She felt proud that despite all the shortages the family had suffered recently at least they were as smooth and plump as any six-month-old’s should be. ‘Nothing a bit of soapy water and a touch of elbow grease won’t shift, eh, Sammy?’ She stared directly into his dark-blue eyes. ‘So, how do you fancy living here, then? It doesn’t look so bad, does it? And by the time our ma and the boys are installed and we’ve run up some bits and pieces of curtains and the like, I’m sure we can make it really nice.’
She put the key in the lock and pushed open the front door. She was about to step inside when the door to number eleven swung open, revealing a young redhead, dressed in a short skirt and brightly coloured home-knit jumper. She looked to be about twenty or twenty-one, the same age as Lizzie. The woman drew on the cigarette she held between two nicotine-stained fingers and blew the smoke high into the air.
‘Morning,’ she said peering beyond Lizzie into the hallway of number nine. ‘You movin’ in?’
‘When me ma and brothers gets here with the cart, we will be, yes. You live next door, then?’
The young woman put out her hand. ‘Elsie Tanner’s the name. And I do indeed live here at number eleven. Welcome to Coronation Street.’
Lizzie transferred the baby into the crook of her other arm and shook Elsie’s hand. ‘Ta,’ she said, ‘I’m Lizzie Doyle.’
‘We was all wondering who’d be brave enough to take it on,’ Elsie said.
‘Why’s that?’ Lizzie felt a jolt of alarm. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘Oh, there’s nowt really wrong, I can assure you. And I’d know as I’ve lived next door for nearly six years now. But you know how it is, when a house has been empty for a while – folk like to make something of it, and by the time everyone has put their two penn’orth in there’s all kinds of rumours flying around, even when there’s no truth to them.’
‘Has it been empty that long? No wonder it smelt musty when I opened the door.’
Elsie leaned back against her own front door. ‘Nowt to fret about, the last of the Todd family departed not long since.’
Lizzie didn’t say anything. They couldn’t afford to be choosey. They needed this house and her ma would never let any neighbourhood gossip put them off. ‘I suppose folks need to keep themselves entertained,’ she said eventually. ‘There is a war on.’
‘Aye, though maybe it’ll be over soon, eh? Let’s hope.’ Elsie pulled herself upright. ‘And let’s hope you’ll bring a bit of luck to the place.’ She grinned, and coming down off the front doorstep, tried to peep inside the blanket. ‘That your nipper?’
‘My baby brother,’ Lizzie said quickly, pulling the blanket back from Sammy’s face. Elsie chuckled him under the chin.
‘And the rest of the family are following on with all your stuff, then?’
Lizzie nodded. ‘All our worldly goods. Not that there’s much to ’em, but we manage.’
‘How many of you is there?’
‘There’s me ma, Cora Doyle, the twins Seamus and Tommy – they’re seven – and little Sammy here; he’s not yet six months.’
‘Gosh, your poor mum’s got her hands full there.’ Elsie laughed. ‘I’ve got two little ’uns, so I know what it’s like. They’re five and two and they’re always getting under my feet. No doubt you’ll hear us all yelling at each other – the bricks are not so thick.’ She knocked on the wall that joined the two houses to prove her point.
Lizzie grinned. ‘I don’t think we’ll be any better. The twins are quite a handful when they’ve a mind. At least, Seamus is, though they think I can’t tell the difference between them. And this one can do his fair share of screaming.’ She beamed down at the baby who rewarded her with a toothless smile.
‘Have you come far?’ Elsie asked.
Lizzie hesitated, unwilling to go into detail about the family’s comings and goings. ‘The other side of Weatherfield,’ she said eventually.
‘I tell you what, then,’ Elsie said, ‘when your lot get here why don’t you all pop in for a quick brew? I don’t suppose a kettle, or coal for the fire will be the first things you’ll have to hand.’ She turned to go back indoors. ‘I’ll go and get the water up. You knock on when they arrive.’
Elsie’s house looked well lived-in. There were several chairs and a large wooden table and every surface was covered with toys or discarded clothing. Elsie was tending the fire at the kitchen end of the long room when they arrived and she went to the bottom of the stairs and shouted up the stairwell, ‘Linda, Dennis, get your arses down here now! We’ve got visitors and there’s nowhere for ’em to sit. How many bloody times do I have to tell you?’ She gave a resigned smile and threw her hands up in a gesture of despair.
Lizzie looked round the cluttered room. It was the same shape as the one they had just piled their few belongings into but Elsie had made some changes, like the wall behind the two-seater couch in the living area that was papered from floor to ceiling with pictures of film stars cut from magazines.
‘Don’t you just love him to death?’ Elsie said, making a brushing motion on the moustache on the enlarged face of Clark Gable. ‘My Linda would have been called Clark if she’d been a boy. But I had to settle for Linda Darnell. Which was just as well, I’m not sure Clark’s quite right for a kid to be saddled with round here and he’d certainly not have thanked me once he’d got to Bessie Street school.’ She gave a throaty chuckle. ‘Here, don’t mind these.’ Elsie picked up a little girl’s vest and a liberty bodice and stuffed them behind a threadbare cushion that looked as if it had been punched into a corner of the couch.
‘Sit anywhere you like,’ she said, gesturing aimlessly round the room. ‘The kids won’t care what you do with their things. They never know where anything is anyway.’ As she spoke, she swept the items from two of the chairs onto the floor before hurrying back to where the kettle had begun to whistle on the hearth. Lizzie removed the dubious remains of a knitted bunny and what was left of its fluff-ball tail from the upright chair that was closest to her and sat it down on the table, indicating that her mother, who’d taken charge of baby Sammy, should sit down.
‘Linda!’ Elsie shrieked from the scullery. ‘What have I told you about leaving that mucky old rabbit lying around? If I find it down here one more time I’m going to chuck it straight into the dustbin.’
A little girl with sandy-coloured hair wound round strips of rags, had come down the stairs and was busy putting a one-armed doll to bed under a handkerchief. At the sound of her mother’s shriek she grabbed the offending animal from the table. ‘He’s mine,’ she said, pushing the stuffing back into the rabbit’s chest, ‘and you can’t have him!’ And she abandoned the doll and bounded back up the stairs.
‘Tell that brother of yours to come down and shift his bloody things before I give ’em all to the rag ’n’ bone man,’ Elsie yelled after her. ‘Honestly. Kids!’ She turned to her visitors and shrugged in frustration.
Cora grinned her agreement. ‘Don’t let these two fool you, them looking as if butter wouldn’t melt,’ she said, indicating the twins. Elsie put down two steaming cups, not seeming to care about the new scorch rings they seared onto the table. Then she brought in her own drink and sat down to join them. There was no milk or sugar on offer.
Lizzie’s gaze was drawn to a photograph of a young couple that stood on the mantelshelf in a wooden frame. She recognized the woman as Elsie, though in the picture she looked no more than a girl. She was smartly dressed in a tailored costume and was smiling confidently into the camera. Her hair was coiffed in the latest style and she was holding a small bunch of flowers. The man was considerably taller, with broad shoulders that were made to look even wider by his double-breasted suit. He had a moustache that drooped over his scowling mouth.
‘That’s Arnold, my lumbering