They had been walking with Greg’s arm around Cathy’s waist. Now she drew away and straightened her hat, then walked along demurely with her arm through his.
‘Oh, I have enjoyed today,’ she exclaimed as they stood in the queue. ‘I feel tons better.’
‘You look better too,’ he said. ‘Your mam will be pleased.’
The children returned to school and life returned to normal for Cathy, but at the beginning of May Greg slipped and fell as he alighted from a tram, spraining his right wrist. He was unable to hold a pen in his right hand and although he practised writing with his left, the office manager refused to accept his handwriting and he was obliged to stay off work.
One of his colleagues brought the wages that were due to him a few days later. Cathy heard him say, ‘Anyone but old Greenwood would have found you a filing job or something until your hand was right, but I’m afraid he’s got it in for you, old chap.’
‘Why has the manager got his knife into you, Greg?’ she asked when the man had gone, but he was unable to tell her.
‘I’ve never done anything to offend him as far as I know,’ he said, ‘but he’s a queer man.’
Greg took out medical books from the Library and studied them, then worked on his wrist to such good effect that he was able to return to work after a week, much to Cathy’s relief.
She felt sometimes that Fate was against her in her efforts to reduce the debt which seemed to grow larger instead of smaller. Mrs Cain was still accommodating about it, and partly for that very reason Cathy was determined somehow to pay it off.
She kept her worries hidden and was outwardly as cheerful as ever, singing as she went about her housework and greeting Greg with a happy smile when he returned from work.
On the twenty-eighth of June the children were all out when he came in from work and drew some transparent coloured eye shields from his pocket.
‘These were given away in the newspaper, Cath. For the eclipse tomorrow. Apparently it’s dangerous to look at it with the naked eye.’
‘Sarah said they were told about it at school,’ Cathy said. ‘The teacher drew diagrams on the blackboard.’
‘Yes, it’s very important. I thought I might take John to see it, because there’s no school tomorrow – a Holy Day of Obligation. The sun rises at twenty to five and the eclipse should be about twenty past six. They’re allowing people on the flat roof of the school. What do you think, Cath?’
‘You’d have to be up very early,’ she said, ‘I know John’s off but you’d still have to go to work, wouldn’t you?’
‘I’m not worried about that,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t like John to miss it. It will be so many years before it happens again.’
Before he could say any more the door burst open and John rushed in. ‘Hello, Dad,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Mam, Dad, can I go to Crosby with Grandad to see the eclipse? The world will go dark, Grandad says, and it won’t happen again until I’m old. Can I go?’
‘But—’ Cathy began, looking at Greg in dismay.
He slipped the shades in his pocket and said quickly, ‘Crosby? That should be a good vantage point. Yes, of course you can go, John.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ he said, darting away to tell his grandfather.
‘Oh, Greg! But you wanted—’
‘It doesn’t matter Cath, really. Don’t let your father know I’d suggested it. He just hasn’t thought of John going with me.’
‘I know,’ Cathy said, but she still looked troubled. Then her face brightened.
‘I’ve just thought, Greg, why don’t you take Sarah? She’d love it, and it’s just as important for her to see these things.’
‘But is she old enough to understand?’ he asked doubtfully.
‘Of course she is. I told you – her teacher told them all about it.’
Sarah was delighted when she was told, and the eclipse was something she remembered all her life: walking through streets even at that hour thronged with people, then waiting in the crowd on the flat roof of the school, then the awe-inspiring seconds of utter darkness and silence and an eerie feeling. Then the relief when normality returned, and most of all the feeling of closeness to her father as she walked beside him, clutching his arm.
For John too the morning was memorable, but less for the exciting moments of the eclipse itself than for a conversation with his grandfather which channelled all his vague plans for the future.
They arrived early at Crosby and as they strolled from the railway station to the shore, Lawrie talked about an item in the newspapers about a Bill which had come before Parliament for its third reading.
‘The Trades Union and Trades Disputes Bill, but the papers are calling it the Freedom Bill. Freedom! Freedom to starve, that’s what it is.’
‘What’s it about, Grandad?’
‘About making a General Strike illegal – they say no man is to be intimidated into striking or forced to contribute to any political party, but they know fine well no intimidation is needed. The last time men rushed to come out because it was the only way they could protest about what was being done to them. It’s all eyewash, this Bill.’
‘What do you mean – eyewash?’
‘I mean they’re pretending it’s for the benefit of the working man, and really it’s to make sure that working men don’t stand together to get justice.’
‘Like last year when everyone came out to support the miners?’
‘Aye, God help them. Their pay was so low that their families were going hungry even while the men worked long hours. When the masters wanted to cut it even lower, the men had to do something. More shame to us that we weakened and left them to stand alone,’ Lawrie said with a sigh.
They walked in silence for a while then John said, ‘What about the other bit, Grandad? About contributing to a political party.’
Lawrie gave a short bitter laugh. ‘By “political party” they mean the Labour Party, lad. It doesn’t matter to the other two parties with money being poured into them by newspaper barons and businessmen who know they’ll benefit by having laws passed that’ll line their pockets. That’s why Clines and Lansbury and Thomas have tried to fight this Bill, but they’ve got big guns against them.’
They had been walking slowly but suddenly Lawrie had a fit of coughing so severe that he had to sit on a low wall nearby. John stood beside him, watching anxiously, unable to help.
‘Sit further along and lean on this, Grandad,’ he said when the bout of coughing was over. ‘Do you think you’ve talked too much?’
Lawrie wiped his face and took a deep breath. ‘I always do, lad,’ he said with a grin. ‘But it’d take more than the ould tickle to stop me. I’ll just sit here for a minute and get me breath back.’
They sat together for a few minutes with John darting anxious glances at his grandfather.
‘It’s a good thing you didn’t go on the Council, Grandad,’ he said presently. ‘Although it’s a shame in a way because you’d be better than any of them.’
Lawrie smiled. ‘Aye, I always said I didn’t want to get mixed up with their squabbles about religion, but the truth is, lad, your grandma put her foot down good and proper on the idea because of me cough.’ His face grew serious.
‘The old cough stopped me, John, but I hope you’ll carry on the fight. The Council for experience, then get into Parliament. That’s the only way. Get into Parliament and help to change the whole rotten system from inside.’
‘It’ll take a long time that way,’ John said doubtfully.
‘You’ve got time on your side, lad,’ Lawrie said. He gripped John’s arm. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you. It’s not just your company, John. You’re my hope for the future. It crucifies me to see poor kids hungry and barefoot, and women worn out and old before they’re thirty, and not be able to fight for them. But you’ll do it, won’t you?’
‘I will, Grandad,’ said John, feeling as though he was taking a solemn oath.
‘Men too,’ Lawrie went on, �
�standing for hours at the dock gates, soaked to the skin and hungry, then fighting like animals for the chance of half a day’s work. Turned away too, as often as not. I know what it’s like. I did it myself when your mam and Auntie Mary were children.’
‘I know,’ John said. ‘I heard Grandma saying to Mam that was how you got your bad chest.’
‘Aye, but it was only a bad patch for me and we came out of it. Some fellers never know anything else all their lives – except when they’re wanted to fight for their country.’
People were beginning to hurry past them towards the shore and Lawrie stood up. With a sudden change of mood, he said cheerfully, ‘Never mind that now, lad. We’ve come out to enjoy ourselves, haven’t we? This has been good for trade anyway, with the pictures open all night, and the pubs having extensions for music and dancing until the early hours. It’s a bit of excitement for us too, isn’t it?’
They had reached the shore and found a comfortable seat among the sandhills, where Lawrie produced a can of tea and sandwiches. They settled down to enjoy a picnic but even during the exciting moments before the eclipse John was thinking of his grandfather’s words and storing them away in his mind.
Cathy and Sally had hot cocoa ready when they all returned, and Cathy insisted that they all went to bed for a few hours’ sleep and saved all talk of the eclipse for later. She knew that Greg would be up and out to work before John came downstairs to talk about his outing with his grandfather, and hoped that the subject would be exhausted before he came home. Although Greg had said nothing, she had an uneasy feeling that he had been hurt because John had gone with Lawrie.
Chapter Five
Greg had not forgotten his plan to take the children out on Sundays, but he needed to spend a great deal of time on the allotment and Sunday was his only free day. Cathy told him not to worry about it as they all enjoyed spending sunny days at the allotment and having picnic meals there, but he still felt that he would like to show the children the Park’s sights.
He was pleased, however, that John was spending less time with his grandfather. Even when Lawrie and Sally were at the allotment with Cathy and Greg and the younger children, John was often elsewhere playing cricket.
He had been chosen for the school team and as with his other enthusiasms, for the moment it was all he could think of. He had formed a team to play in the park and they were now challenging boys from other areas and travelling round to various parks to play.
Greg had a stroke of luck at this time. A man who had one of the other allotments had admired the hut which he had built on theirs and asked him to make one for him.
Greg had access to a cheap supply of wood through a timber firm owned by a man who had once been a shop boy in his father’s jeweller’s shop. He built a sturdy shed and fitted it with shelving. The allotment holder was delighted with it.
‘You got the wood cheap because of your contacts,’ he said. ‘You should have the benefit of that. I’ll pay you full price for the wood, and for your labour. How about a quid?’
Greg said he would only take what he had paid for the wood.
‘No, lad, I said you got it cheap through your contact but I’ll pay the full price. I reckon I’m still doing well. I’m made up with that shed,’ the man said.
Greg hastened home and put a one pound and a ten shilling note on the table by Cathy.
‘How about that?’ he said triumphantly. ‘For building that shed.’ Cathy gazed at the money in disbelief then flung her arms round his neck.
‘Oh Greg! Oh, what a relief,’ she exclaimed.
‘He paid me a pound for my work and the ten bob is the difference between what I paid Stan Johnson for the wood and its retail value. He insisted on paying the full price,’ Greg said, smiling broadly. ‘Should pay for new shoes for the menace and a few extras, shouldn’t it?’
Mick had arrived home from school with the sole of one shoe torn away from the upper and Cathy had kept him indoors as a punishment. Now he grinned unrepentantly at his father.
‘You’d better look after your next pair of shoes,’ Cathy warned him. ‘Dad’s worked hard for this money.’ But she was too happy to scold him further. Her mind was filled with plans for the pound note, including paying something off at the corner shop, but she pushed the ten shilling note to Greg.
‘You should keep this. It will be a chance for you to get new shoes yourself. That split’s beginning to show.’
He glanced down at the heavy boots he wore for the allotment. ‘Pity I can’t wear these for the office,’ he said ruefully. ‘I must admit I was getting worried about my shoes.’
‘Well, this is a golden opportunity for you to get new ones,’ she said cheerfully.
The money gave a lift to their spirits as well as helping them in a constant battle to make ends meet. Cathy was able to pay a few shillings to Mrs Cain, and buy various small necessities she had been unable to afford from Greg’s small wage.
Greg took Mick with him and bought his shoes as well as his own from the ten shillings, and Cathy was able to buy shoes for Sarah and replace a worn-out pan and towels. She also bought a leather cricket ball for John to use instead of the tennis ball he usually played with, and Greg insisted that she bought something for herself.
She chose a prettily flowered wraparound pinafore. As Grace Woods had once said to Cathy: “These pinnies cover a multitude”, and though the clothes beneath them might be worn and shabby, and their shoes patched and stockings darned, the women of the neighbourhood felt that they looked respectable if they had a clean pinafore to wear.
Cathy wore a sacking apron in the morning for the heaviest and dirtiest housework in her own house and her mother’s, but always washed thoroughly and changed into her floral pinafore in the early afternoon. Although Cathy had worried about Sarah hearing “dirty talk” from the girls in the street, she never worried about Mick. He had always been his own man, having hosts of friends but always set on doing whatever his inventive mind suggested at the moment. He seemed as oblivious to quarrels between the other boys, and their conversation, as he was to scolding for damaging his clothes.
It was a shock to her when he came in one day while she was putting clothes through the mangle and said bluntly, ‘Mam, where do babies come from?’
‘Just a minute,’ she said folding a pillowcase to give herself time to think.
Sarah was there, helping to put the clothes through the mangle, and before her mother could speak replied calmly, ‘Eileen Reddy said they grow inside their mam. We were doing the altar flowers one day and there were some irises, and you know how the little bud grows on the stem?’
‘No, I don’t know what irises are like,’ Mick said.
But Sarah went on, ‘Eileen said that’s how babies grow inside their mam. I thought Mrs Carter brought them.’
Cathy had been about to tell Mick that Mrs Carter the midwife brought the babies so she felt that she had had a narrow escape.
‘But how do they get out?’ he asked Sarah.
‘Through their mam’s belly button,’ she said in her quiet way.
‘Mams must have big belly buttons,’ Mick said doubtfully.
‘It’s like balloons,’ Sarah explained. ‘Eileen said the babies come squashed flat then they blow up properly.’
Cathy had gone into the living room and was rummaging in the dresser, her lips twitching as she listened to Sarah’s confident explanation. Suddenly her expression grew thoughtful. She went back into the kitchen.
‘Who’ve you been playing with, Mick?’
‘Bertie Woods and Bob Bailey and some other fellows,’ he said.
‘But they’re older than you,’ Cathy exclaimed.
‘Yes, but they’ve got a go cart. Bertie got the wheels but I got the box for it so they have to let me play with them.’
‘Never mind the go cart,’ Cathy said. ‘Those lads are too old for you. Play with boys your own age.’
Bertie Woods, she thought. I don’t like that lad. Bertie was the
second son of Grace Woods next door and very like his father, a big bullying man who frequently beat his wife and children. Grace was expecting her eighth child and Cathy wondered whether Bertie had overheard conversations about the birth.
She told Greg about the incident later. ‘You could knocked me down with a feather. Not just Mick springing that on me, but the way Sarah talked to him about it.’
‘Eileen Reddy seems a nice girl,’ Greg said.
‘She does,’ Cathy agreed. ‘She lives in Field Street though, so she goes the other way home from school to Sarah. Still, I’m glad they play together in school. There’s a few nice girls in that class, not like the girls in this street, except for Doreen.’
‘I’d better have a talk with Mick,’ Greg said. ‘I’ve had a word with John on the subject.’
‘Have you? I didn’t know.’
‘I thought it might be wise,’ was all he said, but Cathy was pleased. I’ll have to stop looking for trouble between them, she thought. They get on all right now.
She made up her mind that she would take the children out to the park during the school holidays, or for days out further afield. The children could have four rides for a penny on the tram and the baby would go free, so it would cost very little and would keep them away from other influences.
John had other plans, but as soon as the holidays started Cathy put hers into effect. She packed a bottle of cold tea and packets of bread and jam into the bottom of the baby carriage, and set off for Newsham Park with Sarah and Mick walking beside her.
They also took a bat that Greg had made, and a ball, and played rounders and catch. Cathy enjoyed the games as much as Mick and Sarah, and Kate toddled about picking blades of grass and playing with a knitted ball that her grandmother had made for her.
Sometimes Cathy joined forces to go to the park with her friend Freda who lived in the next street. She was a plump jolly girl with a carefree attitude to housework.
‘It’ll be there when I’m gone,’ she would say airily. ‘Come on, kids.’ Her baby would be dumped in with Kate, and Freda would fill a bag with jam butties and broken biscuits, and a bottle of tea.
There is a Season Page 6
