Rough Clay

by Chrissie Loveday

  ‘Heavens. You never told me that,’ Dora complained.

  ‘Our William only told me today. Won’t be for a while but it’s on the cards. I dunno what me Mum will have to say about that. So, like I said, she’ll have to go and stay somewhere else.’

  It took several weeks for a place to be found and Frances was very grumpy about the whole business.

  ‘You’re just shoving me off like an old bundle of washing. It’s your duty to look after the old folk but I s’pose you’re too full of yourself these days to care. After all your Dad and me did for you. Expensive education. All them years of looking after yer. Putting meals on the table. Ungrateful wretch.’ She went on and on for hours and eventually, Archie left her to it. He managed to contain himself and didn’t challenge her about the years when he was always hungry and nor did he remind her that his so called expensive education had been cut very short when she found the need for more money. He could never forgive nor forget. The memory of his plate flashed into his mind. It was a loss in his life that had always been with him. At that time, it had meant so much. Now it paled into insignificance against what his future was threatening at this time. He sighed. Maybe there was still some way out of all the mess before Dora and Carole found out.

  Exams loomed and Carole had gained a place at a teacher training college, believing that university might be beyond her abilities. Her place was guaranteed, whatever her results. She was so involved in her own life, teenage angst and what was happening to her, that she failed to notice any worries her father might have. She did accompany them one evening to visit her Gran in the old people’s home. Visits were always uncomfortable and stressful to them all and they could hardly wait to escape again. To Archie’s surprise, Billy Machin was waiting outside.

  ‘Hallo, Archie,’ said the scruffy man leaning against the wall smoking. ‘Remember me?’

  ‘Billy? Billy Machin? What are you doing here?’

  ‘Heard your old lady was in the ’ome. Word gets around our parts. Reckoned as you’d ’ave to visit some time. Thought I’d wait around and catch you.’

  ‘I see. You must have had a long wait,’ Archie murmured. ‘So, how’s it going?’

  ‘Pretty bad as it ’appens. You never came back to me with that job you promised. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me.’ His voice was coarse and seemed to hold some sort of threat.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Archie muttered. He’d never given the man another thought.

  ‘Can we get back to the car?’ Carole asked. ‘I’m freezing.’

  ‘Your girl is it? Grown up now ’asn’t she? And you must be his missus.’

  ‘Sorry, love. This is Billy Machin. We were at the same junior school.’

  ‘Oh yes. Your Mum kept the shop, didn’t she? I’m Dora.’ She held out her hand but he ignored the gesture.

  ‘Yes. I remember. Posh car as well, is it? You’ve done all right for yoursen then.’

  ‘I suppose so. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get these two home.’

  ‘I still need a job. You’re the boss nowadays. Hirin’ and firin’ for yoursen. How about it? For old times’ sake? I seem to remember my mum helpin’ you out quite a bit when you needed it.’

  ‘All right,’ Archie said doubtfully. ‘Call round at the factory. King Street, Fenton. Got the name over it. You can’t miss it.’

  Billy nodded. He looked shifty and nodded towards Dora and Carole, as if they shouldn’t hear what he had to say. Archie frowned but said nothing.

  ‘Thanks, Archie. There’s a lotta things I’d like to talk over. I’ll see ya tomorrow then.’

  As they went back to the car, Dora turned to him in horror.

  ‘Wasn’t he the one who went to prison? You can’t seriously intend to employ him?’

  ‘Poor bugger needs a chance, I s’pose. Maybe I’ll find summat for him.’

  ‘Thought you weren’t s’posed to use words like summat?’ Carole teased.

  ‘I’m over twenty-one. That means I can do as I like.’ Dad often joked about his past but sometimes he simply forgot about his old ways of speaking. ‘Who’s for fish and chips on the way back?

  The tension for Archie was growing by the day. He tried desperately to keep it from Dora but she knew there was something troubling him and eventually, he had to admit the truth.

  ‘I’m letting yer all down,’ he said blandly. ‘The thing is, I’m in a bit of bother at work.’

  ‘What sort of bother?’

  ‘I’ve fallen a bit behind with the paperwork.’

  ‘What about your book-keeper? Can’t she sort it out?’

  ‘Truth is, she’s left. A few months back. Said she couldn’t manage any more.’

  ‘Why didn’t you get someone else?’

  ‘I thought I could do it myself. Sort it out. Just a matter of going through the boxes. But the bloomin’ government want all sorts of returns. Purchase tax stuff. Official this, that and the other. I haven’t got it. They’re threatening to close us down. Sell off the assets to get their money. Just so long as they get what’s owing to them. Doesn’t seem to matter that all the workers will have to go on the dole. There won’t be a business for them and you know what jobs are like round here. Nothing. So many little factories are closing down or being swallowed up into the larger ones.’

  ‘I see. And how long have you known about this?’ Her tone held a note of bitterness and suppressed anger.

  ‘Couple of weeks. Bit longer maybe.’

  Dora pushed the tears back from her eyes. It wasn’t so much the dreadful news as the fact he’d kept it from her. He put an arm out to her but she pushed him away.

  ‘How could you know this and not tell me? I thought we were partners. In every sense.’

  ‘I was trying to protect you. Thought I could maybe sort it out without worrying you. But I haven’t. And Carole. What’s she going to think? And Mary and Harry? And me Mum? Oh, no doubt she’ll love it. Seeing me toppling from the high perch.’

  ‘Forget about all that. Don’t you ever, ever keep things from me again.’ Her voice cracked as she finally allowed the tears to fall.

  ‘Dora, don’t cry. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t keep saying you’re sorry. It doesn’t help.’ They argued for the next hour, until Carole came downstairs.

  ‘Mum? Dad? What’s going on? Why are you shouting at each other?’ Her parents were always the best of friends and this disturbance was both unusual and upsetting.

  ‘It’s nothing, love. Just a disagreement about something. Go back to bed. You’ve got school tomorrow.’ Dora spoke almost calmly.

  ‘If you’re sure. I don’t like to hear you arguing.’ Slowly, she returned to her bed and Dora went to make some tea. When she returned, she handed a mug to Archie and sat down beside him.

  ‘We have to decide what to do next. Make proper plans and not just drift along thinking it will all go away. We’re in serious trouble here.’

  ‘Well, I was thinking, I could bring some of the equipment home and start up again in the workshop out there. Just something small to start and then re-build the business once I’ve got going.’

  They talked late into the night and decided that as soon as it was practical, they would organise the outbuildings. It would mean a good deal of work to clear out the junk and decide what should be brought back from the factory.

  ‘Is it all right to bring stuff here? I mean, if the factory’s closing down, won’t the equipment have to be sold to pay the bills?’

  ‘Don’t worry yourself about details. It’s all mine isn’t it? I have every right to take it wherever I like. Besides, we’d get very little for it. Second-hand stuff never fetches much and I’d only have to buy again if I want to carry on.’

  Over the next couple of weeks, a couple of the kilns and all the smaller stuff took their places in what was called the new workshops. It all began to look viable. Gradually, as it took shape, Carole readily accepted that Dad had decided he would start making his china in
the outbuildings of their home. She didn’t really think much about it nor the fact that her parents might be trying to protect her from the truth. Though their arguments were far from over, they tried to keep them away from Carole’s hearing.

  ‘You’ll stick by me, won’t you, love?’ Archie asked repeatedly. Dora reassured him but never let him forget that he needed to keep her informed about everything in future.

  They all went to the factory to clear out some of the rooms one weekend. There were a number of items to be retrieved and things to be thrown away.

  ‘Did you ever take on that awful man we met at the hospital?’ Carole asked, as they worked.

  ‘Who? Oh Billy? I gave him a few jobs. Labouring mostly. He wasn’t capable of doing much else. I had to give him the push at the end. He wasn’t very happy about it but there wasn’t much I could do. Made all sorts of threats but he’s all wind and bluster.’

  ‘I expect everyone will be feeling sad that they won’t be working here any longer. But it’s too far to come to our house and there isn’t enough room is there?’

  The workers had been dismissed, all demanding he kept in touch and let them know if he started again. One or two of them agreed to make flowers at home and Archie arranged to collect them once a week. It was just like the early days, he often remarked cheerfully. Dora began to enjoy having him working nearby and sat watching him over endless cups of tea.

  One night, the phone rang.

  ‘Who the heck’s that at this time?’ Archie complained. ‘It’s three o’clock in the morning.’

  ‘P’raps it’s Mum or Dad been taken ill,’ Dora said as she leapt out of bed.

  The police were short and to the point. The factory was on fire and would he please get there as soon as possible. Archie insisted that Dora stayed at home and drove off anxiously. His once beloved factory was burning fiercely. The sign above the door was blistered and his name almost obliterated. Smoke poured out of the upstairs windows, already cracked and broken by the heat inside.

  ‘What a mess,’ he sighed. ‘What started it, can you tell?’

  ‘We were hoping you might help us with that,’ said one of the firemen grimly. ‘Would there have been anyone inside?’

  ‘No, course not. We didn’t have kilns firing or anything. Nothing I can think of. Maybe it was something electrical. Wiring shorting out.’ He felt anxious, as he’d done a lot of wiring himself and probably it wasn’t all entirely legal. Besides, most of the equipment was now stored in his garage. The lease on the factory would have run out by the following week.

  It was daylight by the time the hoses had got the fire under control and clouds of steam mingled with the smoke. The stench of chemicals and paint filled the air. The largely wooden interior structure had completely burned out and most of the upstairs room had collapsed down into the ground floor. In the grey light, they looked inside. Pieces of blackened china, cracked moulds and the remains of painters’ tiles littered the dark interior. Archie felt himself near to tears to see the destruction. Any remnants of the dreaded paperwork so necessary for inspection by the authorities had completely gone with the rest. He’d meant to clear out the last remnants of his business in the next few days.

  ‘Mr Barnett, we’d like you to accompany us to the station,’ the grim-faced policeman told him. ‘We believe there are a number of questions you need to answer.’

  ‘But I don’t understand. What can I tell you there that I can’t tell you here?’ he blustered.

  ‘There’s evidence to suggest this fire was started deliberately. Haven’t you heard of insurance scams? How’s business at the moment, Mr Barnett? There’s talk around that you’ve gone bust.’ Archie felt his blood draining away. Business was indeed terrible. The factory was closing. Things looked as bad as they could and he could understand the reason for the questions he was being asked. But whatever he might be guilty of, he knew he was innocent of setting a fire. ‘So, can you tell me where you were last night?’ the policeman continued.

  ‘I was at home. With my wife and daughter.’

  ‘Very convenient.’

  The next few hours were a nightmare for everyone. Dora had rushed to the police station as soon as she knew what was happening. She wasn’t allowed to see her husband but made a nuisance of herself to the duty sergeant, protesting her husband’s innocence. As for Archie, he was grilled for the entire day.

  ‘I have information here that says you’re filing for bankruptcy. Convenient that all your records have gone up in smoke. And what about the contents of the factory? There’s not much sign of all the equipment that should be there.’ The detective was grim-faced.

  ‘Aye, well a lot of it had to go. To pay off some of the bills,’ he hedged. ‘But I didn’t set fire to the place. I’d never do a thing like that.’

  ‘And what about the insurance?’

  ‘I had to let it go. Couldn’t carry on paying the premiums. Surely that must prove something? I’d hardly be doing an insurance scam if the bloody place wasn’t insured, would I?’

  They seemed to believe him. At the end of the longest day of their lives, he was eventually released. After he’d provided a list of all his employees and anyone who’d recently left, they had their suspicions allayed. They brought in Billy Machin, still stinking of petrol and as aggressive as ever. He caught sight of Archie and yelled out,

  ‘I told you I’d settle your score, Archie Barnett. Got me own back this time, sure as hell.’ Archie sighed in relief. Billie’s confession had cleared him.

  ‘Maybe you’ll get something back from the insurance,’ Dora comforted him. ‘That would help.’

  ‘I doubt it. Never paid the premiums. Didn’t seem worth it somehow and money was tight. Seemed a way of economising. Good job I got some of the more useful stuff out before the whole lot went up in smoke.’

  ‘But what about all the debts? You must owe hundreds one way and another.’

  ‘I’ll pay it off somehow.’

  ‘Will we have to sell the house?’ Dora asked in a small voice. She knew how much his home had meant to him. It was the symbol of his success and now it looked as if even that would have to go.

  ‘It’ll work out somehow, love. I’ll soon be up and running again. We did it once. We can do it again.’

  ‘You were a young man then and times were a bit different.’

  ‘We’ll see, love,’ was all he could say. With a heavy heart, they went home. The fire was the final straw for Archie. He tried to keep his feeling of dark depression from his family and worked away silently, his enthusiasm and love of his work completely drained. He spent little time planning and dreaming of his new lines and slogged away diligently at the repetitive tasks.

  These events couldn’t have come at a worse time for Carole. Wrapped up in her own world of revision and plans for the future, she had assumed a great deal. Everyone who was moving on to higher education was applying for grants and she had done the same.

  ‘You’ll only have to pay part of the fees,’ she told them happily. ‘The county will pay quite a lot. You’ll have forms to fill in and everything. But I’ll help with that . . .’ She trailed off. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  Her parents held each other’s hands as they told her what had happened. The business was finished along with the factory and though Archie was starting again, it would be many years before the debts were paid and they would probably have to leave their lovely home.

  ‘It might mean we can’t afford for you to take up this place at college.’

  ‘We’ll do everything we can. Maybe there’s another way . . .’

  ‘You’d better look at this,’ she said sadly. ‘It came in the post.’ She was taking a practical course and this was a list of equipment she would need. ‘I’d no idea it was all going to be so expensive. There’s special clothing as well and it has to be bought from a store in London. They make it individually. And there’s all the other stuff on the list. What on earth shall we do?’ Her parents looked at the l
ist with mounting horror.

  ‘I’ll just have to put in a few more hours, won’t I?’ Archie said resignedly.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. This is way beyond a few more china vases and kettles. You’ll have to go and see your headmaster, Carole. Ask him what he suggests. Maybe there’s some sort of extra grant you can get.’

  The head was helpful enough, suggesting she contact the education department and explain the situation.

  ‘They’ll probably send a batch of forms to fill in and your parents will have to take a means test. I’ll support you all I can, of course. Everything is all right, I take it? At home, I mean?’

  ‘Of course,’ Carole said, blushing furiously. No way was she going to admit any of their problems. She hadn’t realised the full implications of the business failure nor the future prospects for herself and her parents.

  When the forms came, it became clear that the means test section was not going to be easy. The grant would be estimated based on the previous year’s salary. They filled them in as best they could and Archie wrote a letter to explain their problems. Then, they waited. Carole began to think that she might never be able to take up her place at college after all. The uncertainty made her bad-tempered and it seemed as if the whole family were arguing most of the time.

  ‘And what do you expect to do if you don’t get a grant?’ the austere looking man asked at the dreaded interview, when Archie took Carole to County Hall.

  ‘I suppose I shall have to get a job. I can always work in Woollies, I suppose,’ she added angrily.

  ‘And would that be satisfactory?’ he asked.

  ‘For whom?’ she retorted. ‘I suppose it would save everyone a lot of bother. After all, girls usually get married don’t they? Why bother to get an education?’ To her disgust, she then burst into tears. What did he know about anything? He sat there in his smart suit and tie, knowing nothing about ordinary people.

  ‘I’m sure we shall be able to help you,’ he said quickly.