More Than Riches

by More Than Riches (retail) (epub)

  ‘I’ll be on my way when I’ve finished my business here, and not before.’

  Loud hoots greeted his words. ‘Oh, and what “business” would that be then?’

  ‘Not yours.”

  ‘My, my! Looks like we’ll have to teach you a lesson, big fella.’ The youth stepped forward, his eyes round and staring as he dipped into his pocket and drew out a chain. Wrapping it round his knuckles, he told the others, ‘This one’s mine!’

  Whipping off his jacket, Adam tied it round his arm. He didn’t speak. But there was a look in his dark eyes that momentarily halted the youth, who glanced back to make certain the others were not far away. The only one to move was the old man who quickly shuffled back into the house, muttering and swearing beneath his breath.

  ‘Come on then, big fella!’ goaded the youth, giggling nervously when Adam stood his ground, shoulders broad and straight, and grim determination shaping his features. ‘I’m gonna have to give you a hiding.’ He tightened the chain round his wrist and turned to laugh at his friends.

  None of them saw the old man return, and when the broom-head caught the youth in the nape of the neck, sending him sprawling across the pavement, everyone was stunned with shock.

  Adam glanced up to see the old man jabbing at the air with his brush and warning the open-mouthed youths to: ‘Bugger off, the lot of you! I ain’t so old that I’ve forgotten how to look after myself!’

  Suddenly, the one who had first accosted Adam started chuckling. ‘You silly arse, Bernard,’ he cried, pointing at the lad on the ground. ‘Ain’t I always told you to watch out for your back!’ Soon they were all laughing aloud and the tension was eased.

  Even the big lad sprawled on the ground could see the funny side of it. ‘I ain’t never gonna live this down,’ he giggled; in truth he was immensely relieved that he didn’t have to test the stranger after all. ‘Floored by an old fella with a broom-head!’ Gripping the back of his neck, he winced. Which only made the others laugh all the more.

  Scrambling to his feet, he glanced first at the old man and then at Adam. ‘You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,’ he bragged. Then he threw his arm round the other lad, and the pack of them went away down the street, their laughter lingering even after they had turned the corner.

  ‘They’re all right,’ the old man said, ‘They’re Liverpudlians… high-spirited that’s all.’ Propping the broom against the wall, he invited, ‘You’d best come in and state your business.’

  As they went down the passageway, he turned his head to glance at his visitor. ‘What name do you go by?’

  ‘Adam.’

  ‘Adam what?’

  ‘Roach… Adam Roach.’ They turned into the parlour. The stench of damp made Adam wrinkle his nose. He lost no time in putting on his jacket. Outside the May sunshine warmed the air, but in here the cold had bitten right through his shirt.

  The inside of the house was surprisingly tidy. There was little furniture in the parlour; only a chest of drawers, two horsehair armchairs by the fireplace – one a rocker and one a tall-backed uncomfortable-looking article, and a square oak table surrounded by four high-backed chairs.

  ‘Sit yourself down. I’ll make us a brew.’

  Adam did as he was bid. The old fellow ambled into the adjoining scullery, and soon returned with two mugs of steaming tea, one of which he placed on the table in front of Adam. ‘I can’t recall the name Roach, and I know most of the families about here.’ Seating himself, he regarded Adam with some curiosity. ‘But then, you don’t sound as though you’re from these parts?’

  ‘I’ve no family. I went into the forces when I was seventeen, and I’m recently demobbed.’ He felt as though he was being interrogated, but the quicker he satisfied the old man’s curiosity, he thought, the sooner they could get down to business. ‘And you’re right, I’m not from these parts. I was born and bred in Blackburn.’

  ‘Hmm. Blackburn, eh? Town of pubs, church spires and cotton mill chimneys. I should have thought you’d have been able to find work there?’ He blew on the hot liquid and carefully sipped while waiting for a reply.

  When Adam remained silent, he said knowingly, ‘Ah! Don’t want to talk about it, eh? No doubt there’s a woman involved.’

  He scanned Adam’s handsome face, that coal black tumbling hair and those dark brooding eyes. And he was convinced that some woman somewhere had caused him grief.

  ‘I’m sorry about that little argument out there.’ Deliberately drawing the conversation away from himself, Adam recalled the confrontation on the steps. ‘They won’t give you any trouble when I’m gone, will they?’

  Ignoring Adam’s question, the old man remarked, ‘You could have wiped the floor with the lot of ’em. I’d put money on it. Matter of fact, happen I should have let you get on with it. It’s been a long time since I enjoyed a bloody good set-to.’

  Adam laughed. ‘And what makes you think I could have wiped the floor with them? That red-faced bloke was built like a Churchill tank.’ He took a great gulp of his tea. It warmed him through.

  ‘You’ve worked on the sidings, that’s why.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I’ve only to look at you.’ He eyed Adam’s physique with pride. ‘I’ve been a coal-merchant all my life… and my faither afore me. Working on the sidings… shovelling the stuff from morning ’til night… that sorts the men from the boys, I can tell you.’

  ‘I did work on the sidings.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Been given my cards.’

  ‘Can’t say I’m surprised. There isn’t much money about. Every day it gets harder to earn a living.’ He glanced at the picture on the wall. ‘That’s Arnold Saxon, my father.’ Waiting for Adam to turn and look, he went on, ‘In all the years we’ve been coal-merchants, I can’t recall a time as bad as this.’ He gazed at the picture for a while, lost in the past and despairing of the future.

  Glancing round that spartan room, Adam thought it strange there appeared to be no picture of Ben Saxon’s mother. He wasn’t to know Ben’s father burned every reminder of her after she ran off with a tailor from Manchester. The old man was remembering though, and his eyes welled with tears. After a while, he remarked, ‘I suppose you know I’m selling up?’

  ‘That’s what I heard.’

  ‘And that’s why you’re here?’

  Adam felt uncomfortable. ‘I feel a bit like a jackal after blood,’ he apologised, ‘but you know the way it is… if you don’t get in quick, you might live to regret it.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I had a mind to set up on my own.’

  ‘What? As a coal-merchant?’ The old man’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘I’ve only just told you what hard times we’re living through. Besides, shovelling on the sidings is a lot different from being a coal-merchant.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Before I went into the forces, I worked for a coal-merchant in Blackburn. The hours were long and the work was backbreaking, but it taught me a lot. I reckon I could put all that to good use.’

  ‘What were the name of this ’ere coal-merchant?’

  ‘Selby. He was a good man… quiet and hard-working.’

  Ben Saxon shook his head. ‘Selby, eh? Never heard of him.’

  ‘He had just the one wagon… he worked it with me and his son, Doug. Doug and I went to school together… grew up like brothers we did.’ While he talked he remembered.

  Like brothers we were, and while I was still in the forces, he was busy stealing the girl I loved. In his mind’s eye, he could see old man Selby, and with that image came the image of Doug and Rosie, and the pain was deep as ever.

  ‘So! You know a bit about coal-merchanting. But you’ve little chance of making it work here. Go home and think about it, that’s my advice to you.’

  Adam was undeterred. ‘I’ve got no job, and little prospect of one. As you say, times are hard and there’s not much about. What have I got to lose?’

/>   ‘How much money have you?’

  ‘A little over two hundred pounds.’

  The old man roared with laughter. ‘You’re wasting your time,’ he said at length. ‘When this lot goes under the hammer, I’m looking for upwards of three thousand! Can you raise that sort of money?’

  Adam gave no reply. Instead, he sipped at his tea and thought long and hard.

  ‘You can’t, can you?’ The old man grew angry. ‘You’re a dreamer, just like the bloody rest.’

  Adam looked up. ‘The rest?’

  ‘Aye! You didn’t think you were the only one that’s knocked on that door with an idea to buy me out afore I got to auction?’ ‘’Course not,’ Adam lied, ‘but I’m not looking to buy you out altogether,’ he explained hopefully. ‘I never thought I’d have anywhere near enough money to do that.’

  ‘What is it you’re after then? Out with it.’

  ‘A wagon. One sound wagon to get me started… two dozen sacks of best coal, and a good round. That’s all.’

  ‘You’ve got a nerve, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘So we can talk business?’

  ‘No, we bloody can’t!’ The old man leaned back in his chair and looked at Adam through new eyes. ‘I’ve had some cheeky buggers here, but you take the biscuit,’ he declared without malice. ‘You come to my house with two hundred pounds in your pocket and expect to get started up in business? Have you any idea how much blood and sweat went into building them rounds? Have you the slightest inkling of how much a good wagon costs new?’ Before Adam could answer, he went on, ‘Well, I’ll tell you! The best part of four hundred quid, that’s what. And I’ve kept my wagons good. They’ll fetch a handsome price or my name’s not Saxon.’

  ‘You just finished telling me how times are bad,’ Adam reminded him. ‘The wagons may not fetch as much as you hope.’

  The old man studied him for a while before he spoke again. ‘Finish your tea and get out.’ Standing up, he leaned forward, fists resting on the table. ‘You’re full of fresh ideas and brimming with energy… eager to get started on someone else’s back. Well, it won’t be mine.’ He saw himself in Adam, and it only reminded him how old and frail he had become. Once he too had been young and virile, filled with energy and raring to go. Where had it all gone? What happened to his youth? What price the dreams of wife and family? He envied Adam, and it showed. ‘Go on! Be off with you.’ He snatched the mug of tea from Adam’s hands, spilling a dark trail across the tablecloth. ‘Your business here is finished.’

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ Adam said, rising. ‘But we don’t have to part like enemies.’ Extending his hand he waited in vain for the other man to shake it. ‘All right, if that’s the way you want it,’ he conceded, dropping his hand to his side and turning away.

  The old man followed him to the door. ‘You’ve got a bloody cheek coming here! I should have known better than to let you in. You’re all the same. Something for nothing, that’s what you’re after.’

  Before the door was closed on him, Adam apologised. ‘You can’t blame a man for trying. But you have my word, I didn’t come here to get something for nothing. I might not have enough to buy one of your good wagons, but I’ll get started somehow, even if I have to build up a round from scratch. You say your father did it, so why not me? As for my two hundred pounds, I agree it isn’t all that much, but it’s hard-earned and better than nothing.’

  ‘As good as nothing!’

  ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Saxon.’ With a friendly smile he bade Ben Saxon good day and went down the street, somewhat disappointed but not dejected. He meant what he said. Somehow, he’d make his savings work for him, and he would find a way to get started.

  Ben Saxon remained at the door, his unhappy eyes following Adam’s upright figure. ‘Good luck to you,’ he said sullenly. Until now he hadn’t fully realised what the coming events would mean to him… no more work, no planning of schedules or passing the time of day with old customers. Nothing to look forward to but a narrow terraced house alongside the docks. It was hard being an old man with nothing else to give when once he had meant something round these parts.

  Suddenly it didn’t bear thinking about. Unwittingly, Adam had made him see what lay ahead, and it crushed his old spirit. Returning to the back room, he sat on the chair which Adam had vacated only minutes before. ‘Ben Saxon, you’re an old fool!’ he said. All right! Happen you couldn’t afford to sell him a wagon and round for two hundred pounds… but you didn’t have to pour scorn on his ambitions. Instead, you could have given him a deal of advice.’ Thumping a gnarled fist on the table, he chided himself; ‘You’re a selfish, jealous old bugger! It isn’t his fault if the custom’s not there. It isn’t his fault you’re having to sell up. And if you were half a decent man, you’d have set him on the right path.’

  He paced the floor and thought awhile. And for the first time in months, the glimmer of a smile crossed his aged face. ‘So he reckons he can get started on a lousy two hundred pounds, does he? You can’t help but admire him, and that’s a fact.’ Reaching up to take his pipe from the mantelpiece, he chuckled. ‘If you can pull it off, you’ll be a better man than I gave you credit for, Adam Roach. But we’ll see.’ Settling in the fireside chair, he rocked it back and forth, seemingly content. ‘We’ll see!’

  Chapter Seven

  As soon as he opened the door to his room, Adam knew the money was gone. The mattress was turned over and everything was in disarray. The few articles from the mantelpiece were littered across the floor and the brick from the chimney breast was flung in the hearth. ‘Jesus Christ!’ He rushed across the room and thrust his hand into the void where the brick had been. It was empty. All his precious bank-notes gone.

  At first he was filled with rage. Then he wanted revenge. Then, after realising that he had no hope of ever finding out who had stolen the money, he sank into a chair, head forward in his hands and his dark eyes staring at the carpet. In his shocked mind he began to work out how the loss had reduced his chances of buying a wagon. ‘You’re right, Saxon,’ he said, laughing cynically, ‘I’m just a dreamer, no different than the rest.’

  He remained immobile for what seemed an age, despondent and frustrated, angry with himself for having been so stupid as to leave his precious wages where they must easily have been found. ‘I should have kept them in my pocket,’ he muttered. ‘They’d have been safer there!’ He wondered how he could possibly start a business on what little money he had left. And the more he thought on it, the more ludicrous it began to seem.

  After a while, he collected the few coins scattered on the rug, kicked his way through the debris and went out into the growing darkness. ‘Might as well enjoy what’s left!’ he decided grimly, making his way to the nearest pub. In that moment it seemed all his plans were shattered. ‘Whatever bastard took that money, I hope he realises it was hard earned and meant for better things!’

  When he came into the pub, his dark handsome looks turned heads. One particular young woman seated at a nearby table could hardly keep her eyes off him. Connie Wilson was lonely, and far from home. Tall, slim and blessed with china doll looks, she had a warm heart and generous nature. Sipping slowly at her drink, she watched as Adam gave his order. As though quenching a fire within him, he gulped down the first drink and promptly ordered another.

  Taking her own drink, she crossed the room and climbed on to the stool beside him. Close to, he was even more handsome than she’d first thought. With one hand thrust deep into his pocket and his long legs straddling the rail at the foot of the bar, he sat on the edge of his stool, dark eyes staring into his drink and a deeply thoughtful expression on his face. He was totally oblivious to her attentions.

  ‘Need some company?’ Her soft voice infiltrated his thoughts. When he turned to look at her, she smiled warmly. Shifting nearer, she murmured, ‘I’m a good listener.’ She made no attempt to touch him. Instinct warned her he was not the sort of man you got too friendly with too quickly. ‘We co
uld go somewhere?’ she suggested tentatively.

  His dark eyes appraised her. How different she was from his Rosie, he thought. ‘Thanks all the same,’ he answered with a devastating smile, ‘but I don’t think so.’

  ‘Okay. Suit yourself.’ Returning to her table, she watched him for a while. Not once did he turn to look at her. Obviously not interested, she told herself. Pity. He looks a decent sort.

  She switched her attention to the two men seated at a table in the far end of the room; one was a thin white-faced creature with bulbous eyes, but the other brown-haired fellow was reasonably attractive, dressed in a pin-stripe suit and smoking a fat cigar. ‘Could try your luck there, Connie girl,’ she muttered to herself.

  When she sauntered up, the two men were deep in conversation. ‘Got time for a chat with me?’ she asked the man in the pin-stripe suit. When he merely glanced up and looked away again, she seated herself on the chair beside him. ‘If you can tear yourself away from your business here, I don’t think you’ll regret it,’ she said, crossing her legs and shifting her skirt in a suggestive manner.

  The man didn’t speak. Instead, without warning, he clenched his fist and viciously lashed out, catching her on the side of the face and sending her crashing into a group of chairs. While she lay, shocked and bleeding on the floor, he merely grinned and spat over her before calmly resuming his conversation.

  He had only spoken two words when he was lifted right out of his chair and knocked to the ground. Stroking his knuckles, Adam stood over him as he lay crumpled on the floor. ‘I think you forgot your manners,’ he remarked casually.

  Dazed, the man stared up at Adam, then, without another word, he scrambled to his feet and staggered towards the door. Alarmed, the thin man followed, and by the time Adam had helped Connie back to her chair, the two were long gone.

  ‘You’ll have to watch they don’t wait for you outside,’ she warned.