Rags to Riches

by Nancy Carson

  ‘I wish I knew what was tickling these two,’ Lizzie remarked inquisitively. ‘They must each have a feather in their drawers. What are they laughing about, Howard?’ At least the clerical collar he was wearing suggested to Lizzie that he could not lie.

  ‘I’m sworn to secrecy I’m afraid, Mrs Clancey,’ he replied, trying to smother his own laughter and finding it difficult while trying to eat. ‘The confessional ethic, you understand.’

  ‘Good job you weren’t in the way, our Alice, else you’d have been flattened,’ Maxine commented mischievously, inducing more giggles from her sister.

  ‘Well, whatever happened, it’s perked our Alice up no end,’ Lizzie said innocently. ‘I’ve never seen her chuckle like this.’

  Recalling what Kenny had said about putting a smile on Alice’s face, Maxine broke out into squeaks of unbridled laughter that everybody found infectious. And so it went on, throughout the whole sitting. Although Lizzie and Jesse had no idea why they were laughing so much, they all enjoyed the merriment.

  After dinner, when the washing up had been done and the others were taking their ease in the sitting room and entertaining the children, Alice, Maxine and Howard huddled together in the verandah quietly discussing the events of last night. It was the first opportunity since calling for help at Willowcroft that Alice had had to question Howard about what happened.

  ‘Was Kenny all right when you gave him a lift home?’ she asked, serious now. ‘Did he seem upset?’

  ‘He was fine,’ Howard said. ‘I think it was only just beginning to dawn on him what had happened by the time I dropped him off at home. After we’d taken you home, we found the track to the quarry workings. Fortunately, they’re only quarrying into the side of the hill, so the workings aren’t deep. We got to the van anyway – what was left of it.’

  ‘Was it bad?’ Alice said.

  ‘A mess. The bonnet was flattened when it hit the ground and the wheels were splayed out as if the whole thing had been made of Plasticine. It just missed a wooden building as it landed – the explosives store, I think.’

  ‘How far was the drop?’ Maxine enquired.

  ‘About a hundred and fifty feet I would think. It was the luckiest thing in the world you weren’t still sitting inside the van.’ He shook his head at the awful thought.

  ‘Yes, our Alice. If you’d been doing it in the van, you’d never have noticed it moving till you hit the bottom of the quarry…You were doing it, weren’t you?’

  ‘God! What do you think we was doin’ there in the dark? Pickin’ blackberries? I told you, we was under a blanket on the grass…’ She suddenly regarded Howard with apprehension. ‘Oh, I bet you think I’m a right one, don’t you Howard?’

  Alice had temporarily overlooked Howard’s calling – as they all seemed to do – then remembered. The better they got to know him, the easier it was to forget he was a curate of the Church of England, and speak to him as if he was one of the family. Certainly he had shown himself to be broad minded and there were no constraints on what they discussed with him these days.

  Howard avoided Alice’s question. Red hot, was how Kenny had described her on the way back home. ‘Anyway, his drum kit was all right,’ he remarked. ‘We managed to get that out and load it into my car. Then I took him home. I think he left some tools and things in the van but he intended to retrieve those tomorrow with some of his workmates. By the way – I have your coat in my car, Alice.’

  ‘Oh, thank God! Me best coat!’ Alice exclaimed. ‘Oh, I bet he’ll get into terrible trouble, that Kenny. You’ll see him tonight at the jazz club, won’t you, Maxine?’

  ‘I expect so.’

  ‘Will you give him a message…Will you tell him from me that I hope he don’t get into too much trouble over it…at work or at home?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll tell him…I take it you’re not coming to the jazz club tonight?’

  ‘I wish I was but I’m seeing Charles.’ Alice rolled her eyes scornfully.

  Maxine and Howard decided they would take a walk that afternoon. It was the only chance they would have of being alone till late that night. The row of terraced houses opposite threw long shadows that were climbing the front wall of the dairy house in the afternoon sunlight. It was warmer today than it had been for a couple of weeks; ideal weather for a stroll to the town centre. They found themselves gazing into shop windows hand-in-hand. Furniture stores seemed to grab their attention with enticing displays and ideas for homes. Occasionally, a fine dining room suite would seize their imagination and fire images in their separate minds about how they would like their own home furnished.

  ‘I like that three piece suite, Howard,’ Maxine said.

  ‘Yes, it’s rather nice.’

  ‘And isn’t that a lovely standard lamp? That would go nice with it, don’t you think?’

  ‘Admirably.’

  ‘You see that mirror over there?’ She pointed to a huge example in a hefty gilt frame. ‘Isn’t it lovely? I can just see that over a fireplace with this three-piece suite set around it.’

  Howard realised she was furnishing an imaginary home. A good sign.

  ‘If you could take your pick of anywhere in this country to live, where would you choose?’ he asked as they carried on walking with arms linked towards Top Church.

  ‘Here, in Dudley,’ she answered without hesitation. ‘Why should I want to live anywhere else?’

  ‘What about the seaside, or out in the country, for instance?’

  ‘I like the seaside,’ she said simply. ‘And the countryside, but I could never live there. So why should I even think about it?’

  ‘I wondered whether you prefer aesthetic beauty or somewhere that you feel comfortable. I know how you love the countryside. But you obviously feel at ease living in Dudley.’

  ‘Because it’s familiar. Because I know it. The folk are kind and friendly. It’s drab in places, I grant you, but I love it nonetheless…And it’s quite close to you. Quinton isn’t so far.’

  He smiled his acknowledgement of the fact.

  ‘And you’d be even closer if you were vicar of Top Church here, or St John’s,’ she added.

  ‘Why? Is there a vacancy?’ he asked with sudden interest.

  She shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t go to church here to find out. I come to you.’

  At Top Church with its tall granite spire, they felt they had walked far enough and turned around to go back. A tram, travelling on the single track towards the Market Place, whined to a halt and waited at the passing place while another approached from the opposite direction.

  ‘I fancy an ice cream, Howard,’ Maxine said with a sudden urge to taste something sweet. ‘There’s a shop down here we can get one. Do you fancy an ice cream?’

  ‘I’d love one.’

  So Howard went into the shop, purchased two ice-cream cornets and they ambled on, first holding hands, then with their arms about each other. It was a spontaneous display of affection. They were in love and so what if the world could see. They had nothing to hide. Masses of folk were swarming towards them on their way to the Regent cinema and nearly all looked twice at this happy young couple, she as fresh as a spring morning with her dark hair ruffling in the breeze, he soberly dressed in his clerical collar and dark suit.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to say, Howard…this thing with the band and that Seth Cohen who came to listen to us…’ She licked her ice cream and looked up at him intently. ‘I haven’t mentioned it before, because I haven’t really known what to tell you, but he says he’s going to find work for the band in London.’

  ‘Oh?…Actually, I heard some of the others talking about it. I decided not to mention it, preferring that you did.’

  ‘Well now I have. It would mean living there, Howard…But not just London, either. Amsterdam, or Paris or Berlin, if we want to work there.’

  ‘Paris or Berlin?’ Maxine saw a look of disquiet in his eyes. ‘He reckons you’re that good?’

  ‘So it seems…But don’t
worry – I won’t be leaving you.’ She gave him a squeeze and looked into his eyes with a smile of devotion. ‘I’ve told Brent I don’t want to be included. I’ve already said I would leave the band if they were booked to play away from home. I don’t want to live in London or anywhere else. I don’t want to be away from you, Howard. It might be for months – a year or more. I couldn’t stand to be away from you that long.’

  ‘Are you sure? Are you certain you’d want to give up the opportunity to advance your career in jazz just for me?’

  She licked her ice cream again and flicked her tongue around her lips. ‘We love each other, don’t we?’ she said, as if it was the most logical reason on earth. ‘What would be the point of us being apart? What would we gain? Only long, miserable periods, missing each other like I don’t know what. I want to be with you, Howard – as much as I can. I don’t want to have to miss you. Besides, all this jazz is just a lark really…A bit of fun…I’m a serious cellist by profession, remember.’

  He gave her a hug. He was fortunate indeed to have the love of this woman. She was kind, thoughtful, articulate, and immensely talented. She was an angel and yet, thank God, a sinner. Her sinning was her most desirable quality.

  ‘I’d still have the CBO. I could even find work in another band if I wanted – a big dance band maybe – I’ve had offers already. It doesn’t mean I have to give up my career. In any case, I don’t want to give up my career yet.’

  ‘So I’m competing with your career, Maxine? So…if you had to choose…between me and your classical music…which would you choose?’

  ‘I would have thought it obvious since I just told you I would give up the band to stay close to you. But in any case, I don’t see why you need to ask. You wouldn’t want me to give up my cello as well, would you?’

  ‘Of course not. I was just trying to establish in my own mind what your priorities are.’

  ‘You seem to be trying to establish quite a lot this afternoon, Howard. What part of the country would I like to live in? Would I give up my cello? Are you sure there’s not something on your mind? Is there something I should know?’

  He gave her a reassuring squeeze and bit into his ice cream. ‘No. I was just curious.’

  ‘Hmm,’ she uttered thoughtfully, superstitiously trying to avoid the cracks in the pavement as she walked. ‘There’s nothing quite as puzzling as a curious curate.’

  The postman that delivered mail in the area of Handsworth that Brent Shackleton inhabited was generally early with his deliveries. At shortly after half past seven on the morning of 5th October, the same day that the Jarrow jobless began their march to London, Brent heard mail being shoved through his letterbox as he lay in bed. Yet it did not inspire him to get up straight away. His mind began to shed the effects of sleep, however, and he began to think about the band.

  Eventually, he lugged himself out of bed and wondered when Seth Cohen was going to phone him to tell him he had some regular work in London. He could do with the money. The rent on his house was overdue, bills remained unpaid and his expensive car needed some attention. A new trombone wouldn’t come amiss either, for the one he had now was getting dented and scratched with overuse.

  He lumbered to the bathroom. It was a mess. A filthy ring of scum dwelt around the inside of the washbasin and the soap took on a repulsive mushiness, having lain steeped in a cracked soap dish half full of murky water for days. The mirror was spottled with toothpaste, the towels were soiled, while fluff, hairs and smatterings of talcum powder embellished the floor. Brent’s comb looked disgusting. And the lavatory…

  He relieved himself in it, flushed it, washed his hands and face using the pulpy soap, and then cleaned his teeth. He shaved, Brylcreemed and combed his hair using water to stick down those errant strands that would not willingly lie down, and returned to his bedroom to dress.

  On his way to the kitchen to boil the kettle for his first cup of tea, he picked up the post from the floor in the hall and fanned it out in front of him. Bills, booking confirmations. But one immediately took his notice. The address was typewritten but the postmark had been smudged, so he could not discern where it had come from. He tore open the envelope and drew out a letter. As he read it he was conscious of smiling, of euphoria growing rapidly within him. Maybe he was still in bed dreaming that he was reading this. So he pinched himself hard to make certain that he was indeed awake, and yowked as he experienced the pain he was able to inflict on himself. He was awake all right. He scanned the letter again, danced around the kitchen, boyishly yelling, ‘Yippee! Yippee!’ as loud as his vocal cords would allow.

  On the Tuesday, just after Charles had delivered her home from work, Alice received a telephone call. It was Kenny. It had been a week and a half since their eventful encounter over the fairways of Dudley golf course.

  ‘Alice, I’ve got to see you.’

  ‘That’d be nice,’ she responded, excited that he considered her worthy of a further encounter, flattered that he sounded so keen. ‘Where are you playing on Saturday night and I’ll try and get over?’

  ‘No, I can’t wait till then. I’ve gotta see yer before then.’

  And she had thought it was just a one-off thing…‘I dunno. I daresay I could manage tomorrow night if you like. I can always put his nibs off.’

  ‘Okay. Put him off then.’

  ‘You got a new van already?’ She smiled to herself at the thought of what had happened to the old one.

  ‘Yeh, I got a new van. I’ll come and pick you up – about eight. I think I can remember where you live.’

  Brent Shackleton sat himself beside Maxine Kite in the rehearsal rooms of the City of Birmingham Orchestra. She passed him a pack of sandwiches she’d prepared for him, wrapped in greaseproof paper.

  ‘Boiled ham and tomato.’

  ‘Thanks. Maxine,’ he said. ‘What would I do without you?’

  ‘Starve, most likely. Here, have a cup of tea.’ She unscrewed the cap off the new large thermos flask she’d bought specially to cater for him and poured him a cup. ‘So what are you so happy about, Brent? You look like the cat that got the cream.’

  He grinned as he took the plastic cup from her. ‘I’ve had a letter.’

  ‘Oh? Somebody left you some money?’

  ‘Better than that.’ He took it from his inside pocket and handed it to her. ‘Read it.’

  While she read it he studied her reaction. He watched a beautiful smile render her lovely face even lovelier as she digested the contents.

  ‘That’s brilliant!’ she exclaimed, happy for him. ‘Are you going to accept?’

  ‘Accept? I should say I’m going to accept. It’s been my dream to play on the Queen Mary ever since they laid the bloody keel. Now that Seth Cohen, God bless him, has come up with this offer I’m not going to turn it down.’ He opened his sandwiches and took a bite. ‘And you’re coming too. No excuses.’

  ‘Oh, Brent, I can’t come…I already told you. You know my reasons.’

  ‘I think your reasons are pathetic, Maxine. This offer is for eight weeks. An eight week contract to play the Queen Mary, to see New York and, while we’re there, go and listen to some of the finest jazz and swing musicians of our time. We’ll be fed and watered like lords – free – and be paid for the pleasure. Maxine, it’ll be like being on holiday and getting paid for it – good money, too.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that.’

  ‘But eight weeks, Maxine…Surely you can stand to be away from Zadoc the Priest for eight weeks? Eight weeks is nothing.’

  ‘Eight weeks or eight months, Brent, it doesn’t make any difference. I gave Howard my word. And stop calling him Zadoc the Priest.’

  ‘You mean he extracted a promise from you not to work away? Jeopardised your career?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that, Brent. Not at all. Howard has never pressured me to do anything I didn’t want to do. I volunteered not to work away – because I want to be close to him. He didn’t ask me to. If I wanted to go I’m sure he’d be
okay about it…It’s just that I don’t want to be away from him and miss him, because I would…terribly…I love him, Brent. He’s my world now.’

  Brent sighed and bit another lump out of his sandwich. ‘Such a damned waste of talent…I need you on that ship, Maxine. Without you the band can never be the same.’

  ‘And what about Kenny?’ she asked. ‘Have you tried to get a replacement for him?’

  He shook his head. ‘I was hoping this stint on the Queen Mary would whet everybody’s appetite. It’s such a wonderful opportunity, Maxine. Who knows what could come of it? Some of the world’s greatest people travel on that damned ship – royalty, lords and ladies, Hollywood film stars, film producers. Who knows who might hear us?’

  ‘Dreams, Brent.’ She sipped her tea.

  ‘Dreams, maybe. But I’ve got a feeling about this contract, Maxine. It’s a God-given opportunity. It means something. We’re going to do well out of it. We’re going to make a lot of money – we’re going to make our fortunes. I can feel it.’

  ‘Good. I hope you do. You deserve it. You’ve worked hard.’

  He shook his head. He did not seem to be getting through to her. This could change their lives, he was certain. But she did not care. She was completely unmoved.

  ‘You haven’t got much time to get organised, Brent,’ Maxine remarked. ‘Four weeks tomorrow, you sail, according to this.’

  ‘I know…And I’m going even if you won’t. I shall write to Seth when I get home, accepting his offer. When the contract comes through I’m resigning from the CBO…Listen, I’ve been working on some new arrangements. Do me a favour and run through them with me when we’ve finished this afternoon?’

  She shrugged. ‘Here?’

  ‘No, at my house. It’s a pity you won’t come on these cruises, Maxine…We’d have time together to start writing. I’d love to start writing songs with you…I reckon that creative streak you have could be channelled into writing some great songs.’