mother's sarcasm and spitefulness. Yet at 5 o’clock when Joe stood swaying in the doorway trying to focus his bleary eyes on his family, she found herself mouthing her mother’s words.
‘What time do you call this ? Can’t you get enough ale down your throat before chucking-out time?’
Mabel nodded in smug agreement. Aware of his mother-in-law’s never-ending disapproval Joe began to stagger around the parlour, exaggerating his drunkenness, crashing into furniture, falling to the floor. Then, holding on to Florrie’s knees for support, he hauled himself to his feet.
Curling her lip Mabel entered the fray. ‘If she had any sense she’d take my advice and chuck you out, you drunken bugger.’
‘Shut ya gob and mind your own business afore I chuck you out, you interfering two-faced bitch. Nay, wait a bit… you can’t be two-faced or you’d come out with a better face than that … or else you'd wear a paper bag o'er your head.’ He chuckled at his joke, and at the disgust and indignation on his mother-in-law’s face.
Mabel flinched at his words and reached into her handbag for her Smelling Salts, moving the small green bottle back and forth under her nose in a dramatic appeal for sympathy.
‘Well Florrie, if you think I’m gonna stand here…as ill as I am…and be insulted by an ignorant bugger like him, you’re one-off.’ She grabbed her coat and in that instant Joe’s laughter turned to rage.
‘Ill? Ill? You’re not ill enough…sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted. This is my house and my family. My wife and kids have bugger-all to do with you…see to your own house not mine . Piss off, an’ if I see ya here again I’ll chuck ya right through that bloody window.’
With the jug of milk soaring from his hand and narrowly missing her left shoulder, and his parting shot of, ‘Arseholes! Arseholes!’ ringing in her ears, Mabel fled, knowing full well that the following weekend she’d be back once more with her nose and her mouth in her daughter’s marriage.
Joe hadn’t done yet. A jar of strawberry jam hit the wall then slid to the floor mingling its broken glass with the slimy fruit.
Sobbing uncontrollably Ellen clutched her sister’s hand. Betty poked her tongue out of the corner of her mouth to catch a tear rolling down her grimy cheek and lapped up the salty liquid hoping her father wouldn’t notice. Granny Sefton was always causing bother and she was glad to see the back of her but if she started crying now she’d be of no help to her mother and Ellie. She swallowed hard and composed herself, running the back of her hand across her dripping nose.
‘Let’s play out Ellie.’ She hoped a change of subject might make everybody stop shouting but Ellen, frozen with fear, refused to move.
All at once the house was filled with the smell of Joe’s dried-up dinner over a burnt dried-up pan. Opening the back door and swearing loudly for the benefit of any neighbours within half a mile, he sent pan, plate, and dinner spinning to the far end of the yard, deliberately leaving the door wide open so that the respectable Sagars next door had no choice but to listen to his obscenities.
Florrie tried to make herself heard above the din. ‘Hey, that’s enough of that sort of language in front of the kids. Get some soap and water and wash your mouth out, you drunken bugger.’
‘Bollocks! Piss off!’ came his reply.
Past experience told her he would calm down only when he lost his audience. She helped the girls into their coats and reached for her own.
‘Aye go on, bugger off to your mam’s. You're both alike… you both piss in one pot,’ he sneered as they ran from the house.
Florrie wandered the streets with her children as she had done so many times before, but this time there was the added anxiety of the looming war. She hadn’t been affected by The Great
‘What time do you call this ? Can’t you get enough ale down your throat before chucking-out time?’
Mabel nodded in smug agreement. Aware of his mother-in-law’s never-ending disapproval Joe began to stagger around the parlour, exaggerating his drunkenness, crashing into furniture, falling to the floor. Then, holding on to Florrie’s knees for support, he hauled himself to his feet.
Curling her lip Mabel entered the fray. ‘If she had any sense she’d take my advice and chuck you out, you drunken bugger.’
‘Shut ya gob and mind your own business afore I chuck you out, you interfering two-faced bitch. Nay, wait a bit… you can’t be two-faced or you’d come out with a better face than that … or else you'd wear a paper bag o'er your head.’ He chuckled at his joke, and at the disgust and indignation on his mother-in-law’s face.
Mabel flinched at his words and reached into her handbag for her Smelling Salts, moving the small green bottle back and forth under her nose in a dramatic appeal for sympathy.
‘Well Florrie, if you think I’m gonna stand here…as ill as I am…and be insulted by an ignorant bugger like him, you’re one-off.’ She grabbed her coat and in that instant Joe’s laughter turned to rage.
‘Ill? Ill? You’re not ill enough…sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted. This is my house and my family. My wife and kids have bugger-all to do with you…see to your own house not mine . Piss off, an’ if I see ya here again I’ll chuck ya right through that bloody window.’
With the jug of milk soaring from his hand and narrowly missing her left shoulder, and his parting shot of, ‘Arseholes! Arseholes!’ ringing in her ears, Mabel fled, knowing full well that the following weekend she’d be back once more with her nose and her mouth in her daughter’s marriage.
Joe hadn’t done yet. A jar of strawberry jam hit the wall then slid to the floor mingling its broken glass with the slimy fruit.
Sobbing uncontrollably Ellen clutched her sister’s hand. Betty poked her tongue out of the corner of her mouth to catch a tear rolling down her grimy cheek and lapped up the salty liquid hoping her father wouldn’t notice. Granny Sefton was always causing bother and she was glad to see the back of her but if she started crying now she’d be of no help to her mother and Ellie. She swallowed hard and composed herself, running the back of her hand across her dripping nose.
‘Let’s play out Ellie.’ She hoped a change of subject might make everybody stop shouting but Ellen, frozen with fear, refused to move.
All at once the house was filled with the smell of Joe’s dried-up dinner over a burnt dried-up pan. Opening the back door and swearing loudly for the benefit of any neighbours within half a mile, he sent pan, plate, and dinner spinning to the far end of the yard, deliberately leaving the door wide open so that the respectable Sagars next door had no choice but to listen to his obscenities.
Florrie tried to make herself heard above the din. ‘Hey, that’s enough of that sort of language in front of the kids. Get some soap and water and wash your mouth out, you drunken bugger.’
‘Bollocks! Piss off!’ came his reply.
Past experience told her he would calm down only when he lost his audience. She helped the girls into their coats and reached for her own.
‘Aye go on, bugger off to your mam’s. You're both alike… you both piss in one pot,’ he sneered as they ran from the house.
Florrie wandered the streets with her children as she had done so many times before, but this time there was the added anxiety of the looming war. She hadn’t been affected by The Great
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