‘But just how did you get the rent man to take Arnold’s name off without his permission?’
‘Lied to him. The old rent book was full so Mr Trotter needed to make us out a new one. I told him Arnold Greenwood was dead so far as we knew as we hadn’t seen him for years, and you can’t chase a dead man for the rent money, can you, Gran? Thankfully Arnold didn’t need to come into the kitchen for anything at that moment and scupper what I was up to. And he didn’t suddenly discover he’d some money to go out with tonight, I left two tanners on the arm of his chair for him to find. I did it to make sure he was out of the house when I got back tonight, so we could pack his stuff up and have his bag waiting for him in the yard when he comes back. That way we won’t have the task of forcing him to leave ’cos I doubt he’d go quietly.’
Bertha started to giggle, a gleeful chuckle that filled the kitchen and set Aidy laughing too. Grabbing hold of each other, they waltzed around, both whooping with delight. It was lack of breath that finally got Bertha to stop their dance of triumph.
Having caught her own breath, Aidy told her, ‘I’m off upstairs to pack his stuff.’
‘I’ll come and help yer, love. Be the most pleasurable job I’ve ever had to do.’
An hour later Arnold gave a loud belch as he arrived at the back gate and lifted the latch. He wasn’t drunk. At fourpence a pint, he’d only had enough to buy three with the shilling he’d found on the arm of the chair. He still couldn’t work out where the two sixpences had come from. He had realised after many fruitless searches that not even a farthing was ever left lying around the house for him to find. He knew his pockets had been empty which was why he’d been fuming about the kids returning empty handed from their errand.
And that was something else he couldn’t quite work out. Who was lying to him? The bloke he’d sent the kids to do the job for or his own children? One of them was. When Arnold had sought the bloke out tonight to confront him about welching on their deal, it seemed that the bloke had been looking for him, to confront him over being let down. The bloke swore blind he’d been in at the appointed time. The kids swore blind he wasn’t. Well, there’d be no mistake tomorrow. Arnold had badgered the bloke until he’d relented and promised to give him another chance to prove his worth. Another pick up and delivery had been arranged, same time, same place, but this time Arnold would be following the kids from a safe distance and watching their every move, to make sure they pulled it off. Then he’d make it a regular event. It would mean he’d have a supply of money coming in, not a fortune but enough to keep him in booze and fags and treat himself to a couple of changes of clothes.
Looking as shabby as he was, he wasn’t attracting quite the sort of women he liked. Not the head-turners he used to attract before time started telling on him, but not so dusty either. He had his eye on the barmaid of the Stag and Pheasant. She was no spring chicken but still had plenty of life in her. There was an empty space beside him in his bed which Maisie Turnbull and her big breasts would fill nicely … until something better came along, that was. Arnold didn’t care what the rest of the household felt about him moving in a woman. It was his house and they’d have to lump it.
Kicking the back gate shut behind him, he sauntered his way over to the back door. A flickering light from the gas mantle in the kitchen was casting an eerie light through the window out into the yard. Halfway down it he stopped short, surprised to see a bulky bag by the back door. Then he recognised it as his holdall. It looked like it was filled with something. Anger rose up in him. Who’d been in his bedroom and taken his bag to use without his permission? Well, wouldn’t they learn not to take what wasn’t theirs in the future! He was curious to know what the