accommodating on numerous fronts, eh?’
KENNY:
‘For sure, all the bayonet waving must be how the umbrella got slashed. Mind you, Our Shannon’s greatest triumph was at the Boy Scouts Jamboree outside Buxton last summer.’
MICKEY:
‘Go on. Details please.’
KENNY:
‘She won the Fastest Fire-lighter competition.’
MICKEY:
‘How?’
KENNY:
‘By rubbing two tent-pegs together - with two scouts attached - and causing explosions all over the camp as everyone joined in.’
MICKEY:
‘Helped them with a few toggle-tying tricks too, no doubt.’
KENNY:
‘Probably...’
MICKEY:
‘OK, I withdraw from the competition. I mean, for an umbrella that’s ripped to shreds, why bother?’
KENNY:
‘Your choice, you’ll just have to get soaked when it rains.’
MICKEY:
‘Sounds like I would have even with the umbrella.’
KENNY:
’S’pose…’
MICKEY:
‘Anyway, me Grannie’s dead upset. She’s crying her eyes out.’
KENNY:
‘So that’s who I can hear crying down the lobby, what’s up?’
MICKEY:
‘The King died.’
KENNY:
‘In her lobby? What’s she done with the body?’
MICKEY:
‘Don’t be daft, down south somewhere – I would think. No King ever came to Manchester to see me Grannie, or to die in her lobby.’
KENNY:
‘Why not? I’ve seen the Royal Family gang all waving from various places on The News at the pictures, that’s all they do. Mind you, we Irish don’t much care for them anyway.’
MICKEY:
‘You sound like me dad. What do you mean ‘We Irish’? You were born here weren’t you?’
KENNY:
‘Yeah.’
MICKEY:
‘So you’re English, like the rest of us.’
KENNY:
‘No, I’m Irish. I don’t think I want to be English.’
MICKEY:
‘Then get back to Ireland. You wouldn’t even know where it was on a map, would you? I bet you’ve never even been.’
KENNY:
‘I’m saving up…’
MICKEY:
‘That’s what they all say while getting free medical thingis, collecting the dole and having loads of kids…just like your mob. How many kids are living in your house now?’
KENNY:
‘Around eight, and me mam says she’s taking in a few lodgers soon to help with expenses.’
MICKEY:
‘Where will they all sleep?’
KENNY:
‘No idea, as long as I’ve got a spot it’s OK. Anyway, what about your lot, you’ve got lots o’ rellies living in the avenues round here, haven’t you?’
MICKEY:
‘Not that many. Three families in this avenue and two in another two, but they don’t sleep ten to a bed or three to a stair like in your place and we were all born here. You have half of Ireland visiting every other week…and now busloads of lodgers coming…it’s more like a hotel than a two up and two down.’
KENNY:
‘Maybe.’
MICKEY:
‘Anyway, shurrup a minute, me Yantee Minnie’s coming down the lobby.’
A slim, coughing lady appears in a cloud of cigarette smoke. The coughing fit eases as she smiles at the kids…well, her mouth twitches so we’ll take it as a smile.
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Hiya, luvs…y’all right, Mickey Dripping?’
MICKEY:
‘Fine, thanks Yantee Minnie. Are you?’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Yeah. I’ve come out for some fresh air, to watch the rain and have a nice ciggie. Innt it luvly out here, though? Just look at those dirty cobbles, cracked pavements and the tipping-over lamppost? You can’t beat it, I always say.’
KENNY:
‘Yeah, dead nice. You OK, Yantee Minnie?’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Not so bad, chuck, though the King died and me mam’s dead upset.’
KENNY:
‘I can hear her. Did she know him well?’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Never met him. Knew him from pictures of course and liked him a lot. Said he always looked far too thin though, obviously in need of a good plate of chips.’
KENNY:
‘Never came round for a cup o’ tea then?’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘No, luv, that’d be Our Bill and his wife Dirty Gertie. They look like the King and Queen as they wave a lot –
very friendly folk. They turn up every third Sunday for tea ...and give Grannie a pound.’
KENNY:
‘Innt that a bit expensive for a cup o’ tea?’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Not these days, it isn’t. They get as many cups as they fancy, and some Digestive biscuits too. So it’s a bargain if you ask me.’
KENNY:
‘How’d she get the name Dirty Gertie?’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Can’t say too much, sorry. If you think that’s bad let me reveal that she was known as Flirty Gertie before Our Bill tamed her.’
KENNY:
‘Sounds interesting, can we have some details please?’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Afraid not, chuck. You’re far too young for such sordid information. Come back when you’re fifteen and I’ll consider revealing a bit more then.’
KENNY:
‘Awww, go on.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Can’t, sorry.’
KENNY:
‘But fifteen’s years away for me, half my present age.’ YANTEE MINNIE:
‘I know. That’s why I want to spare your blushes for a while.’
KENNY:
‘Spoilsport.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Maybe. Anyway, back to the original discussion. I’ve never seen any crown hanging on the hat-rack in our lobby so I’d say the King never sneaked in to have a natter with Grannie while I was out at work or round t’corner buying a couple of chops for tea.’
KENNY:
‘Then why’s she so upset?’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Because she loves the Royal Family. Them and the Conservative Party as they take you to vote down the Polling Station in a posh car. As for my Labour lot - well, the best you can expect is a lift on the postman’s bike; crossbar or no crossbar in place.’
MICKEY:
‘Me mam said he’s a bit of a devil, that postman.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Ooooh, really, is that right? Fancy that…what have I been missing? I’ll have to see what happens come the next General Election, or registered envelope. Anyway, now we’ll all have to sing God Save the Queen instead of God Save the King, which will make a nice change if you ask me. Never shy away from change, welcome it with open arms - like a win on the pools - I always say.’
KENNY:
‘God save the who?’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘The Queen, we have a Queen now so the National Anthem changes.’
KENNY:
‘I’m not singing that, we’re Irish.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Are you really? Where were you born, chuck? And where do you live, chuck? And ‘Have you ever been across the sea to Ireland?’ - oh, I do like that song - chuck? Or should that be pet, chuck?’
KENNY:
‘It’s ‘If you ever go...’ not ‘Have you ever been...’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Don’t get smart with me, cheeky face. Just as long as they all go back on one-way tickets, that’s all that matters as far as I’m concerned. Get shut of the lot of ‘em, I always say.’
KENNY:
‘Well actually, no. I’ve never been...but maybe one day…’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Right. Get the message then do you? You’d better learn the National Anthem or you’ll be kicked out of your English school, sent back to Dublin…and have to learn Garlic pretty quick smart.’
KENNY:
‘Right oh.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘So how’s your big sister Shannon, Kenny?’
KENNY:
‘Back in the Remand Home.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Not again! What happened this time?’
KENNY:
‘She decided to specialise in footballers and rugby players but got caught under the posts holding the ball and that was that, nicked again.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Brings new meaning to ‘Up and under’ she does.’
KENNY:
‘Anyway, she prefers being in there more than living here I think. Especially since they got extra-long leg chains so the girls can get out in the fresh air and feed the ducks in summer.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘I thought she looked after the twin boys, Barney and Blarney?’
KENNY:
‘She did, between her sporting work, but they drove her mad so she decided to return to familiar ground round the back of the Odeon cinema, all this was before she branched out around football stadiums. Seems she’s dead popular when she produces her ‘magic sponge’.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘I’ll bet. And we’ve all heard about her work down the alleys at the back of the Odeon, haven’t we? Anyway, you makes your bed and you lie in it, as they say...though
in her case quite a few lie in it. But it’s nowt to do with me, oh no; just keep me informed please.’
The lady shudders as cheeks, neck and shoulders shake in unison. Her lips purse in advanced twitching support as her glowing ciggie chugs on.
KENNY:
‘Right oh…’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘What puzzles me though is how can you tell the twins apart, if they’re identical?’
KENNY:
‘Blarney talks a lot more…’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Right. Should have expected that answer, shouldn’t I, Cheeky Face? Did your mother know Shannon was hanging around the Odeon and Maine Road football ground?’
KENNY:
‘Sort of, says she thought she was an ice-cream girl, offering tempting delights between films and at half time.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘That’d be spot on I’d say, leaving the Vanilla cones out of it.’
KENNY:
‘Think so.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Anyway, we’ve got a new Queen to crown and I for one will be knitting a Union Jack cardigan to wear during the Coronation. Innt it exciting?’
MICKEY:
‘So you’ll be flying from the leaning lamppost by the kerb over there?’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘No, I won’t, Cheeky Face, Mickey Dripping. I’ll box yer ears if you keep this up, should know better at your age, young man.’
MICKEY:
‘I’m ten you know.’
KENNY:
‘I’m ten too.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Ten to! Oooooh, eh, is that the time already? And here’s me nattering away to two dashing young men like I’ve nowt else to do. Better get back in and peel the chips for tea, otherwise grannie will be starving and I’ll get the sack’
KENNY:
‘Hang on, I’m not a clock. I’m a kid.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Old before your time you are; the pair of you. The years fly by and before you know it you’ll be working down the pit…digging coal for the next forty years…all this just a happy memory.’
KENNY:
‘What’s she going on about coal mines for?’
MICKEY:
‘I’ve no idea. We have an electric fire anyway.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Excuses, excuses, today’s youth are just bone idle. There’s no hope for either of you, none at all…if you ask me.’
KENNY:
‘And we burn wood so we don’t need any coal. First it was the table and chairs, then the sideboard, then the couch and finally, the stairs.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Go on with yer…how do you get upstairs then?’
KENNY:
‘Rope ladder.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘Right oh. I’ll believe you, thousands wouldn’t. Anyway, I have to plan a Coronation so best get on with it. I’ll be seeing you Mickey Dripping…’
MICKEY:
‘I would think so. I only live across the road. I’m your nephew, you know, and I’m always here.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘…and you too Kenny Riley.’
KENNY:
‘And I live next door…our front steps join so I’m always sitting here talking to Mickey on the weekend and sometimes mid-week like today.’
YANTEE MINNIE:
‘I can see that, chuck. Must dash, got to get the words of Land of Hope and Glory right so I can join in with the Coronation choir.’
The patriotic lady flicks her dimp into the roadside drain some ten yards away with the accuracy of an Olympic javelin champion and goes off down the lobby singing
‘And did those feet…in ancient time…’, leaving a mushroom cloud of Woodbine smoke over the front steps.
MICKEY:
‘Wrong hymn…’
KENNY:
‘How do you know that?’
MICKEY:
‘We learnt it at school last week.’
KENNY:
‘Smarty-pants. Do you fancy a quick swing from the leaning lamppost’s arms?’
MICKEY:
‘Wouldn’t mind …but it’s still raining.’
KENNY:
‘They say rain’s good for you…makes you grow. You’re only a little titch so could do with some help.’
MICKEY:
‘So are you. Nah, I think I’ll just sit here and watch the puddles expand. You?’
KENNY:
‘May as well. Why get soaked just for a swing from the lamppost, eh?’
MICKEY:
‘Yeah…let’s just sit here and watch the rain come down.’
KENNY:
‘Agreed…nowt quite like it.…’
Mickey’s Yantee Minnie is quite a one for small talk ...and can often be heard using words like
‘Nipper’...‘Diddy’...‘Little’...‘Titch’...‘Miniscule’ (not that often – bit too personal) and ‘Dinky’.
She is also a silent fan of talking dirty and can be heard uttering the likes of ‘Mucky’...‘Filthy’...‘Dusty’...’Sooty’ and ‘Cobwebs’ when the mood took her...usually when cleaning the house on a Sunday morning.
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2024 All Rights Reserved
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
