The Cobbler's Kids

by Rosie Harris

  He couldn’t wait to tell his mam. He’d be earning a proper wage, not two and sixpence a week like he was paid for doing the deliveries for Steven’s Hardware Store. Mr Chamberlain had promised him twelve shillings a week for the first six months, and then a rise of two and sixpence, provided he worked hard.

  He’d do that all right. He couldn’t wait to get started. Mr Chamberlain had said that he could have a bread roll and a cake every day for his lunch. He had also hinted that at the weekend he’d get a bag of cakes to take home, if there were any left over. It sounded smashing to him.

  He knew his mam was going to be pleased when he told her. He’d been on the verge of doing so for days now, but he’d kept quiet because he hadn’t been sure if Mr Clark would let him finish school at the end of the summer term.

  Vee already knew all about it, of course, because she’d been the one who’d told him that Sunbury’s were looking for someone.

  ‘I don’t know anything about baking,’ he’d told her.

  ‘That’s the whole point,’ she’d said. ‘You’ll learn everything there is to know. It’ll be much better than working for a chandler’s where all you’ve learned is how to wheel an overloaded delivery bike up and down Scotland Road.’

  ‘Yeah, but look at these,’ he’d flexed his muscles. ‘I’ve built them up from pushing that bike, haven’t I!’

  ‘Learning a proper trade is the first step on the ladder to a better life,’ she told him gravely. ‘Remember, if you don’t get a proper job then the minute you leave school Dad will expect you to work full time in the shop with him and you wouldn’t like that, would you!’

  ‘You know I’d hate it! It would be hell! I’d never do anything right, and he’d order me about from morning till night, and cuff me over the head every time I made a mistake.’

  ‘Well, make sure you don’t make any mistakes when you start at Sunbury’s then or someone there might clip you round the ear.’ She grinned.

  Now that he had actually got the job, and knew when he would be starting work, he’d ask Vee not to say a word to their mam until he’d got his first week’s pay.

  He could see it now, handing his wage packet over to Mam unopened, watching her eyes widen in surprise when she saw how much there was inside it. From now on they’d all have enough to eat, every day of their lives. There’d be sausages, bacon, eggs, chops, even roast meat. Benny would grow up big and strong, not undersized like he was.

  His mam would have to give him back some pocket money out of his wages, but he knew she’d play fair. He’d ask her if she could spare a few pennies each week for Vee as well.

  When Vee had taken over his task of delivering boots and shoes Eddy had warned her about making sure she hid any tips that the customers gave her before she got back to the shop. He’d even shown her his secret hiding hole behind a brick in the wall in the back jigger. He’d told her that she could use it as well if she liked, but she’d never done so. For some reason their dad never bothered to ask her if she’d been given anything.

  Whether that was because he’d fooled him for so long into thinking that customers never gave any tips, or whether it was because his dad liked Vee more than him, Eddy wasn’t sure. It didn’t really matter one way or the other, he told himself, but he couldn’t help feeling puzzled about it.

  Vee never told him if she did pick up any tips. If she did, he had no idea what she spent the money on, and he never asked. He suspected it mostly went on treats for young Benny. She really seemed to adore their little brother. She was always the one who got up in the middle of the night when he started crying, or calling out. Usually, she took him back into bed with her.

  ‘It’s easier than hearing Dad having a nark with Mam about the noise Benny makes when he whinges,’ she’d told him when he’d commented on it. ‘It only makes Benny howl even louder when Dad starts shouting. It terrifies me when he does, so I know it must frighten the wits out of poor little Benny.’

  Young Benny looked frightened most of the time, Eddy thought grimly. He had such big, sorrowful blue eyes and he seemed to toddle round in a wide-eyed daze, usually with a dummy, or his thumb, stuck in his mouth. He never seemed to have the energy to play, not even with the big coloured ball that Vee had bought for him.

  Eddy found his first week at Sunbury’s a bewildering experience. When he’d been working at the chandler’s all he’d had to do was collect his loaded bike, do the deliveries on the list he was given, and then return the bike to the shop.

  In his new job there were a hundred and one tasks to be done.

  Although the jobs were all simple – like sweeping up flour that had been spilled on the floor, washing out the huge mixing bowls, or helping to bring in bags of flour and sugar from the storeroom out in the yard – the two men who worked in the bakehouse behind the shop often asked him to do different things at the same time.

  He enjoyed the work, though. The job he liked best was clearing up the bowls after the baker who made all the cakes and pies had finished with them – especially those that had been used for cakes! Before he plunged them into water he surreptitiously ran his finger around the sides, licking up any traces of the sweet mixture. He’d never be hungry as long as he could do that, he thought gleefully. Sometimes, when it was fruit cakes or buns that were being baked, there would be the odd currant or sultana left in the bowl as well.

  After an enormous batch of baking there would be the trays to clean. These would often have tiny bits of cooked cake or pastry stuck to them and he wished he could scrape them into a bag and take them home for Vee. As he worked he picked bits off to eat, and even when they were slightly over-cooked he thoroughly enjoyed them.

  On Saturday, when Mr Chamberlain handed him his first wage packet, Eddy thought he would explode with happiness.

  ‘These are for you,’ his boss told him, handing him a brown paper bag bursting with doughnuts, iced cakes and jam tarts. ‘Do you want a couple of loaves to take home with you as well?’

  Eddy could hardly believe his ears. He already had a feast that would fill them for days.

  ‘They’re yesterday’s, mind, so they might be a bit stale, but your mam can always toast them, or use them to make a bread pudding.’

  When he reached their own shop in Scotland Road he was about to hurry past and go down Penrhyn Street, and in through the back jigger, when his dad stepped out into the roadway and confronted him.

  Grabbing him by the ear he hauled him into the shop and slammed the door shut.

  ‘What’s all this then? Been thieving have you?’

  ‘No, Dad, of course I haven’t! I … I earned it!’

  ‘Oh, yes? Then you’ll have some wages as well, if I know anything about it, so hand them over.’

  Eddy looked at him defiantly. Giving his first real wage packet to his mother unopened had been something he was looking forward to doing, and now it was all going to be spoiled.

  He saw his father ball his fist and knew that at any moment he would be hit across the top of his head if he didn’t do as he’d been asked.

  ‘Give me your bloody wages or I’ll thump your skull. Understand?’

  The familiar threat made him so angry that he resolved to stand his ground. He wasn’t a kid any more. He had a proper job now, so he shouldn’t be threatened or beaten, he told himself.

  ‘What makes you think I’ve got any wages?’ he asked boldly.

  ‘You better bloody have, seeing as you’ve been working all week at Sunbury’s!’

  For a fleeting moment Eddy thought Vera must have let on about his job, but when his dad spoke again he felt guilty for ever doubting her.

  ‘Word gets round, you know. That fellow Chamberlain who’s in charge there drinks in the same pubs as me, and I heard him say he’d taken on a weedy little runt because he felt sorry for him, so I knew it must be you.’

  Before Eddy could speak, his father had clenched his fist and had swiped his knuckles across the top of his head. The pain made Eddy cry out, and
he darted towards the door that led into their living room.

  Annie, hearing all the commotion was already opening the door as he reached it.

  ‘What on earth is going on?’ she asked in alarm.

  Eddy stumbled past her and dropped his big bag of cakes and the two loaves of bread onto the living-room table before turning to face his father.

  ‘I said no and I meant it,’ he shouted. Pulling his wage packet out of his trouser pocket he shoved it into his mother’s hands. ‘This is for you, Mam. My first week’s wages and I want you to have them, not him.’

  Roughly, Michael Quinn pushed his son to one side and tried to snatch the pay packet from his wife’s hand.

  ‘Give it here, woman! Any money that comes into this house is mine,’ he growled angrily.

  Annie shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Our Eddy has worked all week to earn this money so he has a right to say what he wants to do with it.’

  Mike Quinn’s vivid blue eyes glinted nastily. With a deep growl he lunged towards her, intent on grabbing the wage packet. When she still resisted he slapped her across the face so hard that she was sent reeling backwards.

  Pandemonium reigned. Vera came into the room and found Benny howling with fright in the armchair. Her mother was half lying on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. One hand was held to the rapidly swelling red weal on her face, and the other was still tightly clutching Eddy’s wage packet. Mike was standing over her, looking livid.

  As he reached out again to snatch at the wage packet Eddy darted into the shop and picked up a hammer lying on the workbench. As he raised it threateningly, Vera screamed a warning, and Mike swung round in time to catch hold of Eddy’s arm. He twisted it savagely until Eddy, sobbing with pain, was forced to drop the hammer.

  Then, without a word, Mike Quinn walked back into his shop slamming the door so hard that the whole building shook.

  Chapter Seven

  The fight over Eddy’s wages caused such bad feeling between him and his father that they didn’t speak to each other for several months. This resulted in tension between everyone else in the family all over Christmas, except Benny, as he was too young to understand what was happening.

  Vera made it her New Year resolution to get them to talk to each other again, but it was no good, Eddy sulked and Michael scowled.

  ‘Leave them alone, luv,’ Annie warned her. ‘You’ll only set them at each other’s throats otherwise. Give it time and they’ll both simmer down and forget about it.’

  Vera sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right, Mam. Anyway, the important thing is that you now get Eddy’s wages!’

  Her mother gave a wry smile. ‘Yes, but your dad’s cut my housekeeping back. He doesn’t think he needs to give me as much now that Eddy’s working and turning up some money each week.’

  Vera didn’t know what to say. In silence she hugged her mam, vowing to herself that when she started work in a few years’ time she wouldn’t tell her dad how much she earned. What was more, she’d also make sure that her mam got every penny that was in her wage packet.

  It had been tough luck on all of them that her dad had twigged who it was that the boss at Sunbury’s had been talking about when he’d been in the pub.

  With extra money in his pocket, Michael Quinn spent even more time out drinking. Always worried about what mood he would be in when he came home, Annie tried to make sure that Vera and Eddy, as well as little Benny, were safely in bed.

  Lying upstairs in the dark, afraid to light a candle in case it might enrage their father, Vera would listen in dismay as the rows went on in the room below. More often than not there would be the sounds of a scuffle, of furniture overturning, or a hastily suppressed scream from her mother.

  Sometimes the noise would waken Benny, so Vera would tiptoe to his cot and try to quieten him before their father heard him crying. Quite often the only way she could comfort him was to take him back into her own bed.

  Frequently she found Eddy crouched on the landing, listening to what was going on downstairs. She would warn him that if he went down and tried to interfere their mam would only get more of a beating.

  ‘I’d sooner he was hitting me than her.’

  ‘Don’t tempt him. He’d half kill you.’

  ‘Would he, though? He’d be afraid of what his mates down the pub would say if I turned up for work covered in bruises.’

  Vera shook her head. ‘He’d tell some cock and bull story about what you’d done so that you’d end up being the one in the wrong. If that happened your boss might sack you and then Mam would be worse off for money than ever.’

  ‘I sometimes wonder if we ought to go to the police and report him,’ Eddy said gloomily.

  ‘It wouldn’t do any good if we did, because Mam would deny it,’ Vera pointed out. ‘You know what she’s like about keeping things like that secret.’

  ‘Yes, but she couldn’t, could she. They’d see the bruises!’

  Vera shook her head emphatically. ‘No they wouldn’t. He never hits her where it shows.’

  ‘Her arms are covered in bruises.’

  ‘Yes, and she keeps them hidden. She always wears her sleeves down to cover them.’

  ‘I bet she’s got bruises all over her body as well. I know for a fact that he punches her in the ribs because I’ve seen him do it.’

  ‘You are probably right, but no one can see the marks, can they, and the last thing she is going to do is show them to anyone.’

  ‘I’ll tell you something else, Vee,’ Eddy said worriedly. ‘He’s started betting, on the dogs.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, and he’s had some good wins. I heard some of the chaps at Sunbury’s talking about it. One of them uses the same runner as him. Do you think we ought to tell Mam?’

  ‘What good would that do? Only give her more to worry about, since it’s illegal.’

  Two weeks before Christmas 1922, Michael Quinn broke his silence and spoke to his eldest son. It was the first time he’d done so since Eddy had started work eighteen months earlier.

  ‘I got something for you today,’ he told Eddy as they were sitting having their evening meal.

  Eddy looked at him startled, wondering if he really was speaking to him.

  ‘I’ve bought you a chicken. A big black and white one. It’s outside in the backyard inside a wooden crate.’

  Vera watched Eddy’s reaction nervously. She was so afraid that he was going to refuse the gift and upset their dad that she felt sick.

  ‘You can feed it on some of the bread scraps you bring home from Sunbury’s or we can buy it some corn,’ she said quickly. ‘You never know, it may lay some eggs for us.’

  Their father laughed snidely. ‘So he hasn’t told you that he’s handed in his notice at Sunbury’s.’

  Annie looked shocked. ‘Eddy is leaving Sunbury’s?’

  ‘Probably just as well before they sacked him. The boss there thinks he’s too puny for a job like that.’

  ‘Oh Eddy! If you’ve handed in your notice then you won’t get any dole money!’ Annie said, dismayed.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mam, I’ve got another job. Apprentice engineer at Cammell Laird’s, the same as Charlie had.’

  ‘You won’t hold that down for long,’ his father sneered. ‘That’s man’s work.’

  Again he laughed loudly. Vera kicked Eddy under the table, and signalled to him with her eyes, not to answer back as it would only rile their dad even more.

  She exchanged looks with her mam and saw that she, too, was bemused by what was happening.

  ‘Go on then, take young Benny out to see the bloody chicken and mind you don’t let it peck him.’

  The chicken was plump, with glossy feathers and sharp beady eyes. It cocked its head on one side as Eddy held out a handful of crumbs, but kept its distance.

  Benny was enchanted. He crouched down at the side of the crate, poking his little fingers through the slats, trying to touch the hen and chattering to it excitedly.

/>   Eddy dropped the crumbs he was holding onto the floor of the crate and Benny clapped his hands in delight when the hen quickly, and hungrily, pecked them up.

  ‘It may be your pet, but I think Benny’s going to be the one who gets the most fun out of it,’ Vera smiled. ‘We must stop him putting his hand inside the crate, though, in case it pecks him; he certainly won’t like that!’

  ‘Give it a couple of days and I’ll have it tame enough to eat out of our hands,’ Eddy assured her.

  For the next few nights, the moment he got in from work, the first thing Eddy did was to go out into the poky backyard to make sure that the chicken was all right.

  ‘It’s not right keeping it shut up in that crate all the time,’ he told Vera worriedly. ‘It should have a proper run so that it can move around.’

  ‘If you let it out in the yard then a cat, or a dog, will have it,’ she pointed out. ‘The best thing you can do is tame it so that it likes living like that.’

  Reluctantly Eddy agreed with her. From then on he spent every spare minute he had talking to it, stroking its glossy black and white feathers and calming it, until finally it boldly took crumbs from his hand.

  Benny wanted to try and do the same so Eddy took him outside and gave him a piece of bread to hold out for the hen. The rest of the family, even their father, watched to see what would happen. After one or two delicate pecks, the hen finally took the lump of bread and they all told Benny how clever he was.

  For one wild moment Eddy thought they’d achieved a breakthrough, and that, at long last, they were once again a proper family. Was it his imagination or had their dad changed back into the kindly, happy man he’d known and loved when he’d been Benny’s age? Perhaps he was over whatever it was that had been troubling him since he’d come home from the army, he thought hopefully.

  His dad still seemed to be in the same benign mood when he came home from work the next night. He even accompanied him and Benny into the yard with some food for the chicken, and stood there watching them feed it.