Winnie of the Waterfront

by Rosie Harris

  ‘Perhaps it’s as well I couldn’t,’ Sandy laughed. ‘I’d never have got this opportunity to make a success of my life otherwise.’

  Willard’s eyes narrowed. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘If I had been able to dib up a year’s rent like you demanded, then I’d probably have ended up stuck here in this dump for the rest of my life,’ Sandy retaliated.

  Reg Willard’s jaw tightened. ‘Except for the fact that I wouldn’t let you have a stall, if you remember! Think about it, Sandy, you’re doing all right. I treat you well, give you your head, what more do you want?’

  ‘To be my own boss.’

  ‘So where are you going to set up, and what sort of business is it going to be?’ Reg Willard pressed.

  Sandy grinned and tapped the side of his nose with his forefinger. ‘I’ll send you an invitation to the opening and then you’ll be able to see for yourself, won’t you!’

  ‘Is that young Winnie going to be in on this venture with you?’

  ‘You mean my wife?’

  ‘Wife! You’ve gone and married her? You must be out of your mind! You young fool, I never thought you were that stupid. She’s a bloody cripple!’

  ‘And what difference does that make? She probably works harder and has more brains and common sense than most women.’

  ‘Works hard! Is that what you call pouring cups of tea and making sandwiches,’ Reg Willard scoffed. ‘You don’t have to be a genius to do that. Even old Peg Mullins can manage that much!’

  Sandy chewed the inside of his mouth to stop himself from saying something he would regret later on. He knew Reg Willard was goading him because he was annoyed, not only that Sandy was leaving but because he wasn’t taking him into his confidence.

  ‘If you are going to make a success of business in this world then you don’t want to be held back by lumbering yourself with unnecessary burdens!’ Reg Willard pontificated. His small eyes narrowed. ‘Peg Mullins is joining you both in this little venture, isn’t she? That’s why she said she was packing in. At the time I thought she meant that she was getting too old to work and was going to retire, but I see it all now!’ He guffawed loudly. ‘A young fool, a cripple and a doddering old hag! Some business you’ll be running! You’ll end up pushing them both about in that bleeding wheelchair before you’re done!’

  Sandy took a step back, squaring his shoulders, his face distorted with anger. ‘I think you’ve said enough, Mr Willard,’ he snapped.

  ‘Oh yes, the truth hurts, doesn’t it,’ Reg Willard sneered. ‘You’ll live to rue your actions, you take my word for it. Only a bloody headstrong young fool would be gullible enough to saddle himself with a cripple and let a worn-out old hag like Peg Mullins hang on to your shirt-tail.’

  Sandy’s hands curled into fists. ‘Watch your tongue,’ he snarled. ‘If you weren’t old enough to be my father I’d smash your face in!’

  ‘If you think you’ve managed to get yourself some cheap labour then think again. You’ll find the pair of them are millstones round your neck, and all they’ll ever do is drag you under,’ Willard jibed.

  ‘I was going to work out my week’s notice, but now to hell with you!’ Sandy told him. ‘For your sake I hope our paths don’t cross in the future because I never want to set eyes on you ever again.’

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  FIRED UP BY his row with Reg Willard, Sandy put his back into getting the dockside premises ready. It had previously been the annexe to a warehouse, but he was determined to convert it into something suitable for their purpose.

  With the help of two casual workers he divided it so that they could use one end as a kitchen and store for their provisions, and the remainder as the café. A few coats of a light blue emulsion and check curtains at the windows took away the rawness. Finally, when it was fitted out with tables and chairs its whole appearance seemed to change.

  While Sandy was working hard on this, Peg and Winnie concentrated on buying the equipment and supplies they were going to need.

  Winnie was worried about how much it must be costing, but Peg told her not to worry. ‘Leave that side of things to me. I won’t spend more than we can afford.’

  ‘In that case you won’t be spending very much,’ Winnie said grimly. ‘Sandy has spent all the money that we had saved up on the materials and labour, so that he can smarten the place up.’

  ‘I’ll take care of the rest, now don’t you worry about it,’ Peg told her. ‘You be prepared to scoot around in that chair of yours and collect all the stuff that is too heavy for me to carry.’

  As it was, there was very little of that to do. Most of Peg’s contacts were only too pleased that she had become a customer in her own right. Even though she drove a hard bargain when it came to prices, they were still willing to deliver.

  One of the first things the three of them had to agree on was a name for their new venture.

  ‘Sandy, you ought to get a sign made and put up before you do anything else, so that our suppliers know where they have to deliver to,’ Peg pointed out.

  ‘I know, but before I can do that we have to decide on a name for the place.’

  ‘It needs to be something that’s easy to remember, as well as telling them where it is, otherwise they’ll have difficulty finding us,’ Peg pointed out.

  They tossed a variety of names backwards and forwards between themselves, but they couldn’t agree on any of them.

  ‘Leave it to me, I’ll come up with something,’ Sandy told them.

  ‘Make it soon, then,’ Peg urged.

  Next morning, when the three of them set out for the Pier Head, Sandy was smirking to himself, wondering how they would react when they saw the name he’d decided on. He’d persuaded a sign-writer to paint it the evening before and the carpenter had promised he’d have it in position before Winnie and Peg arrived first thing the next morning. Now, as they approached the Pier Head, he could hardly wait to see it for himself.

  When he did he felt as taken aback as Winnie and Peg. The three of them stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide with astonishment. The eye-catching sign stretched prominently right across the front of their building. On a brilliant white background the words WINNIE’S WATERFRONT CAFÉ stood out in bold black letters.

  ‘Do you think your suppliers are going to be able to find us now, Peg?’ he asked nonchalantly.

  ‘They’d have to be blind not to do so,’ she agreed, smiling. ‘Folks coming over on the ferries should be able to see it from the middle of the Mersey!’

  It seemed to set the tone of their enterprise. The inside was as clean and uncluttered as their sign. The tables were well-spaced to enable Winnie to move easily between them in her wheelchair, so that whenever necessary she could act as a waitress.

  Knowing that a lot of their customers would be dockers, who mightn’t have time to sit down, but might wish to take drinks and food away with them, there was a good-size counter where they could be served speedily. For those who wanted to eat or drink in the café, but didn’t want the formality of sitting down at a table that had a tablecloth on it, there was a wide counter down one wall with backless stools.

  The carpenter who had installed all the partitioning made a special tray with deep sides to fit across Winnie’s chair for when she was working as a waitress. It ensured that she had her hands free to propel the chair, and yet at the same time would be able to carry drinks and food to the tables or collect dirty crockery and take it back to the kitchen.

  ‘We seem to have catered for all tastes, and thought of everything,’ Sandy said confidently when they finally opened.

  For the first couple of days trade was slow. Winnie was anxious and Peg fretted at the wasted food because she had prepared a mound of sandwiches and cakes in advance.

  ‘People will flock in once they know we’re here,’ Sandy assured them both.

  ‘That’s the problem,’ Peg muttered. ‘It seems to be only the dockers who know we’re here.’

  ‘If
people coming off the boats can’t read that sign over the front then they must be blind! You said yourself they should be able to see it when they’re in mid-stream!’

  ‘Yes, but they don’t know what we have to offer. They might even think it is simply for workmen.’

  ‘Not much we can do about that,’ Sandy shrugged. ‘The dockers who are coming in must be telling their mates about us, since we are getting more and more of them each day.’

  ‘True, but we want the general public to come in here as well. The trippers waiting for a boat to New Brighton, or waiting for a tram when they get back. People who’ve come from Manchester or Birmingham and places like that, and are waiting for the Isle of Man boat and gasping for a cuppa. Those are the people we want to get in here,’ Winnie pointed out.

  ‘So how are we going to do that – drag them in by the scruff of their necks?’ Peg asked.

  ‘Not exactly, but I do have an idea,’ Winnie said thoughtfully. ‘At the moment we’ve got sandwiches and cakes left over. We don’t want to start selling stale food to our customers, do we, so what about loading them up on the tray that goes on my wheelchair and I’ll mingle with the crowd out there and offer them free samples?’

  ‘It’s a good idea,’ Sandy agreed, ‘but perhaps we should also get some leaflets printed, so that they know what we are offering and what our prices are. Something like a menu.’

  ‘That’s going to cost money,’ Winnie protested.

  ‘Not as much as chucking food away every night. We’re not here to feed the seagulls you know!’

  It only took a few days of distributing leaflets and free samples to alert people to what was available at Winnie’s Waterfront Café. After that, the problem was cramming in all the work that had to be done each day.

  ‘We can’t go on slaving away from seven in the morning until half past ten each night,’ Peg warned them. ‘We’ll kill ourselves if we do that. We’ve got to take on some help.’

  ‘It won’t hurt us for a month or so,’ Sandy protested.

  ‘It will if one of us goes sick. We ought to take a couple of people on now so that we can train them up. We need someone in the kitchen doing my job, and at least one waitress out in the café serving the meals.’

  ‘Winnie is managing splendidly.’

  ‘I know she is, but she would be better behind the counter when we are really busy. I realise you’ve positioned the tables so that she can wheel herself between them quite easily. Even so, a lot of the women have a habit of putting their shopping bags down beside their chairs and it’s difficult for her to get past sometimes.’

  As soon as they solved one problem another one seemed to pop up. By Christmas they had split their day into two shifts. They now had two women in the kitchen helping to prepare food and four women worked on a shift system as waitresses in the café. There was also a woman who came in each day to clean the premises and wash up all the utensils used in the preparation of the food.

  ‘We’re doing plenty of business, but employing all these people means we’re not making much money,’ Sandy confided in Winnie worriedly. ‘We still haven’t paid Peg back what she spent out on equipment to get us started. After Christmas there’s going to be the rent to pay as well.’

  ‘Perhaps we should try and think of extra things we can sell that would increase our profit without giving us any more work,’ Winnie suggested.

  ‘We certainly don’t want to take on any more responsibility,’ Sandy warned.

  ‘I was thinking more of something like cigarettes that we could stock for resale. Apart from the book-keeping and finding somewhere to stack them within easy reach of whoever happens to be serving on the counter, there wouldn’t be much extra work involved. We could also handle newspapers. At least the Liverpool ones.’

  ‘Both of those sound feasible so we could certainly make some enquiries,’ Sandy agreed. ‘I’m not sure about the papers because there is already a news-seller at the top of the floating roadway and he might think we are encroaching on his territory.’

  ‘Let’s start with the cigarettes then and see how they go,’ Winnie insisted.

  ‘We won’t need to take on anyone extra to do that, but I think we will have to go carefully or the staff may start protesting that they are being overworked.’

  ‘Peg is the one who looks worn out,’ Winnie sighed.

  ‘We never seem to have any time to ourselves either. We’ve worked non-stop without a break from the week we got married,’ Sandy reminded her.

  ‘You’re happy, though?’ Winnie asked anxiously.

  ‘Of course I am! Are you?’

  Her answer was to hold out her arms.

  ‘We’ll have a Saturday night out in New Brighton, even if we have to close down for the night!’ Sandy promised as he lifted her from her chair in a bear hug that left her breathless.

  ‘On a Saturday! Our busiest night,’ Winnie exclaimed in mock horror. ‘I’m ashamed of you!’

  ‘Yes, boss, I suppose you are right about that,’ he groaned. ‘What about tonight then? Let’s be spontaneous. Thursday night is the night before payday so everyone is broke. We are not likely to be very busy so why don’t you cut along home, get dressed up and we’ll shoot off as soon as the early evening workers have gone home. Go on, I’ll explain to Peg. You can bring my other jacket and a clean shirt back with you and I’ll get changed here.’

  Winnie felt as excited as if she was going out on her first date as she made her way up Water Street from the Pier Head. There was a stiff wind blowing and it was uphill so it was hard-going. The pavements were busy with people who had just left work and were hurrying down to the Pier Head to catch a boat back to Wallasey or somewhere on the Wirral. As she reached the junction of Water Street and Dale Street, Winnie found herself being pushed off the pavement and out into the roadway.

  Although the roads were well lit they were greasy from recent rain, and before she knew what was happening she was sliding backwards. In her effort to stop herself she swerved sideways and felt a sickening lurch as one of her wheels became trapped in a tramline.

  She had a moment of panic because there was absolutely nothing she could do and she could already see a Green Goddess heading towards her. Her only hope was that the driver would see her in time. She felt frightened out of her wits as he clanged his warning bell and seemed to be coming straight for her, but she still couldn’t move out of his way. Desperately she waved her arms in the air, hoping he would manage to stop in time.

  The tram seemed to be coming nearer and nearer, the ground shaking under its weight. When, with a grinding of metal that almost shattered her eardrums, it finally came to rest, it was so close that it was towering over her like some enormous green monster. So close that she could almost reach out and touch it. She was so terrified by her near escape that tears rolled down her cheeks and she found it difficult to breathe.

  People suddenly began rushing towards her to try and help free her wheels. In the end, two burly men lifted her and the chair bodily from the tram track back onto the pavement. She was shaking so much that she could barely thank them. For several minutes she stayed right where they had positioned her, trying to regain her nerve and enough strength to make her way to Skirving Court.

  When she started to propel herself along she found her wheelchair was wobbling and tilting in a frightening manner. She stopped, leaning over the side, trying to see what was causing it, and then realised that the wheel that had been caught up in the tramline was very badly buckled.

  She wondered which was the best thing to do, push on towards Skirving Court or turn round and go back down to the waterfront.

  If she continued on home, she told herself, it would be uphill for a greater part of the way and she might find it impossible to manage without help. However, if she turned round and went back to the Pier Head then Water Street was all downhill. She’d have to be extremely careful, though, because the wheelchair was no longer safe. Her main problem would be to make sure she didn’t go
very fast in case the wheelchair toppled over.

  There would certainly be no outing to New Brighton, she thought glumly. Their first priority now was to get her wheelchair sorted out because she couldn’t manage without it. She only hoped that Sandy knew someone who could repair it fairly quickly.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  SANDY WAS TERRIBLY concerned about Winnie’s misadventure. He couldn’t believe how lucky she was not to have been seriously injured.

  ‘You are inclined to be reckless when you’re in your chair,’ he told her. ‘I’ve seen you whizzing down Water Street going far faster than is safe.’

  ‘And who was it that taught me to do that?’ she grinned.

  ‘It’s a different matter when I’m there holding on to the handle of the chair. I could stop it in a second if there was any danger or anything in the way.’

  Winnie knew he was right and that she often went too fast. Usually it was to get across the busy roads. There was so much traffic in the centre of the city, as well as in the dock area, that crossing from one side of the road to the other was often quite dangerous. The road junctions and the crisscross of tramlines were also terrible hazards. Even people crossing over them on foot sometimes had accidents. Women in particular could catch their heels in the tramlines or even get them trapped there.

  ‘With the road so slippery after all the rain we’ve had, that Green Goddess might not have been able to stop,’ Sandy groaned as he hugged her close. ‘You must have been petrified!’

  ‘Yes, I was scared stiff,’ Winnie admitted. ‘I’m still shivering,’ she added as she clung on to him and nestled closer in his arms, seeking comfort and reassurance from the warmth of his body. Now that she was safe, the full realisation of how much danger she’d been in hit her anew and filled her with horror.