Rough Clay

by Chrissie Loveday

  ‘Yes please,’ she said, not sure why they should want to go up the yard but it certainly sounded better than being left alone with the intimidating old woman. She wondered why they were going to spend a penny outside instead of using the bathroom but accepted the novelty happily. Her Mum would be very surprised when she told her, she thought. Archie left his mother’s home with a sense of relief.

  ‘Hallo, Archie,’ a voice called out as they turned the corner of the street. The man was a scruffy looking individual, wearing an old army great coat. He was unshaven and had a shifty air about him.

  ‘Er, hallo. Heck. It’s Billy isn’t it? Billy Machin?’

  ‘That’s right. Back from the war. Like hundred of others, no work. After giving my all for my country, this is how they treat you.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. What sort of work are you looking for?’

  ‘Anythin’ that inner minin’. I’m not going down the pit, not for nobody.’

  Archie shifted his feet uncomfortably. He needed to catch the bus and get his little girl home. He didn’t want to be reminded any further of his past, the past he’d worked so hard to escape.

  ‘I’ll let you know if I hear of anything,’ he said desperately. ‘Where are you living now?’

  ‘ ’Ere and there. You can always leave a message with your Mum. I can call in to see if there’s anything going down.’

  ‘OK,’ he agreed. ‘But I don’t know of anything much around. You know how it is.’ They shook hands and Archie subconsciously wiped his hand down his trousers after the contact as they went to the bus stop.

  ‘Who was that dirty man, Daddy?’ Carole piped.

  ‘Hush, love. Don’t say things like that. He can’t help it if he hasn’t got anywhere to get clean.’ All the same, he hoped fervently that this contact did not lead to anything.

  Christmas Day with Dora’s sister and family wasn’t too bad after all, especially as they had to return home quite early in the evening to catch the last bus. They decided that it had been just the right amount of time as they hadn’t been able to fall out. At first, Carole had been pleased to discover she had three cousins but they had teased her and she felt uncomfortable.

  ‘What’s a goodie two shoes?’ she asked on the way back home. Her parents looked at each other and smiled.

  ‘Why do you want to know that?’

  ‘Tommy said I’m one. Because Grannie says I’m a good girl and they aren’t so good. I’m not sure if I should be one of the goodie shoes things. The way they said it wasn’t very nice.’

  The following day was more like the Christmas Dora had wanted. William arrived cold and hungry around midday. He’d brought presents and was full of excitement at his coming release from the army.

  ‘How do you fancy a pint?’ Archie asked.

  ‘I could knock spots off it,’ laughed his brother.

  ‘All right if we go round to the Lamb?’ Dora nodded.

  ‘Don’t be too long though or the dinner’ll spoil.’

  ‘So what are your plans?’ he asked, as the two brothers set off for the local pub.

  ‘Not sure yet. I’ve learned quite a bit of mechanics and stuff. Might go in for something to do with machinery. I’m going to have a bit of a rest first. Get me head together.’

  They played card games during the afternoon and much to everyone’s surprise, Barry and Nadine arrived later, with their own little boy. They had been staying with Barry’s mother in the town nearby. The two children played together and stayed up late to have supper with the grown-ups.

  ‘I’m impressed, Coz,’ Barry said to Dora. ‘Being able to put on a spread like this, when you didn’t even know we were coming. You must have inherited your talent from Mary.’

  ‘I wanted it to be a special Christmas this year. End of the war and everything.’

  ‘Certainly has been. Did I tell you, I’ve got a booking at the Castle for New Year’s? You should come over. Take the little ’un to your Mum’s and have yourselves a night out. Be like old times.’

  ‘We might. But New Year’s difficult. You know, after the pit disaster. Archie still feels it.’

  ‘I understand but we all have to move on. It’s been a few years now. It’s going to be quite a celebration, I can tell you. There’s plenty of women that have lost their men.’

  They did go to the dance and enjoyed themselves hugely. Carole stayed with her grandparents and wondered what it was going to be like when it was a new year. Perhaps it would look different somehow. She tried to stay awake but she heard nothing, even when the church bells rang out and people were singing out in the streets. Nor did anything seem very different the next day when she looked out of the window. She’d been expecting everything to look different somehow. There was a general air of optimism in the family as they all made plans for the next months.

  As soon as February arrived, Dora began decorating their house. They provided buckets of distemper at minimal cost at the estate office. It was all boring cream but Archie brought home a few grains of colour to add to the mix and stippling became the vogue. The basic colour was covered with dabs of paint in a contrasting colour, painted on with an old brush which gave the irregular effect they wanted.

  ‘Just in time for your birthday,’ she told Carole.

  ‘Can I have party?’ she asked. ‘Some of the others at school have parties and I’d like one.’

  ‘Why not?’ her mother agreed. ‘You mustn’t invite too many children though. By the time you’ve asked your friends from the street, that will be quite enough people.’

  Archie was happy to see them so excited and promised to try and leave work a bit early on the big day. It was all a great success and they ate jelly and evaporated milk and stuffed jam sandwiches till they nearly burst. The games they played were noisy and simple. Music for musical chairs was supplied by one of Dora’s neighbours who hummed tunelessly, stopping every few seconds to eliminate the contestants. Carole was knocked out early and protested loudly that it was her party and she should win something. By the time they all went home, Dora and the other adults were totally exhausted. Carole went to bed eventually, clutching her best present ever, a box of paints. She was overtired and protesting loudly that she wanted to paint right now.

  ‘You just want to spoil my happy day,’ she wailed as she was dragged upstairs.

  ‘You’d never be considered a goody two shoes now,’ Dora laughed.

  ‘Good. I’m glad,’ stormed the child as she flopped onto her bed and fell instantly asleep.

  ‘I often wondered what a children’s party might be like,’ Archie said ruefully. ‘Exhausting is all I can say. Not like our Carole to be so ungrateful.’

  ‘She’s just tired out.’

  ‘All the same, we need to be careful that we don’t spoil her. Just because she’s the only one we’ve got.’

  ‘Oh, Archie. You do say daft things sometimes.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A year later, Archie confided in Dora that he was feeling frustrated once more at the lack of variety in his work. Though Leslie gave him relative freedom in the designs they used, it was still flatware that was the sole production line. Tea-sets and general tableware and none of the figurines or other more interesting things that he craved. Though he recognised that he was very lucky to have such a good job, it still wasn’t enough.

  ‘I’d like to start up on my own. Have my own factory,’ he announced.

  ‘Blimey,’ Dora burst out. ‘That’s quite a step. Can we afford it? And how much would it cost to set up? We’re hardly rolling in money. We’ve just bought the car for a start.’

  ‘What I was thinking, was that I could start in a small way. I can rent quite a decent sized place for not very much. Just a big room really. That way, I can still carry on working for Leslie and bringing in a decent wage.’ There was a fire in his eyes that Dora hadn’t seen for some time. His enthusiasm was infectious and the words tumbled out. ‘Then I’d get one or two women working part time at fir
st. I can get some items made as “out-work” now. There’s lots of women who’d jump at the chance of earning a few bob while they stay at home to look after the kids. Now the war’s all over, they miss the work and the company. They’d all got used to working again.’

  ‘But what about all the equipment and kilns? How on earth would you fire the stuff? They must cost a packet.’

  ‘I’m going to talk to Leslie. I reckon he’ll let me fire some stuff when there’s space in the big kilns. I’m thinking of fancies. You know, flowers, small stuff. They wouldn’t take up much room. And I can probably buy stuff second hand. Some places are up-grading so they’ll be selling off their old equipment.’

  ‘Looks like you’ve got it all planned. Have you actually done anything about it yet?’

  ‘I’ve looked round a couple of places. There’s one in Longton. Just across from Sansom’s. Very handy. It’ll mean working all hours to start. I’d stay on with Sansom’s until I get something established. Like I said, that way my wage will still be coming in. We won’t starve.’

  ‘Seems like you’ve made up your mind.’

  ‘Course not. Not without your say so. It affects you too. I won’t go ahead without your approval. Course I wouldn’t.’

  ‘I’ll never stand in your way. But don’t forget we’ve got Carole to think of now. I suppose I could always do a few folks’ hair again. They’d be pleased to have personal service, and if we need a bit extra, well I’ll do what I can to help.’

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Let’s go and look at the new workshop on Saturday. What do you say?’

  ‘All right. Oh, Archie, it’s what you’ve always wanted isn’t it?’

  He said no more but nodded happily. His mind was already seeing his own stamp on the bottom of the finest bone china he was capable of producing. Silently, he blessed Ernie Draper Senior, the man who’d given him his first chance.

  ‘Wonder what happened to old Ernie? I know he went away to fight but I never heard any more of him. God, I hope he made it. It’s terrible how you let people go out of your life.’

  ‘And Mabel. I should write to her. See what happened to her. Isn’t it amazing how people come and go? I saw her every day for years of my life and now she’s simply disappeared.’

  ‘Is this really what you want?’ Dora asked doubtfully the following Saturday as they stood in the large, empty room. Carole was dancing around happily, loving the unaccustomed space. It was bitingly cold with ill-fitting windows and no heating. Archie nodded his head enthusiastically.

  ‘I know it isn’t much to start with. But it’s only temporary, until we get going properly. Then I can afford bigger premises. But as I don’t have much capital, this is the best way to start.’ His fervour was catching and Dora was beginning to smile, just a little.

  There were several long work benches at the sides which would be a start and with a few bits of specialist equipment, much of which he could beg or borrow, he’d be all set. Dora agreed to back him in what she really saw as rather a hair-brained scheme. She knew that if she didn’t agree to it, he would feel forever frustrated. He had to give it his best shot and she should support him.

  It was just a few weeks later that Carole and Dora were invited to accompany him to the new workshop, one Saturday afternoon. The first tiny figurine was ready for inspection. The little crinoline lady, less than six inches high, was glazed, painted and ready to be fired in the new electric kiln, his first really significant purchase.

  ‘I felt you should be here for the first piece.’

  ‘What’s she called?’ asked Carole.

  ‘I thought I’d name her after you. Would you like that?’ The child beamed and nodded her approval.

  ‘How do you make her?’

  Archie took her across to the casting bench and showed her the mould. It was in three parts and when he took it apart, she could see the hollow inside that was the reverse of the lady. He fitted it back together and secured it with a thick elastic band. Then he poured a greyish looking liquid into the mould and left it to stand. She watched, waiting to see how the lady got out of the mould. Her father tipped the mould upside down over the jug and the liquid clay, the slip he called it, was poured back into the jug, leaving a thin skin of solid clay over the inside of the mould. Some time later, Archie slipped the elastic band off and very carefully removed one of the mould’s plaster pieces.

  ‘Wow,’ breathed Carole, seeing the partly exposed figure. The other pieces were removed and the tiny lady carefully lifted out. ‘It’s like magic isn’t it? But why is she soft and soggy? And why has she got funny lines all over her?’

  Patiently, he showed her how the lines as she called them could be carefully removed with a little knife, once the clay had dried a little. Fettling he called it. Next he took a soft sponge and wiped the marks away, leaving a smooth finish.

  ‘It has to be fired next. Baked in a very hot oven until it becomes hard.’

  ‘Can we take it home and cook it tomorrow with our dinner?’ asked Carole. ‘Please, Daddy?’

  ‘Sorry, love. Needs much hotter ovens than we have. It needs to be fired twice before I can even start painting it.’

  ‘Why is this new one much bigger than the painted one?’ Carole asked.

  ‘When it’s fired, the water goes out of the clay and then gradually, the clay changes and becomes very hard.’

  ‘Where does the water go?’

  ‘What happens when the kettle boils?’

  ‘Steam,’ yelled Carole excitedly. ‘So you get steam in the kilns and it comes out of the top?’

  ‘Almost right. After that, the pottery has to be glazed to make it shiny and fired again. When all that’s done, we come to the interesting bit when it’s painted and begins to look pretty. It’s all going across to Uncle Leslie’s kilns on Monday. Along with several other things I’m trying.’ He showed them some simple brooches in animal shapes.

  ‘Very modern,’ Dora said approvingly. ‘I’m so proud of you, love. I’m glad you’ve made this start. It’s going to work, isn’t it?’

  ‘Of course. Never doubted it. Now, let me show you this.’ He picked up a little rubber stamp. He pressed it into a dish of amber coloured liquid and pressed it against the bottom of a piece of fired china. Then he dusted over the sticky mark with grey powder.

  ‘Staffordshire Fine Bone China, Made in England by Archie Barnett,’ Dora read. She blinked away the tears that sprang into her eyes.

  ‘Does that mean you’re famous now, Daddy?’ Carole asked.

  ‘Not quite. But one day, maybe,’ he replied. ‘Just one more task before this lady is finished.’ He took a fine brush and wrote Carole on the base. ‘I shall always write the name of each figurine on the bottom. That way, everyone will know the name of the lady who’s standing on their shelves.’ He closed his eyes. This was phase one of his ambitions. He had made his first piece of china, designed completely by him, modelled and created by him. Archie Barnett china was on its way.

  The following weeks were crazily busy. Having the car meant the family were no longer reliant on public transport to get around. It saved many hours of waiting for buses and driving along indirect routes. Weekends were virtually non-existent as Archie worked constantly, trying to build up his first collection. Leslie Sansom had been a wonderful friend, allowing him to fire his pieces in the various firings . . . biscuit ware first and then the glost ovens for the glazed ware. Finally and the most rewarding, the last firing of decorated ware was done in his own small kiln. When the finished object came out in all its glory, he took it across to show his friend. Leslie was very complimentary about the work and as always, wished him success. Archie was making totally different items to them and would never be a rival to his own company’s work, though he recognised that he was about to lose a valued friend and colleague.

  Often on Sundays, Archie would drive Dora and Carole to her parents’ house, while he worked on his own in his little workshop. There were one or two local women
who made flowers for him and he would collect them and use them to make different products. Some were set in bowls to make the traditional flower baskets and bowls while others were used to form lids and decorations on small china boxes. He was in seventh heaven, allowing his creativity to blossom and flourish. He had the idea of making tiny flower sprays to make brooches and even tinier ones to make matching earrings. The clips and fasteners were easy to obtain and already he’d had several salesmen calling to offer him specialist items. He realised that he would soon need someone to be at the workshop full time. The mould maker and caster were probably the most important, especially if he could use one person to do both jobs. There were plenty of people around needing jobs and he knew it was just a matter of finding the right one. The main problem would be his wages. A skilled man did not come cheap and as yet, the small factory, if such it could be called, was not trading. Another week or two and he would have a selection of samples. A thought hit him. If Ernie was back from the forces and still working as a salesman for his father, perhaps he would be willing to take some of Archie’s things. Once he had a few orders, he could safely employ someone, even give up working for Sansom’s and work on his own full-time. He could hardly contain his excitement. It was also time they put in a telephone and bought a few things for the house. Hugging his plans to himself in delight, he went to collect his family.

  Archie knew that his own enthusiasm was enough to make his dreams come true but he also realised that it was necessary to give some time to his marriage. Dora was the most precious thing in his life followed by little Carole. That little girl was going to have all the things he had missed. She was going to get the chance of a good education and go on to University if they could manage it. Every spare moment for the next weeks was spent working on his collection of samples.

  He’d followed up his thought of contacting Ernie and they had met up again, after the long gap. They had both changed and their childhood closeness was never re-gained, not least because Ernie had spent time at the front during the war. It was a very different man to the young fun-loving friend Archie remembered. They had little in common any more. Ernie’s nerves were shattered and he could no longer manage the travelling. He did however, recommend a good man who was freelance and always willing to take on new clients for a percentage of the order. It was a start. A start that paid off well. Within the first fortnight, Bill, the traveller, came back with orders for several dozen items. This was his chance and Archie took the momentous decision to leave Sansom’s and start his own company on a full-time basis. He could do all the processes himself, though it would be very hard work. As long as he could rent proper firing space in the kilns, it would save money elsewhere. Once the orders were coming regularly, he would think about taking on other staff. He blessed the days at Draper’s when he had learned all the manufacturing processes the hard way, from the bottom up. Leslie was naturally disappointed to see him leaving and told him there would always be a place for him if he needed it. The girls also made a fuss of him and made him promise to take them on, if his business grew large enough. He knew the best workers and promised gladly.