Honour of the Line

by Brian Darley

  Our junior team won its first match against a school from the far north of town. It was a fantastic feeling as the opposing team was full of arrogant little shits. The type that used to sneer at us lot from the Arches as we walked into town traipsing through puddles with holes in our bumpers, while they sat nice and dry in their rich ‘up your arse’ parents cars. They may have had loads of money but we were better at football by far.

  Wednesday’s first senior game was really strange. I played really well but we lost narrowly to a team that came from a nearby town. But their school had four times as many boys to choose from as ours and was big and modern. We travelled there by bus with our kit on and our boots tied together and hung around our necks. None of us had a change of clothes and we would all have to return home caked in mud. It seemed a strange sort of set up as our team were shown into the changing rooms where we changed our footwear and went out to face our opponents, who were already on the pitch kicking around and generally warming up. Never before had I set foot in anywhere so modern. The changing rooms were bright, there were places for the home team to hang their uniforms as, unlike us, it was compulsory for students of this school to wear them. Most of us went to school wearing turned up denim jeans, worn out shoes or plimsolls and a checked shirt. There was also a tiled room at one end of the changing room with drains sunk into the floor which I found out after the match were the showers.

  Bob, who lived next-door to Grandad, was in the team and as he knew that Georgina and I were really close he kept an eye on me. The match was fairly close considering the massive size of the other school and the amount of players they had to choose from. As we came off the pitch, after losing 2 – 0, Mr Tindall and our captain, who was a really good player named Roy, both came up patted me on the back and said I had been great. This seemed little consolation at the time as we had been beaten. I then shook hands with the opposing goal keeper, who didn’t really have a shot to save, so at least I had got some action. Players from both sides shook hands and off we went to change our boots ready for the bus journey back to town. In the changing rooms it seemed really strange as the lads from the other team stripped off. I noticed most of them had hairy balls. At the time I thought it quite amusing and had a little chuckle under my breath. After arriving back in town my intention was to pop into Woollies, which I endeavoured to do only to find out it was closed. I had forgotten it was half day closing on a Wednesday.

  Thursday morning at school was unbelievable. Firstly our form teacher, Miss Page, made a big fuss to the class about how well I had done and then I got a big mention in assembly from the Head. I found it all quite embarrassing. On the sporting front things went really well as I was picked for the Area Teams in both age groups and the following summer won the school and district sports but never got to the County Sports as I came down with chicken pox.

  Another massive difference was happening or perhaps it really wasn’t that massive, but then all boys are boastful about these things, as more and more I was getting a stiff willy, which was awkward to hide sometimes and so I tried to always wear a long jumper to hide it with. Also, when I was in the bath one night, I noticed hair growing around my balls. Scissors were sneaked into my room and the offending things removed, but alas, this was all to no avail so eventually I gave up and let them grow but the stiffies were becoming far more frequent, especially when I was near Georgina, Angela or the girl in Woollies. I was becoming a man.

  CHAPTER 11

  Here Comes Summer

  The appalling winter of ’63 was to bring hardship to most of the families from the Arches and ours was no exception. Grandad spent ten weeks without work as the building trade came to a complete standstill but at least when the snow had gone he was able to return to his job. Although the need for coal had gone crazy it was many days before deliveries could get through the huge snowdrifts so Dad was also on reduced wages. In the scheme of things we were probably the lucky ones.

  As life returned to normal Mum and Dad explained how things had become more stretched and that Dad was now going to work on Sunday mornings bagging up coal as overtime from 7 o’clock in the morning until midday. I was told that in order for them to afford my football expenses, socks and shorts for school and district teams, let alone the bus and train fares to get to and from away district matches, I would be expected to give something in return. On Sundays I would be expected to go to the coal yard and help Dad bag up coal for five hours. At first I wasn’t too happy but at the end of the day, most of my friends had to help their families and after all I was now nearly 13 and would be doing full time work in a couple of years. Angela never had much time at all to herself as she had to help out in the pub, Georgina had to help with cleaning and ironing and most of the boys had paper rounds in the mornings or evenings and some poor devils had both. Other lads used to do deliveries for either the Grocers or the Butchers on trade bikes, which were similar to Post Office bikes with a large carrier in the front to put the goods in that they were about to deliver. The plus of their job was that they sometimes got tips, this was not so for an apprentice coal man.

  When my first shift came it was nowhere near as bad as I had feared. The coal yard was in a siding right at the northern end of the Arches and next to the main railway line to the South coast. My job was to shovel coal from a railway truck into a sack which Dad had placed on the scales. When the sack was the correct weight he would then stack it on the dock which meant I always got a rest when a bag was full up. It really suited me as I could also collect train numbers as they came past and on Sunday’s many trains were specials from other regions taking groups of workers and families to the Southern seaside resorts.

  Around 10.30 am. we stopped filling the sacks and Dad reversed the lorries onto the bay ready for loading. He taught me how to stack the bags properly and how to tie a lorry drivers knot which would hold them in place – I bet the kids at scouts never learned that knot. At the end of the shift Dad gave me a ten bob note which I really wasn’t expecting and he said that would be my weekly wage – trainee coal men did get paid after all! With this and my bit of pocket money from Grandad I began having dreams of one day getting a record player, things were getting better.

  Very often Mum would bring Daisy to meet us and Mum, Daisy and I would sit on the uncomfortable wooden bench outside of the pub and usually we would have to wipe the seat with a hankie in order to make it clean enough to sit on. Dad joined Grandad in the pub and themselves and other locals stood there laughing and righting the world of its problems. We sat outside with a shandy and a packet of very often stale crisps between us. The highlight was probably the blue bag of salt which took the terrible taste away. Although I enjoyed sitting with Mum and Daisy and getting the odd visit from Grandad I couldn’t really wait to get home. I was always dirty and in need of a bath and I could not bear the thought of Angela coming out and seeing me, which I suppose was a real long shot as I could never remember seeing her anywhere except at school, or sometimes on her way home. Peter, her brother, nearly always waited for her, she never seemed allowed much freedom.

  By early summer I had saved enough for a basic bottom of the range record player and I went to look around Woollies to see which was the cheapest. As I was showing more interest than usual the girl of my fantasies asked if I was serious about buying one, to which I replied yes. I liked her even more when she suggested I give her the money and she buy it, as she could get staff discount. This seemed a great idea and so I gave her the cash and met her in the market place after going to watch football with Grandad on Saturday afternoon. By getting the discount I was able to buy my first two single records, needless to say from a proper shop which sold records by the original artists. Whenever I could find an excuse I popped in to Woollies to see her and talked about which record I was hoping to get next and she would then play me the cheapie version to whet my appetite. Finding out her name was an impossible mission as whenever she was approached by a member of staff she had to stop talking and I would
wander away to browse around another counter, making out I was interested in what was for sale. Sadly what I wanted most money was unable to buy.

  CHAPTER 12

  Can I Come Along?

  School term started again in early September and I soon got back into the school football team mood. Before our school matches had started I began playing for the District again, our school season was late starting. One year older and wiser and I was picked for the County. Mr Tindall broke the news to me and it came as quite a surprise. Once again it was all a bit embarrassing when the Head Master announced it to the school at the morning assembly. I felt it was making me sound much better than I really was and somehow I had to live up to this billing. Our first match was against another side from the Home Counties. It was a home game for us but it still meant a 15 mile train journey which was no hardship at all, as my passion for trains was still as strong.

  County games were played on Saturday mornings so I should still be okay to watch footie with Grandad in the afternoons, providing the away games were not too far away. Mr Tindall asked as many as possible from our school to come along so he put up a list for the kids to put their names on it if they wanted to come. Poor Mr Tindall was a great chap, but on a different planet from the people of the Arches. He didn’t have a clue that everybody was broke, by this time there were only about ten families with cars and their children had long flown the nest. Angela’s family seemed a cut above the rest of us, they had a really nice car, paid for by the proceeds of the workers lining her Dad’s pockets from their hard earned wages. So hard earned in many cases that it cost many of them their health and sadly a few their lives, long before their time was due.

  No names appeared on the list, which came as no surprise at all to myself but in my heart I knew my friends would be with me in spirit.

  On the Thursday before the game Georgina waited for me after school which was quite unusual as I usually popped home quick to see Mum and Daisy before getting changed and going to Grandad’s for the evening. I wondered what was up but realised all was fine, especially after she told me that Angela really liked me and wondered if she could meet me on Saturday and come to see me play.

  My eyes must have beamed for Britain. Surely Angela didn’t really like me? Georgina told me to keep it quiet and she would do the arranging as Angela’s parents were very strict it seemed. Her Dad thought everybody was a new recruit in the Army and treated them as such. I thought he sounded like a ‘skin back fusilier’. Done it all, but really done ‘bugger all’. Georgina and I could trust each other to the end of the world and beyond so I didn’t utter a word to anyone.

  As I walked into class on Friday morning the girls were already sitting at their desks and as I passed Angela she gave me a huge smile. I was so happy and excited that I couldn’t concentrate on a single thing. I was in wonderland. The sun was streaming through the windows and the class was reading a book by Charles Dickens. We all had a go at reading as the teacher randomly picked out who should read next. ‘Billy McFirley continue’ came from the lips of Mrs (Smudger) Smith, our literature teacher. I didn’t have a clue where we were in the book so I just read anything and tried to bluff it. Sniggers and giggles started as it soon became blatantly obvious to all and sundry that I had lost my place and was relying on total bullshit to save the day. It didn’t work. Standing out at the front of the class was totally and utterly degrading but, true to form, my mate Georgina didn’t let me down as she too completely ballsed up as her mind was taken by the constant flow of notes going backwards and forwards between Angela and herself. Every time Mrs Smith looked towards Georgina and myself you could see all of the boys and most of the girls trying their utmost to make us laugh, either by pulling faces, sticking their tongues out or making rude signs with their fingers. But Mrs Smith was a right old cow so somehow Georgina and I remained composed. How, I will never begin to fathom out. Our humiliation got a further reprieve when Angela, the class ‘goody goody’, and number one student by a mile fucked up as well. This was the final straw for Mrs Smith and she gave the whole class 25 lines.

  After school we all sat in total silence repeating ‘I must pay more attention in class’. Angela and Georgina got off lightly but most of my mates showed their displeasure by a torrent of verbal abuse hurled at me but all was soon forgotten as I took it on the chin with no retaliation. This was the kids mini version of the Honour of the Line. If you did wrong, you took your punishment on the chin and never split on, or blamed, your friends. What a great upbringing it was and would prove even more valuable later in life.

  Later that evening at the rec Georgina told me the arrangements for Saturday. Angela would meet me on the footbridge by St Jude’s at 8.45 am. and we would sneak in the side entrance of the station. Neither Angela or myself would say a word to anybody as Angela’s Dad was a real control freak and was unable, it seemed, to walk away from his military background. Peter, Angela’s brother, was apparently a real Mummy’s boy and couldn’t be trusted to know anything, but Angela had told her older sister Jill that we were meeting up. Jill had left school and got a job in town and had moved in with a work friend’s parents as she had been very unhappy in the family home in Lancashire and although moving South with them, moved out at the first opportunity in order to get some freedom. They sounded a troubled family.

  Angela’s bluff would be she wanted to meet Jill in town before Jill started work and then go to Saturday morning pictures, which was in the next town, about a 20 minute bus ride away. Blimey I thought, am I worth the risk? I had no idea what to expect but kept fantasising about getting a kiss. I was over the moon.

  Mum, Dad and Grandad asked me on Friday night if I was nervous. ‘Too right’ I replied, but little did they know it had nothing to do with football. I barely slept a wink that night.

  CHAPTER 13

  First Date Nerves

  By the time Saturday morning arrived my anxiety had reached boiling point. What should I do? Failure was not an option but I had nobody to talk to about it besides Georgina but she was also Angela’s friend. ‘Good old Georgina came to my rescue as always. On my way back from running errands for Mum I bumped into her. She had been sent to buy a newspaper for her Mum to read. Typical of many families, they only got a newspaper at weekends, which the Mum’s got to read first as the great majority of the men had to work on Saturday mornings before going to watch the town football team in the afternoons.

  Georgina said to me “if you think you’re nervous spare a thought for poor Angela. She never stops talking about you, but only to me, others don’t have a clue”. With that Georgina gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek and wished me good luck. I could tell by her eyes that she was envious and it saddened me a little.

  Arriving in plenty of time I stood on the footbridge that overlooked St Jude’s and it was really depressing. The main building was now empty with many broken windows as was the chapel. This was particularly sad as the chapel windows were stained glass, but I knew this damage would not have been caused by any of the lads of the Arches. Our lot were rogues but we had a code of conduct and decent morals. Weeds were growing everywhere, from the main steps to the tired ornate paving. The once magnificent gardens were now just a faded memory and it all made me very sad. Homeless families still lived there but their time at St Jude’s was now in its swan song. Most of the elderly patients must have either passed on or been transferred to homes elsewhere. I really didn’t like what I was seeing.

  Turning away my day became so much brighter. In the distance I could see Angela approaching. Her hair was still in a ponytail but she had a really short skirt on which made her legs look even longer. As she came up to me I was so nervous but I found enough courage to give her a rather brief hug, which she seemed to like. This hug was all too short. My word did she smell lovely. Her perfume was like gold dust to me. We quickly decided that, so as not to arouse suspicion, we should not walk together, people had big mouths. So I went to the ticket office and got our tickets, two
half returns, which I felt awkward in asking for. Yes we were both still children but we were on our first venture into the big wide adult world. Our train pulled in and it was pulled by one of my favourite class of steam locos, but I paid no attention. Sod the train numbers, I was on a date and I realised there and then that my train spotting days were quickly coming to an end. Far more important things were taking over. We spoke about our families and Angela said that Jill her sister was really close to her and that Peter her brother was a bit of a loner. This came as no surprise to me, he didn’t seem to mix particularly well at school. It was easy to understand about Peter. He was no good at football, didn’t like trains, as most of the other lads did and was a really quiet sort of boy. He just seemed a shy, decent sort of chap but he was certainly out of place in the Arches. Angela told me how she worried about her sister Jill, because Jill had confided that although she had a boyfriend called Ian, she had been gradually falling in love with someone who was out of bounds. Jill had told Angela this person wasn’t married so Angela did not have the faintest clue as to what ‘out of bounds’ meant. I could throw no light on the subject at all, I was still far too young and innocent.