Chapter 69: More Lodgers

A brass shoulder title for the Non Combatant Corps

Life was always changing for some of the family. Margaret had done what she'd promised and packed in her job at the pub. Her brother Tom was in the Army and had gone abroad to Egypt. Gary and Dennis had been captured by the Japanese in South East Asia. There was no news of their plight.

Gary, wherever he was, had no idea that he was a father. Joyce had a little baby girl. She called her Margaret and Margaret Watson was her godmother.

"Why Joyce, that's lovely of you. I'm really touched," her friend said, when she was asked to go to the Christening, in Morecambe.

Marrying and having the baby had calmed Joyce down. She still had Talent Nights, in the pub but she never performed her Marlene Dietrich act any more. She had no new boy friends and remained faithful to her young, absent husband.

She had managed to buy a big, posh, second-hand pram and one of her chief joys was to walk the promenade with her baby. She remained a flashy dresser and progressed along the seafront in her high heels and short skirt, her bleached hair blowing in the breeze and her hips swaying.

One day, a passing squad of Airmen marching along the road was given the order by a drill corporal with a sense of humour, "Eyes left!" The men's heads swung to their left and they all stared at Joyce.

"Squad! Whistle!" commanded the NCO. All the men whistled. Joyce waved to them and carried on pushing her pram.
"Eyes front!" shouted the corporal.

Margaret was paid by her two friends to do some of their housework. Neither of the two women really needed her help but both of their husbands had agreed it was a good way to help the hard-up Watsons.

The war had made no difference to Jack Matthews's and Mr Martin's earnings. Both brought good money into the house. Jack had his private income, much of which he was still giving away to what he considered to be worthy causes. They were not the only ones with money to spare. Apart from those in the Forces, increased wages and salaries were more than adequate for the necessities of life and many families had spare money. Some was used to help the war effort, by investing in National Savings.

Margaret had a number of short-stay lodgers. Michael and Gwyn were forever changing rooms or giving them up and sleeping on the floor in Margaret's room.

A Mr and Mrs Routledge stayed for six weeks. They were Quakers and he was in the Non Combatant Corps. There was a brass badge on the shoulder of his uniform - 'N.C.C.' He was attached to the Army Pay Corps, in Lancaster. Mrs Routledge and their little baby followed him wherever he was posted.

Gwyn loved the baby and took every opportunity to help Mrs Routledge. Best of all, she liked helping give Therese a bath and being allowed to hold her, while Mrs Routledge prepared her bottle.

Michael was influenced by Rob's comment, "They're Conchies. You've got yellow bellies staying at your house." He didn't like Mr Routledge because of what Rob said.

Margaret wasn't too keen on Mrs Routledge, either. It's never easy for two women to share the same kitchen. And Margaret was envious and irritated by the amount and variety of food the other woman was able to prepare. They were middle-class and, what was worse, came from down South and had snooty accents.

"It's her mother who sends her the food parcels," Margaret told Sheila. "You'd never know there was a war on, seeing what she has."

"Black market stuff, I expect," said Sheila.
"Never gives me any of it!" Margaret moaned. "Not a jar of jam or a sweet for the children! Mean as muck she is. And supposed to be religious!"

They moved away from the Watsons, when local friends, who they'd met at the local Friends' Meeting House, offered them more spacious accommodation.

The Murdles only stayed a month. There was a Mrs Murdle and two boys who Michael liked. They slept on the second big- bedroom's floor, in the same room as their mother. Like the Routledges, they used the sitting-room as their living room. This meant Michael could keep the small bedroom.

They were Scots. Michael could hardly understand what they said because of their broad Glasgow accents. They went to Ryelands School with Michael. They were in the same class and Rob let them join the Gang.

Margaret never knew what the Murdles were doing in Lancaster. No husband was ever mentioned. The mother wasn't doing war work. Mrs Murdle was quite lumpy but she was an attractive young woman.

The two women didn't talk to each other very much. There was a suggestion of controlled aggression about the Scotswoman which made Margaret wary. Her eyes flashed when she told her two boys off usually about a complaint Margaret had made concerning their behaviour.

They often peed on the toilet seat, wiped jammy hands on the cushions and tramped dirt into the house on their shoes, which they never wiped on the doormat. In many respects, they were perfectly normal boys!

Margaret feared for her good furniture. She dare not reprimand the lads herself. She moaned to their mother and made sure that she should kept them in line.

Margaret's rules had to be obeyed. Finally, the two women had a row when Margaret accused her of leaving the electric light on unnecessarily during the day and of wasting gas.

"You're tighter than a tic," said Mrs Miller.
"I don't like your common ways," Margaret replied.
"Oh don't you Miss Snooty Bitch! And what's common about me then?"
"You gave Michael a biscuit to eat in the street. I don't let him eat outside."
"Oh, and that's what you think's common is it?"
"I do."
"Well I think you're stupid. Just plain stupid!"
"I'll have to give you a week's notice."
"Don't worry, we'll be off tomorrow."

Michael had liked the Murdles. Rob had approved of the boys and said he'd miss them. "They weren't softies. They were a couple of good lads."

Mr and Mrs Steward were ideal lodgers. They stayed six months and only moved when Mrs Steward found out that Mr Steward was having an affair with a woman at work.

They were a jolly, middle-aged couple and both looked like playful porpoises. Mr Steward always had a joke with Michael and sometimes invited the children into the sitting-room which they were occupying. Mrs Steward liked doing jig-saw puzzles and let Gwyn help her. "You are a clever girl. I would never have found that piece."

Mr Steward liked kids' comics and he used to lend some to Michael to read. "Look at this," he'd say to Michael, pointing to a cartoon strip and shaking with laughter. "It's a good one isn't it?" He was like a big, fat mischievous boy.

When Michael's Beano was delivered, Mr Steward would race Michael into the hall and to the letter box. He'd try to be the first there, to pick it up from the carpet and read it. It was a game every week. He was only teasing Michael, and always let him have his comic back.

They both worked at the ICI, near Heysham. He was too old to go in the Forces but had been drafted to Lancaster from Skipton, to do essential war work He'd found Mrs Steward a job there too.

After they left, Mrs Steward used to visit every few weeks. She'd weep and dab her eyes with a tiny handkerchief which smelled of lavender. She would tell Margaret, again and again, all the lurid details of Mr Steward's love life, with " that skinny bitch, Mavis Popplewell, who looks like Popeye's Olive Oil!"

He heard so many "Eees!" and Oose!" coming out of his Mam's mouth, Michael thought she was becoming like his Nan's neighbour. She certainly enjoyed the gossip.

"I'd never have believed it of him," Margaret told her friend, Sheila. "He seemed to be such a homely man. They were such a devoted couple. It just shows, you never can tell with folk!"

Sheila expressed her feelings in one emphatic word.

"Men!"