Carmel was surprised when, after a very substantial tea, Jane and Sylvia elected to go back to the Bull Ring when Lois asked them what they wanted to do for the evening.
‘Is there any point?’ Carmel asked. ‘I mean, won’t everywhere be closed now?’
Sylvia laughed. ‘Not tonight,’ she said. ‘Tell you, girl, you’ve not lived till you see a Saturday night down the Bull Ring.’
Carmel wasn’t convinced. Lois had mentioned both the music hall and cinema, and Carmel would have given her right arm to see either. Though free tickets sometimes came for the probationary nurses, Carmel had always refused any invitation for she felt she hadn’t the clothes for such outings. Now though, she would have put up with the embarrassment of that to have an evening out with her special friends.
‘After all, the night is mild enough,’ Jane remarked.
‘Yeah,’ Sylvia agreed. ‘Might as well make the most of it. We can go to the pictures or music hall another time, when the weather isn’t so kind to us.’
Only Lois saw the brief flash of disappointment cover Carmel’s face. ‘Do you mind?’ she said. ‘Is that where you want to go too?’
Carmel had never had friends before. Because of the type of home she came from, she had never had anyone to link arms with and whisper confidences to, or go out to the socials at the chapel with. And she wasn’t going to risk damaging the relationship developing between her and the others by going against them now. So she said, ‘I honestly don’t care where we go. It is all new to me, don’t forget, so everywhere is an adventure.’
The dusk had deepened as they made their way back to the Bull Ring and Carmel saw that around the barrows, and in other strategic points, there were spluttering gas flares, slicing through the darkness and making the whole place look a little like a sort of fairyland, and as different from the Bull Ring in the daytime as it was possible to be. And then in the shadows cast by the lights, Carmel spied some beshawled women lurking, many with babies in their arms and surrounded by raggedy children with bare feet, arms and legs like sticks.
‘What are they doing here?’ she asked, appalled.
‘Waiting for the hawkers to virtually give the stuff away,’ Sylvia said. ‘They do that at the end of the day and those poor old buggers go home with some scrappy meat and overripe veg and look like they have won a king’s ransom.’
‘These are the real poor that I mentioned earlier,’ Lois said. ‘They are always here of a Saturday and you can just stand here all night and stare at them, which will either make them feel more ashamed, or else angry, or you can do them the dignity of pretending you see nothing amiss and come about with the rest of us.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Carmel said. ‘I never thought of it that way.’
‘Watch out!’ called Jane, who was a little way in front. ‘The stilt walkers are coming.’
The crowds parted to let past the incredibly tall men, dressed in exceedingly long black trousers, striped blazers and shiny top hats. They doffed their hats to the people, who threw money into them.
‘Just how do they do that?’ Carmel asked.
‘Who knows?’ Jane said. ‘But they’re good.’
‘Carmel, you have seen nothing yet,’ Sylvia promised.
‘Jimmy Jesus is getting up on his soap box,’ Lois called.
‘Jimmy Jesus?’
‘The old fellow with the white beard,’ Lois pointed.
‘Is that his real name?’
‘No,’ Lois said. ‘Don’t know if anyone actually knows what his real name is. But that is all I have ever heard him called, ’cos as well as the way he looks he spouts on about the Bible, you see.’
‘There’s usually some fun when the hecklers start,’ Sylvia said. ‘I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not ready for a sermon just yet a while.’
‘Me, neither,’ Jane declared. ‘Let’s take a look at the boxing.’
Carmel didn’t say, but she hated the boxing, where a big bruiser of a man challenged those in the crowds for a match. ‘Knock the champ down and you win five pounds,’ his promoter urged from the corner.
Carmel thought the champ, with his build, his beefy arms, legs like tree trunks, small, mean-looking eyes and belligerent features reminded her of her father.
‘I’m not surprised that no one has taken him up on the offer,’ she said.
There were a fair few men in the audience, but none seemed anxious to take up the challenge, though they hung about for a little while.
‘It’s early yet,’ Sylvia told her. ‘Wait till they’ve sunk a few jars in The Bell. The weediest ones will think they can take on the world then.’
‘Have anyone ever laid the champ out?’
‘Are you kidding?’ Jane said, as she steered Carmel away. ‘Do you think they would be offering five pounds if people were likely to win it? Mind you, we have seen quite a few of the challengers spread their length on the sawdust.’
‘Ugh, it’s horrible.’
The others laughed at Carmel’s queasiness, but kindly.
‘I’ll bet you’ll think this just as bad,’ Jane said, and Carmel thought that she was right for as they turned the corner, there was a man lying on a bed of nails. He had very brown and oily skin and there was a lot of it to see, for he had few clothes on, just something wrapped around his head that Lois told her was a turban and what appeared to be a giant nappy on his lower half. As the friends watched in horrified fascination, two girls stepped forward, shed their shoes, and stood one his chest and one on his abdomen. The man made no sound and he seemed not to either feel the girls’ weight, nor the nails they could clearly see were pressing into his skin.
Eventually, the girls got off and money as thrown into the bowl by the nailed bed by impressed onlookers. The man got up and came over to the nurses.
‘Any of you lot like to try? Promise I won’t look up your skirts.’
‘Carmel might fancy a go,’ Jane said with a smile at the repugnance on Carmel’s face.
‘Carmel would not—oh, no, definitely not,’ Carmel declared vehemently. ‘I think it’s just, well, just awful.’
The man shrugged as Lois pulled her away.
Carmel wasn’t that keen on the man tied in chains either, but was quite willing to stay around to see he got free in the end and was unharmed, though the others eventually got fed up.
‘He won’t even try until there is at least a pound in the hat, and that could take ages yet,’ Lois said.
‘Have you ever seen him get out?’
‘No, I haven’t personally.’
‘I have,’ Jane said. ‘But just the once.’
‘How?’ Carmel asked, for the man was trussed up like some of the chickens she had seen hanging from butchers’ stalls earlier that day.
‘I don’t know,’ Jane admitted. ‘He had a cloak around him. Didn’t take him long, I do remember that. People say it’s a swizz, but you can examine the chains and all if you want. He doesn’t mind.’
‘Well,