‘Oh, that,’ Bob said, with a disparaging wave of his hand. ‘I’m doing my own thing, here.’ Annie nevertheless went on to explain about the street party.
‘Well, I have no such laudable intentions,’ Bob said with a grin. ‘So if the street wants a party, feel free to organize one.’
They glared at each other for a moment. ‘However …’ An unctuous smile spread across Bob’s face. ‘I might be able to do you a favour.’
‘Oh?’ Annie said.
‘I could supply you with most of the food at a price you won’t be able to get anywhere else.’
Annie stiffened, not sure what to make of the generous-sounding offer, not sure if she could trust him. She was aware that he had not taken his steely grey eyes off her face though she was unable to read his expression.
‘I can assure you,’ Bob said, ‘you won’t get a better deal anywhere in the county.’
Annie thought for a moment. ‘I’ll inform the organizing committee as they’ll be responsible for the food,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell them to contact you, but I doubt they’ll need any of your help, they’re a well-oiled machine.’ In her mind, Annie tried to square this statement with the thought of Elsie lounging around the bar at the Rovers with a fag in her mouth.
‘Then I shall look forward to doing business with the esteemed ladies of Coronation Street,’ Bob said. ‘And perhaps, while we’re talking business, I could offer the services of some of my working colleagues who specialize in security?’
‘Security?’ Annie was puzzled.
Bob shrugged. ‘You never know when security guards might be needed these days, particularly when there’s going to be large crowds and alcohol flowing – a heady mix.’
Annie’s brows shot up. ‘I don’t know where you lived before, Mr Bennett,’ she said, her voice dripping with scorn, ‘but may I remind you that this is Coronation Street we’re talking about, and I certainly don’t anticipate the need for security guards at a Weatherfield street party.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Bob said. ‘That will free them up to cover the special cabaret night we’re planning for VE night, when we’ll no doubt have another full house.’ Bob had so far ignored the tea and now he leaned across the table and helped himself to a digestive biscuit from the plate. ‘So, if that’s everything, then you’ll have to excuse me as I have some rather pressing business to attend to.’ He stood up. ‘No doubt our paths will cross again.’
Annie still felt cross about Bob Bennett’s brusqueness as she sketched an outline of her visit to the Pride later that evening when she was alone with Gracie but she was determined to waste no time in putting together a list of regulars they might approach to become part of the organizing committee for the eventual VE street party.
‘Security guards, indeed!’ Annie snapped. ‘Where does he think he’s living?’
‘All we have to do is involve Mrs Sharples and there’ll be no need for any kind of security guards!’ Gracie laughed and even Annie allowed a smile to play on her lips.
‘Just as well, for I don’t see how we could have a Coronation Street committee that didn’t involve Ena Sharples, do you?’ she said.
Gracie laughed again. ‘Fat chance. And she’ll no doubt want to include Minnie Caldwell and Martha Longhurst as well.’
‘So, what about adding Ida Barlow?’ Annie suggested. ‘Not much gets past her and I think she’d be very conscientious.’
‘And then there’s Elsie Foyle from the corner shop. She should know about the catering side of things if anybody does,’ Gracie said. ‘Though I imagine that once the war is officially over, food will become more readily available.’
‘I wouldn’t bank on it,’ Annie said. ‘They’ve been talking about the possibility of lots more things becoming scarce in the coming months, even after the war ends.’
‘Then all the more reason to have Mrs Foyle. Hopefully, she’ll have better access than most to whatever supplies are available.’ Gracie laughed. ‘And whether or not she decides to take up Bob Bennett’s offer will be up to her.’ She gave a mischievous grin. ‘And what about Elsie Tanner?’
‘What about her?’ Annie swallowed hard, her jaw set firm.
‘I know she’s not your favourite person, but you’ve got to admit she is extremely resourceful and would be an asset to any such committee.’
‘Is that what they call it?’ Annie said, drawing her lips into a thin line, though she did grudgingly add Elsie’s name to the list.
Steve Carter stood outside the Rovers Return, thinking how much better it would look with a fresh coat of paint. It was not what he had imagined when Jack Walker, who had served with him in the Fusiliers, talked about the local pub he ran with his wife in Weatherfield. Perhaps painting the outside was something he could offer to do almost immediately, something that would endear him to Mrs Walker in case Jack’s recommendation wasn’t enough.
Despite having walked a long way from the tram, he was early for his appointment, so he continued slowly up the street and back again checking out the neighbourhood. He was trying not to limp or show any sign of weakness, determined to ignore the dull ache that was plaguing him today in his injured leg. He took every opportunity to exercise his leg as he still marvelled at the fact that he could walk at all, the doctors in the battlefield hospital having told him he never would. On his return home from the front, he’d battled his way through a vigorous rehabilitation programme, determined to prove them wrong, and here he was, managing well enough, even though there were still dark days when the pain made it difficult for him to cope.
Jack had visited him in the field hospital on several occasions after the Jeep Steve had been driving had overturned, badly injuring his leg. When Steve had eventually heard he was being repatriated and invalided out of the army he could hardly believe his luck when Jack suggested he contact his wife Annie regarding a possible job in the pub they ran together.
‘How can I ever repay you?’ Steve asked.
‘By working hard,’ Jack said and chuckled. ‘You’ll be making life a bloomin’ sight easier for me when I finally get out of this hellhole.’
‘Let’s hope that won’t be too long. Sorry I’m leaving you behind to do the mopping up.’
‘Never you mind that, now. You’re only … how old are you, lad? Twenty-five, twenty-six?’
‘Actually, I’m twenty-eight,’ Steve corrected him.
‘Still pretty young in my book,’ Jack said, ‘and thankfully still with your whole life ahead of you. All I’m doing is offering you a leg up, so to speak.’ He grinned at his own wit. ‘Look at it this way, you’ll be ahead of the game in the job market if you get back to civvy street before the rest of us. So it’s up to you to make the most of it.’
It hadn’t taken much more persuading for Jack to convince him to try his luck at the Rovers and Steve was extremely grateful for the offer. He’d been thinking about his future while he was in hospital almost from the moment he’d come out of his coma and he was determined not to let his injury hold him back from the career he’d always wanted. Accepting Jack’s offer would take him one step closer to his dream of one day tenanting a smart country pub.
As soon as he felt fit enough when his rehab programme was over, he telephoned Annie Walker to declare his interest and explain who he was. He was surprised at how posh her voice was – it sounded very far removed from Jack’s down-to-earth accent. But he had to admit that, even during their brief conversation, she did sound every bit as Jack had hinted: a strong woman with a mind of her own.
Steve