There is a Season

by There is a Season (retail) (epu

  Sarah looked back and smiled and Cathy felt a sudden shock of recognition. She turned to her mother as the child sped away. ‘I got the shock of my life then, Mam. Sarah smiled at me and it was just as if she was Greg. Oh, I know she’s not a bit like him in looks – she’s the model of you – it was just the smile. I don’t know why I’ve never seen it before.’

  ‘Aye, you can’t mistake Greg’s smile,’ Sally said, thinking that it was that smile which had charmed both Cathy and Mary and nearly caused a rift in her family. Aloud she said, ‘I used to think John smiled like that but he’s grown less like his father lately, in expression anyway.’

  ‘I think he’s still the image of Greg,’ Cathy said quietly.

  ‘Everything all right there, love?’ Sally asked gently.

  ‘Oh, yes, they’re the best of friends.’ Even to her mother she was reluctant to say how often John spoke impudently to his father, and how often Greg criticized his elder son. It will all sort itself out when John grows older, she told herself, and meanwhile ignored the frequent clashes between them.

  Later, when they returned to Norris Street, the usual crowd of women was surrounding Mrs Parker. One of them called to Cathy, ‘I seen yer washing out before the birds were up this morning. Yer bed can’t be very comfortable.’ They all sniggered and Cathy was annoyed to feel her eyes filling with tears. She made no reply and went quickly into the house. She sat down and Sarah came and stood beside her.

  ‘Don’t cry, Mam,’ she said. ‘Our John said they’re only jealous.’

  ‘I don’t care about them,’ Cathy said. ‘I’m just tired. Get me a drink of water, please, love.’

  Cathy waited until the children were in bed before telling Greg about the neighbour’s remark. She was sorry she had mentioned it when she saw a worried look appear on his face.

  ‘We’ll have to get away from here, Cath,’ he said. ‘But I’ve asked everywhere and I can’t find another house – not one that we can afford, anyway. We need something bigger than this, with three bedrooms, but the rents are too high.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind even another two up and two down,’ Cathy said. ‘Not all these little streets are like this. That girl I walk to the school with sometimes from the next street – her mother lives there, and her sisters and cousins. They all go to their mam but she’s different altogether from Mrs Parker. Freda told me she was really desperate one week. She hadn’t a penny left until payday and her little boy lost one of his shoes on the way home from school. The baby was screaming with earache, so she went to her mam. She put warm oil in the child’s ear and nursed him off to sleep, then when she was on her own with Freda she gave her some money for shoes for Joey.

  ‘Freda say she’s always doing something like that for them if they’re short – and she always says, “Just to tide you over, girl. Give it me back when you’ve got it.” Catch Mrs Parker doing that!’

  ‘I wonder whether we should apply for a Corporation house, Cath? It would mean moving to the outskirts of Liverpool but there’d be space, and a bathroom, and a garden.’

  ‘But it would be more rent, and then fares for you to go to work and the children to school,’ Cathy objected.

  ‘I could get a bike, and there are new schools on those estates.’

  ‘But John – the College – and I wouldn’t want to go so far away from Mam. Anyway, those houses are only for people living in a couple of rooms or a slum house.’

  ‘True,’ Greg said. ‘It was just an idea.’ He slipped his arm around her waist. ‘Try to ignore the comments, Cath. As Sarah says – they’re only jealous of you.’

  ‘It was John who said it. Sarah just repeated it,’ she said. ‘But I will ignore them. I’ve been a fool to let it bother me.’

  * * *

  When John started at the College and walked down the street in his new uniform, Cathy knew that there would be sly comments made, but her concern about this was soon forgotten in her shock at the amount of homework that he was expected to do. Often he had to work from immediately after his evening meal until eleven o’clock at night, and even at weekends he had little spare time to spend with his grandfather.

  Cathy worried about his health but Greg assured her that things would be better when John became used to the work. This proved to be true, but as he settled into the College he soon became involved in the various sporting activities.

  Though Greg admired Lawrie and respected him, he was secretly relieved to see John spending less time with his grandfather, and coming under other influences. Greg was not aware that the fires of anger against injustice lit by Lawrie were only temporarily damped down in John’s mind, and still smouldered below the surface.

  Now that John was so occupied, he and Greg came in contact only briefly, usually at meal times when the boy’s conversation was chiefly about his school activities, so the tension between them was eased, much to Cathy’s relief.

  Greg’s suggestion of moving out of Everton had alarmed her, and she determined to make the best of living in Norris Street and to ignore the pinpricks.

  “What can’t be cured must be endured” was a favourite maxim of her mother’s, and Cathy determined to act on it. She would say no more about moving, but she would keep herself to herself and also make sure that her children were not suffering by living there.

  John’s time was fully occupied now, and Kate was still only a baby, but Cathy made plans for Sarah. Doreen Bates had told her that some of the bigger girls in the street “talked dirty” so Cathy ensured that Sarah was kept away from them. Often on Friday nights Sarah stayed with her grandmother, and on Saturday played with her friends in Egremont Street.

  She spent more time too in Elsie Hammond’s florist’s, and Sunday was always a family day. The family would go together to nine o’clock Mass, then after a hearty breakfast they would go to the grandparents’ home in Egremont Street.

  Greg and Lawrie, and John if he was free, would then go to the allotment. Josh would have had his breakfast and left to visit an old friend, returning after lunch, and in fine weather Cathy and Sally would take a basket containing meat and cheese sandwiches and some of Sally’s homemade cakes for a picnic tea at the allotment. There was a spirit stove there and all that was necessary for tea. At first Josh accompanied them, but then he decided that he preferred to have a rest on Sunday afternoons, so Sally left him a substantial cold tea.

  As winter approached the cold wet days meant that picnics at the allotment were finished but the family still spent most of Sunday together. Whenever possible the men worked on the allotment but they were always glad to return to Sally’s warm kitchen and the plentiful spread she provided.

  One day in November the meal was the cause of a resumption in the friction between John and his father, which Cathy had hoped was now finished. Lawrie and Greg came in, closely followed by John who had been playing for the College Rugby team, all cold and hungry.

  Sally had a pan of soup to supplement the usual cold meat and pickles, and John had three helpings of this, followed by a generous serving of cold meat and several slices of bread and butter.

  Rhubarb tarts and apple tarts followed, and Sally cut a generous slice of his favourite apple for John. She had already served Lawrie and Greg and the younger children, and Cathy brought a jug of custard to the table. John immediately seized it and poured a lavish amount into his dish.

  Greg began angrily, ‘John—’

  But Sally said quickly, ‘It’s all right, Greg. There’s plenty more out there.’ She smiled fondly at John. ‘I suppose the football gives you an appetite, lad.’

  ‘It does, Grandma,’ he agreed. Greg was still frowning but John seemed unaware of his father’s censure. As soon as he had eaten his apple pie, he asked immediately for some more.

  This was too much for Greg who grew red with anger.

  ‘Have some thought for others, John,’ he snapped. ‘Your grandma and your mam haven’t had any at all yet.’

  John blushed and muttered, ‘Sorry,
Grandma,’ but he shot an angry look at his father.

  Sally said placatingly, ‘I’m glad to see them eaten, Greg. I made three rhubarb tarts as well as a couple of apple.’

  ‘Aye, the rhubarb did well this year,’ Lawrie said. ‘We’ll have to remember to force some next year, Greg. That chap on the end allotment had some in March just by putting a bucket over it in the winter.’

  The uncomfortable moment passed but Sally noticed that John sat as far as possible from his father after the meal, and when the Redmond family had gone home she spoke to Lawrie about it.

  ‘Do you think Greg feels we spoil John, Lol? I wouldn’t like him to think we made any distinction between the children.’

  ‘Greg couldn’t think that, love. Look how close you and Sarah are, and we all spoil the baby.’ He laughed. ‘We couldn’t spoil young Mick – he never stands still long enough.’

  ‘But that business with the pie – I seemed to be taking John’s part against his father, but there was plenty and I like to see a lad eat well.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Sal. Greg was just worried in case he left us short, that’s all.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Sally said, but she still looked thoughtful.

  Cathy had said nothing about the incident until they left her mother’s house, then she gave John the key and told him to run ahead with Sarah and Mick. As soon as they had gone, she turned to Greg.

  ‘I hope you’re satisfied! Making a scene like that and leaving everyone feeling uncomfortable.’

  ‘Something had to be said,’ Greg snapped. ‘He showed no concern at all for other people. Your mother was just about to sit down for her own meal when he demanded more pie.’

  ‘He didn’t demand,’ Cathy said, ‘he asked for another helping and Mam was pleased to give it to him. She knows he’s a growing lad and always hungry.’

  ‘Hungry!’ Greg exclaimed. ‘He was eating as though for a wager. It was an abuse of your mother’s hospitality, and you know it, Cathy.’

  They had reached home and nothing more was said while she hurriedly prepared the children for bed. The fire had gone out and the house was cold but John had boiled water on the gas ring and was filling a hot water bottle when they arrived. He had put the kettle on again for cocoa and Cathy said gratefully, ‘That’s a good lad, John. Put the bottle in Kate’s cot for a minute then it can go in Sarah’s bed, you and Mick will warm each other.’

  John smiled at her and ran upstairs with the stone hot water bottle. Cathy glanced at Greg to see if he had noticed his son’s helpfulness, but he had taken off his coat and seemed absorbed in cleaning out the grate and laying the fire for the morning.

  Later, when the children were safely in bed and asleep, Cathy returned to the argument.

  ‘It was ridiculous to say John “abused Mam’s hospitality”. She made those pies for tea and was delighted to see him enjoying them.’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ he said. ‘John was greedy and selfish, and I’m surprised that you defend him – although I know, of course, that he can do no wrong in your eyes.’

  ‘And no right in yours!’ she retorted.

  They were interrupted by a loud cry from the baby. Cathy dashed upstairs to attend to her. You can’t even have a row in peace in this house, she thought, then the absurdity of the thought struck her, and she smiled.

  By the time that Kate had been comforted and Cathy had returned downstairs, both she and Greg had had time to draw back from an argument in which things might be said that would be hard to forget. By tacit consent the disagreement was dropped.

  Cathy spent a wakeful night. Kate was teething and when Cathy was disturbed by the baby’s cries she lay awake worrying about matters which she could manage to push to the back of her mind during the day.

  Chief of these was money. When she had only two children Cathy could manage to make ends meet on Greg’s small wage, with the help of food from the allotment and assistance from her mother, but as her family grew it became increasingly hard. She could manage to provide sufficient food, with Sally’s unobtrusive help, but clothes and other extras, particularly shoes, were an ever present worry.

  John and Sarah rapidly outgrew their shoes and Mick’s only seemed to last a couple of weeks before the sole was hanging off or the toecaps scuffed away.

  When Sally bought a rabbit she always made a small pie for Lawrie and Josh and herself, and a larger one for Cathy’s family, and part of her bread and cake baking was always passed to her daughter.

  ‘I can’t get used to cooking for a small family,’ was always her excuse as Sally put bread and cakes into Cathy’s basket.

  The clothes she provided were a great help too. Sally’s arthritis meant that she could no longer do fine sewing but she had kept her sewing machine and on it made dresses for Sarah and trousers for John and Mick from the material in second-hand clothes, bought for a few pence in the market or from a wardrobe dealer. A cutdown pair of men’s Harris tweed trousers had provided a pair for Mick which had defied even his talent for destruction.

  Shoes were another matter and providing them, and other items such as coal and pennies for the gas, became increasingly hard for Cathy. She had shopped at the Co-operative Stores when she began life in Norris Street, but gradually she had slipped into the habit of frequenting the corner shop which gave credit.

  At first she told herself that it was just for a week or two until she could catch up, but instead she found that she was falling further behind. She paid her bill weekly and at first left only a shilling or two to be carried forward, but before she realized what was happening the debt had grown until she owed as much as Greg’s weekly wage.

  Every week there seemed to be some reason why she was unable to pay anything off the debt. Her only hope was a Christmas Tontine to which she paid two shillings a week. She had decided that her Tontine payment of two pounds must go to pay off the debt, and that there could be no extras for Christmas, but the woman who ran the Tontine had supposedly gone to nurse a sick friend in Wales and rumours that she had in fact absconded were growing.

  What on earth can I do if she has? Cathy thought despairingly. Her worries were compounded by the fact that she had concealed her debt from Greg and her mother – from Sally because she ashamed to tell her when she had given so much help and because her mother was such a good manager, and from Greg because she knew he would feel mortified that his wage was insufficient.

  The rumours proved to be true, and although the woman was arrested the money was gone, and there was nothing for the members of the Tontine.

  It was the main topic of conversation in the district. When Cathy went into the corner shop the woman there asked if she had been a member.

  ‘Yes, I was,’ Cathy admitted. She hesitated, blushed, then said nervously, ‘I was hoping to pay my bill with it. I’m sorry – I don’t know what I’ll do now.’

  Mrs Cain leaned over the counter. ‘Well, don’t go to no moneylender, Mrs Redmond. You know what I mean.’

  It was something that had not occurred to Cathy, but the woman spoke so earnestly that she agreed.

  ‘There’s been some suicides when women have run Tontines and spent the money, but there’s been more people done away with themselves because of moneylenders. Don’t worry about what you owe me. I know you’ll clear it when you can.’

  ‘I will,’ Cathy promised. ‘Thanks for giving me time. I’ve been very worried about it.’

  They talked for a while about the people whose Christmas would be ruined by the loss of the Tontine money and of similar cases which had occurred in other years.

  ‘I suppose it would be more sensible to put the money in the Post Office every week,’ Cathy said.

  ‘Yes but would you do it?’ Mrs Cain said shrewdly. ‘It’s because she came round every week on pay night that people put it away.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ Cathy said.

  She turned to leave the shop and Mrs Cain said suddenly. ‘It’s a wonder you can leave your lad at sch
ool until he’s sixteen, Mrs Redmond. I know the railway don’t pay much. Grace Woods’ lad is earning twelve shillings a week in the foundry and he’s only fifteen.’

  Cathy’s face burned but fortunately a customer came into the shop and she was able to leave without replying.

  In the small hours of the night she lay awake thinking of Mrs Cain’s words. Was she mad to have such ambitions for her children? John’s school fees were paid and a grant given towards the cost of his uniform, but there were many small extras for which money had to be found, and this was one of the reasons for her debt at the shop. She resented Mrs Cain’s comments but she told herself that the woman was entitled to make them while money was owed to her.

  The thought of the twelve shillings a week earned by Harry Woods, and the difference that such a sum would make for all of them, was tempting. But then Cathy thought of young Harry, pale and hollow-cheeked, too exhausted after work to do more than eat and sleep, and knew that that was not the life she wanted for her sons, no matter what sacrifice was needed from her.

  Chapter Four

  Cathy felt a sense of reprieve after talking to Mrs Cain and having her credit extended, but she resolved to watch every penny that she spent and to reduce her debt if it was only by sixpence a week. She felt that she was a poor manager. True, Greg’s wage as a railway clerk was meagre but he only kept enough from it for a frugal five cigarettes a day, and walked to work to save fares. He got off-cuts of wood from someone he knew to save coal, and borrowed a last from her father with which to repair the children’s shoes.

  With help from her mother and food from the allotment, Cathy felt that she had no excuse for debt.

  She remembered Greg’s words about envying Lawrie’s knack with people and thought that she envied her mother’s knack with money. Then she remembered her old friend Mrs Malloy, and her cheerful saying, “Never mind, girl, we never died a winter yet”, and felt comforted.

  That Christmas was a happy one in spite of her worries. John brought home his first school report and they were all delighted by it. He was third in his class and described as “intelligent and industrious”. His behaviour was described as “excellent”. Cathy looked on happily as Greg shook John’s hand and told him that he was proud of him.