‘Where could I find a new job?’ she asked Davie, her old friend, catching sight of him when she came out of the Co-op, having failed to get a job offer there too.
He sadly gave a shrug. ‘No idea, chuck. The British Legion did attempt to achieve jobs for ex-servicemen, with little success. Some employers do obey the law, feeling the need to be generous, but many chaps have found themselves sacked after only a few months.’
‘Goodness, many women too were sacked and sent back to the kitchen sink, once the troops returned. The brave new world they’d fought for not at all what they’d hoped for. Why on earth does that happen to these soldiers too?’
‘They’re often told they are no longer well qualified, being out of date, so not worth employing.’
‘That’s so inappropriate. Mebbe they need to work for themselves. Me too if I don’t find a better job,’ she stoutly responded.
He gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘That could be a good idea. But be aware that those men who wish to start their own business find they’re obliged to gain a licence, as well as obey loads of rules and regulations set up by politicians and bureaucrats who have very little idea how to run a business. And those chaps who have been working in the same trade since the start of the war believe they should have precedence and often prevent a shop or business from opening. That’s happened to several of my mates.’
Giving a bleak sigh as she said goodbye and walked away, it came to her that she may have to stay on with Harold Mullins for the moment, until she had found a way forward. A most depressing prospect.
Joanne gazed in alarm at her mother as she came home looking badly in need of sympathy and support. She’d called in to see her, it being Friday afternoon, to pick up Megan from school and take her out for tea. Her sister was now upstairs busily doing her homework. ‘Goodness, you look worn out, Mam. Have you had a difficult week with that Harold Mullins creating more problems for you?’
‘He is indeed. Good to see you, love,’ she said, giving her daughter a hug.
‘Shall I make you some coffee? Then you can tell me what’s wrong and why you’re still working for him.’
‘Eeh, I could do with a cup and to have a natter with you. He frequently tells me off for not collecting enough debt payments for him. On Monday evening I didn’t hand them all over because of what he owes us.’ Evie went on to describe what she’d charged him with, thanks to the support of Brenda, the friend of her niece. ‘I don’t much care for this flippin’ job I’m caught up in, not at all interesting. Nor do I get on well with Mullins,’ she said, flopping down on a chair. ‘But having spent the entire week again searching for a new job in between the work I have to do for him, I’ve failed to receive a single offer. What a mess I’m in. And as there’s nowt I can do to find employment, let alone get back working at the mill in this difficult post-war world, I simply have to accept reality. I’ll ’appen find summat better to do with my life, eventually.’
‘Hopefully you will. I desperately feel the need to help you get away from working for that chap you clearly dislike, Mam.’ Joanne poured hot water from the kettle into their coffee mugs, anxiety pounding within her.
‘I’ve constantly strived to find a way to escape. I might achieve that by working for myself.’
‘Here’s your coffee, Mam. Do tell me how you might manage that. I’d really like to know what you have in mind.’ Joanne watched in awe as Evie placed a stuffed pillow on her knee that was lined with bobbins and needles and began to twist and plait a large number of threads, adding to the pattern of lace attached. ‘Golly, I remember you doing this when I was quite young.’
‘Oh, aye, I’ve always enjoyed lacemaking, knitting and sewing. It’s a fun thing to do and I’m trying to get back to it, there being many problems working for that chap. Mebbe I’ll soon manage to earn enough by working for myself and will then be able to resign. Otherwise I’ll hang on, being desperately in need of a good source of income, and determined to care for my family. How is your job going and do you have any problems?’ she asked, giving a smile before she began to sip her coffee.
Stifling a sigh, Joanne insisted she enjoyed working as a waitress at the hotel, making no mention of the sense of loss she felt in leaving Jubilee House and the fun of Blackpool. To her surprise a part of her even missed Bernie, which was utterly ridiculous and just proved what a boring life she was living. ‘You shouldn’t be too obsessed with us, Mam, your long-missing family. I am well accommodated in that hotel even though I’ve no intention of spending my entire life there.’
‘I’m still trying to find us a better house, one that isn’t owned by that flamin’ chap, but I’ve had no luck so far. Mebbe one day the local authorities will find me one. Once I do, you’ll be welcome to join us, darling.’
‘Don’t worry about me, Mam. I’m pretty grown-up now so must make my own decisions in life. Who knows where I’ll live and work next. Megan, of course, is still badly missing Blackpool and her school and friends. But no longer demanding to leave Manchester, as she’s growing quite fond of you,’ Joanne tenderly informed her.
‘Eeh, that’s good to hear, although her attitude is a bit blow hot, blow cold. I do hope she’ll settle down. That would be such a relief.’
As a contented silence settled over them, Joanne happily watched her mother stitch. ‘Whatever you’re making looks amazing and a beautiful shiny white. What will it turn out to be when it’s done?’
‘A lovely lace tray cloth. Then I might stitch a blouse in a lovely blue or green for darling Megan. Which colour do you think she’d like best?’
‘Blue would be good.’ Closely watching her slip the threads around, she said, ‘You really are most talented. How did you learn this?’
Evie laughed, her round face lighting up with joy. ‘I was taught by my mum. She was a most clever lady and sold many of the shawls and silk cloths she made, so why would I not try to do the same? Lacemaking can be a bit complicated but basically these bobbins are the thread carriers. They have a bulbous-shaped shank to give weight and keep the thread taut. The lace is created by weaving, plaiting and twisting these threads, pins holding them in place. That’s putting it simply, and I happily make the pattern. I would also enjoy knitting lace scarves and garments, if I had the appropriate equipment to spin the thread.’
‘You’re so clever. I do hope this works for you,’ Joanne said with a smile of admiration. ‘You could perhaps teach me to do some of this work.’
‘Why not? Let me know if and when you’d like to give that a go. But you must swear not to mention to a living soul the possibility I might start working for meself. I don’t intend to let anyone know how badly I dislike that Harold Mullins. It’s most appropriate for me to be polite to him and I’ve no choice but to go on working for him until I’m in a position to leave and have found us a better home.’
‘That might take a while, Mam. The thing is, I’m earning quite well, so could contribute some money to help you get started on this business of yours.’
‘Nay, love, don’t waste your savings on me. I’ll get there in time. As for you now being quite grown-up, lovey, you need the freedom of your own life. I fully recommend you look after yourself. And when I’ve found somewhere better to live and accommodate Megan, Danny and my lovely husband, I’d like to think you’d be happy to come and stay with us or visit whenever you wish,’ she said, giving her a loving smile.
‘I look forward to that, Mam. But if you need any financial help, do let me know.’
Danny was stunned when he found himself watching the gang caught up in a bit of crime, which they viewed as fun. Bombed and abandoned buildings had been a treasure trove for looters throughout the war, many personal items having been left there, the owners having lost their lives. Even if folk were simply protecting themselves in an air raid shelter they often discovered that items had been stolen when they returned home. Because of their boredom or the loss of their parents or other family members to care for them, this gang of young hoolig
ans, as they were often called, amused themselves by pinching whatever they fancied. They often did this with the idea they could sell things on to someone else, rationing and poverty still very much an irritating issue for them. Because of their hunger they’d pinch broken biscuits or a bottle of Tizer from a market stall. Each morning they’d arrive early outside a baker’s shop to hang around waiting for yesterday’s stale bread to be tossed out into the bin.
Danny carefully avoided becoming involved but tended to feel a pity for them, some members of this gang not having a home to live in and would sleep huddled down under a bridge by the canal or the lock, at times in the dark narrow streets and alleyways around the canal basin. They’d shiver and shake, breathing in the smell of tar and coal dust, cold damp water, mud and grass. Feeling the need to build themselves a fire to keep warm they would often scrounge coal from storage yards, or knock timber out of fences. Danny had needed to do that when his own mother had found their coal stolen. He could but hope he wouldn’t be charged for it. He knew that their criminal behaviour was very much a consequence of that dreadful war or the despairing loss of their family. He had some sympathy with that, having suffered some bad issues himself.
Fog was now drifting in from the canal and dusk was already starting to fall as he and Willie stood at the back door of a hotel engaged in selling the chef a load of eggs. When Danny had asked Willie where these had come from, he’d muttered something about a family member keeping hens and it was his job to sell them. He suspected members of the gang had stolen a large number from hen huts belonging to a nearby farmer as they too were selling some to other folk. At first believing what Willie had told him and not wishing to be battered again by him, he’d agreed to help sell these eggs, asking for no further details.
It was as they turned to go that a loud voice called out and he felt a strong hand grab hold of his ear, and that of Willie’s too. ‘Nah then, let’s be having you. What are you doing here?’
To his horror, Danny saw that it was a copper. Some police often felt sorry for young lads not being legally entitled to a place to live, provided with little in the way of food let alone jobs or apprenticeships, which meant they had to devise ways of looking after themselves. Others, however, felt a strong need to do their duty, as this one clearly believed.
‘I’m not doing owt wrong. Just visiting me sister who works here,’ Danny stated rapidly. ‘And this is my mate. He hasn’t done nowt either.’
The constable frowned, doubt creasing his face. ‘Name please, as well as that of your sister.’
He felt a swirl of alarm bubble within him. Why had he stupidly said this when he’d no idea whether this hotel was the one where his sister worked. He sincerely hoped it wasn’t as that would be entirely inappropriate and unfortunate. Yet having no wish to be charged with this stupid crime, Danny politely obeyed, his heart pounding. The kitchen door had firmly slammed shut and the chef vanished, as had the eggs, for which Willie, who was in charge, had appropriately been paid. Would that chef reveal what they were up to if he too was interrogated? And Danny didn’t dare to guess how Joanne would react were she to discover what had happened, if this was where she worked. Right now the constable was giving Willie a telling-off, demanding to know exactly what activities he was involved in. ‘Are you engaged in some deal with this hotel or simply a visit?’
Willie was looking very flustered and kept squeaking over the pain he was enduring over the clasp of his ear. He did attempt to agree with Danny’s comment. ‘We just paid a call to sell a few eggs, my family produce, so can we go now?’
Thankfully letting go of both their ears the copper glowered at them, then burst out laughing. ‘I suspect you might be involved in summat but since I’ve no proof I’ll let you go.’ Set on escaping, they turned to run away. ‘Hold on, you do need to show thanks for my generosity.’
Willie slipped him two half crowns then as they both ran away the copper stood roaring with laughter and slipped the money in his pocket.
‘At least we escaped thanks to your stupid comment,’ Willie said to Danny. ‘But bloody expensive, so it’ll cost you summat too.’
Chapter Nineteen
1947
When spring came in early March, Evie suggested she’d like to take her son and daughters on a boat trip on the Manchester Ship Canal. ‘Having been built between 1887 and 1894 it follows the course of the River Irwell to finally reach the sea at Liverpool. Would you like that trip?’ she asked them. Joanne and Danny eagerly agreed they would. Megan merely gave a shrug and a frown, as she so often did in response to whatever her mother offered to do.
‘I prefer walking on a beach, cycling or playing games, not sitting in a damp boat.’
‘The sun is shining, always a delight to see, so I reckon you’ll enjoy it,’ Evie said brightly, aching to see a smile in her young daughter’s face.
‘Why would I?’ she responded sharply.
Danny gave her a wink. ‘Because this trip provides the people of Manchester with a treat, as well as a route for the delivery of goods I have to deal with. That’s where I mainly work.’
Seeing how her brother’s comments had finally persuaded her to join them, Evie sighed. What a problem this lovely young daughter was. At times she would become withdrawn and tense, still sulky and indifferent towards both of her parents. She would look affronted if her father asked her to fetch something for him, not taking into account his difficulty in walking or reaching for things. And though he frequently attempted to gain her interest, striving to improve his mental condition, Megan barely listened to a word he said. Locked in silence and living in a world of her own, she would constantly be absorbed with reading, drawing or doing her homework. On one occasion he asked her to come and sit by him. ‘If you’ve fetched a book from the library, I could read it to you, love,’ he said.
‘I can read perfectly well.’
‘Sorry, ’course you can. Then come and read to me, lass.’
Saying nothing more she gave him a scathing look, not moving an inch.
‘Oh, leave her in peace, Donald,’ Evie had chuckled, not wishing him to fall into despair. ‘Actually it’s time for supper, could you set the table, lovey.’
‘I’m not employed to do such things, so why would I?’ Feeling the need to help her daughter remain calm, Evie had given a bit of a giggle. ‘I’m not running a boarding house like your dear aunts although I expect they too asked you to set tables for them.’
She’d jumped to her feet and stalked off upstairs to her room, firmly slamming the door closed, obviously offended by that remark. Evie had given a sigh and Donald a consolatory hug. ‘Don’t fret, her attitude is a bit dismissive to me too. She’ll ’appen come round eventually.’
He’d tried his best to be caring towards Megan but now feeling greatly irritated at receiving no response to anything he said or did, he’d given up making the effort. He’d wrapped himself back in his own personal difficulties and largely ignored his younger daughter, speaking only to his son and Joanne. Nor did Donald show any desire to accompany them on a trip.
Once on-board ship and seeing the many brightly painted barges and the sun shining upon them out of a velvet blue sky, Danny then pointed to a passing boat. ‘That’s the barge I work on. Quite small but no tug or ship can be too large if they are to manage to negotiate the locks on the Ship Canal. I do enjoy this job and you can often spot me loading timber. Then I unload it once we reach Liverpool or Birkenhead,’ he smilingly told them. ‘I only get paid a low rate but am hoping that will improve in time.’
‘You’re doing well, dear boy,’ Evie told him and Joanne agreed, thoroughly enjoying this trip with him. Even Megan gave him a smile of appreciation, if still largely ignoring her mother.
‘Me and my colleagues also have fun swimming in the summer in the Bridgewater Canal near Trafford Park,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Being lined with trees it feels very much like a quiet part of the countryside, which I love. So ’appen if this job doesn’t work, I’ll
look for one back in a farm, summat I allus enjoyed doing despite being a young lad at the time.’
‘I hope you don’t go off to the countryside any time soon,’ Evie said, giving him a woeful smile.
‘’Course I won’t, Mam, still a bit too young and quite happy to be here.’
If only her daughters thought that too, in particular Megan who was the difficult one. Putting this worry out of her mind, she bought them all an ice cream. ‘Do let’s enjoy this lovely day together.’
‘Have you had a good day?’ Donald asked when she arrived back home in the late afternoon.
She smiled and pecked a kiss on his cheek. ‘Marvellous, and the three of them have gone off to the pictures now. I’m so sorry you didn’t feel well enough to join us, we had great fun. As it’s a Saturday and we have a little peace and quiet, I shall help give you and your lovely hair a wash.’
Since there was no bathroom in this miserable little house she brought in the tin bath that hung outside the kitchen door and filled it with hot water from the grange boiler. He settled into it with a gentle sigh of pleasure. ‘I was a slave labourer when captured as a PoW and was never granted such blissful attention.’
‘I’m happy to be your slave labourer in future,’ Evie said with a grin.
‘I was, of course, also interrogated. Not at all a good experience. When I refused to answer they’d lock me in a cell with no warmth in it so that I’d soon be freezing cold. Then after several days of starving they’d come for me in the middle of the night and drag me out to take me to the commander’s office and start the interrogation all over again. An absolute nightmare! I kept trying to convince them that I had little information so why waste their time questioning me. They paid no attention to that so I shut up altogether. Saying nothing ever again.’
Evie felt deeply moved that he was finally sharing his anguish with her. ‘Did they hurt you?’
‘They engaged in quite a lot of torture and abuse, strapping prisoners up, beating and kicking them and enjoyed leaving us in a crumpled mess to starve. If you searched a waste bin for food you could be shot at or stabbed, so it was a situation you had to put up with. They killed quite a lot of my mates and I often saw their corpses dumped. That’s enough, it’s not something I have any wish to speak of as it would upset you, love. Me too, since I desperately try to block it out of my mind. Fortunately, I remained sane by keeping my mind fixed on you and our childer.’
Peace In My Heart Page 16