There is a Season

by There is a Season (retail) (epu

  He thought with contempt about Liverpool, where religious differences frustrated the efforts of people like his grandfather to improve life for the poor. He had been singled out by these men as fit for a wider field.

  The only drawback was having to eat humble pie and stay at home.

  He had been warned not to repeat the conversation in the back room to anyone, and advised to tell his friends that he had decided to stay at home because of his mother. John felt uncomfortable about using her as an excuse, but when he reached home everything was made easy for him.

  Greg said nothing about his leaving home even though he had reached home before John and must have known that he had defied him to go to the Club. He said goodnight curtly when John prepared to go to bed, and John hesitated then said gruffly, ‘Sorry about what happened, Dad.’

  ‘That’s all right, we’ll forget it,’ Greg said, and Cathy smiled at John with such delight that he felt ashamed of himself. It’s all for the Cause, he told himself, stifling his qualms.

  For the following weeks John stayed at home most nights, reading or listening to the wireless, or sometimes going over to sit and talk to his grandmother. The bruises on his face soon faded and his fingers healed, so that Cathy was able to believe that the whole episode was over and John had learned a lesson from it.

  Greg had told Mick that he regretted striking him as he realized he had been trying to help on the night of the row, so harmony reigned in the family.

  In July everyone was sorry to hear of the untimely death of Wilf Hamer, the Band Leader at the Grafton Rooms. They were impressed by the courage of his wife who immediately took over leadership of the band.

  Greg and Cathy went with Walter and Josie to the Thursday night dance at the Rooms, and on the Friday Cathy and Josie were called by the catering firm for a job. The conversation between the women was of Wilf Hamer, and another man who had died of pneumonia at the age of thirty-five, leaving three young children.

  There were several widows among the women, including Freda, and one of them said thoughtfully, ‘Nobody’d want to be a widow but there are compensations. Men are selfish beggars, even the best of them.’

  To Cathy’s amazement, Freda agreed with her. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I was heartbroken when Les died, but my life is a lot easier living with our Margie. I don’t have to account for how I spend my money, and she’ll always help with the kids. Les would if I was ill, but if I only had a headache I had to get on with it, and if there was nothing wrong with me he wouldn’t dream of helping.’

  ‘I’m on my own,’ a woman called Jane said, ‘and it suits me that way. I can please myself what I do and where I go, and I can go to bed and sleep at night without any moans and carrying on because I don’t want – you know.’

  ‘You don’t miss the other then?’ another woman said.

  ‘Indeed I don’t,’ Jane retorted. ‘I always thought it very overrated anyway, and very undignified.’

  Cathy and Josie exchanged smiles and then Cathy was startled to hear Freda say: ‘Another thing is, I can bring up the kids my own way. Les and I were always falling out about them, especially about my eldest lad.’

  If Greg wasn’t there, Cathy thought, I could guide John gently. He’d behave for me if his father wasn’t there, ranting at him and making him more obstinate and wild. Suddenly she pulled her thoughts up short, horrified at what she had been thinking. Wishing Greg dead. She felt cold at the thought.

  The conversation went on round her but she heard none of it. Her mind was filled with horror at the thoughts which had sprung into her mind at Freda’s words. The situation between Greg and John must have upset her more than she realized, she decided, if her subconscious could bring up thoughts like that, even for a moment.

  She was quiet and subdued all evening and for the following days watched Greg nervously, with a superstitious fear that she had been tempting fate by allowing herself even to think of his death. He, fortunately unaware of the reason for her concern, responded by making love to her passionately.

  Cathy was able to respond as passionately to him, because the resentment she had felt since the day of the court case had at last disappeared. She had been angry that Greg had told her mother that the magistrate was a school friend of his but had not told her, and when he subsequently made a casual reference to the man, said stiffly, ‘Mam told me you knew the magistrate.’

  Greg looked at her in surprise. ‘But you knew, didn’t you, that I was at school with him?’

  ‘You didn’t tell me,’ Cathy said. ‘I went to tell Mam that John was home from the court, and she said you’d been in and told her about that fellow.’

  He thought for a moment. ‘That’s right, I remember. I didn’t want to say anything in front of John that lunchtime, but surely we’ve mentioned it since.’

  ‘Not until now,’ she said. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nothing really. We recognized each other and nodded when I was waiting for John’s case, but we didn’t speak to each other, of course. It may not have influenced him at all. I think the other magistrates wanted to be harder on John but he did seem to be persuading them to be more lenient, possibly because of the letter I’d written. He was a smug little creep at school and still seemed a pompous ass,’ said Greg. ‘Satisfied?’

  Cathy nodded and smiled but said, ‘And that five pound fine. How did you manage that?’

  ‘Stan Johnson lent it to me when I asked him for time off to go to court. Just pulled it out of his pocket and told me to have it on me in case. He’s a good fellow.’

  ‘He is,’ Cathy agreed. ‘Very thoughtful.’

  ‘I’m paying it back at five shillings a week,’ Greg said. He grinned ruefully. ‘Now I know that’s something I haven’t told you, Cathy, but I thought it was better not to – as things were.’

  She bent her head over her knitting and picked up a dropped stitch, thinking that it was a pity that she had not spoken sooner about her grievances.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Although grief for her father was still with Cathy, like a sore spot in her mind, and she missed him every day, she was happier about the situation within her own family.

  John seemed to have settled down and rarely went out at night. He went swimming or cycling at weekends with friends from the office, and never mentioned politics at home now.

  Mick was doing well at school, passing examinations with ease, and had been Victor Ludorum at the College Sports. Everyone predicted a brilliant future for him but he went happily on his way, doing whatever occurred to him without bothering about anyone’s opinion.

  His latest idea was to join the dancing school where Kate was a star pupil, and learn step dancing. He paid for the lessons himself from the money he earned helping a milkman in the early mornings, and no amount of ridicule put him off.

  ‘People might think you’re a pansy,’ John told him, but Mick only shrugged.

  ‘They don’t say that about Fred Astaire, do they?’

  ‘And you think you’re like Fred Astaire,’ John jeered.

  ‘Not yet,’ Mick said coolly, and went on with the lessons.

  Kate was annoyed when Mick seemed to overshadow her, but was speedily consoled when she was chosen as one of the children to appear in crowd scenes in the Empire Theatre production.

  It was only a brief appearance but Kate behaved as though she was the star of the show, and all the family were tremendously proud of her, especially Josh. Parents were allowed back stage after the show and Cathy and Greg took Sally and Josh with them.

  Greg introduced Josh to various people as the man who had paid for Kate’s dancing lessons. One man shook hands with him when he was introduced. ‘Pretty little girl, sir,’ he said. ‘Should go far.’ Josh beamed at him and the man embraced him before saying, ‘Must go, dear, body’s wanted.’

  Cathy looked nervously at Josh, but he said with a blasé air, ‘Different from us, Cathy, these theatre chaps. Did you hear what he said. Kate should go far. I think he wa
s the producer feller.’

  Cathy doubted if this was so, or even whether the man knew who Kate was, but she was pleased to see the good old man so happy and proud.

  She was happier about Sarah too. She had lost her timidity since working in the shop, but had seemed sad and subdued since her grandfather’s death, partly, Cathy suspected, because she was disappointed in Michael.

  Lately though she had seemed much happier. She spent a lot of time with Anne Fitzgerald from the shop. Cathy liked Anne and thought her a much more suitable friend for Sarah than the boisterous Edie Meadows.

  Anne was one of seven children, all cheerful and extrovert, and Sarah had been drawn into many of their activities. They seemed to go about in a group, and Sarah went with them to dances or cycling on the Wirral, girls and boys wearing shorts and open neck shirts and coming home, sunburned and happy, full of fresh air and high spirits.

  Cathy felt that all the family discord was behind them now when she saw John and Greg chatting together, and looked forward happily to the future, unaware of happenings far away which would change their lives.

  In late July Greg looked up from the newspaper he was reading. ‘I think the world’s going mad,’ he said. ‘The King had a loaded revolver thrown in front of him after he’d presented new colours to the Guards, and in Spain the Generals have revolted against the Republican Government. It’ll mean Civil War, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Was the King hurt?’ Cathy asked.

  ‘No, and they’ve got the man who did it, but it should never have happened. What were the police thinking of?’

  ‘You’d think they’d be extra careful after that Gypsy Rose Lee saying he would become King but he would never be crowned,’ Cathy said. ‘People think it means he might fall ill and die, but he could be killed, couldn’t he?’

  John listened to them with mounting impatience. Going on about some stupid incident in London, he thought, instead of saying more about what was happening in Spain. He longed to ask for more details but on his last hurried visit to the Club had been warned again about keeping his head down. ‘You’ve got a conviction against you, remember,’ he was told. ‘Let your parents and everyone think you’ve changed.’

  He jumped to his feet, unable to keep quiet any longer. ‘I think I’ll go and see Tom,’ he said. ‘Ta ra, Mam.’

  ‘Ta ra, son,’ she said absently, still looking over Greg’s shoulder at the newspaper.

  John walked briskly down into the town and slipped into the Club. Bill was in the outer room and greeted him in half in fun, half in earnest: ‘Hello, stranger.’

  John forced himself to stand and chat for a while until others joined their group and he was able to slip away and into the back room.

  He found the men there looking serious and yet excited. ‘They’ll bring Franco back,’ one man told him. ‘It’s all part of the plot. They’ve been scheming for a long time.’

  ‘Aye, and we’ve been planning, too, as they’ll find out,’ another man said.

  ‘But what can we do?’ John asked. The man’s hand fell heavily on his arm. ‘We can stand shoulder to shoulder with our brothers, lad. We’ll show them what we can do when the workers stand together.’ Other men, equally excited, joined in, but John saw the man he’d always thought of as being like his grandfather on the opposite side of the room, and made his way over to him.

  He greeted John quietly, and John asked if he knew what was happening in Spain. The older man nodded.

  ‘Yes, we’re in touch with the Spanish UGT, that’s the same as our Trades Union Council. We’ll get the truth from them.’

  John asked again as he had asked the other men, ‘What can we do?’

  ‘Nothing yet,’ he was told. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll give practical help to our comrades, stand with them, but not yet. It’ll all have to be organized.’ John looked unconvinced and the man told him he would be kept informed and meanwhile must go on as he had been doing.

  He found it difficult to hide his impatience as the months passed, and to keep quiet when his father read aloud about events in Spain from his newspaper. It was rare for Greg to comment on Spain though, as he was far more interested in Herr Hitler’s doings since he had invaded the Rhineland in March, and the behaviour of Mussolini in Abyssinia.

  Addis Ababa had fallen to the Italians on May the fifth and since then there had been reports that poison gas had been used by Mussolini’s troops.

  ‘God forgive them if it’s true,’ Cathy said. ‘God forgive them anyway taking another country, and that Hitler fellow too. Why can’t they stay in their own countries and mind their own business?’

  The Liverpool Echo was a local paper and it was usually local news that Greg read aloud, but everything irritated John. ‘Why the hell can’t he just read the paper like anyone else?’ he said to Sarah one night. ‘Everybody else has to listen to a running commentary.’

  Sarah laughed. ‘I know. It gets on my nerves sometimes, but Mum said for years Dad couldn’t afford a paper so I suppose he’s enjoying it now.’

  ‘She always makes excuses for him,’ John exclaimed, and Sarah looked quizzically at him.

  ‘She does for you too, for any of us, in fact, but you don’t moan about that.’

  John grinned at her. Sometimes he was tempted to talk to Sarah about his visits to the Club, but he drew back because she was so close to her mother and grandmother. He felt that she might innocently say something which would lead to more questions and more rows.

  Many people confided in Sarah, and her mother and her grandmother spoke freely to her. Her gentle manner and air of integrity made it seem easy and safe to talk to her, and she never repeated anything except occasionally to discuss something with her grandmother.

  They were talking one day about Sarah’s friend, Lucy Ashcroft, who was expecting a baby. A hurried marriage had been arranged by Lucy’s family between her and the father of her child, and Sarah said to her grandmother, ‘I wish Lucy didn’t have to get married. I don’t like Des much anyway, and Lucy doesn’t really want to get married like this. She says Des will throw it up to her every time they have a row, that he was forced into it.’

  ‘Not much chance for the marriage if she thinks that before they start,’ Sally said with a sigh. ‘Poor girl. It’s a pity the family are insisting on it.’

  ‘But Lucy wants to keep the baby, Grandma, so what else can she do?’ Sarah said. ‘She’s had to leave the factory too. They said it wasn’t fair to the other girls to keep her on.’

  ‘Hypocrites!’ Sally exclaimed. ‘How could she affect the other girls?’

  ‘I know. I said to Lucy, Our Lord said, “Let he who is without sin among you cast the first stone,” and no one could. Lucy said the woman in the sweet shop by the works told her she was just being punished for being found out. She knew how the other girls behaved with their boyfriends from the way they talked in the shop, but they were too crafty to get caught.’

  ‘It’s true what they say, love, it’s the good girls who have the babies,’ Sally said. They put the last of the dishes away and went into the kitchen.

  ‘D’you know what else Lucy said, Grandma? She said Des was always pestering her, and she gave in because she didn’t like to hurt his feelings.’

  ‘I can believe it,’ Sally said. ‘I worried about your Mum for that reason.’

  ‘About Mam?’ Sarah exclaimed.

  ‘Yes, because she was so soft-hearted. Anyway, she was only fifteen when she met your dad so I needn’t have worried.’

  ‘Fifteen. So she was younger than me when she was courting properly,’ Sarah said.

  ‘Yes. Grandad tried to stop it. He thought she was too young, but I was glad because I knew she was safe with your dad.’

  ‘I remember now. Didn’t he say something about King Canute? Someone told me about it years ago.’

  ‘No, it was Peggy mentioned King Canute. She told me to ask Grandad had he ever heard of King Canute when he was trying to stop them courting. She said Grandad had a
bout as much chance.’

  They both laughed, but Sarah said, ‘Fancy, Mrs Burns! I didn’t think she’d know about King Canute. She never reads, does she?’

  ‘She remembered a picture in her school book of King Canute sitting by the shore on his throne, with his crown on and the waves coming in to his feet. But Peggy’s no fool,’ Sally said with a shade of reproof in her voice.

  ‘I know, Grandma,’ Sarah said hastily. ‘But I know she doesn’t read.’

  ‘She didn’t have much chance. She only had a few years of schooling because she had to stay at home and help her mother, and they weren’t so strict in those days. Your generation are lucky, the chances you have.’

  ‘Did you worry about Auntie Mary?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘I did, but not for the same reason,’ Sally said rather grimly. ‘Mary always knew how many beans made five.’

  Sarah appreciated her grandmother even more now, because she had met Anne’s grandmother who lived with them. The family were Catholics although in a different parish to the Redmonds, and the old lady was fanatically religious. Anne and Sarah were in the parlour one night with several of Anne’s brothers and sisters, when Anne said to her brother Terry, ‘Sarah’s grandmother is marvellous. Sarah can say anything to her, can’t you, Sar?’

  ‘Such as?’ Terry asked.

  ‘Well, unmarried mothers,’ Anne said. ‘Sarah’s grandmother said it was the good girls who have babies. The others are too crafty. That’s right, isn’t it, Sar?’

  Sarah nodded, blushing. She was amazed to hear Anne say such things to her brother, but he only laughed and said, ‘She is unusual. Imagine Grandma…’

  They all laughed, including Sarah, and Terry went on, ‘She’d be sprinkling the poor girl with holy water and telling her the devil had her in his clutches.’

  Sarah had told Anne of her grandmother’s remarks without mentioning Lucy. She looked uneasily at her friend, wondering if she had guessed who they had been talking about, but Anne said gaily, ‘You should see Gran’s room, Sarah. It’s like an extension on the Cenacle Convent. Statues and Holy pictures everywhere. A life-sized statue of our Lady just inside the door. It gave me a nasty turn when I took her a cup of tea one morning.’