The Burnley Boys

by Drew Black

  "Jesus H. Christ Harry. You were thinking about the cost of replacing a load-bearing rope? They could shut us down for this."

  Harry began to sob.

  "Dave is this true?"

  "Well I did mention it Mr Jessop, but in fairness to Harry, it didn't look that bad, really."

  "Fuckin' hell Harry! Right, who knows about this?"

  "Just Dave and Jamie." Harry said regaining some of his composure.

  "Okay, did Tom know about the faulty rope?"

  "No, he was off checking--"

  "Good, I can't foresee a problem with young Jamie, but you square it with him, just to be on the safe side, Dave, okay?"

  "Yeah, sure boss, leave Jamie to me."

  "Jesus, we might just get out of this with a fine and a slapped wrist. Let's just hope and pray that the young lad pulls through though." Jessop said glaring at Harry before getting up and leaving his office.

  "How's he doing?" Jessop enquired of Sarge and Jamie, bending down to get a closer look at Tom.

  "He's mumbled a few words, but nothing coherent, Mr Jessop." Sarge said stroking Tom's hair. "Don't worry son, the ambulance will be here soon."

  Right on que, they heard the faint sound of a siren in the distance.

  13

  One-week later Quilter sat outside Jessop's office with his hands locked together. Everything had gone smoothly, so smoothly in fact that it perturbed him slightly. The police investigation, if that's what you could call it, had unearthed nothing suspicious, and concluded that the firm had not been negligent or contributed in any way towards the accident.

  Apparently, Tom Ford had come through for the company from his hospital bed, the stupid fucker. He could've made a few bob out of it if he'd boxed clever. He'd sustained a fractured skull and a broken leg for his troubles, and if Quilter was honest, he was extremely relieved he hadn't killed the little prick. The main thing was he'd achieved his objective of side-lining Mr Ford Esquire for the foreseeable. Job done. He congratulated himself because he knew not just anyone could pull off a stunt like that and come up smelling sweeter than an English Rose.

  Jessop's door opened; "Come in Dave please." Jessop said in a serious tone.

  Quilter got to his feet and followed Jessop into his office. Harry Jacobs was sat to the right of Jessop's desk looking somewhat drawn. Quilter had been in Jessop's office a couple of times previously, and its simplicity never failed to amaze him. Jessop's desk was large but nothing fancy. It was made of teak, and its surface, for the main, part comprised of a black leather skiver. The office was also quite large, but apart from several grey steel filing cabinets it had little else in it. The walls were covered with flowcharts and clipboards arranged in meticulous fashion. He had a flashback to the first time he'd been summoned here when he'd been covering for Harry, and he recalled his disappointment at the starkness of the room because he'd expected it to be stuffed full of highly polished furniture and cut-glass decanters ...

  "Take a seat." Jessop said motioning to the empty chair next to Harry as he re-took his own which was a black high-backed leather swivel chair.

  Quilter nodded to Harry, who returned the gesture.

  "Right, I'll get straight to it Dave. I imagine you have an inkling of what we are about to discuss?"

  "Tom's accident"" Quilter replied tentatively. A terrible thought suddenly occurred to him; what if Jessop knew something or the police had found something that incriminated him?

  "Yes, Tom's accident." Jessop repeated before pausing.

  Quilter was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable but was determined not to show it. If they did have something on him he would completely deny it.

  Harry just sat there motionless.

  "How can I help, Mr Jessop?" Quilter finally said.

  Jessop appeared to relax as he leant back on his chair. "The authorities could've closed us down over this accident, you do realise that Dave, don't you?”

  What the fuck is he grilling me for, Quilter thought, it was that silly old git's fault not mine; "Yes, I do Mr Jessop."

  "However, as it so happens, we've been lucky, extremely lucky, in fact. It's come at a cost mind, I've agreed with the Chief Constable to replace the hoist with an electric lift, and thankfully, young Tom Ford appears to be on the mend. However, the bottom line is this, under no circumstances can we afford to have anything like this happen again. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes, Mr Jessop."

  "I must say, I'm disappointed in you Dave. I know Harry's your boss, but even so rank is immaterial where health and safety is concerned. If you thought the rope looked frayed, you should've refused to operate the hoist. Or at the very least reported it to Chis Benson."

  "I'm sorry sir, I made a mistake, I'll be far more cautious in future."

  Jessop sighed, "Well I suppose we've all learned a lesson from this unfortunate incident, and hindsight is such a wonderful thing, so let's put the whole episode in the past and move on. Harry will be moving out of the loading bay Dave, and I must stress that it is totally unrelated to Tom's accident. No, Harry and I have had a long chat, and we've decided that for his remaining time with the company, he'll be conducting a work study for me abroad, with a bit of a holiday thrown in as a thank you for all the sterling work, he has done for us over the years."

  Harry brightened a little at Jessop's praise of him.

  "I've been planning it for some time and was going to use a consultant. However, it's a highly confidential matter, and I need someone that I trust implicitly. Anyway, Harry's not setting sail so to speak until the end of next month ..."

  Harry had presumed he'd be leaving with immediate effect, so now he felt better about his new assignment. It wouldn't look so bad leaving in a few weeks’ time. He'd spent the vast majority of his working life at Jessop's, and to leave under a cloud, even a perceived one, would’ve broken his heart.

  "... so that will give us plenty of time to recruit and train a replacement." Jessop mused.

  Train someone for what? Quilter thought angrily. You'd better not give my job to someone else, after all the work I've done for you, you ass hole.

  "So, if you want the job of Warehouse Foreman, it's yours Mr Quilter." Jessop said sitting back in his chair.

  Quilter's expression never changed, but inwardly he was jumping for joy. "What is the salary, Mr Jessop?"

  "You'd get a twenty percent wage increase which would be implemented immediately." Jessop responded studying Quilter closely.

  "Okay, thanks Sir, I'm definitely interested, do I have time to think about it?"

  "Of course, you do, as long as you let me know by tomorrow morning."

  "Okay, Mr Jessop, I'll let you know by first thing tomorrow morning. Is there anything else you need me for sir?"

  No, that's fine Dave, I'll speak to you in the morning, come and see me about ten thirty."

  Quilter bid them both good day and left the room.

  14

  A knock came to Elizabeth Ford's door. Goodness, who can this be now she thought wearily getting to her feet. In between doing her cleaning job, looking after Sal, and visiting Tom she was getting precious little time to take care of herself.

  She opened the door to find Helen Davies on her doorstep. "Hello Helen, what can I do for you?"

  "Could I come in for a minute Mrs Ford?"

  "Yes, of course dear, but you'll have to excuse the state of the place, things are a little frantic around here at the moment."

  "If I've called at an inconvenient time, I could always come back."

  "No, it's fine, come in and sit down. What is it, there's nothing wrong with Jack is there, I hope?"

  "Oh no, it's not jack." Helen said removing her coat and hanging it over the staircase banister, "I really don't know how to ask you this Mrs Ford, so I'll just come straight out with it."

  Please God, I hope this is not another problem Elizabeth thought. However, she'd always liked Helen, so if nothing else, she was prepared to give her a hearing. "Go on." sh
e said.

  "Could I come and lodge with you? I'd pay for my keep, I give my mother ten pounds a week, but I could stretch to a bit more, if you wanted. I just thought with Tom convalescing, you might need a hand around the place." Helen paused to allow Elizabeth time to consider the matter.

  "You've not got trouble at home have you Helen? Not that it's any of my business." The idea of Helen lodging with them actually appealed to Elizabeth, and she was right, she could do with an extra pair of hands around the house. However, the last thing she needed right now was to get involved in someone else's family dispute.

  "No, I haven't. Well, no more than usual anyway. No, it's just that I've got to get out, that's all, and to be honest, I don't really fancy renting a flat on my own."

  "Well Helen, I could certainly use a little help around here, I won't deny that, but I would have to speak to Tom and Sal first, it's their house too."

  "Of course, I understand, Mrs Ford."

  "Does your mother know that you want to leave?" Elizabeth asked warily.

  "Well not exactly, but I have discussed moving out with her before though."

  Elizabeth smiled a wry smile; "Hmm, well you're certainly going to have to clear it with her first, that's for sure, the last thing I need right now, Helen, is more trouble. So, get your mum to call me first to give me her blessing and then I'll speak to Tom and Sal, okay?"

  "Yeah, sure Mrs Ford."

  "Elizabeth will do fine Helen."

  "Okay, thanks Elizabeth." Helen said smiling, "Oh, what about the money?"

  "Ten pounds a week will be fine. Mr Jessop, Tom's boss, has agreed to continue paying his wages until he's fit enough to return to work." Elizabeth said with a hint of pride in her voice, "I think he's very highly thought of there, even though he hasn't been at the company very long."

  Helen was on the verge of mentioning that Jack also worked for John Jessop, but then changed her mind. "Do forgive me Elizabeth," she said instead, "how is Tom? Jack said last night that he was feeling a bit better."

  "Yes, he is doing better, but the doctors have told us that we will all have to be patient over his recovery, and that all things considered his injuries could've been a lot worse."

  Helen nodded slowly.

  "The main thing is they haven't detected any brain damage as a result of his fractured skull, and with a little luck, they think he should make a full recovery. He will be off work for a minimum of six months though, and that's if everything goes to plan. If not, it could be far longer, but to be honest with you Helen, I don't care how long he's off, I've still got my son, that's all I'm bothered about."

  "I totally agree with you Mrs Ford, sorry, Elizabeth. I'll get my mother to give you a call."

  "Okay Helen, I don't foresee a problem at this end, so hopefully, you can move in with us next week, I'll confirm it all with your mum though."

  Helen said goodbye and set off for home.

  15

  Helen gained permission from her parents to move in with the Ford family. In fact, her mother thought it was a great idea, and that Elizabeth would probably welcome the additional income from having a lodger. Helen conveniently forgot to mention how supportive Mr Jessop had been in that direction because in all honesty it was none of her business, nor anyone else's for that matter.

  16

  Helen sat in her living room with her coat and scarf on waiting for a guy called Ted Jackson, who worked on The Jessop Estate, to come and take her and her few belongings over to the Ford's house. As she sat there waiting, she began to have second thoughts about the whole thing. She didn't need anyone to tell her that her family were crazy. Even living with it twenty-four hours a day didn't make it any more normal, but she had had some great times in this house. She remembered playing with her dad as a little girl. He would pretend to be her horse, the princess's horse he used to say. He'd shake his head and neigh loudly. She'd always laugh and so would her mother. He'd been better back then. Of course, her mum and dad had always argued, but back then the good times seemed to far outweigh the bad ones. Another memory surfaced, it was of Christmas time, the best one she could ever remember, she must've been about five. She'd gotten a wooden rocking horse, the one she'd wanted for ages. They were all playing games, everyone was smiling and laughing, they were happy ...

  "You, sure you're going to be okay? her mother asked entering the room.

  Helen sighed as the memory faded; "Of course I will mum, I'm a big girl now. Besides, it will give everyone else more space."

  "You bet it will sis." Jack said as he passed the living room door lugging two large suitcases, "What have you got in these Helen, they weigh an absolute tonne."

  Helen suddenly realised that she was leaving home for good. Somehow, she just knew she would never return here on a permanent basis, even if the arrangement with the Ford's didn't work out, and that made her feel empty and sad.

  "Ted's here now Helen." Jack called out from the hallway.

  Goodbye house Helen thought getting to her feet.

  Her mother came over to her and gave her a hug. "Look after yourself love, and don't forget what I said, there'll always be a place for you here if things don't work out."

  "Thanks mum." Helen said, a tear tricking down her cheek, as they separated, she realised that her mother was crying too.

  Helen was escaping, getting away from this place, Victoria thought, suddenly wishing that she could trade places with her daughter. If only it was her who was twenty years old with her whole life stretching out in front of her.

  "Come on sis, Ted's waiting." Jack said poking his head through the doorway.

  "Okay, I'm ready, say bye to everyone for me mum."

  "I will do love; I'll see you soon."

  Helen and Jack left the house, and Ted drove them both over to the Ford's dwelling.

  Helen had been given Sally's old room, which was fairly small, but that didn't bother her, it was her room, her space and that's all that mattered. The sadness she had felt earlier had been replaced by a cautious optimism. This was a new start for her, and somehow, she could just tell that things were going to work out.

  I've made the right decision, she thought, going over to the bedroom window, and opening it. She breathed in deeply, the air was crisp and fresh. The window afforded her a view of fields for as far as the eye could see. She observed the leafless trees, and something caught her eye. It was a rabbit, no, a hare, and it was being chased by a cat. Helen put her hands to her mouth, and her eyes grew large. She willed the hare to escape as the two animals zig-zagged across the landscape. The cat, a black and white one, would continuously get within feet of its quarry only for it to abruptly change direction and leave it in its wake. Eventually, the cat gave up its pursuit, slowed to a walk, and then lay down. The hare wasn't taking any chances though and continued to run. She followed it for as long as she could until it finally disappeared from site.

  Helen lay on her bed, and stared up at the ceiling, examining it in the minutest of detail - the lines where the paper joined, a small patch that had been accidentally missed by the decorator's paint brush. The room, although small, had an airy feel to it. I belong here, she thought, as she began to spread her hair out on the pillow a few strands at a time.

  After a while Helen got up and went over to the wardrobe and opened it. On the inside of one of its doors there was a full-length mirror. Helen studied her reflection in it. Somehow, the person looking back at her didn't feel like her at all. Is that really me, she thought. she stuck her tongue out and then scratched her head, and of course her reflection responded in kind. She wished that she had a dressing table, before reprimanding herself for being ungrateful. Maybe she'd save up and buy herself one, that's of course if Elizabeth didn't mind.

  When Helen went downstairs, she found Elizabeth laying the kitchen table. "Can I help?" she asked in a cheery tone.

  "No, it's okay Helen, but thanks for offering." she replied accentuating the second half of the sentence whilst glancing over in Sally
's direction.

  "Have I time to go to the shops?" Helen asked.

  "Yes, but tea will be ready in about half an hour though."

  "Do you need anything?"

  "Oh yes I do actually, if you don't mind. You can get me half a dozen eggs and a box of matches, thanks." Elizabeth said going to fetch her purse.

  "You coming Sal?"

  "Oh sure, I'll just get my coat."

  Elizabeth smiled to herself, as the two girls left the house, she thought that maybe having Helen around was just the tonic they all needed.

  17

  On a snowy day in early January 1956 a knock came to the Ford's front door.

  "Get that Sally please." Elizabeth called down from upstairs.

  "Okay, mum." Sally replied getting up from the lounge sofa. When Sally opened the door, she was met by a tall dark-haired man wearing an overcoat and trilby hat.

  "Hello there," the man said, "you must be Sally, I'm John Jessop, Tom's boss, is your mother in?

  "Yes Mr Jessop, please come in."

  Jessop kicked the snow from his shoes on the doorstep and followed Sally into the house.

  "Mum, Mr Jessop, Tom's boss is here to see you." Sally called up the stairs. "Please, go through to the lounge Mr Jessop, can I get you a drink?"

  "Yes please, I'll have a cup of tea; milk, two sugars."

  Sally smiled at him and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Jessop looked around the room, which was cosy without being over furnished. Apparently, Jack's sister Helen had recently moved in, but he presumed she was at work at the moment. Not the best of days to be coming out of hospital Jessop thought. However, he imagined Tom wouldn't really care about the weather, he'd just be relieved to get out of that place. He wasn't a bad lad, Tom Ford, he could've made a lot more of the accident if he'd wanted to. However, Jessop, in the limited dealings he'd had with the lad, had never taken him for a whinger. In fact, if it hadn't been for the accident he may have even been in with a shout for the foreman's job because although Quilter was a sharp as a tack, maybe a little too sharp even, there was just something about him that gave him the creeps. Things had certainly worked out alright for the lad though, he mused, Harry shipped off to foreign climes, Tom, Quilter's only real competition for the job, laid up in hospital. You're just getting too cynical in your old age, he thought. It was an old rope that gave way, that's all. Besides, according to young Jamie, they'd all been using the hoist that day, even Harry, so the cage could have fallen on any one of them. Nevertheless, there was still something about the whole affair that niggled him, and the irritating thing was he had no idea what.