The Burnley Boys

by Drew Black

  "There you are Mr Jessop." Sally said handing Jessop his cup of tea. "I'm sure mum won't be long now."

  "It's no problem, I'm not in a hurry."

  "Hello Mr Jessop." Elizabeth said entering the lounge, "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, we really appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to bring Tom home."

  "It's my pleasure Elizabeth. He's a good lad your Tom, besides we look after our own at Jessops."

  Elizabeth had never been in a car as posh as Mr Jessop's before, and she found the experience exhilarating. The upholstery was cream leather, all the instruments and controls were housed in rich walnut, and there was real carpet on the floor. Sally had been a little disappointed that she couldn't accompany them, but she had understood when Mr Jessop had explained that Tom would take up the whole of the back seat on his own.

  A porter helped them get Tom out of the hospital and into the car. Quite a few people came out to wish Tom goodbye, and as Jessop pulled away, he gave his horn a couple of toots, and stuck a gloved hand out of the window.

  "I bet you’re glad to be out of that place Tom." Jessop said.

  "Yes, I'm glad--to be--going home--thanks."

  The lad's speech still wasn't fluent Jessop thought, and he hoped for his sake that he hadn't sustained any lasting damage.

  "We'll be home soon love, Sally's waiting to see you." Elizabeth said turning around in her seat. "I'm making your favourite tea tonight; Steak, Chips, Peas, and Gravy."

  "Is Jane at home, or--is she working?"

  "No, Jane's working in London at the moment Tom. Remember, we discussed it the other day."

  "Yes, I remember now." Tom said frowning.

  "You take as much time as you need convalescing Tom, your job will still be there when you're ready to come back. Whatever you do, don't be worrying about money, me and your mother have taken care of that side of things, you just concentrate on getting well again.

  Once he was home, and in familiar surroundings, Tom began to feel a little easier within himself. He remembered very little about the accident, just that one minute he'd been using the hoist and the next he'd woken up in hospital.

  "Hello Tom, how are you feeling?"

  Tom recognised the voice but couldn't place it, the face seemed familiar too. It wasn't Jane, she was currently living in London. Was it Jack's sister?

  "Helen?"

  "Yes."

  Tom felt relieved that he'd managed to place his friend's sister. I wonder what she's doing here. He thought. "I'm feeling--a lot--better--thanks."

  "Jack sends his regards. He'll be coming to see you in a couple of days’ time. He just wanted to give you a chance to settle back in first."

  "Tom," Elizabeth said.

  "Yes mum."

  "Helen's come to live with us. Do you remember me talking to you about it?"

  Yes, Helen's nice--I've always liked Helen." Tom replied staring out of the window.

  "We'll make a bed up for him down here Helen. I would've done it before, but what with Mr Jessop calling and everything."

  "No problem Elizabeth, I'll see to it, now shall I?"

  "Well if you don't mind Helen, that would be a great help."

  That evening when Tom was taking a nap and Sally was in her room Elizabeth confided to Helen that she was concerned about having to leave Tom on his own during the day. "I know ten until two is only four hours," she said, "but it's a long time when you can't get around properly."

  "Well, if you like, I could come home for lunch, it's only a five-minute walk to Marsden's from here."

  "Would you Helen, would you really? It would be such a weight off my mind."

  "Course I will. In fact, it’ll probably be better for me. It’ll give me a reason to get out of that place for an hour."

  Outside, a van pulled up and two men got out and approached the front door.

  "I don't know who this is, you’re not expecting anyone are you Helen?" Elizabeth asked as she got up to answer the door.

  “No.”

  "Does Tom ford live here?" the shorter of the two men asked.

  "Yes, he does, there's nothing wrong is there?"

  "No, there's nothing wrong love, we've just got a delivery for him that's all. It's a television."

  "What do you mean a television, we haven't ordered a television. Listen, if this is some kind of prank, it's not very funny. Tom's not been very well, in fact he's just got out of hospital this very day."

  "Listen madam," the shorter of the two men said through his considerable moustache whilst adjusting his cap, "the order says deliver one television set to a Mr Tom Ford at this address. The goods have been paid for in full by a Mr--err John Jessop, including delivery and installation. We don't mean to be rude lady, but it's been a long day, it's going to take us over an hour to install the TV, so do you want it or not?"

  Elizabeth was so excited she didn't even register the delivery man's curtness. A television set, she could not believe it. This was just what Tom needed to give him a boost and keep him occupied. "Yes, yes of course we want it, come in gentlemen please."

  Moustache/cap nodded to his colleague and he went back to the van to fetch the set.

  Sally came downstairs to see what all the fuss was about. "Did I hear someone say we were getting a television set?" she said hardly able to contain herself.

  "A television?" Helen said, "That's wonderful, Janet from work, her uncle has one, they're fantastic, just like the cinema but smaller of course." she amended feeling a little embarrassed for stating the obvious.

  "Look Tom," Elizabeth said as the two men carried the television into the living room, "Mr Jessop's bought you a television!"

  "That's great." Tom said before closing his eyes again and going back to sleep.

  Just under an hour later the set was up and running. That evening all of them sat transfixed to the TV screen, even Tom woke up and watched it for a while. Elizabeth was totally spellbound, and despite feeling guilty for enjoying herself when her son was so unwell, still managed to laugh more that evening than she had done in a long time. She found herself wondering what her late husband Robert would've made of it as Sally gasped when a magician called David Nixon pulled a rabbit out of a hat.

  "Wow mum, how did he do that?" Sally exclaimed.

  The magician's assistant cuddled the bunny, and the television audience clapped enthusiastically.

  "I don't know love, but that's why they call it magic!" Elizabeth said suddenly realising that she was clapping along with the audience, she stopped immediately feeling a little foolish, but she needn't've worried because no-one had noticed, they were all too engrossed in the programme.

  Elizabeth had to force herself to go to bed at her usual time of ten o'clock. She felt sure that if Tom had been well, she would’ve been watching the damn thing until midnight, that's if it went on that long, she really wasn't sure. She'd allowed Sally to stay up the extra hour, but they all retired to bed at ten to allow Tom to get some rest. Elizabeth felt a lot better about her son's welfare now he was home. She appreciated that hospitals did their best and was extremely grateful for the treatment he'd received there, but just the same, no-one knew her son like she did.

  18

  Over the course of the next few weeks Tom's health did start improving, and Elizabeth believed that the TV had helped, that and the fact that Jack had called round most evenings. Tom had become more mobile and had returned to sleeping upstairs in his room. Despite all the improvement though he still wasn't her old Tom. "Is there anything you want honey, before I go to work?” she asked him.

  "No thanks mum, I'm fine." he replied hobbling across the kitchen's linoleum on his crutches, "I think I'll sit outside for a while."

  "Okay, but don't stay out too long, it's cold today. Do you want your coat? Yes, I'll get your coat for you."

  "Mum, stop fussing, please, I said I'm fine." Tom said tersely, "listen, if I feel cold, I'll put it on, I promise." he finished off more softly.

  "Okay Tom,
I'll see you later then, just take care of yourself. I know I nag sometimes, but I'm only thinking of you." Elizabeth said sounding a little hurt.

  "I know mum, I'll be fine, honestly." he reassured her with a sigh. He felt bad for shouting at her but sometimes he just wished that everyone would just leave him alone.

  Outside it was a crisp February morning, and although it was a little chilly Tom didn't mind, he was just glad to be out of the house. He sat on the bench that Jack had kindly built for him. He smiled to himself, trust Jack to think of something like this, he thought, it was just typical of him. If the roles had been reversed, he would never have thought of such a thing in a million years. Nevertheless, ever since Jack had finished it a couple of days ago, he'd been dying to try it out. God, he thought, his life had surely come to something when the prospect of sitting on a garden bench made him excited. He sighed, perhaps he would get that coat after all. He smiled to himself as he struggled to his feet. He should've listened to his mother in the first place. The ground was still icy, so he took extra care as he hobbled back inside the house.

  Ten minutes later he was back on the bench huddled in his thick coat. He'd put on his woollen gloves as well for good measure. He looked around the garden and a memory surfaced of him playing football as a kid with his dad, and this brought a pang of sorrow with it. It didn't seem five minutes since Mrs Rogers had stood screaming on their porch that there had been a terrible accident at the pit, and that his father, Rob was 'unaccounted for'. Somehow, he just sensed at that precise moment that he'd never see his father alive again. A tear trickled down his cheek and he absently wiped it away.

  The lawn was covered in patches of snow, and they twinkled and glistened in the morning sunshine. The wind gusted suddenly, and he adjusted the collar of his coat. Somewhere in the distance he heard a dog bark. He dreamily watched cars climb slowly up Mount's Hill, at this distance they looked no bigger than his old Dinky cars that he used to spend endless hours playing with. He wondered who was driving those cars and what their lives were like. He was glad that Helen was staying with them, she was like his lifeline to the outside world. Not that he wasn't grateful for everything that his mum and Sal were doing for him it was just that Helen had so much life about her, she exuded it. He just wished he was better because he hated her seeing him like this. The medics had said that hopefully, in time, he should make a full recovery, but the head, or cranium, to use their terminology, was far more delicate than people realised so he would probably have to go for periodic checks for some years to come. He had good days and bad days as the doctors also predicted. On the good days he felt virtually normal but on other days he could hardly remember his own name. Also, he felt angry most of the time, but had absolutely no idea why.

  Fragments of memory, of the day of the accident, had started coming back to him, but oftentimes they disappeared again before he could make any sense of them. He was experiencing one now, they were all sat round in the loading bay, and Quilter had been searching for something in his bag. He'd found it and handed it to him. It looked like a piece of paper, but for the life of him he couldn't make out what it was. He let out a gasp of frustration, and even though he felt as cold as ice beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.

  Suddenly he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye. Oh shit, he thought, it was that old bag, Mrs Rogers. He looked away, pretending he hadn't seen her, and braced himself for her to call out to him, and then there'd be no escaping her until she'd grilled him to a frazzle. But the call never came. He let out a sigh of relief and concluded that the nosy old git must be losing her touch in her old age. He gazed over to the two trees where he and Tom had erected the hammock last summer. It seemed like a lifetime ago. That'd been the day he'd confessed to Jack that he couldn't read. God, he wished that that was his only problem right now. Jane had still been at home back then he thought wishing that she was here with him now. Apparently, she'd returned home immediately after his accident, and had visited him every day for a week before going back down to London, but he couldn't remember any of it.

  The morning slipped away, and eventually he went back inside to prepare Helen a cup of tea for when she arrived home for lunch. He hobbled over to the cabinet and reached up to get a cup. However, it slipped from his grasp and smashed on the kitchen floor. He stood and stared at the broken cup for a moment before sitting down at the kitchen table. He put his head in his hands, he had another flashback to the accident but couldn't muster the energy to pursue it. Instead, he burst into tears. I'm never going to be the same again, he thought bitterly. Even if his leg healed properly, which was by no means guaranteed, his head would still be fucked.

  Helen returned home to find Tom sat at the kitchen table staring into space. "Hi Tom, are you okay?" she asked on seeing his vacant expression.

  "Not really, I just wanted to surprise you by making you a cup of tea, but I couldn't even manage to do that."

  Helen went over to him and hugged him.

  "I just feel totally useless Helen. I can't do anything right." he sobbed.

  "Hey, come on Tom," she said stroking his hair, "you've dropped a cup, that's all, I do that kind of thing all the time."

  "It's not just the cup Helen, it's everything, everything I do seems to go wrong. Dad's gone, I messed up at school, Jane's gone, now I've messed up at my job."

  "Hey, now listen Tom." she said taking his head in both of her hands, "none of those things were your fault. You've had a bad accident, but you will recover from it. It will take time, but you're a fighter, you know you are. Your mother’s always telling me how you've held this family together since your father died.”

  Tom looked up at her; "She said that?"

  "Absolutely, and I agree with her."

  Tom dried his eyes; "I just feel so useless. Even easy things, that I never had to think twice about doing, now seem to take such an effort."

  "Just think how much better you are now than you were a couple of months ago. How much better you are than you were just last week even. Take one day at a time Tom and eventually you'll get back to your old self."

  Tom looked at her, and for the first time since he'd regained consciousness, he felt optimistic about the future.

  19

  Sam was on holiday from college, and that gave Jack an extra spring in his step. He missed seeing her on a daily basis and felt pretty sure she felt the same way about him. It's funny how people grow on you, he thought as he went about his work. Yes, he'd always liked Sam, he couldn't deny that, but now it just felt different. Somehow, she seemed even more attractive, and everything she said was interesting, or funny, or both!

  "Here you are Jack."

  Jack flinched, it was Sam, she'd brought him a drink out. "you're a bit jumpy today, have you got something on your mind?" Sam asked handing the juice.

  If only you knew he thought, "Thanks." he said before taking a large swallow from the drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and Sam laughed.

  "What's the matter, what are you laughing at?" Jack asked

  "Whenever you arrive at wherever it is, you're going to Jack Davies, make sure you invest in a charm course."

  Jack burped loudly; "What do you mean?" he asked.

  Sam looked at him in disbelief, and then they both burst out laughing.

  "You're crazy." Sam said.

  "I may be Sam Jessop, but I'll tell you this, I'm going to the very top, and furthermore, I'll do it with or without charm, that's a fact."

  Sam shook her head; "That sounded really naff Jack."

  Jack just shrugged his shoulders.

  "But do you want to know what's even naffer?"

  "Go on then." Jack said finishing his drink.

  "I believe you." she said taking his glass and setting off back to the house.

  20

  Jack had been amazed at how well he had gotten along with Ted Jackson considering he was now overseeing his affairs. He couldn’t’ve dreamt that it would go so well. However, they had a
mutual understanding, one that they had never discussed; and that was that although Jack was in overall charge when it came to actually physically working on the estate, Ted gave the orders. And if he was honest, that's just the way that Jack preferred it. It was one thing being responsible for the administration, but another being in charge of the men. Jack would not shirk that responsibility, if it was placed upon him, but even he thought he was a bit too young to be ordering the likes of Ted Jackson around. He didn't doubt that he would make a good boss in time, although he had to concede that he would never command the natural respect that Tom did, Tom didn't have to do or say anything to gain respect, he just had to be there.

  21

  Tom lowered himself gingerly into his bed and smiled to himself contentedly when the manoeuvre was complete. It felt strange without the plaster cast, unnatural even. the thing he'd enjoyed most since its removal was being able to scratch his leg. The leg was still not fully healed though, and the doctors had told him that he had to be careful not to overuse it. Nevertheless, his recovery was gathering pace, he was managing to walk a couple of miles a day, and his headaches were now much less frequent, his memory was improving as well, although events concerning the accident still remained sketchy. Even so, he couldn't believe how better his general health had improved of late. Things were definitely looking up, as the weather was improving, so was he.

  Tom awoke with a start, and sighed when he realised, he'd been dreaming. He wiped perspiration from his forehead as he contemplated just how life-like some dreams could be. He had re-lived the accident, but in this version, he had actually lost his leg. He sighed again.