Of Different Times

by Agnes Kirkwood

  My dad signed the completion contract for the house, and arranged for us to move down in February. I can’t remember the exact date, but what I do remember was the party my friends and Billy had for me on the last day I would see them. I don’t know where the drink came from but seemingly it flowed and there was I was drinking it like juice, now I’m not saying I hadn’t had the occasional drink, that would be a lie because I had sneaked a taste or two at New Year when there was plenty in the house. I remember early on when we all had a great time, but then as the night went on I vaguely get a hint at what went on. I cannot remember how the hell we got back to Billy’s mum’s house that night, all I remember is the next morning she was really angry at Billy, his brother, and of course me, for the state we came home that night. Seemingly I was sick all over the floor in the bathroom and my hair which was long was stiff with dried in vomit, and my clothes were on the wash line because his mum had to wash all my clothes and hung them out to dry as I had to go home that night. When I got out of bed she whipped the sheets off the bed in a temper. We went about in silence for the rest of the day and when it was time for me to go she embraced me dryly and calmly said; look after yourself. It was most embarrassing, considering it was my last day there. I felt sad at leaving in those circumstances because so I never got the chance to apologise properly because she was still disgusted with us and hardly spoke.

  My sister Wilma was due to have an operation, two weeks after our move, but there was no one to look after my little niece, so mum agreed to take her with us, and they could follow after the operation.

  Dad arranged for a lorry to come on the Friday night hopefully for us to be ready to go on the Saturday morning. The week was spent packing. That was very stressful and tiring because we all had to work out our weeks’ notice at work so we could collect our wages and whatever holiday pay that was due to us. After work going home grabbing something to eat then spend the rest of the night packing. I think we must have had all the empty boxes in all the shops in the village, because they took nearly all one room up.

  Friday night we were all packed and ready to go, except for the beds which we needed that night. They were the type with wooded headboards and footboards, long metal sides which held the spring board for the mattress to sit on. As we waited that night for dad to arrive, the living room was full of neighbours waiting for dad to wish him luck in his move.

  When dad finally rolled up he was in a black car which was driven by one of the men who worked at the same company. Behind the car a huge lorry driven by a man who did a lot of distribution work for the firm. Dad got friendly with him through work and when he found out dad was looking for a removal company, the man volunteered to move our belongings to our new abode in his lorry.

  All the cooking utensils and dishes were packed and in boxes so that night was good, because we all had fish and chips for our meal in the newspaper, so there was no dishes to wash. We had a good laugh, our house was no longer a home it looked more like a warehouse. Early next morning, whilst the men dismantled the beds, mum and I made up fresh baked rolls which the baker had just delivered with best butter and marmalade, with a hot mug of tea. When we were finished our breakfast we all helped to load up the lorry. When all was finished and the house cleaned out we set off at about twelve that afternoon. Dad travelled in the front of the car with the driver, and mum sat in the back in the middle of Jimmy and Catherine, with the baby on her knee. William and I sat in the lorry with the driver who was a bit of a comedian and kept us amused most of the time.

  The journey seemed to take forever. Our first stop was a transport café where we all had a typical lorry driver’s dinner. Mum spent ages in the toilet trying to change the baby’s nappy in a little toilet that only had one toilet and a little handbasin. It was a good job that all the customers then were men, because I went in after mum and it really did stink in there. Catherine was crying because she wanted to come into the lorry with my brother and I, but dad absolutely refused. I was glad because there wasn’t much room anyway, and she would probably spend the whole journey crying. There was no motorway then, as the M6 that now links Kendal to Penrith was not yet made. The only road was the A6 road that runs through the village of Shap, and across the Shap summit which formed the main north-south route, linking the industrial areas of north-west England with Scotland. That route was busy, and notoriously hazardous in poor weather conditions. We were lucky there was no snow as that would have made it impassable, but it was February and freezing outside, so you can imagine the condition on this wintery icy route. The lorry driver was used to this sort of conditions, but William and me were terrified. It was one of my worst nightmares that will go on my one out of ten fears in my life. Going over the Shap we were holding our breath as the lorry struggled up the steep Shap, and when passing a lorry coming the other way the driver would move over nearer the edge to pass, and when I looked out the window it felt like it was going to topple over the edge which was a sheer drop. Struggling up that mountain felt like the lorry was about to stop and freewheel backwards onto the traffic behind. Then as if that wasn’t bad enough, going down the other end was worst with brakes screeching every few yards as the lorry kept gaining more speed than safety allowed. William and me were trying to look brave but looking at him, his face was as white as a sheet; which I suppose mine was the same.

  Our next stop was mainly to use the toilet Catherine was crying because she was bursting for a wee, so her crying comes in handy sometimes I thought as I was overjoyed when I saw the car my dad was in turn into another transport café. By this time it was six o’clock at night and it was pitch black outside. We had a drink and a plate of chips with bread and butter, which Jimmy spent no time in putting his chips on the bread to which my mother gave him look of disapproval and told him to have manners and eat them proper. But I must admit I felt like piling the chips on my bread as well, because by then we were all starving.

  Once on the road again the driver told us another three hours and we should be there. Four hours and another toilet stop later we reached the village where dad had bought our house. With living in a council house all my life up till then, I expected a privately owned one would be a big house with plenty of land, how wrong I was. When the lorry stopped at the bottom of a little street of terraced houses, I was wondering why we had stopped. When dad got out the car and headed for the door my heart sank.

  ‘Is this it?’ I shouted. The lorry driver nodded and got out the lorry.

  Suddenly the council house we had just left turned into a mansion in comparison with this monstrosity I was looking at. William and I followed and we headed for my dad who by then had opened the door. I couldn’t believe my eyes what I saw. When I thought of the lovely house we left for this I was shocked. Dad turned round and when he saw mum wasn’t following us inside he went out to the car and opened the car door for her to get out. But she refused. To this day I still remember her exact words.

  ‘You can just turn this car around and take me back home because if you think I’m moving into that hovel your wrong.’

  How he managed to persuade her I’ll never know. Within a minute my sleeping niece was laid in the back seat of the car with Jimmy and Catherine who were also sound asleep, and before long mum was standing in the room next to me with wet swollen eyes. The house was worse than I have ever seen. The window frames were rotten and all flaking away, the only thing that was holding them up was the glass and that didn’t look safe. The floor consisted of concrete slabs, and the walls were all damp at the bottom, the electric wiring ran along the walls into a round brown Bakelite switch which looked like the world’s first ever electric switch ever made. The ceilings were flaking with layers of old dried whitening. She was refusing to go upstairs and was adamant that she was heading home to Scotland at the first opportunity. Dad said he had arranged for new windows to be put in that week, and the house to be rewired. He was trying to hummer her, but if he thought that was making mum feel better he was so wrong. As h
e spoke mum was on her way to look in the kitchen, if you could call it that The tiny kitchen housed a sink, and hooked onto that was a wooden draining board. No cooker, no cupboards, no hot water. It was so small that a cat would have to take a three-point-turn to turn around. When we explored upstairs there were three bedrooms, all crying out to be scraped and decorated, but at least there was no dampness upstairs so that was one consolation, as dad pointed out. When Mum asked where the bathroom was he replied,

  ‘There is none, but the big back bedroom could be split in two to create a bathroom.’

  ‘So what do we do for now, and where’s the toilet?’

  ‘It’s outside at the bottom of the yard,’ came the brave reply.

  That last sentence was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Mum looked horrified.

  ‘It’s like being back in the Blocks,’ she shouted, which was the pit houses that I was born in and believe me they were unfit for human habitation, and were in the verge of being demolished. That made matters worse, the place was a completely derelict building and the tears flowed again. The house or should I say hovel was a complete disaster. I really felt sorry for dad. I suppose he tried his best for the money he had. The silence between mum and dad created such an atmosphere that the lorry driver took mother aside and told her that things weren’t as bad as they looked because his younger brother lived just two doors away and his house was in the same state as this when he bought it. It’s lovely now, and if she liked, he would take her to show how nice these houses can be when they’ve been renovated. Even the word renovate was new to me.

  Dad encouraged her to go and have a look, because he had seen inside her house and it gave him the reassurance that it could make a good cosy home for us all, and more important it was in their price bracket, leaving enough money to do the essential jobs that had to be done. It would also give her the chance to meet one of her new neighbours. After a lot of coaxing she agreed to go and I went with her, because she wouldn’t go on her own. The driver explained the circumstances to his sister-in-law then went back to help unload the lorry and get the beds erected because the younger kids needed to go to their bed, as Catherine and niece were asleep on the backseat of the car. The woman was very nice and invited us in. As we walked through the door the warmth felt good. She showed us all around her home, which was very homely and cosy. It looked like a different house altogether than the one we had just left. Looking around made mum realise what could be achieved with a bit of hard work, which she certainly wasn’t afraid of. The woman made us a cup of tea and told us all about the area, as the two of them chatted I had to smile to myself because I’m sure the woman could hardly understand a word my mother was saying, but listening to mum trying to speak English amused me. When we were leaving she told mum if ever she needed anything, just to knock on the door. Little did we know then, she would turn out to be a very good friend of ours.

  Mum felt a lot better after seeing how nice these houses could be, it made her realise if that was the only type of house they could afford, well so be it.

  She and I got straight into cleaning out the bedrooms when we got back to the house. The men soon had the beds and cot erected for the younger children to be put to bed. Jimmy whose was wide awake by then made a fire in both the front room lounge, and sitting room at the back, with the coal dad got delivered before we arrived.

  By the time everything was taken in and the lorry eventually empty it was getting late. We were all exhausted, and collapsed onto the three-piece suite which sat on the bare concrete floor in the living room covered over with sheets. Mum made a cup of tea for everyone by boiling a pan of water on the fire as we didn’t have an electric kettle then. We all sat around with our well-earned smoke tasting tea and eating cakes and biscuits out of a large tin box that mum packed for us before leaving. It certainly came in handy for us all as we were hungry with all that hard work. In the glow of the fire, the room looked like something out of a horror movie, but at least we had a seat, and upstairs a bed which mum and me made up with sheets and blankets all ready to get into.

  All the other furniture and boxes were stacked in the front room covered over with tarpaulin sheets dad brought from work.

  The morning was havoc. We couldn’t have a decent wash, just a splash of cold water over the face. We desperately needed a change of clothes, and something to eat, but clothes, food, plates, cutlery, everything we needed was packed in boxes. Within an hour every box became a complete shambles with every one rummaging through, even though every box was labelled as to what was inside.

  Soon with no cooker we had the two fires on the go, one had a pan of water for the tea, while my little brother held a slice of bread in front with a fork toasting as well. On the fire in the living room, a pan-full of eggs boiling away, with Catherine in charge of making toast on that that fire. At least it gave her something important to do which made her happy.

  The rest of the Sunday we spent taking the bedroom furniture upstairs, and emptying all our clothes and personal things, putting them away in wardrobes, chest of drawers, and a huge tall boy that mum had in her room. It did ease the getting dressed in the morning, but the getting washed was still a nightmare. The second morning in our new house was the Monday, and dad had to go to work. William and I had a job there as well so we all had to leave at the same time. It was bad enough being the first day at a new job, but all the havoc before going I will never forget. There was no bathroom, no toilet in the house, and as I stood wriggling waiting for my dad to come out of the toilet that was situated down at the bottom of the yard; a little brick building with a thick concrete roof that was no bigger than a garden shed, I looked around, first at the state of the house then at the freezing cold yard white with frost that was between me and having a pee. Then when dad came out William, ran in front of me, I was frantic, and when I cursed him all he could do was laugh as if it was one big joke. When he finally came out I ran up that yard cross-legged.

  The only place to have a wash was the large ceramic sink in the kitchen with cold water, and no electric kettle to heat any. I felt like screaming. One week I was full of style and romance with not a care in the world… the next I felt as though my whole world was collapsing all around me. I was starting a new job with not even a decent wash, or breakfast, just a smoky cup of tea and a few biscuits. When the clock showed seven we were on our way to work. Everything was covered in frost and it was bitter cold. William and I had no idea where we were heading we just followed dad. We walked down one street and up another for what seemed like half an hour. We stopped at a little shop and dad bought us mince pies for our lunch, because all we had in the house was the biscuits until mum went shopping for groceries. When we asked how much further, all we got was

  ‘It won’t be long now, just around the corner.’

  About six corners later we ended up outside a huge garage in a cul-de-sac at the end of the village facing fields.

  There were already four people waiting, seemingly for the arrival of the van driver who was in charge of the work’s van which was stored in the garage. They all welcomed us and looked friendly enough. The driver came and drove the van out of the garage allowing us to sit inside out of the cold. When we didn’t move my brother asked dad what we were waiting for. Seemingly there was another worker missing, and then someone shouted, here he comes. When I looked out the van window there was a lone cyclist peddling for all his might on a lonely dirt track road. He put his cycle in the garage then jumped in the back of the van then we were off.

  There was one woman and three men, then further on the journey we picked up another man and woman. William and I sat listening to all the gossip between the workers of how they’re weekend went. The lone bike rider was dressed for work in the most baggiest trousers of all times and had a pair of old boots on that I don’t think ever had seen polish. He was very quiet and stared out the window nearly all the way except when one of the women asked him anything which he only shyly gave a grunt. Every now and
then William would sign to me to look at him, trying to make me laugh, but I just ignored him. We arrived at work about half an hour later it was nothing like I imagined. The workers who shared the van with us disappeared into a large building that just looked like an old mill with tram lines coming from the peat moss fields in the distance, where the bogies carried all the peat blocks that the men had dug out of the ground. My brother and I were told to wait in dad’s office until he was ready to show us where to go. We were there for about half an hour. Looking around the place was full of filling cabinets and a huge desk that was littered with different piles of papers. The phone rang a few times but we daren’t answer it. When dad came back he made us a cup of tea which tasted great, because the last couple of days we drank tea made with water that was boiled on an open fire in a pan that tasted smoky. After we drank our tea William was taken to a large wooden building and given the job of shovelling piles of peat moss into a machine that bagged it up, ready for garden use. I went into a little shed across from dad’s office where I got the job cutting the wires that were used to tie around the bales of peat. It was another job I hated, working alone in a confined space, walking back and forward with wire measuring it then twisting a loop at one edge, then as soon as there was about a hundred in a bundle I’d tie them up and place them on a pallet ready for someone from the mill to come and collect them when needed. At breaks everyone met up in a shed that had a long table and benches and a log burning stove where they burned peat instead of logs. It was only a small round fire but it let a lot of heat out. On the top a huge kettle full of boiling water for us to make our tea. Luckily there were some spare cups there because William and I never brought one. Every day every one took it turns to make the teas and wash the cups. That first day when it came to lunch everyone sat around the table and unwrapped there packed lunches. William and I took out our so called pies, they were mince all right, but not beef mince they were mince meat pies. So my brother and I had cake… again. By the time we got home we were starving.