Many a Tear has to Fall

by Joan Jonker

  After a while Maddy came from the shadow of the trees to find out why her sister hadn’t followed her. ‘Come on, Tess, you don’t know what you’re missing. There’s rabbits, squirrels, birds and even hedgehogs.’

  ‘I’ve seen forests on the pictures and they are full of wild animals. I don’t fancy having my head bitten off by a lion.’

  ‘This isn’t a forest, Tess,’ Alan said with a grin. ‘It’s only a small wood and you won’t see any lions here.’

  The girl was apprehensive, but she didn’t want him to think she was a baby. ‘If I come in, you won’t run off and leave me on my own, will you? And if I get frightened, promise you’ll bring me right out again?’

  ‘Have I ever let you be frightened, Tess?’ Maddy asked. ‘If anything came near you I’d strangle it with my bare hands.’

  ‘What if it’s a snake, and it spits poison at me?’

  ‘There’s no snakes in there, Tess, I’ve been here hundreds of times and never seen one. And even if there was, they wouldn’t be poisonous. Anyway,’ Alan said stoutly, ‘I’ll break a branch off one of the trees and use it to protect you.’

  This seemed to satisfy the girl, and she allowed herself to be led into the wood. And that afternoon, Tess’s story books came to life, as though a good fairy had waved a magic wand to make everything perfect. And when they were called to join the picnic, she never stopped talking about the wonders she’d seen.

  ‘You’ll have plenty of memories to take home with you, sweetheart,’ Gwen said. ‘When you and Maddy are cuddled up in bed on dark winter nights, you can relive these days.’

  ‘Oh, we will, Mrs Gwen,’ Maddy said, sitting on a corner of the blanket with one of Brenda’s meat pies in her hand. ‘Tess is a very good story-teller, much better than me.’

  ‘I’m not better than you,’ her sister said, ‘but I will be one of these days.’ With a twinkle in her eye she said, ‘And we won’t be waiting for the dark winter nights to cuddle up in bed to relive these few days, Mrs Gwen, we’ll be doing it on our first night home and all the nights after.’

  ‘Theresa, you should be eating instead of talking,’ Ann said. ‘Mrs Thomas wants to leave here at four so she’s home in time to get a dinner on for her husband. So eat up and then you can play for another hour or so.’

  The children quickly finished off their home-made lemonade and scampered back into the woods. And Tess didn’t need any coaxing now; she was first there, with Alan close behind her.

  The adults were clearing away the plates and wrapping up the leftover food when Grace and Alan came back. ‘Mam, it’s Maddy and Tess’s last day tomorrow, so can they come to the farm?’ Grace asked. ‘We could take them around the fields where the cows are, they didn’t see them yesterday. And they could say goodbye to the pigs, and to Goldie.’

  ‘And see the cows being milked,’ Alan said. ‘I bet they’d like that.’

  Brenda turned her head to hide a smile. Her eleven-year-old son had fallen for a girl! Oh dear, whatever next? ‘I think you’ll have to ask Mr and Mrs Richardson. They may have something in mind for tomorrow.’

  Two pair of eyes, one brown and one blue, fastened on Ann. ‘Can they come, Mrs Richardson? Please say they can.’

  ‘I wouldn’t like to be parted from the girls for a whole day, I’d worry about them.’ Ann then felt guilty because she knew the girls would love a day on the farm. But she’d never rest, wondering what they were doing. ‘Besides, your mother has enough to do without two extra to look after.’

  ‘That’s no problem,’ Brenda said. ‘You and George are welcome to come as well. You could lend a hand if you liked. In fact, I could fit you up with Wellingtons and overalls and you could become farmers for a day. You could help feed the pigs and the sheep. And you might even like to try your hand at milking the cows. But that is only a thought, it might not appeal to you at all.’

  ‘Oh, it does!’ George was all for it. ‘I’d enjoy being a farmer for a day, but I can’t speak for the wife.’

  To his great surprise, Ann let her head drop back and gave a throaty chuckle. ‘I’d love it! If it’s not too much for you, Brenda, I’d really love it.’

  Grace and Alan took to their heels to tell their new-found friends the good news. ‘They’re happy, anyway.’ There was a hint of conspiracy in the wink Brenda flashed at Gwen as she bent down to put flasks and cups into a large wicker basket. ‘It won’t be all fun and games, you know. It’s hard work, is farming. But you’ll be paid for your work with a nice lunch.’

  ‘I’m supposed to be your friend and I’m not even getting a look-in.’ Gwen flared her nostrils and feigned disgust. ‘You haven’t even got the decency to ask if I’d like to come so I’d have the pleasure of refusing.’

  ‘So you don’t want to come, then?’

  ‘I can’t refuse if I haven’t been asked, can I?’

  ‘Mrs Owen, would you like to come to my house tomorrow?’

  The chubby face beamed. ‘Now that’s real nice of you, bach. And the invitation does include lunch, doesn’t it?’

  ‘You’re not half pushing your luck, Gwen Owen. But the invitation will include lunch if you help me make it. And that’s after you’ve rounded up the cows for milking.’

  Gwen put on a sad expression as she glanced from Ann to George. ‘She’s supposed to be my best friend.’ With a hand on her breast, roughly where her heart was, she said, ‘I’m cut to the quick, my pride wounded.’

  ‘You’re not too wounded to give me a hand to put this stuff in the trap while Ann and George take a walk in the woods. So get cracking.’

  Gwen showed more than a few inches of fleecy knickers as she scrambled to her feet. Then she stood to attention and saluted. ‘Aye, aye, sir! Three bags full, sir!’

  ‘Those pigs were dirty beggars, weren’t they?’ George was trying to cheer up his daughters, who were looking really down in the mouth. It was Friday morning and they were having their last breakfast at Rose Cottage. ‘When I was a lad there was a woman living in our street whose house, so the neighbours said, was like a pig sty. Now I know what they meant.’

  ‘The pigs can’t help it,’ Tess said, lifting her head to come to the defence of Pinky. ‘I’m sure if they could walk and carry a bucket they’d keep their sty lovely and clean.’

  ‘I’m sure they would, love. I really liked them, particularly Pinky and Curly. I enjoyed being a farmer for a day, and even if I wasn’t good at it, at least I looked the part in Wellies, overall and tweed cap.’

  ‘You did very well, Dad!’ Maddy told him. ‘As Mr Tom said, you can’t expect to be able to milk cows on your first attempt.’

  George laughed. ‘I thought I was doing great and was really pleased with myself, until I saw Grace and Alan. For their age they do extremely well. With the able assistance of Mrs Owen, they’d milked the whole herd between them while I was still on the first cow.’

  ‘I think you did all right,’ Ann said. ‘And I didn’t hear the cow complain.’

  Maddy giggled. ‘That’s because it had gone to sleep on its feet.’

  ‘It wasn’t asleep, it was only pretending,’ Tess said. ‘It kept opening its eye and winking at me.’

  ‘I think yesterday was a lovely day,’ Ann said. ‘Thanks to the Owens and Thomases, who really went out of their way to make our holiday perfect. I wouldn’t mind living here for good if we had the money. Peace and quiet, with plenty of good food and fresh air.’

  ‘You wouldn’t last a winter, love!’ George shook his head. ‘The countryside is at its very best now, but wait until the rain and snow come down, you’d soon change your mind. I know thick snow on the ground looks pretty on Christmas cards, but when you’re walking knee deep in it, then that’s a different story. For a holiday, though, it’s beautiful.’

  ‘Alan’s going to be a farmer when he leaves school,’ Tess told them. ‘He can do all the jobs around the farm, even driving the tractor. I think he’s very clever.’

  The room door opened and Gwen
bustled in. ‘Any more toast wanted? Or a fresh pot of tea, perhaps?’

  ‘No thank you,’ Ann said. ‘As my dear mother used to say, we’ve had an elegant sufficiency.’

  ‘Are you sure? You’ve got a long journey in front of you.’

  ‘Don’t remind us.’ Maddy pulled a face. ‘We don’t want to leave.’

  Gwen pulled a chair out and plonked herself down. ‘I might as well have a cuppa with you, seeing as I’ve got all day to do what I have to. I’m really going to miss you.’

  ‘And we’ll miss you.’ Ann spoke with sincerity. ‘But you will see us again next year, the girls will see to that.’

  ‘Me and Maddy are going to write to you, Mrs Gwen,’ Tess said. ‘And to Mrs Thomas and Alan when they send the photographs. And I won’t forget, ’cos you’ve been so kind.’

  ‘It’s been our pleasure, bach, and next time make it the full week.’

  ‘Oh, my wife and I have had strict instructions from the girls on that subject.’ George laughed. ‘One full week at least, but two weeks if we can save up enough.’

  ‘You get two weeks’ holiday then, George?’

  ‘Yes, the works closes down for the last week in July and the first week in August, same as every other factory in Liverpool.’

  Gwen tapped a finger on her chin, telling herself she wasn’t being nosy, just interested. And if she didn’t ask, Brenda would tell her she was losing her touch. ‘What sort of work do you do, George?’

  ‘I work in a storehouse overlooking the River Mersey. It’s a granary, for wheat and barley, et cetera. The grain is weighed into sacks and then loaded on to ships which come from every corner of the world. I’ve been there since I left school at fourteen, and although the job’s quite heavy, I enjoy it. The smell of the Mersey is in my blood now and I can’t imagine working anywhere else. And I’ve got a good boss and workmates.’

  Tess scraped her chair back. ‘Can I go and say goodbye to the chickens? If we leave it any longer we won’t have time. Are you coming, Maddy?’

  When the girls had left the room George said, ‘I’ll put the luggage outside the front door for when Brenda comes.’

  The two girls’ eyes were red-rimmed after an emotional farewell to Gwen. And there were more tears to shed when they arrived at the station and found Alan and Grace had made the journey by foot and were waiting for them. Promises to write were exchanged, Goldie was stroked and hugged, and then the ticket collector came hurrying down the lane, struggling into his porter-cum-stationmaster’s coat. His beaming smile covered the group. ‘I hope you enjoyed your holiday at Rose Cottage?’ And he nodded with satisfaction when told it had been a wonderful success. ‘I’d be getting on the platform now, if I were you. The train will be along any minute. Leave the luggage on the platform and I’ll put it in the compartment for you when you’re settled in your seats.’

  ‘You’re going to write to me, aren’t you, Tess?’ Alan asked, standing by her side.

  ‘Of course I am. I always keep my promise.’

  And close by, Grace was asking, ‘You will come back next year, won’t you? And write to me with all your news?’

  Then they heard the chug-chug of the train and it was time for last farewells. Grace hugged Maddy close, promising eternal friendship, and when Alan hung back, Tess took matters into her own hands. She flung her arms around him and kissed him soundly on both cheeks. The boy went the colour of beetroot, but inside he was delighted. ‘Don’t forget to write,’ he croaked, knowing he’d get his leg pulled by the family for weeks.

  ‘Come on, girls,’ George said, taking his wife’s arm. ‘The train won’t wait for us.’

  Brenda opened her arms wide and the girls ran into them. ‘Thank you for a lovely holiday.’ Maddy wasn’t far from tears, and neither was her sister as they were hugged and kissed.

  ‘It’s been our pleasure having you. Take care and keep in touch.’

  The porter found them an empty compartment and lifted their luggage on to the rack before stepping back on to the platform. After making sure all doors were closed, he blew his whistle and signalled to the driver with his flag. And he kept the flag waving, with Brenda and her two children standing beside him, until the train was out of sight.

  The platform at Wrexham wasn’t as crowded as they’d expected and there was no pushing and shoving to get on the train. They found an empty compartment and the girls settled either side of a window while George stretched out his long legs and gave a sigh of contentment. ‘This is just the job. It’ll be murder tomorrow with everyone finishing their holidays and making for home.’

  The words were no sooner out of his mouth than they heard a commotion in the side corridor which ran the full length of the train. They couldn’t see anybody, but they could hear a woman’s voice shouting, ‘Stop pushing, yer flaming little faggot.’ Then the body that belonged to the voice came into view. All twenty stone of her. She stopped outside the door of their compartment and began to slide it open, shouting over her shoulder, ‘There’s plenty of room in here.’

  ‘I spoke too soon,’ George said, patting Ann’s arm before quickly moving to sit next to Maddy on the seat opposite. He guessed they were in for a noisy ride.

  As the woman tried to walk forward through the door, George was telling himself she was being very optimistic. Talk about optical illusion wasn’t in it. The only parts of her to make it into the compartment were her enormous bosom and tummy. So she turned sideways and, using the door to hang on to, pushed and squeezed until she was red in the face. When she finally made it she was puffing like mad, and the sweat was running down her face. Taking a deep breath, she turned, and once again using the door for support, popped her head out and bawled, ‘Get those kids down here quick, Sammy, move yerself for God’s sake! Pass me that bleedin’ case, then see to the kids.’

  Sammy could be heard muttering but he only came into view when the woman moved away from the door to put a battered case on one of the seats. He was a puny little man, half the size of his wife, with a receding hair line, a flat nose that had at some time been broken, and thin lips. ‘They won’t come for me, Vera, yer’ll have to get them yerself.’

  ‘Not bloody likely!’ The woman flopped on to one of the seats. ‘If yer think I’m going through this door again, yer’ve got another think coming. Go and tell them if they don’t come now, I’ll flatten them.’

  His shoulders slumped, the man sighed before disappearing from view. They could hear the children’s voices raised in protest, then Sammy reappeared pulling a young girl of about six by the ears. She was yelling in pain as she was thrown into the compartment, but she got no sympathy from her mother. ‘Shut yer gob before I start on yer, yer little faggot. Where’s yer sister?’

  ‘She said to tell yer she’s not coming, she likes it out there.’

  ‘Oh, she does, does she? Well, we’ll see about that.’ It took three pushes before the woman made it to her feet. She eyed the door opening with misgiving and muttered under her breath, ‘Stupid thing, how do they expect anyone to get through that?’ Then once again she bent to pop her head out, and screech, ‘Sammy, if yer don’t get down here pronto with our Monica, so help me I’ll bleedin’ kill the pair of yer.’

  Maddy and Tess were watching the proceedings with interest, and there was little George could do about it, unless they looked for another compartment. But he didn’t fancy their chances of finding one that would seat them all. Ann was staring out of the window with a fixed expression on her face that said she was disgusted with the woman for using such language in front of children.

  ‘Let go of me, our dad, or I’ll kick yer.’ There was the sound of struggling before Sammy came into view, this time dragging a girl by the scruff of her neck. The girl, who looked about ten, was giving him a hard time, and he winced when several of her kicks hit their target.

  The mother, Vera, was waiting for her and delivered a stinging slap across her face. ‘That’ll teach yer, yer little flamer. Now sit down and keep yer g
ob shut.’

  But the girl, Monica, was defiant. ‘I want to sit by the window.’ She dodged her mother’s hand and stood in front of Tess. ‘I want to sit there, so move.’

  George saw his daughter shrink back in her seat, her eyes wide. ‘I’m sorry, but that seat is taken,’ he said. ‘Find one of your own.’

  ‘I want that one, and I’ve as much right as she has.’

  There were gasps of disbelief when the girl was lifted two foot off the floor, held there for a few seconds, then flung on to one of the seats. ‘Put yer bleedin’ backside down there and stay put. It’s the last time I take you anywhere.’ The woman dusted her hands together, looked at her husband and jerked her head. ‘Put that case on the rack.’

  Sammy looked at the height of the rack, then at the heavy suitcase, and shook his head. ‘I’ll never manage that.’

  ‘God strewth! Ye’re worse than the flamin’ kids! If yer can’t reach, stand on one of the seats! If yer’ve got any brains, Sammy, which I’m beginning to doubt, I’d like to know where they are, ’cos they ain’t in yer ruddy head!’

  By this time George was beginning to find the whole situation comical. He knew it wasn’t funny to hit young children or swear at them, but it seemed they were used to it and that was the way they lived. It would serve no purpose for his family to worry about something over which they had no control. So he got to his feet. ‘I’ll put the case up for you.’

  ‘Thanks, mister!’ The pat on the back he got from Vera nearly knocked him over. She didn’t know her own strength. ‘That’s real nice of yer.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ The case now safely on the rack, George returned to his seat, hoping they could enjoy the rest of the journey in peace. But hopes don’t always come true, and they certainly didn’t in this case. The Webster family, because that was their name, considered him a friend now he’d done them a favour, and they talked and talked. They even offered to share their sandwiches with them, but were politely refused on the grounds the Richardsons had eaten a very hearty breakfast and weren’t hungry.