Christmas on Coronation Street: The perfect Christmas read

Chapter 5

Stan had intended to see Elsie safely home after her first successful night in the pub. Apart from anything, he fancied her and thought he might be in with a chance, as he’d been so helpful and actually found her the job. But instead, when the noisy crowd of young lads and men who had invaded the pub were preparing to leave, he grabbed his jacket and slipped out with them. He was keen to latch on to the newly enlisted soldier. The lad said he’d come to say goodbye to his family as he was off to war the next day and Stan, who’d been thinking of joining up himself, desperately wanted to grab the opportunity to find out more.

‘Which way are you walking?’ he asked. When the lad told him, Stan suggested they walk together since he was going that way too. In truth, his home was in the opposite direction, but he had endless questions to ask and the lad seemed only too eager to answer them. They walked for quite some time, but Stan was too busy chatting to pay any attention to where they were going. So engrossed was he in the stories the young soldier had to tell about his recent experiences, they’d reached the lad’s house without Stan realizing how far out of his way he had gone. He didn’t want to admit how long it would take him to walk home, so he waved goodbye and waited for the lad to let himself into the house before turning around and walking home. But he didn’t mind the walk, even though it turned out to be several miles. It enabled him to clear his head, mull things over and consider again the decision he had made almost as soon as he had first met the young soldier.

By the time he was back in Weatherfield, Stan was certain he knew exactly what he was going to do. He too was going to volunteer to fight in the Spanish Civil War. This wasn’t the first time he had heard about it, but it was the first time he had met someone who had actually enlisted. The previous year a mate had persuaded him to go to a summer camp run by the Labour League of Youth. He knew it was something his dad would have approved of if he’d still been alive as he’d been a keen supporter of the Labour Party. So, Stan hadn’t taken much persuading. And he’d been pleased with his decision. All the lads he met there were working class like him and they turned out to be a great bunch. Mostly, it had been a good laugh, but things had turned serious when they got to talking about the latest war in Europe. It seemed that in Spain the democratically elected Republicans were being threatened by Francisco Franco and his gang of fascists. With Adolf Hitler supporting Franco, the Republicans needed as much help as they could get to stop the fascists taking over. The International Brigade was recruiting soldiers from all over the world and although the English government was against young Brits signing up, many of the lads at the camp were determined to go. The stories Stan had heard there were enough to convince him it was the right thing to do. Besides, it sounded exciting, a chance to make his mark on the world. What’s more, he reckoned he could make far more money fighting for a good cause than he could ever earn collecting dead glasses in a crummy bar in Weatherfield.

Stan had always considered himself a bit of a warrior and a chancer, though in fact his biggest adventure to date had been a day trip to Glossop. But fighting in a foreign country, even for a cause he didn’t fully understand, sounded thrilling. From the first moment, he was enchanted by the notion of going to Spain. He was already imagining the stories he would be able to tell when he eventually came home a hero, and the thought of impressing Elsie wasn’t far from his mind either. It didn’t trouble him in the slightest that he wasn’t sure how to get down to London, where the soldier had said he would find the recruiting office for volunteers.

Elsie saw Stan again sooner than she’d expected. Early the next morning as she came out of the front door ready to go to work, she was surprised to find him leaning against the wall, one foot flat against the brickwork. The window beside him was so grimy it was impossible to see in or out. Casting an anxious glance over her shoulder, Elsie was relieved to see that she was the first one up and out of the house as usual. If for once her father had been up and about, he would have had a mouthful to say about a lad sniffing around at that hour of the morning.

‘What are you doing here so early?’ she said. ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’ She treated him to one of her teasing smiles. ‘Nice of you to want to walk me to work, but it’s only just down the road, you know. By the time you’ve said, “How do you do?” we’ll be there.’

Stan grinned. ‘I know.’ He lifted his cap to flick the straying lock of hair underneath it, then jammed it back down again. ‘I wanted to see you.’

‘You’ll be seeing me soon enough at the pub tonight. Can’t it wait?’

‘No, it can’t. But don’t fret. It won’t take a minute. Shall we just nip down the side so no one can see us?’

At this Elsie giggled. ‘Why? What are you planning on doing? Isn’t it a bit early in the morning for that?’ She was surprised to see him blush.

‘It’s nothing like that. I want to tell you summat, and it’s a secret.’

‘Well, that’s all very flattering. Thank you very much. But I daren’t be late for clocking on or they’ll be docking me wages. They use any excuse they can get, you must know that.’

‘Aye, I do. They’re all the piggin’ same, the bosses.’

They scurried to the end of the James’s house next door at number 20, and Elsie leaned up against the wall in what she thought was a provocative pose. But he didn’t seem to notice.

‘Well?’ she said. ‘I’m waiting.’ She was aware of the minutes ticking by. ‘Spit it out.’

‘Can you keep a secret?’ Stan looked suddenly agitated and Elsie felt a tingle down her spine. What was this about?

‘Of course I can,’ she said. ‘What kind of secret is it anyway?’

He hesitated before blurting out, ‘I’m going off to war.’

Elsie was puzzled. ‘But there is no war. Not yet, at any road. And there may not—’

‘Not that war,’ he cut in. ‘The civil war in Spain.’

‘Oh.’ Not wanting to admit she wasn’t sure of the difference, she nodded as if she knew all about it and then said, ‘Why?’

‘Because we have to stop the bloody fascists from taking over the country.’

‘I see,’ she said, though she wasn’t sure she did. ‘But why do you have to go? Spain’s a heck of a long way. Haven’t they got enough men in their own army?’

‘No. Not now that people like Hitler have muscled in. They need help or the next thing we know those fascist buggers will be running all over the shop here, too.’

‘It doesn’t sound right that you have to go all that way to fight someone else’s war.’

‘Actually, there’s men going to fight from all over the world.’

Elsie was flummoxed. She was only just getting to know Stan Walsh as she’d heard one of the regulars call him. So far she liked what she saw. She certainly didn’t like the idea of him buggering off to Spain to fight in some war. Who knew what might happen. He might never come back. ‘So what does your mam have to say about all this?’ she said.

‘I haven’t said owt to her. I told you: it’s a secret.’

Elsie frowned. ‘Don’t you think we’ve got enough problems here in Weatherfield, without the likes of you waltzing off to Spain.’

‘But it’s important that Franco is stopped.’ Stan was adamant.

‘Well, that’s all very well. But why do you need to get involved? And what if Hitler takes a fancy to coming on to us? Don’t you think you’ll be needed here?’

Stan looked thoughtful. ‘I can see what you mean, but …’ He looked uncertain.

Elsie moved away from the wall, preparing to leave. ‘Look, I haven’t got time to stand here arguing the toss. I’ve got to get to work.’

‘I know, I’m sorry.’ Stan took off his cap and raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I just wanted you to know what I was thinking, that’s all.’ Stan lowered his eyes. ‘I shan’t be telling anyone else.’

‘I see.’ Elsie didn’t know what to say. ‘Well, thanks for telling me.’

‘So, I’ll see you at the pub tonight?’ His voice was eager.

Elsie liked that. She nodded. ‘Right.’

‘And you won’t tell anyone what we talked about?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Only I don’t want Mr Harehill to know what I’m planning.’

‘You’ve no need to worry. He won’t hear it from me,’ she said. She started to walk away but Stan caught hold of her by the shoulders. He leaned forward with pouted lips, but Elsie had turned her head so he ended up pecking her on the cheek.

‘Thanks, Else. I’ll see you tonight then.’ He turned to go. ‘And don’t forget: mum’s the word.’ He put his finger to his lips and disappeared while Elsie had to run all the way down the road to reach the factory gates on time.

Chapter 6

It was exhausting being rushed off her feet at the Butcher’s Arms, particularly after a long shift at the factory, but Elsie enjoyed working alongside Stan. As Mr Harehill had predicted, Christmas was a particularly busy time, but it was also a time when customers were more generous than usual with their tips. In the privacy of the bedroom, when she was sure none of the other occupants were around, Elsie was gratified to see her small stash of money was steadily mounting as she carefully checked it on a Saturday night. She shared knowledge of the contents of the old biscuit tin with nobody. Not even Fay. And she made certain never to touch it if any of her sisters were around. She was looking forward to the day when she would have enough to buy her first present for herself. It would have to be something new. That would make it very special and it would be her very own. She dreamed of having her first proper lipstick.

Although she saw Stan every day, they never had time for more than a bit of playful banter as they were flying about clearing and refilling the glasses. Mr Harehill didn’t encourage what he called ‘chattering’ among the staff, and most nights she left before Stan did, so he couldn’t even walk her home. But there was something comforting about him just being there that gave her a warm glowing feeling inside. She was considering hanging around after her shift now and again so they could have the chance for a chat, but before she had a chance to act on it, she was surprised one night, a few days before her birthday, to find Stan had come in search of her.

Elsie and the other workers at the factory came out of work late that day as they’d been asked to put in an extra shift. Things were changing in the factory and rumour had it they would all be expected to do different kinds of work soon, though nobody knew quite what that meant. It was as if, despite all the optimism that was in the air, the country was still preparing for war.

As always, Elsie came out arm and arm with her friend Aggie and they said goodbye at the gate. Then as she turned to head for home, she felt someone tug at her sleeve.

‘Stop messing about, will you – let go of me,’ she snapped, thinking it was one of the ragamuffins who hung around the factory gates. They loved to plague the life out of the young workers, waiting with their hands out and pleading for spare change in their pitiful, whining voices. She turned round testily, ready to give the little so-and-so a telling off, for she was tired and ready to go home. But to her surprise, she came face to face with Stan.

‘Hello,’ he said, touching his cap as she’d seen him do before.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she asked.

‘Waiting for you,’ he said. ‘I assumed you still worked here. I thought I’d come and look for you.’

‘Well, you didn’t have to look far.’ Elsie grinned. She was pleased to see him, but then began to worry that something might be wrong. ‘Is anything up?’ she said.

He shrugged. ‘Nowt much.’ He paused. ‘I wanted to tell you I got a promotion.’

‘What, at the Butcher’s?’

He nodded.

Elsie’s jaw dropped. ‘When was that then?’

‘This dinner time.’

‘How did you manage to get that stingy bugger to agree?’

‘Fancy a bit of a walk? Come with me and I’ll tell you.’

Twilight had given way to darkness as they’d been standing and everyone else had suddenly disappeared. Only the nightwatchman was left, and he was busy fixing a sturdy padlock on to the factory’s wrought-iron gates.

‘Which way?’ Elsie asked.

‘How about we go to the Field?’

‘All right.’ Elsie was sure Fay would cover for her at teatime. She felt him fumble in the darkness for her hand. He put it with his into his coat pocket. It gave her quite a thrill and made her think twice about commenting on the hole she could feel in the pocket lining.

‘What’s your promotion then?’ Elsie asked.

‘I’ll be taking over Phil’s job.’

‘Wow! How did that happen?’

‘Till was a bob short. Old Hairy accused him of pinching. There was the heck of a row, then he told him to go. Straight up. No explanations. No second chance.’

‘Had he really nicked owt?’ Elsie wanted to know. ‘I didn’t think Phil was like that.’

‘No, I don’t think he is. Kept swearing he hadn’t touched anything, but Hairy didn’t give him a chance. You know what he’s like about that cash register.’

‘He’d take it to bed with him if he could.’ Elsie giggled. ‘Don’t tell me the mean bugger’s going to trust you to use the till.’

‘Not yet. He said I’d have to prove myself first. But that’s OK. I don’t want ever to be accused of anything. He can have it all to himself, for all I care. Less work for me. But he has agreed to upping me wages.’

‘Well done. That’s great. Did you have to beg?’

‘No more than usual.’

‘Then he must like you, is all I can say,’ she teased.

They had come to the flickering gas light at the end of the row of the houses. Beyond was the wasteland they knew as the Field. Elsie’s favourite upturned bucket seemed to have disappeared and there was nowhere for either of them to sit. Stan propped himself up against the end wall of the terrace and pulled Elsie towards him.

‘I first met you here, didn’t I?’ he said.

She nodded. ‘And then you saw me here the second time, the night I followed you to the pub.’

‘I remember,’ he said. ‘You shouted something to me, but I was in such a hurry I didn’t even realize you were following me.’

‘It was thanks to you I got that job. He never would have believed I was eighteen if it hadn’t been for you. But I’ve always wondered: how did you know my name?’

Stan’s lips twisted into a smile and he tapped the side of his nose with his finger.

‘Ah, that’s not fair,’ she complained. ‘Go on, tell me, I really want to know.’

‘No big mystery. After seeing you the first time, I asked one of your mates from the factory who you were. They told me your name.’

Elsie laughed. ‘Simple as that!’ But she did feel flattered. Her instincts about this lad were serving her well. She didn’t have long to dwell on the thought, though, because Stan put his hand up behind her head and pulled her face towards his. Then he kissed her full on the lips. At first, Elsie was surprised. Then she relaxed as she felt his mouth, fleshy and warm against hers. She responded to the stiffness of his tongue as he explored her mouth. This felt different from most of the boys she had kissed before. This felt really grown-up. They stood for a few minutes, holding each other, gently kissing. Then the light drizzle that had begun as soon as they started walking turned into a heavy downpour. Elsie pulled her thin coat tightly around her, but her hair began to drip into her eyes and she couldn’t stop shivering.

‘Bugger!’ Stan said. ‘What a bloody nuisance. I suppose we can’t just stand here and get wet.’

‘Too late,’ Elsie said, putting her hand to her already bedraggled hair. ‘I reckon I’d best get on home.’

‘I’ll walk you back,’ Stan offered. ‘Maybe it’ll stop.’

‘Yes, and pigs might fly!’ Elsie laughed, as they set off at a brisk pace.

Stan reached for her hand and held it in his, although this time he didn’t try to put it into his pocket. ‘Do you fancy going out on Sunday?’ he asked.

‘Out? What, like together?’

‘Yes, of course together.’

‘Where to?’

‘I dunno. I could meet you by the factory gate after dinner. We can go for a walk. I’ll think of somewhere to go by then.’

Elsie hesitated, then she said quietly, ‘It’s me birthday on Sunday. I’ve never been out on me birthday before.’ She wasn’t sure why she had told him that.

‘Well, in that case you can’t say no.’

Overcome by a sudden shyness, Elsie smiled.

‘Tell you what – can you ride a bike?’ Stan asked.

‘A bike? I don’t know as I’ve ever tried. But I’ve not got one anyway, so it makes no difference.’

‘No, but I’ve got one and I can lend you me brother Charlie’s. I bet I could soon teach you to ride.’

Elsie frowned, not sure if he was being serious. Riding a bike wasn’t something she’d ever thought of doing. Not recently, at any rate; she had longed to have a go when she was a kid. Fay had once found a tricycle on the tip. It didn’t have a seat and the handlebars were a bit wonky, but they had taken turns to ride it standing up while desperately trying to steer. She had ended up with the bike on top of her when it had tipped over as she tried to turn a corner, and that was the end of it. Since then, she had never attempted to ride again. She certainly had never tried on a real bike that only had two wheels.

‘We could go out on to the moors,’ Stan said.

Elsie hesitated, considering his suggestion, but he was persistent. ‘Tell you what, if you want to meet me tomorrow I could teach you to ride in no time. I’ll keep hold of the seat till you get the hang of it. It won’t take long, I’m sure.’

Elsie wasn’t at all sure, but she was willing to give it a go. It would be exciting to do something special for her birthday.

‘Do you know Coronation Street?’ Stan asked.

Elsie did know it. Coronation Street wasn’t that far from Back Gas Street, but they might as well have been on opposite poles they were so different. Coronation Street was a tidy row of neat terraces that had been built to house the workers from the old Hardcastle mill, which had long since shut and was now the raincoat factory. The residents who lived there now were ordinary working folk, just like she was, but Coronation Street had a proud air about it, everyone seeming to sense they were lucky to live there. It was very different from the squalid slums that were all she knew.