Rough Clay

by Chrissie Loveday

  ‘You’ll make a painter, lad,’ he told him at the end of the second week. ‘I reckon that’s probably as good as we’ll get it. Leave it on one side and I’ll set it in with the next firing.’ Archie felt his heart leap. It would be ready well before Christmas. He could hardly wait to see his Mother’s face when she got a proper Christmas present. His Dad would be proud of him as well. It was the solid, tangible proof that he had made the right choice in his career.

  A couple of weeks before Christmas Ernie invited his friend to accompany him to a dance.

  ‘I can’t dance,’ Archie protested. ‘ ’Sides. How can I go to a dance with nothing but my tatty old clothes to wear.’

  ‘We’re around the same size now. Maybe you’re a bit skinnier. You could have one of my suits. I’ve got a couple to spare that don’t really fit me any more. Come on. I can’t go on my own and anyhow, it’s high time you got out and met a few girls. We’re wasting the best times of our lives. Come round to our house after work one day. Friday. You can have some supper and then we’ll kit you out. I can teach you a bit of dancing. Enough to manage with. Come on, lad. It’s time you branched out a bit. Enjoy life for a change.’

  Archie was very tempted. But Friday night. That was pay night and his Mum expected him home with his wages.

  ‘I don’t think I can make it Friday. How about after the match on Saturday?’

  ‘I s’pose. But we usually go for a jar then. Can’t miss out on that.’

  ‘Oh all right. I dare say I can manage Friday, just for once.’ His Mother would have to lump it, he thought. She probably wouldn’t desperately need his money till Saturday anyhow.

  When he told his Mother he would not be home till late on Friday, she exploded.

  ‘I’ve got the club-man coming round at half seven. How am I supposed to pay him? It’s out of the question. You’re a selfish sod, aren’t you? Think of nothing but yourself.’ Archie thought of the hours he’d spent on painting his plate. She knew nothing about it, nor that he’d used his lunch times and stayed after work for some time each day.

  ‘What’s the club-man being paid for?’ he asked curiously.

  ‘Maybe you haven’t noticed we’ve got some new furniture. The chairs. Your Dad and me have got a new bed. ’Bout time too after all these years.’

  ‘And it’s my wages that have bought it all, is it?’

  ‘Who do you think you are? You’ve got food on the table waiting whenever you come in. You get your money for the match every week and you waste money on beer with that friend of yours. How I spend the money in this house is my business.’

  ‘I don’t think you do too badly out of me,’ Archie said quietly as he left the table and went up to his room. He felt angry. He worked bloody hard and gave almost his entire wage packet to his mother. He never begrudged it before but she never thanked him or offered to buy anything new for him. Damn it. Why should he always have to make do with cast-offs? Apart from his decent boots, he’d insisted on buying at the beginning, he’d had nothing new. Why shouldn’t he have some new clothes for himself? Each time he’d had a pay rise, she’d taken his money without comment, handing back the same few coppers for his own use. He hadn’t yet told her that he was to get another pay rise. A good rise, in fact. If he kept giving her the same money, he’d be able to keep a few shillings to himself each week. It wouldn’t take that long to save up for a new suit of his own. If she was being so selfish, it was about time he made his stand. Besides, if he and Ernie were starting to do a bit of socialising, he needed to have something in his pocket to entertain the young ladies.

  ‘I shall be out on Friday evening,’ he announced at breakfast the next day. ‘If you need my wages that desperately, you’d better send our William to meet me from work.’

  ‘I’m not letting him get his hands on my money. God knows if I’d ever see him home again.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to wait till Saturday morning.’

  She looked as if she was about to say more but she held her tongue, shooting venomous looks at him. If she got into trouble with the club-man, she could find her own way out of it. The things she had bought were for her own comfort so why should he worry?

  The Drapers provided the usual lavish spread. Archie could never get used to the idea of so much food being available at one meal. Not wishing to appear greedy, he tried to hold back politely but obviously Mrs Draper was aware of the home circumstances. They didn’t seem to have improved, despite Archie’s contribution to the family purse. He still looked extremely scruffy and wore shoes that she would have insisted were thrown out long ago.

  ‘I understand you’ve been doing some exciting designs, Archie?’ she asked as they drank coffee at the end of the meal.

  ‘Have I? I did send some stuff in ages ago, but . . . well, I haven’t heard any more,’ he replied, casting a slightly embarrassed look at Mr Draper.

  ‘Er yes, well, we’ve been thinking about things. I think we might go with some of the ideas. Maybe you could try out a few designs on the actual plates we make at present. Try a cup and saucer. I’ll make sure they know in the decorating shop. What have you been working on?’

  ‘Mostly fetching and carrying. But I have done a plate. Mr Thomas let me have a go during dinner times and after work some nights. It’s ready for firing. I thought I could buy it off you. For me Mum for Christmas, like.’

  Mrs Draper smothered a smile. Her husband knew all about Archie’s plate, having initially suggested to Thomas that he gave the boy a chance to see if he had any talent.

  ‘I’d like to see what you’ve done when it’s out of the kiln. Get it sent to my office will you? And make a start on the designs on Monday. Right, now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with my paper. Haven’t had a spare minute to read it today.’

  ‘Excuse us, Mother, will you?’ Ernie asked. She nodded and the two young men went up to Ernie’s room. He had taken a record player up and several of the most recent dance records. He wound it up and the music blared out.

  ‘This is a quickstep,’ he announced. He pranced around, clutching an imaginary partner until Archie ended up roaring with laughter.

  ‘What do you look like? I’ll never manage that. Not sure I want to, actually. You look a right prat.’

  ‘You’ll get the hang of it. Anyway, from what I hear, the Town Hall dances are so crowded, no-one can see what anyone else’s is doing. Right now. You can be the girl and I’ll show you how the steps go.’

  For the next half an hour, the pair struggled to get the rhythm and steps to coincide. They tried waltzes, quickstep and even the foxtrot, all with the same appalling results.

  ‘I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t want to make even more of a fool of myself.’

  ‘I’m not letting you get out of this one. I’ve got us a pair of tickets for next Saturday. We’re going to have to make our lads’ night out on Fridays from now on. Saturdays are definitely hunting nights. We’re going to get us some girls.’ Archie stared at his friend. He’d never given much thought to girls. He was used to being teased by all the girls in the factory but as for socialising with them, it was quite a different territory.

  ‘I’m not sure I want to hunt for girls,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘What do we want girls for?’

  ‘Good grief, man. Don’t you know anything? I think I’d better begin by telling you the facts of life. How old are you?’

  ‘You know damned well. Same as you, give or take a couple of months.’

  ‘Right, then unless there’s summat wrong with you, eighteen is more than old enough to be looking. Now then, the next job is to sort out some clothes for you. You don’t mind do you? Having second hand stuff? Only my Mother thinks I need at least one new suit every year, besides the half a dozen other outfits I scarcely even wear.’

  ‘No, I don’t mind anything. But won’t she be cross if you give your stuff away?’

  Ernie didn’t bother to reply. He was busy pulling out heaps of clothes from his wardrobe. He pi
cked up a suit and held it against Archie. It was navy blue with a fine stripe.

  ‘Try this one for size.’

  ‘But it’s brand new. Not a thread pulled anywhere and it hardly looks as if it’s been worn.’

  ‘It hasn’t. Well, only once. For some wedding. I hate it. On me, that is. If you like it, it’s yours.’

  Archie had never seen anything quite so smart. He took off his own battered jacket and tried the navy one with the fine pinstripe. It could have been made for him. Trying to hide his lack of underpants, he took the trousers to one side of the room and pulled them on quickly. They were a bit loose but Ernie offered him a leather belt to pull them in.

  ‘By the heck. You look better in that lot than I ever did. Now, we need a shirt and tie to go with it. I reckon I’ll never stand a chance with the girls until you’ve got yourself sorted. Take a look at yourself in the mirror.’

  Archie could hardly believe the transformation. He looked so grown up. He looked like a man. He looked like one of the managers at the factory. He was almost beginning to look something like the person he had always wanted to be. Someone of importance. He wanted to go somewhere to show himself off. For the first time in his life, he knew what it meant to have self-confidence. The white shirt and striped navy and red tie looked amazing. Like something belonging to one of the bosses, which it was, near enough.

  ‘Are you really sure you want to part with these things?’ he asked doubtfully. ‘Only I’ve never had anything this good. Not even my Sunday best is anywhere near this good.’

  ‘Take it and know that I’ll be glad to see the back of it. Just promise me one thing.’ Archie nodded. ‘Promise me you’ll come to the Town Hall dances for the next few weeks without complaining. Hey, Archie lad. We’re going to have us some fun.’

  ‘I’d better change back into my old stuff or your Mum’ll be thinking I’m robbing you.’

  ‘She knows all about it. In fact, it was her idea to pass the stuff on. There’s a couple more things for you in that bag. Try them on when you get home. Now, let’s have one more go at this waltzing stuff. Got to get us ready for the last waltz. That’s the time you can get a bit closer to your girl. Have a bit of a spoon.’

  ‘Eh, Ernie. I doubt I’ll ever get the knack of any of this lot. But, we’ll give it a try. I’ll never manage to pay you and your family back, you know. I may not have been able to stay on at school but at least passing that scholarship meant you and I could be friends.’ He didn’t want to sound soppy but he doubted Ernie would ever realise just how much his friendship had meant to him.

  It was late by the time he walked home, carrying his new clothes carefully over his arm. He pushed the back gate open and went inside. His mother was either in bed or she’d gone out. He felt very relieved. He didn’t like the thought of having to explain everything to her. He crept upstairs and hung his suit on the back of the door. William whispered something in the dark, making Archie jump.

  ‘I didn’t mean to wake you,’ he whispered.

  ‘I wasn’t asleep. Our Mum’s dead mad at you. You’re for it in the morning.’ He didn’t quite keep the glee out of his voice.

  ‘Why? What am I s’posed to have done?’

  ‘She expected you’d be home with your wages but you weren’t.’

  ‘I told her I wasn’t coming home.’

  ‘She didn’t believe you’d go through with it. What’s that hanging on the door?’

  ‘Just some new clothes.’

  ‘Good lord. I hope you haven’t spent your money on new clothes. That’ll really send her flying in the air.’

  ‘Course I haven’t. If you must know, Ernie gave them to me. We’re going out on the town tomorrow night.’

  ‘Can I come?’ the boy asked.

  ‘Course you can’t. It’s for grown-ups. Now shut it. I need to get me beauty sleep.’

  Archie only worked till lunch time on Saturdays. He and Ernie were going to the match and then he’d come back and change before the dance. He arranged to meet Ernie some distance from the house. He still didn’t want Ernie to see where he lived, despite everything he’d said. He could hardly bear to face his mother in his new clothes, knowing how sarcastic she’d be. But it was just too bad. Whatever she said, he wasn’t going to let her spoil anything for him. He even managed to slip out to work before she was up the next day. He left his wage packet on the table, less the amount he’d decided to take out for his own use. She wouldn’t like the fact that it had been opened. She believed it was her right to open it and give him a few coppers back for his smokes and whatever else he wanted. The few coppers she gave him certainly would not be enough for an evening out. Especially not if he did strike lucky and find a girl. He might want to buy her something to drink.

  The Town Hall was very crowded. The bar, in a room to one side of the dancing area, was crowded with young men while the girls lined the walls in the main hall. They were jigging up and down to the band, all talking as if what they were saying was very important. They nudged each other as various groups of men came in and looked around, summing up the talent. Archie had never felt so nervous in his life. He’d hoped that the new clothes would be enough to carry him through the evening but he was wishing desperately that he hadn’t allowed himself to be persuaded. Ernie looked as if he was enjoying himself, leaning on the bar, a pint in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

  ‘Come on, Archie. Sup up. You’ll be fine once you get in there.’

  ‘Wish I could believe you. I’ve never been so nervous in my life. I tell you, I’m near shittin’ myself.’

  ‘Mebbe you need summat stronger than ale.’

  ‘I never drink anything but beer. It can’t be much fun if you have to get drunk to get up enough courage.’

  They went into the dance hall and stood with other men around the doorway, surveying the talent. They looked round at the girls. No-one was dancing. The band-leader went to the microphone at the end of a number and announced a ‘ladies’ excuse me.’

  ‘What the heck’s that?’ Archie demanded.

  ‘I think the girls have to ask us to dance.’

  ‘Blimey. Think maybe I need another beer after all,’ Archie said quickly.

  A few daring girls asked some of the men to dance. Several couples went onto the floor. Everyone stood watching and eventually, a few more joined in. Archie and Ernie stood watching. No-one asked them to dance, much to their relief. The next announcement was for a Paul Jones.

  ‘You never told me there was so many different sorts of dancing. Who’s Paul Jones, any road?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue, mate,’ Ernie confessed. They watched and realised it was probably the best way anyone had thought of to get everyone on the dance floor. The band-leader called for everyone to join in. The men made a circle on the outside and the girls on the inside. They all danced round and when the band stopped, they had to dance with whoever was opposite them. Trembling, Archie held his partner, the way Ernie had showed him. She smiled nervously at him as the band began a waltz. Fortunately, the floor was crowded and nobody looked at anyone else’s dancing style. He could think of nothing sensible to say and he shuffled the girl to the end of the number. The leader called for the circle again and they danced round, everyone now laughing and joining in. It was a quickstep next and the girl he’d got this time was a bit livelier and she asked his name. He relaxed a bit and asked hers in return. All too soon, the circles re-formed. This time, he ended up without a partner. There were far more men than girls so inevitably, always some were left out. He wanted to sink into the ground. Instead, he went off to look for the gents. That way, it made him feel less obvious. When the dances eventually finished, Ernie came to find him.

  ‘You did all right, didn’t you?’ he asked.

  ‘Didn’t get anyone the last time.’

  ‘I saw you talking away to Elsie. She’s all right that one.’

  ‘How do you know her?’

  ‘She works in one of the offices at the factory
. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen her? She’s been out with most of the blokes. They say she’s quite a goer.’

  ‘How d’ya mean?’ He caught sight of Elsie and turned away, blushing slightly. The girl had hair much blonder than nature intended and wore bright red lipstick and rather more face powder and rouge than he liked.

  ‘Come on, Archie. You must know what I mean?’

  ‘Yes. Course I do. I was just thinking of summat else. Else. Elsie? Get it?’

  Ernie shook his head at his friend.

  ‘We’ll get you sorted. Eventually. We’re having a Christmas Party at the factory this year. That should give you a chance. My Grandfather’s decided to leave at last, so we’re having a party to celebrate his retirement and me Dad taking over. Should be a good do.’

  ‘I didn’t know anything about it. When’s it going to be?’

  ‘The Saturday night before Christmas. Gives me a couple more weeks to get you dancing properly.’

  Archie felt his heart give a lurch. The thought of dancing with girls from the factory scared him half to death. Everyone would know him and he’d never have Ernie to lean on or chat to. As the son of the boss, he’d have to be on his best behaviour the whole evening. He’d be with all the big-wigs. That really would show him up and where did that leave Archie?

  ‘They’re doing a proper sit-down supper as well. Really pushing the boat out, is the old man.’

  ‘I expect you’ll enjoy it, being the new boss’s son.’

  ‘I hope everyone will. You’ll be sitting with me, Archie. I shall insist. You’re my best friend after all.’

  ‘But everyone of the factory floor will think I’m something special. Jumped up nobody. I don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to go.’