Rough Clay

by Chrissie Loveday

  ‘I reckon you’d have a bit of a wait. Maybe you should start looking for some nice girl of your own.’ William frowned. That was what everyone kept saying. They all saw him as a stupid kid, but he wasn’t. He’d grown up a lot lately. Whenever he looked at Dora, he felt exactly the same. A roaring jealousy rushed through his body. They could all laugh and joke about it but his light-hearted comments covered a reality that none of them could see. He loved Dora. Ludicrous as it was, he knew she was the only woman he would ever truly want. He could never tell anyone about it, not the true depth of feeling he was storing away inside. His own brother’s wife. It was forbidden in any case. Didn’t it say something about it in the Bible? The boy grinned, agreeing that he would start looking but he knew there was little point. Dora would always be the only woman for him, whatever the impossibility of the situation.

  ‘How’re you getting on with your job?’ Archie asked. William had started work in the office at the colliery.

  ‘S’all right I s’pose. Shanna stay there for long. Too boring.’ The boy hated every minute of the so-called safe job. He was not as clever as his brother and found the lists of numbers confusing. He wanted to do something more physical but no-one, least of all himself, wanted him to go down the pit to the coal face. ‘You got anything going at your place?’ he asked his brother.

  ‘Not at the moment. But I’ll keep my ears open. They’ll be taking more men on down the clay end, once we get up and running properly.’

  ‘Right. Just make sure you keep me in mind. Ta.’ For William, it was as if he’d got the job already. He planned to give in his notice at the pit at the first chance.

  Once tea was over, Dora and Mary went through to the scullery to wash the pots. The three males settled in front of the fire. Harry passed a pack of cigarettes to his son-in-law. William reached over and took one himself. Despite the angry glare from his brother, he lit one of the paper spills in the pot by the fire and passed it round. He’d been smoking for as long as he could scrounge a Woodbine from anyone. He was not above sneaking one from his Dad’s pack, if ever it was left lying around.

  ‘No good for your chest,’ Archie muttered. He felt irritated, after all those years of having to give way to William and watching him having the best bit of meat or special care because he’d been ill. He even thought resentfully about his precious plate that had been sold to provide new shoes for the boy. In all honesty, it wasn’t his brother’s fault. It was his mother. She had never provided the sort of love that Mary could give. Warm, motherly tenderness came naturally to her. To Frances, such feelings would be seen as weakness. Once more he sent up a private prayer of thanks for the change in his life, his beloved Dora had been spared, this time at least. He didn’t want her to have another baby. He couldn’t bear the chance that she may not survive.

  ‘You coming in to see them?’ William asked when Archie drove him home.

  ‘I’d better get back. Early start tomorrow.’ Any excuse, he thought.

  ‘You won’t forget to sort out my job, will you? Thanks for bringing me home. My posh brother eh? Who’d have thought he’d be living at the nobs’ end of th’ Potteries and driving his own car? You’ve gone up in the world, lad. Don’t you forget them as you’ve left behind, will you?’

  As he drove home, Archie pondered his brother’s words. He’d worked very hard to leave his past behind him. He knew that he felt no deep affection for any of his own family, well, maybe his Dad was an exception and perhaps he could grow fonder of his brother, once he got over the resentment. He recognised that it was only an abiding sense of duty that made him keep in touch.

  At work, Archie felt happy organising groups of talented painters to produce patterns that he drew out for them. He often wondered if they might have done a better job if they were left to their own devices. But they needed to produce consistent patterns and he and Leslie met regularly to discuss any changes. Their aim was to become well-known for affordable, quality, fine bone china with a range of hand-painted designs that could be guaranteed for several years. The idea of customers being able to replace individual breakages in a range was relatively new, with the growth in availability to a wider market. Some of the women still tried to tease him a little, though with a degree of respect to temper their words. After all, he was younger than many of them and though he now wore a suit to work all the time, he was still Archie, the apprentice who’d made good. One or two of them remembered him from their previous work places. If one of their number ever complained about being fed up or not liking something, the older women would turn on them and give them a tongue lashing that quelled everything for some days. Mr Archie had a loyal following and most of his ‘girls’ would do anything for him, given half a chance.

  ‘Always behaves like such a gentleman, even when he’s telling you off. Not many around like him.’

  ‘I’d like to get him on his own in a dark alley some night,’ one of them laughed.

  ‘Don’t even think about it. He’s got a wife. Never looks at anyone else. Never has.’

  ‘I heard he’s a right little jumped up snob. I knew this girl called Ada went out with him. Had his hands all over ’er till his mate stopped him.’ The pottery workers were a close knit community who always knew someone who knew someone else.

  ‘I conna believe that. He’s had plenty of chances with any one of us girls and turned away like he was some sort of monk.’

  Nobody wanted to believe the bad words they were hearing. Archie was respected by most of them and they well knew, there could be plenty of worse bosses.

  ‘Well, maybe he was young then. I suggest you shut up and keep your nastiness to yourself, Flossie Jenkins. I bet you’re no better than you ought to be.’

  He loved the smell of the paints, the turps, the linseed oil that filled the air of the long workshop. Two lines of benches with plenty of natural light gave the feeling of uncluttered space and the hum of the hand operated wheels as the gilders put the gold lines on the edges of plates, gave a sense of dynamic activity. If he could only manage to introduce some new lines: fancy goods as they were called, his purpose would be complete. Archie wanted to make figurines, china flower bowls . . . lots of things he’d begun to see in the shops. In some ways, he hadn’t really moved on to the things he wanted to do. He was getting there, but there were still a number of hurdles to get over. Draper’s had always made quality china but they had been stuck in a rut like Leslie’s enterprise. But Archie was still young enough to fulfil his ambitions, he told himself after a particularly difficult session with Leslie.

  Dora returned to her job in hairdressing and life settled into a routine. There had been no more talk of babies over the past couple of years and Archie hoped it had been forgotten. He concentrated on his work and managed to put by a few pounds each week, hoping one day that his dreams of their own business and own home were growing closer.

  As 1939 progressed, there was a degree of tension in the air. Many people were talking of an imminent war. After the First World War, everyone had said it could never happen again. But there was unrest in Europe. Archie and his family paid little attention to it, never believing it was going to happen. Harry became withdrawn and silent for a time. He had been in the hell of the trenches in the first war and knew he’d never survive anything like that again. He hoped he was too old to be called up this time around, but he feared for Archie and what it might do to his beloved daughter, if her husband did have to fight.

  ‘I think we should all have a holiday. Go to Blackpool or somewhere. North Wales. Rhyl’s nice, so I’m told. What do you think?’ Archie suggested one evening in April. ‘We could do with a bit of a break.’

  ‘Can we afford it?’ Dora asked excitedly.

  ‘Bit of the calm before the storm,’ Harry said wryly.

  ‘You really think there’s going to be another war, don’t you?’ Mary whispered in horror.

  ‘I can’t bear to think of it,’ Dora said with a shudder. ‘When we knew you were in France
last time, we dreaded every knock at the door. Mum nearly had a heart attack if the telegraph boy came into the street.’

  ‘I know, love,’ her father said. ‘But if it happens, it’ll never be as bad.’ Archie listened to the exchange and made no comment. He dreaded all thoughts of having to take part in a war. People should never be forced to fight against their will but there was no way he would be called a coward. He’d do his bit if he really had to. He just hoped it never came to the test. It couldn’t ever happen again, he told himself.

  ‘So, how about this little holiday? Just a weekend, I was thinking. Give us a break while we can.’

  ‘I think you two should go on your own. You have precious little enough time together. Do you both good. Bring the colour back to your cheeks.’ Mary was adamant. She had been worried about Dora ever since the loss of the twin babies, even though it was over two years ago. She had been back at her beloved hairdressing shop but she was still pale and listless and had lost much of her sparkle.

  ‘OK. If you’re sure. We’ll have us a weekend somewhere nice. What do you fancy, Dora?’

  ‘Let’s go to Blackpool. It’ll be fun.’

  They were full of plans for the next few days. They planned to make their trip as soon as it could be arranged, before the Season began. Though she normally worked on Saturdays, as did Archie, they managed to arrange for the time off. On the Friday evening, they set off in the little car, luggage piled on the back seat. It was dark by the time they reached the end of their journey. Blackpool itself was brightly lit and the trams bustled along the promenade, loaded with laughing people. Once they had settled in their hotel they could hardly wait to get out into the midst of the happy throngs swarming about the town.

  They sat in a shelter overlooking the sea and munched hot fish and chips from newspaper wrappers.

  ‘Why is there never enough vinegar?’ asked Dora. ‘I shook loads over my chips and it’s all disappeared.’

  They laughed together, held hands as they ran over the wet sand and shivered in the cold winds that blew round the iron struts of the pier.

  ‘I do love you, Dora,’ Archie yelled to the wind.

  ‘Let’s go back to the hotel. We can have a night cap in the bar and get a good night’s sleep. Then we can make the most of tomorrow.’ Dora felt happier than she had for many months. Maybe, just maybe, this was the time she could move on to make new plans for their family. It should be just about the right time of the month, she thought. She wasn’t going to say anything to Archie. He was far too worried about her health but she knew this had to be the right moment. It might even be her last chance to have her own baby. Though she wasn’t really religious in any way, she sent up a prayer to anyone who might have been listening. While Archie was at the bar, buying them both a drink, she added, ‘A girl, with blond hair and blue eyes, if there’s a choice.’ She smiled at her own gullibility but all the same, she felt content with her decision.

  ‘You look happy,’ Archie remarked, setting a half of bitter before her.

  ‘I’m just excited. We’re going to have fun this weekend. You know, I’ve been thinking, we should try to get a place of our own soon. Stand on our own two feet. It’s all very well relying on Mum and Dad but we don’t really get enough time together, do we?’

  ‘I know what you mean but there’s no way I can buy anything for us. Not yet awhile.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of buying necessarily. We could always rent somewhere. There must be plenty of places available.’

  ‘Let’s see what happens. None of us know what the future holds. It really looks as if this war’s going to take off. We just can’t tell what it’s going to mean for us all. I doubt too many folks will be wanting fine pots if they can’t get food to put on them. It might not be the best business to be in. But let’s stop going on about it. We’re here to enjoy ourselves not to mope around. Drink up, now. I’m beginning to feel very tired. It’s been quite a day.’

  They made love that night, on the deep feather mattress that had rolled them both into the middle of the bed. It was obviously used to its occupants sleeping in the middle, it was so deeply indented. Dora felt warm and contented and knew it had been the right time. From the start, she simply knew she was pregnant, gloating over her news and hugging it to herself. The following day was busy. They visited all the piers, ate spun sugar candy, flung wooden balls at the coconut shy and carried their hairy brown prize with them for the rest of the day. Archie took pot shots at a target with a rifle and won a stupid looking cloth doll. They took the tram for a ride along the Front, as far as it went. After a walk along the beach, they returned and went back to the hotel to change. They went to see a show at the pier during the evening and when they finally sunk into their bed at nearly midnight Dora felt quite exhausted.

  ‘It feels as if we’ve been away for ages,’ she said as she snuggled against her husband.

  ‘And we’ve still got most of tomorrow as well. You’ll have to decide what you want to do before we set off back home.’ But she was already asleep.

  ‘I think this must have been one of the very nicest times we’ve had,’ she said several times during the following day. ‘We shall have to do it again sometime.’

  ‘You’re right. And if the war doesn’t come to anything or if it’s soon over as they say, we will think seriously about finding ourselves somewhere to live. We scarcely know what it’s like to manage on our own. Be quite a change though. You’d have to do all the shopping and cooking. Don’t suppose you’d have time to go to work.’

  She smiled to herself, certain that her private prayers had already been answered.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  For the next few weeks, Archie was totally wrapped up in his work. War or no war, they were beginning to make their mark in the showrooms of the bigger stores. They were producing good quality china and by keeping the costs at a minimum, it represented good value. Dora was happily settled at her own work, providing Marcel waves for the fashionable ladies who frequented the shop. She had known instinctively that she was pregnant, right from their first night in Blackpool. She knew it would be a girl but all the same, she continued to send up her superstitious prayers for the safe delivery of her blue-eyed, blond girl-child. Her mother was aware of her daughter’s contented air and felt suspicious, especially as she hadn’t noticed any of the usual monthly disposals. Wisely, she kept quiet, knowing that she would be told when the time was right.

  When the end of July came, Dora knew that she could hide her secret no longer. She had been surprised that Archie seemed not to have noticed either that she’d missed her monthly periods or that she was evidently putting on weight.

  ‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ she said when they were in bed one night. ‘I think, well I know, I’m having our baby.’ She felt Archie stiffen and he turned over to her.

  ‘What?’ His voice was hard and angry sounding. She bit her lip in the darkness.

  ‘I . . . I thought you’d be pleased.’

  ‘Oh, Dora. Dearest Dora. How can I be pleased at something that could kill you? Oh heck. How did it happen? I mean when? I thought we’d been careful.’

  ‘I think it was that first night in Blackpool. Oh, Archie, don’t be angry. I’m so happy. It’ll be all right this time. I’m sure of it. I’m going to be very careful all the way through.’

  ‘Well, I wish I was sure. What do your Mum and Dad think about it?’

  ‘I haven’t told them. Course I haven’t. I had to tell you first. Though I expect Mum’s guessed. You can’t keep much hidden from her.’

  Archie lay still. His mind was racing. He’d been so involved in his precious work, he had scarcely noticed anything outside the damned building. How could he have missed seeing his own wife’s condition?

  ‘I want you to hand in your notice at work. Immediately. I’m not having you wear yourself out standing all day. I mean it, Dora. No arguments.’

  ‘It isn’t necessary, Archie. I’m fine. So fine in fact that
you haven’t even noticed I’ve missed my periods for the last couple of times.’

  ‘I don’t care. I do know now and you are going to take it easy. Don’t you realise you silly girl, your life is in danger? The doctor said you’d be taking a great risk if you should ever conceive again.’

  ‘You never said. He never said anything to me.’ Her voice was small and accusing.

  ‘We didn’t think it was sensible to tell you. Not given the state you were in. Then I sort of pushed it away to the back of my mind.’

  ‘And that was why you’d never talk about us trying for a baby again?’

  ‘I s’pose so. I couldn’t bear to lose you, Dora. If the question ever arose about you or the baby surviving, it would be an open and shut case.’

  ‘But that would be denying the child a right to life.’

  ‘I don’t care. You’re my life. You’re the one person who drives me to do everything I have to do. One day, we’ll have the big house again, the cars and I’ll be someone. I shall have my own factory and my chain will be known all over the world. But it’ll all be for you. Everything’s just for you. You hand in your notice tomorrow and then we’ll get you the best doctor we can find.’

  Neither of them slept much that night. Archie was terrified at the implications of Dora’s news and she tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. When Mary greeted them at breakfast time, she took one look at them and turned to concentrate on her cooking. Her pursed lips were clamped tight and she waited to hear confirmation of what she already knew.

  ‘So, when’s it due?’ she asked at last, when nothing had been said.

  ‘By my reckoning, around the middle of February.’