The Mersey Girls Read Online Free PDF Page A

‘Where d’you nick ’em?’
    Roddy grinned, not taking offence at the question though her mam, Linnet knew, would have been shocked at her rudeness. The trouble with Mammy is that she thinks Liverpool’s just like Cahersiveen, and it isn’t, Linnet thought defensively. In Cahersiveen, when Mammy was a little girl, you never stole anything, ’cos there wasn’t no need. But when you lived in rooms over a chandler’s shop three doors down from the Clock public house, you soon realised that a great many people had little choice but to take what they could when they could – and that included the kids.
    I’m lucky, though, Linnet reminded herself, blissfully sucking liquorice. My mam’s got her lovely job in the theatre so she’s hardly ever out of work, she earns good money and doesn’t blue it on drink, so I get all the food I want and decent togs, not like some. Roddy’s thin grey jersey had huge holes all over and his shirt was torn as well so you could see his bare skin in places. As for his trousers – oh well, they cover most of him, Linnet thought charitably. And he had boots, though they were pretty ancient ones, with cracked uppers and almost certainly holes in the soles. Probably, Roddy was one of a big family, whereas Linnet, as her mam often told her, was a lucky only child.
    ‘Got it legal, like,’ Roddy said in reply to her question, speaking through a mouthful of his own liquorice stick. ‘Payment for takin’ a tray of iced cakes from Peely to Havey. Me mam made ’em for a party . . . made ’em in her own time, like. So she give me a penny for delivery an’ the old gal on Havey give me the licky sticks. So it’s all square, honest to God.’
    ‘Good,’ Linnet said politely. Not that she cared. Mammy would be horrified, but Linnet knew that it was a lot easier to be honest if you had a good job and no brothers and sisters. Mammy had told her to steer clear of street kids, but that didn’t mean don’t watch them. Linnet watched, and had seen with wonder tinged with envy, that the poor kids stuck by one another even in their thieving. One kid would hoist another over the wall and into the back of the market when the stallholders had gone home, then they would share whatever spoils came their way. Another would keep cavey when a friend was after a few toffees and the resultant booty would be religiously divided. What was more, she knew that some kids would never see an orange or a liquorice stick if they didn’t prig one now and then. No point in sticking your nose in the air and coming all Holy Joe about it; so far as Linnet could see, it was all right for her to be honest, because she ate well anyway. Others were not so fortunate.
    ‘When you play out, Linnet, where d’you play?’ Roddy asked presently, as they trudged through the filthy slush which, two days ago, had been great heaps of white snow. ‘I ain’t never seen you up our way.’
    ‘No, you wouldn’t. I’m not allowed to play in the street,’ Linnet said. ‘My mam’s an actress, though, so when it’s school holidays I go to the Playhouse with her, mostly.’
    Roddy’s eyes rounded. ‘An actress! Is she famous?’
    ‘She’s Miss Evaline Murphy,’ Linnet said cautiously. She had been told to keep her mother’s identity a secret – but surely not from this friendly boy? ‘I dunno if she’s famous, but she does lovely acting, honest to God.’
    ‘Not the one wi’ the long yaller curls, the one they calls little Evie?’ Roddy said incredulously. ‘Cor, my mam saw her in a play last summer, she thought little Evie were a cracker! Blackledge’s took their workers to the theaytre instead of on a seaside trip. Ooh, she can’t be that Evie, can she?’
    ‘Yes, she’s that one,’ Linnet said proudly. ‘She’s ever so beautiful and a very good actress, too, your mam was right. She’s played all sorts . . . she’s in the panto now, you know . . . she’s the lady who gets sawed in half in the Giant’s