by Lyn Andrews
‘We’ll have to open up. I can’t let them down like that, your da wouldn’t have wanted that,’ Kate said. But how could she stand behind that counter in Bill’s place and face everyone again?
‘I’ll do it, Mam. It will be too harrowing for you,’ Charlie said firmly. He didn’t mind that much about letting people down. If they chose not to open people would have to understand, bereavement was a valid enough reason, but if the pledges weren’t redeemed they’d be out of pocket and it might set a precedent too and that was something he definitely wasn’t prepared to let happen.
‘Thanks, Charlie. Are you sure you can cope?’
‘Of course I can. Now go on up and try to get some sleep,’ he urged.
She managed a sad little smile. ‘You’re a good lad, Charlie.’
Iris had to agree. For the first time it occurred to her to question how they would manage to run both businesses now. As Kate went upstairs and she and Rose folded the tablecloth and put the condiments back on the dresser she wondered just how they would all face the future without Da.
Chapter Eleven
THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED were indeed dark and hard and nerves were stretched as they all tried to come to terms with their grief and loss. Charlie realised that the sooner they all tried to get back to some kind of normality the better; he also concluded that the welfare of the family was his responsibility now. He was concerned about his father’s business for the shop had been closed for a while now and he knew that out of desperation people would take their custom elsewhere; they weren’t the only pawnbroker’s in the area by any means. He decided to broach the subject with his mother and sisters sooner rather than later.
‘Mam, we’ve got to try to get back into some kind of routine,’ he said when supper was finished that evening. ‘It will be better for us all. Things won’t ever be the same but we’ve got to think of the future. All our futures.’
‘Can’t we leave it for a bit longer, Charlie?’ Rose pleaded. She was feeling so miserable; being at home wasn’t the same without Da and every single thing in the place reminded her of him.
‘Rose, we can’t go on doing that or we’ll wake up one day and find we don’t have an income of any kind and we’ll be out on the street. Iris and I are the only ones who have been going to work,’ he reminded her. Left to Rose no decision would ever be made.
Kate sighed and pushed her plate away from her. She was struggling to adjust to life, her days seemed so empty without Bill, but she knew she had to think about the practicalities sometime. ‘Charlie’s right. We have to decide what we’re going to do.’
‘I’ve been thinking about it, Mam, and it makes sense for me to take over Da’s shop and you and Rose run the greengrocer’s,’ Charlie suggested.
‘And I’ll keep my job at Frisby Dyke’s? Wouldn’t it be better for me to run Da’s shop?’ Iris put in.
‘No, I don’t think you’re old enough or have the right … attitude, and both are important. People like to feel comfortable and confident,’ Charlie replied flatly.
Kate frowned. She wasn’t sure about this. ‘I think it would be better if you stayed with the Blue Funnel Line, Charlie. It’s secure and there are chances of promotion. Your da was always in favour of you working outside the business. I’ll take over his business – I think you’re right about confidence and comfort and I know most of them very well indeed – and Iris and Rose can run the greengrocery between them. That way we’ll keep our options open.’
Charlie wasn’t very pleased by this but kept his feelings to himself. ‘Will you be able to manage it, Mam? It’s quite a responsibility.’
Kate nodded. ‘I’m sure I will.’
‘At least it will save you having to get up at the crack of dawn each day, Mam. You’re not getting any younger, and the work will be easier,’ Iris added. She thought it was a great idea; after all she was used to shop work but now she would be working for herself – more or less – and she’d save on tram fares and lunches. The idea of going to the market early each morning didn’t bother her and if need be she could also help out in the pawnbroker’s. ‘I won’t mind going to the market.’
Rose nodded her assent, relieved that she wasn’t going to be told to go and find a job somewhere else like Black’s or in a factory. She wouldn’t mind helping Iris.
‘Keeping your job will give you a bit more independence, Charlie. You’ll be able to save up for … for the future. I’m sure Florence will agree with me.’ Kate smiled wryly at her son. ‘I can’t see Florence living happily over the shop.’
‘It was good enough for you, Mam!’ Charlie pointed out for he and his sisters had been born in the bedroom above the pawnbroker’s. It had been years before his parents had saved enough to start up another business and acquire the lease on the greengrocer’s.
‘I know. And I don’t want you to think I’m shutting you out or anything like that. In time you might want to run the business instead of working for someone else and that would be fine with me, as long as you had some savings behind you and a decent home of your own as well. I … I always wanted good, secure, comfortable lives for you all. We both did, your da and I.’
‘I know, Mam. Well, let’s see how it goes and if it gets too much for you we’ll have to think again,’ Charlie agreed. He wasn’t sure it would work. His father’s business needed completely reorganising: the place was a shambles, what he’d seen of his father’s records left a lot to be desired and he knew his mother wouldn’t change things at all. He also wondered how Iris would get on for he deduced she would be doing most of the work. Rose had always been prone to daydreaming and did not seem to have changed.
Iris duly gave in her notice the following day and Kate and Rose went into the shop with Charlie for the first time since Bill’s death.
‘I’ve got to say it’s a bit of a mess, Mam. I didn’t really have the time to sort much out that Friday,’ Charlie said, frowning as he looked around.
‘It’s just as he left it. He expected to be back in the following morning. And he had his own system,’ Kate replied sadly.
Charlie placed the two ledgers his father had used on the top of the counter. ‘We’ll start by having a good look at these and I’ll see if I can come up with a simpler and clearer system of working. Then we’d better go through the stock. Rose, could you start by dusting and giving the floor a sweep? Tidy things up a bit? We’ll open for business in the morning, Mam, before all our customers desert us entirely.’ He wasn’t going to let his sister spend the time just peering curiously at the various objects displayed on the shelves and in glass-fronted cases as she was now doing. She’d have to get used to doing a day’s work from now on instead of spending her time fiddling around occasionally in a post office or at some flower show, he decided as he ran his finger slowly down the list of names entered in the ledger, the items described and the amount paid out. Some of the sums his da had lent were, in his opinion, too high for the items pawned, he thought grimly. He’d have to have a word with Mam about it but he’d wait until she’d been open for at least a week. Let her get settled in first, he thought.
Ada Marshall and Maggie Connolly agreed to open the greengrocery while Iris worked out her notice. Charlie had said he would go to the market but Kate had insisted she would do it, one more week would make no difference and she wanted to inform her regular suppliers that they would be dealing with Iris in future.
They had all been very sympathetic and said they would miss dealing with her but would be pleased to see Iris and would make sure her inexperience wasn’t exploited. As she left for home on the Saturday Kate felt a pang of regret; it was as if a door was closing on part of her life, but she had to admit that it would be something of a luxury not to have to get up so early, especially now that summer was over and the darker, colder mornings of autumn were approaching. She would make one last trip the following Monday with Iris, to introduce her.
Iris was looking forward to the change in her working life. She would be her own b
oss, there would be no Miss Hepworth, the departmental supervisor, watching everything she did and no Mr Fowler, the floor walker, prowling between the counters raising eyebrows if she seemed to be chatting for too long with customers. She’d asked her mother were there any basic rules to the buying and Kate had advised her to stick to the staples and not get tempted by anything ‘exotic’ as they’d never sell such items. ‘We’re not in the same league as Cooper’s in Church Street. We’re just a small shop in a poor neighbourhood.’ Iris had nodded her agreement, thinking of the displays of exotic fruit and vegetables that graced the counters of Liverpool’s biggest and most expensive delicatessen.
It was chilly at this hour of the morning and barely light, she thought as they entered the huge covered market. It was already busy. Fruit and vegetables were stacked in wooden crates and outside horses and carts and the occasional van stood waiting to be loaded. Kate introduced her to her three usual suppliers, one of whom had always delivered her goods to the shop.
‘So, this is Iris. Nice to meet you and I hope we’ll get along fine,’ Bert Bradshaw said amiably.
Iris judged him to be in his late fifties; he was well built if a little round-shouldered, with grey eyes and a shock of iron-grey hair. ‘Nice to meet you too, Mr Bradshaw. You’re quite happy to go on delivering to us?’
‘Aye, I don’t see any reason to change the arrangements now. I have to pass the end of your street on my way home so it’s no trouble to drop the stuff off. Your mam’s always been a good customer.’ He nodded and smiled at Kate. ‘Mind you, she’s a bit on the fussy side.’
‘I have to be, Bert, you know that. My customers are more than a bit on the “fussy side”. Even though they haven’t got much in the way of money, they still want value for it.’
He nodded. ‘Right then, what will it be this morning?’
Kate showed Iris what to look for and how to pick the best items. ‘A lot of it is seasonal but if there’s no stock in don’t be tempted to buy something else to replace it. Ada’s going to serve alongside you for a couple of days and believe me she’s a mine of information on just exactly what our customers expect.’
Iris nodded, peering at boxes of carrots and thinking it couldn’t be that hard to buy and sell fruit and veg.
Kate picked out what she wanted and Bert Bradshaw called out to a young man to come and stick a label on each of her purchases.
‘This is Tom Morrissey, just started with me this morning. He’s been out of work for a while. Couldn’t get anything regular since he left the Army,’ he informed Kate and Iris.
‘Nice to meet you Mrs Mundy and … er … is it Miss Mundy?’
Iris nodded, smiling. He seemed a pleasant enough lad, about Charlie’s age, she deduced. He had thick, curly brown hair and blue eyes and was as tall as Charlie but more wiry. ‘It’s my first morning too. I’m taking over the shop from Mam,’ she informed him as he effortlessly lifted the boxes and stacked them neatly, placing a label with the numerals ‘49’ printed on them on each one.
‘You’re lucky to be running a business at your age and I’m lucky Mr Bradshaw took me on. It’s almost impossible to get any kind of steady work now but my granny’s a friend of his wife’s.’ His expression changed. ‘“A land fit for heroes” we were promised,’ he said bitterly.
‘I know. It’s not right, not after everything you went through. Our Charlie was in the Pals’ Regiment.’
‘So was I, the Seventeenth Battalion,’ he replied and then he smiled again. ‘But it’s over and now I’ve got a steady job and I’ve met you, so things are definitely looking up.’
She smiled back; she liked him.
‘I’ll drop these off later, that’s another of my duties. Driving the horse and cart. You never know, if things pick up sufficiently I might be able to persuade the boss to trade the nag in for a van.’
Iris thought this was being a bit too optimistic but she didn’t say so. ‘So, I’ll be seeing you later then?’
You’ll be seeing quite a bit of me, Miss Mundy, if you’re taking over,’ he replied, thinking she was a fine-looking girl.
‘Call me Iris. “Miss Mundy” makes me feel so old!’ she laughed. Being addressed in this manner reminded her of how much responsibility she’d taken on.
He grinned. ‘And I’m Tom.’
‘Well, I’ll see you later on, Tom. I’d better be off. Mam’s beckoning me so I think it’s time to go,’ she replied, feeling for the first time in weeks that there was a little brightness in her life. She looked forward to seeing Tom Morrissey again.
Chapter Twelve
AS THE DAYS OF AUTUMN slipped by and September turned to October and then November, life began to take on a semblance of normality again, although the loss of Bill was still raw. For Kate there were days – at quiet times – when she could almost feel his presence in the shop. Her sense of loss would then overwhelm her and she would break down. She missed him so much and always would.
She did admit that although running Bill’s business was rather more complicated than she had at first envisaged, at least it wasn’t quite as physically demanding as running the greengrocery had been. She was still providing a necessary service for local customers but since she was dealing with her neighbours’ financial dilemmas they often divulged things they wouldn’t have mentioned when buying vegetables. At first she had found this rather embarassing but gradually she had come to see why Bill had been so liked and respected. He’d offered advice and tried to help, often in cases where the only answer would have been a steady, decently paid job for at least one member of a family, and he had been scrupulous in keeping their confidences to himself. Her customers included wives of men who squandered what little they earned on drink or illicit gambling like pitch and toss or the horses. She had on more than one occasion seen women in tears, driven to desperation at how to put food on the table when most of a pitifully small wage had gone over the counter in one of the hundreds of pubs along the Dock Road. Mary Duncan was one such wife: she had confided that it had been Bill who had found a solution, suggesting she go and meet Ned from work on Fridays to deter him from stopping at the first pub he came to and that generally it worked. Kate was determined to honour Bill’s memory by serving his customers as loyally as he had. For that reason she’d remained firm in her decision to stick to Bill’s rates, despite having several arguments with Charlie over the amount she lent on pledged items. She was the one who had to deal with desperate customers, not him, she’d told her son, thinking that he was becoming obsessed with making money and saving.
Over the weeks Iris had got to know Tom Morrissey quite well and he had finally asked her out to the music hall on the first Saturday in November.
‘Aren’t you too tired to go out? You’re both up so early every morning and then you’re on your feet in the shop all day and we were really busy today. I’m worn out,’ Rose had enquired as she watched her sister brushing her short auburn hair before placing the small black felt cloche over it.
Iris had shaken her head as she contemplated her reflection in the mirror. ‘No, and it’s not as if we’re going to be doing anything as energetic as dancing. We’ll be sitting down enjoying the show. But I wish I had something a bit brighter to wear. Black doesn’t suit me.’ They were still in mourning of course.
‘You suit it better than I do, though I don’t mind wearing it for … Da,’ Rose had commented. ‘You really like Tom Morrissey, don’t you?’
Iris had nodded, a pink tinge creeping across her cheeks. She did like him, she liked him a lot, and she’d been wishing he’d ask her out for a long time. They got on well together, they liked the same things, and they had a similar sense of humour and optimistic outlook on life. He was now the eldest of a family of four. His older brother had been killed in the war and his two sisters were younger than him. His father had worked on the docks all his life and up until recently his mother had cleaned at the ‘Immigrant House’: a building owned by Cunard where the immigrants waiting to embark
on one of the company’s ships were housed until they left for a new life in America. Florence had commented that that must be a very hard way indeed to make money and she’d agreed; Mrs Morrissey had given it up for that very reason and the fact that her arthritis was getting worse.
‘So, that’s you and Charlie walking out,’ Rose had said, feeling dispirited.
Iris had turned to her. ‘Rose, this is the first time. You can’t say we’re “walking out” – not yet – but I hope … well, I hope it won’t be the one and only time he asks me,’ she’d confided, feeling a little apprehensive. Of course she saw him every day but this was different.
He was waiting for her outside the Rotunda, peering into the window of one of the shops that constituted most of the building’s ground floor. He turned and grinned. ‘I was just wondering what kind of sweets you’d like? Fruit Pastilles or Everton Mints?’ She looked very smart, he thought admiringly. Her black coat was trimmed on the collar with black braid and she was wearing a small hat that suited the shape of her face. A white scarf was tucked into the neck of her coat.
‘You don’t have to go buying me sweets, Tom. I brought some nuts for us to eat.’ She held out the small paper bag. Bert Bradshaw didn’t pay him very much, she’d already surmised.
He took her arm and guided her towards the theatre lobby. ‘Well, if you won’t let me buy you sweets I’m going to get a programme,’ he said as he bought their tickets, which she noted were not for the cheapest seats up in the gods.
They both enjoyed the show for there was a wide variety of acts, not all of which were appreciated by the audience, who didn’t hesitate to make their feelings known.
‘Oh, don’t you feel sorry for that poor man! All that shouting and booing!’ Iris laughed as a magician whose last trick had gone spectacularly wrong was jeered and booed off stage.
