Many a Tear has to Fall

by Joan Jonker

  In the course of the next hour, first impressions were changed somewhat. While the bad language continued, and Vera thought nothing of hitting out if one of her girls gave cheek, it was easy to see there were more hugs and kisses than there were clouts. There was plenty of love there, without doubt, and even Ann found herself warming towards them. The two girls were sitting with Maddy and Tess, sharing the view from the windows, and they were as talkative as their mother. Sammy was the quietest but had a very dry sense of humour compared to his wife’s rather bawdy wit.

  When the train pulled into the station, George lifted the cases down from the rack. And he laughed when Vera said, ‘Your lot had better get out first, I think I’m going to have a bleedin’ fight with that door again.’ Her round face beamed. ‘I know what ye’re thinking, that it’s me what’s too fat, not the door what’s too narrow. I won’t be able to sleep tonight, thinking about the ruddy thing. That’s unless my feller can do something to send me to sleep with a smile on me face.’

  That was when Ann steered the girls out of the compartment, after saying goodbye. The language was bad enough, but she drew the line at rude jokes.

  George was chuckling as they walked out of the station. ‘Well, it certainly wasn’t a dull journey, I’ll say that! When I first saw and heard them, I had visions of the compartment being wrecked, but they weren’t bad. Just a bit rough and ready, that’s all.’

  ‘I thought they were very funny,’ Tess said, giggling. ‘Like a Charlie Chase comedy.’

  ‘There’s a tram that would take us to the Vale, Ann. Shall we get it, or would you rather walk to the train station?’

  ‘Let’s get the tram, I don’t feel like walking.’

  ‘I’ll leave you two girls to empty the case while I slip over and see how Mr Critchley is. With Maisie being away as well, they probably haven’t had many visitors and they may need a bit of shopping.’

  ‘Shall I put the kettle on, love?’ George asked. ‘You won’t be long, will you?’

  ‘No, I shouldn’t be. I suppose I could leave it until tomorrow, but I’d only be thinking about them all night, worrying in case they need help and there’s no one to give it.’

  ‘You run along then. I’ll help the girls unpack.’

  ‘Anything that needs washing, throw in the dolly tub and I’ll put them in to steep overnight. We’ve nothing in to eat, so I’ll have to nip to the corner shop after I’ve been over the road and had a cuppa.’

  ‘How about chips from the chippy?’ George asked. ‘Save you bothering.’

  ‘Yes, that’s a good idea. But wait until I get back, or they’ll be cold.’

  It was twenty minutes before Ann came back, and she looked worried. ‘Neither of them look well, I didn’t like to leave them. Freda looks worse than Arthur, but they insisted they were managing fine. I think the shock affected Freda more than we thought. Anyway, I’ve told them I’ll be over first thing, but if they need anything in the meantime to give a knock.’

  ‘I’ll come over with you in the morning,’ George said. ‘It might cheer Arthur up having a man to talk to. I’ve got a full week ahead of me with nothing to do, so it wouldn’t hurt to sit and have a chat with him every day. A bit of company will do them both good.’

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Back to the grind, eh, Bill?’ George greeted his workmate with a nod. ‘It doesn’t seem like two weeks since we were telling each other to enjoy our holidays, does it?’

  ‘I don’t know where the time went.’ Bill Jeffrey had worked with George for over ten years now with never a cross word, and he had a lot of respect for him. The only thing they ever argued about was football, and even then they never raised their voices. Although George seldom went to a match, he supported Liverpool Football Club, while Bill was a red-hot Evertonian. ‘Mind you, they say that time flies when ye’re enjoying yerself.’

  ‘And did you enjoy yourself?’

  ‘Nothing to write home about. Yer know we weren’t going away, so it was down to the shore with the kids nearly every day. They enjoyed themselves with their buckets and spades, building sand castles or burying me up to me neck, and we had a good laugh. But that bloody sand gets in everything. I told the wife she’d wasted her money putting cheese in the butties because all we could taste was the flaming sand. And I think me hair is still full of it.’

  ‘You want to start putting a couple of coppers away each week so you can go away next year. That’s what we’re going to do. It’s worth it to get away from it all for a few days.’

  ‘How did your holiday in Wales go?’

  ‘Brilliant. But it’s time to start work now, so I’ll tell you about it when we’re having our break.’ After putting on their leather aprons, the pair made their way out of the door and around to the side of the building where four other workmates were standing. One man had his head back and a hand cupping his mouth as he yelled, ‘Come on, Charlie, the holidays are over now. Let’s be having yer, yer lazy bugger!’

  At the very top of the building there were three openings shaped like arched doorways. It was through these that the sacks of grain were lowered by rope to the men below. And it was their job to stack the sacks safely on to trolleys which would be picked up by vans and lorries for the home market, or taken to one of the ships berthed in the nearby Harrington dock. The Port of Liverpool docks were a hive of industry, with ships from all over the world bringing their cargoes of meat, fruit, carpets, cotton, machinery and many other commodities. And when they left they’d be loaded with merchandise for their own country. With many ships anchored in the Mersey waiting for an empty berth, and the tide to be taken into account, the dockers worked flat out for a quick turnaround, and the river tugs, with their shrill hooters blaring, would tow the vessel safely out to sea before guiding another one in to take its place. It was always bustling and noisy, and it was the sound and smell that had captured George’s heart all those years ago and which he never tired of.

  A man’s head appeared, looking down from the middle opening. ‘Ye’re bloody eager this morning, aren’t yer, Joe? It’s not like you to be looking for work, ye’re usually skiving off somewhere having a sly fag.’

  ‘Suit yerself, Charlie, it’s no skin off my nose. But if the boss puts in an appearance, will you explain to him why there’s six of us standing here like stuffed dummies?’

  They could hear Charlie’s loud chuckle. ‘So that’s where I’ve seen yer before! Honest to God, I’ve been racking me brains for years now, wondering who yer reminded me of! Now I know! I’ve seen yer with the other dummies in Lewis’s window.’

  A movement caught George’s eye. ‘I think we’d better move along, I can hear the wheel being cranked. Come on, Bill, duty calls.’ They moved to their position below the end opening, and as he looked up a man came to stand so near the edge they could see the soles of his shoes. George’s heart stood still. He was glad he was down here and not up there; he couldn’t stand heights. ‘I wish you’d stand further back, Vin, you’ve got my heart in my mouth.’

  ‘Don’t panic, George, I’m just making sure you’re in place, ’cos we’re ready to roll. It’s back to normal, and in half an hour your holiday will be a distant memory.’

  ‘It’s a distant bloody memory now,’ Bill said, stepping back with George so they could watch Vin pushing a large iron hook through the ropes tying the top of the sack. The hook was attached to a stout rope which was wound around a grooved wheel and acted as a pulley for lifting or lowering heavy weights.

  ‘I don’t know how he does it,’ George said, watching with bated breath as Vin manoeuvred a sack to the very edge of the opening. ‘I’m blowed if I could, I get dizzy when I look down from the steps of a ladder, never mind from that height.’

  ‘He’s being doing it for so long he thinks nothing of it.’ Bill saw the sack being slowly lowered and rubbed his hands together. ‘Here she comes, first of many.’

  ‘Think of something nice and the time will go quickly.’

  ‘
Something nice, eh, George? How about Norma Shearer, is she nice enough?’

  George laughed as the two men held on to the sack as it reached the ground. He pulled out the hook and signalled to Vin to take the rope back up. ‘It depends on where your mind is. Me, now, my mind is on a farm in Wales and I’m milking a cow.’

  ‘A cow!’ Bill’s laugh mingled with the sounds of hooters and whistles coming from the ships and tugs. ‘Well, there’s no accounting for taste, as my old ma used to say. So I’ll do some wishful thinking about Norma Shearer, and when the break comes we’ll use some of your cow’s milk in our tea instead of connyonny.’

  The two men lifted the sack, one at each end, and carried it to the trolley. ‘You’d be lucky to get a teaspoonful, Bill, ’cos I was flaming hopeless at it. I was hours just milking one cow.’

  ‘I’ll stick to Norma Shearer and me conny-onny, then. At least I know where I stand with them. She’s well out of me reach and I can’t stand bloody conny-onny! But it doesn’t do any harm dreaming about what might have been, does it, George? Yer might as well die off if yer never have a dream. That’s as long as the wife never finds out, like, ’cos mine hasn’t got much sense of humour. If she thought I was harbouring evil thoughts about a film star I’d be in the dog house for weeks.’

  The next few hours passed quickly, and before they realised the time the bell was ringing for their break. It was only a quarter of an hour break, just enough time for a breather and a drink of tea supplied by the boss and served in enamel mugs by the woman who was maid of all work – cleaner and tea lady. Her name was Lizzie Ferguson and she was a real character. With a mop of bright red frizzy hair, vivid green eyes, and a more than generous figure, she was as tough as any man. Dockers were noted for their bad language, but Lizzie could out-swear any of them. And she packed a hefty punch. She’d demonstrated this one day, when one of the men decided to confront her. His workmates had warned him, and tried to talk him out of it, but he’d laughed and said there wasn’t a woman born he was frightened of. Five minutes after the words left his mouth, he was lying flat on his back nursing an eye that would be a black-and-blue shiner within the hour. And Lizzie was bending over him, hands on hips and green eyes letting out sparks, telling him if he didn’t like her bleedin’ tea he could do without. And all the bloke had said was that he liked to know he was drinking tea, and not hot water. But it was the way he’d said it, cocky like, showing off in front of his workmates, that had brought such a hefty punch. He’d have got off with a belt if he hadn’t been so cocky. The funny thing about the whole episode was that the man suddenly acquired a liking for weak tea and a healthy respect for Lizzie.

  ‘Here y’are, George.’ The cleaner passed over the only enamel mug that didn’t have any chips around the rim. She made sure he got this one every day because he was a real gent, never swore or shouted and treated her like a lady. ‘How did yer holiday go, lad? Did the kids enjoy it?’

  ‘Lizzie, it was five days of heaven. Lovely place and lovely people. A farmer’s wife took some photographs so I’ll bring them in to show you when they arrive. We didn’t do much last week, though, one day at the park, another on the ferry to Seacombe. We’ve two elderly neighbours facing us, lovely couple, and they’re not too well. Ann went over there every day with our next-door neighbour, Maisie, and I went with them for a chat with the old man. Maisie is convinced the old couple aren’t eating enough, that’s the problem, and I’m inclined to agree with her.’

  ‘Aren’t yer going to ask me if I had a nice holiday?’ Bill asked. ‘I don’t know what George has got that I haven’t, but he’s certainly a blue eye.’

  ‘I like George because he treats me with respect, which is more than can be said for the rest of yer. Pig bloody ignorant, the lot of yer.’

  ‘Blimey! I treat yer like a lady, too! I treat you better than I treat the wife, if yer must know.’ Bill was a man of thirty-five, well built, with black hair, hazel eyes and a smile that invited others to smile too. ‘Mind you, I’m more frightened of you than I am of the wife. Ye’re a force to be reckoned with, Lizzie.’ He leaned closer and looked her straight in the eye. ‘We did enjoy our holidays at Seaforth sands, and I’m beholden to yer for asking.’

  ‘Sod off, yer silly bugger!’ But a smile was hovering close to the surface. ‘Did yer take a bathing cossie with yer?’

  ‘Of course I did! It’s not often I get to show off me manly figure. And I have to say, there wasn’t a female who didn’t glance my way.’

  ‘That’s ’cos they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. I bet yer looked a right bleeding sight. A big hairy chest and legs like knots in cotton.’

  ‘Nah, I’ve got muscles like Popeye.’

  ‘Yeah, I can believe that.’ Lizzie’s laugh was deep and throaty. ‘Yer’ve got a face like his as well.’

  ‘I don’t know why yer don’t wear yer glasses, Lizzie, ’cos ye’re not half missing the best things in life.’

  ‘What! I don’t wear no bleeding glasses!’

  ‘That’s what I’m telling yer! If yer did wear glasses, yer’d see I don’t look like Popeye, more yer Cary Grant, if yer see what I mean.’

  Lizzie had fetched the men’s mugs on a battered tin tray, and this she now banged against her leg as she doubled up. ‘I’m not the only one needing glasses, you’re as blind as a bleeding bat! If yer could see proper, yer’d know I’m the spitting image of Maureen O’Sullivan.’

  ‘Who are yer kidding, girl! Maureen O’Sullivan hasn’t got no red hair, she’s a brunette.’

  ‘Bill, yer can buy glasses in Woolworth’s, they’re only a tanner a pair. Mug yerself to a pair and see what ye’re missing. My hair’s not red, yer silly bugger, it’s as black as night. And if yer met me and Maureen in an entry one night, yer wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between us. Same beautiful face, and slim shapely figure. She’d be better dressed than me, seeing as how film stars are filthy rich, but apart from that we’d be identical.’

  Bill thought about this. ‘If you’re saying that anyone wearing glasses would think you look like a film star, wouldn’t it be in yer own interest, like, to buy every man on the job a pair of specs?’

  Lizzie heard the bell ringing and held out the tray for their empty mugs. ‘You’re the only one with bad eyesight. All the others know how beautiful I am.’

  While George joined in the laughter, he was thinking of how Ann’s face would have looked if she’d been listening to the conversation. The bad grammar would have grated on her nerves, but hearing a woman swearing would have horrified her. Still, speaking nicely didn’t automatically make a person any better than others, it was what was in their hearts that really counted. And he knew that Lizzie and Bill were the salt of the earth. Best mates a man could ever have.

  As soon as George saw his daughters waiting for him on the corner of the road, huge grins on their faces, he knew what was coming.

  ‘The photographs came by the dinner-time post, Dad,’ Maddy told him, slipping an arm through his. ‘And they’re lovely.’

  Tess, linking his other arm, said, ‘Yeah, they’re great, Dad. You don’t half look handsome on them, and so does Goldie.’

  George chuckled. ‘Well, I suppose I should be flattered to be put in the same category as a horse. At least Goldie wasn’t an old nag.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that, Dad, you’re much more handsome than Goldie.’ Tess wondered how to make amends. ‘Twenty times handsomer.’

  George squeezed her arm. ‘Don’t worry, love, it’s an honour to be mentioned alongside such a beautiful creature. Now, is your mother pleased with the photographs?’

  ‘Delighted,’ Maddy said. ‘They made us remember what a lot of fun we had.’

  Ann came into the hall to greet him and lifted her face for a kiss. ‘I wanted them to wait in the house for you, but there was no holding them, they would have their own way.’

  ‘I can’t wait to see this handsome man Tess talked about.’ George was laughing as he was pulled a
nd pushed towards the living room. ‘I think I should have a swill first, because I wouldn’t want to dirty them. I won’t be two minutes rinsing my hands.’

  ‘Your dinner’s ready,’ Ann said, ‘if you’d like to eat first.’

  ‘What! And die of curiosity? No, dear, the dinner can wait.’

  Five minutes later George was sitting at the table with the photographs in his hands. Ann was sitting opposite, and the girls hovering over his shoulders. The first one with his daughters and the piglets, and Grace and Alan, brought forth hoots of laughter. ‘I’m sure if those pigs could talk,’ George said, ‘they’d be telling you to put them down.’

  ‘And I bet they wouldn’t,’ Tess said. ‘Pinky whispered to me on the quiet that he liked being nursed.’

  The sight of Goldie, everyone’s favourite, raised sounds of pleasure tinged with a hint of sadness that they weren’t back in the field with her now. Her head was held high, as though she knew she was having her photograph taken and wanted to look her best. ‘What a beautiful creature she is,’ George murmured softly as though talking to himself. Then he came to the lambs, with Alan holding one while the girls stroked it. And he remembered the lamb had scampered off as soon as the boy released his hold on it.

  Maddy squeezed his shoulder, ‘Look, Dad, Alan’s got his arm around our Tess. I’ve told her she’s too young to have a boyfriend.’

  ‘Pass them over as you finish with them, love,’ Ann said. ‘We’ve nearly worn them out looking at them, but once more won’t hurt.’

  George passed the four over, then found himself staring down at the Thomas family, with his own, standing outside the farmhouse door. ‘My, this is a group of nice-looking people. I wonder who they are?’

  Tess giggled as she leaned over him and pointed to herself. ‘She’s a good-looking girl.’

  Ann raised her brows in a haughty expression. ‘Yes, she takes after her mother.’