A Tale Of Two Biddies

© 2013 David Jasmin-Green

“Bloody kids of today,” Edna Williams complained to her old friend Joan Jones. They were standing in the nine thirty blue rinse queue at the bus stop, and a gang of youths in designer label hoodies and tracksuit bottoms sped past on skateboards screaming the word 'fossils' over and over again at the top of their voices. “They ain't got no respect, none whatsoever, especially for their elders. Mind you, they're dragged up nowadays; if their mums and dads are bozos I guess they automatically become bozos too – it's a vicious circle, an' the only solution is to bring back corporal punishment an' national service. I don't know what the world's coming to, I really don't. What if they'd knocked us all over, a row of fragile old ladies an' gents? We'd 'ave gone down like dominoes.....”

“Oh, shut up, you miserable old biddy,” Joan replied. “What you don't seem to remember is that I went to school with you, Edna Williams, formerly Edna Scroggins - we grew up in the same street, Paradise bloody Row, an' we were a damned sight worse than this lot when we were their age. You were, any'ow, I wasn't so bad.”

“Fuck off! You might 'ave been worse than these mindless 'oodlums, but I was a proper little angel, me.”

“Fuck off! What about when you used to 'ide behind old Mrs. Dunn's privet and chuck bricks through 'er winders?”

“That was you, you cheeky old bint! You used to dare me to do it, but I always chickened out at the last minute and legged it as quick as I don't know what - you were the one 'oo chucked all the bricks.”

“Fuck off, Edna, you used to blame me for everyfink, but you was the bloody devil out of the two of us. What about when we were playing at the bottom of your garden and you lobbed that 'alf brick over the 'awthorn 'edge when you saw Melvin Cresswell runnin' back from the paper shop with 'is dad's twenty Woodbine an' Daily Mirror? Providence wasn't on 'is side that day, 'cos by some fluke you bounced the brick off 'is noggin, it fractured 'is skull an' damn nearly scalped the poor kid. 'E 'ad to 'ave an 'undred odd stitches, there was blood everywhere..... Luckily Melvin 'ad no idea where the brick came from, 'cos you and me were 'idin' for the next two 'ours in our secret camp in the long grass. 'Serves 'im right for bein' a fat, useless ginger bastard 'oo's 'ead is so big I couldn't 'ave missed it if I threw the brick in the opposite direction,' you said.”

“Fuck off, that wasn't me, that was Edith, your soddin' sister.”

“Was it bollocks – it was fuckin' you! 'Ave you got Senile Dementia or Ambleheimer's disease, or what? My sister wasn't even there, she was at Bloxwich baths with 'er mates. Anyway, you shouldn't speak ill of the dead.”

“Sorry, I forgot that Edith 'as passed on, God rest 'er soul. What about when we used to wonder why the vulture, old Mrs. Dunn, always carried that 'uge 'andbag with 'er everywhere, even if she was only goin' to the corner shop a few doors from 'er 'ouse? The rumour was that she carried 'er life savings with 'er, an' it was millions an' squillions of quids, even though she was a scruffy old bleeder 'oo was always scrimpin' an' savin' an' didn't seem to 'ave two 'a'pennies to rub together.”

“Yeah, I remember it well. One day, I think we were about twelve, we followed the vulture to the butchers. It was 'Alloween, an' you put on the rubber Donald Duck mask that your mum bought you 'cos the Co-op 'ad run out of devil an' witch masks. You did a runner with the old woman's bag when she left it on the counter while she put 'er bacon an' sausages away - screamed bloody murder, she did.”

“Fuck off, that was you!”

“It was fuckin' you, Edna, an' you bloody well know it. We ran around the block faster than Daley Thomkins an' went an' 'id in the lilac bushes on that patch of wasteland next to my 'ouse. As soon as we got our breath back and plucked up the courage we opened the bag despite all the sirens as the cop cars whizzed around the estate. There were five or six great wads of twenty and fifty pound notes with elastic bands around 'em in a plastic bag under the old bird's 'at an' scarf. At first we were too scared to touch it, but eventually we counted it an' there was nearly six thousand quid, which was an awful lot of money in them days. Rumour 'ad it that Mrs. Dunn's 'usband, 'oo died a few months previously, was an unlicensed bookie, an' she thought if she took the cash to the bank the coppers would confiscate it as immoral earnin's.”

“We 'id the bag under a pile of bricks, intendin' to get it back after the fuss died down, but the fuss didn't die down as quickly as we'd 'ave liked. There were coppers bloody everywhere – they were knockin' on doors askin' all the kids questions. We were playin' in the bushes at the time, I told you to say. Luckily we were both wearin' jeans at the time of the robbery, so us two little girls escaped suspicion..... A couple of days later we 'id the bag at the back of your dad's shed under a pile of rusty old tools. Three sleepless nights later, as soon as it went dark you went be'ind my back – you put the 'andbag on the vulture's doorstep, rapped on 'er door 'as 'ard as you could an' bloody scarpered. You couldn't cope with the guilt, Joan, you whingein' fuckin' coward. Think what we could 'ave done with all that lovely money! We could 'ave invested it in an oilfield or a South African diamond mine or somethin' an' been set up for life.”

“I was brought up to be a good 'un unfortunately, Edna. I couldn't live with m'self knowin' I'd done that poor old woman out of 'er money, vulture or not, regardless of whether it was ill-gotten gains. You were brought up pretty decent too as I remember, only you decided that the path of righteousness wasn't paved with enough gold for your bloody likin', so you decided on bein' a wrong 'un. I prayed for your soul every night, 'opin' to God you'd mend your ways, but did you fuck.....”

“What do you mean by that, you mean old git?”

“When you were fourteen you copped off with Johnny Arblaster, the youngest lad of the most notorious criminal family on the estate – the Blakenall Mafia, everybody called 'em. Within a couple of weeks 'e 'ad you shopliftin' expensive gear to order for 'im to sell in the local pubs. 'E was nearly twenty, the dirty fuckin' cradle snatchin' paedo, but you thought 'e was great 'cos 'e always 'ad loads of money to chuck around.”

“Fuck off, Johnny was a lovely boy! An' I did all the chasin', believe me.”

“I know you did, you dirty little slapper. You were preggers by the time you were fifteen, an' your mum and dad sent you to your aunt an' uncle's 'ouse in Newport until you gave birth 'cos of the shame. Your twins were brought up by your parents as your baby brothers, even though your mother was sixty five. An' to top it all those kids weren't Johnny's, no way on this Earth – they were mixed race, an' the only black man on the estate in them days was Leroy, the ice-cream man, an' 'e 'ad to be older than your fuckin' dad.”

“They weren't mixed race, you friggin' liar! Johnny was 'alf Italian, an' all the men in 'is family 'ad a nice tan an' lovely black curly 'air. Ronnie an' Reggie just in'erited Johnny's dark good looks. An' Leroy wasn't older'n me dad at all, you cheeky tart, 'e was forty six.....”

“I wonder 'oo's idea it was to call the sprogs Ronnie an' Reggie?”

“It was Johnny's, of course, 'is family were related to the Krays, or so 'e said, that was long before they were wrongfully imprisoned.”

“Wrongfully imprisoned? Fuck off, they were murderin' swine!”

“Oh, 'ere's me bus – forty soddin' minutes I've been standin' 'ere. Are you goin' to Wolver'ampton, Joan?”

“Naah, I'm waitin' for the Bilston bus, I'm goin' for a walk round the market an' then I'm goin' to me daughter's 'ouse for tea.”

“Ooh, lovely. 'Ow's your, um, digestive problems, by the way – I forgot to ask, what with all our 'appy reminiscin'.”

“Ooh, not so bad – it's a long story, but it wasn't bowel cancer, that's the important thing. 'Ow about your, erm, dodgy waterworks?”

“It was just a bladder infection, it cleared up after a course of antibiotics. You take care, all right? See you, love.”

“See you Edna, you take care too, sparrer.”