Bill Bailey

by Catherine Cookson

  A grin on his face, Bill nodded towards the door, saying, ‘I’ve noticed Nell always gives you something to look forward to.’

  ‘It’s no time for joking, Bill.’

  ‘I’m not joking, lass.’ He went to her and put his arm around her and she said, ‘Couldn’t you have let it go with a talk to the head?’

  ‘Oh, I knew what that would mean afore I met him. And you know what punishment young Brown had? He was given some lines. But there’s one good thing I’ve done if nothing else. I’ve put the wind up the rest of the bullies in the school, and there’s bound to be more than one. And you know something?’ He grinned again. ‘Two little nippers gave me a wave on the quiet as I was coming out. Huh!’ His head went back now and he laughed. ‘I must have appeared like Superman to those bairns. Oh, and that poor young teacher. Anyway, we worked out an alibi, him and me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll tell you all about it the night but I must get back. Where’s Mark?’

  ‘He’s up in the playroom; he’s reading.’

  ‘We must go into Newcastle and see about a school.’

  ‘I’ve already been looking into that.’

  ‘Well, I’d better get back, as Nell says, into the valley of death. And that’s what it’ll be if dear papa has his own way. But what Mr Brown doesn’t know is, I’m covered with battle scars.’

  ‘But what can he do really?’

  ‘Oh, he can make life a bit hot for us. He can find complaints about the workmanship, an’ with some of the new squad I’ve taken on that won’t be too hard for him. Anyway, I’m goin’ to spread them out among our own fellows. Some of them are all right, quite good, in fact, but there’s always some and some. And then there’s the schedule; we’re getting behind time: it takes no account of rainy spells when the brickies and tilers can’t get at it, the job. But heigh-ho! I must be off.’

  ‘Do the others come around like Brown does?’

  ‘No, old Kingdom-come’s been once on the site. Rainshaw and Pilby, they’ve been two or three times but couldn’t be more pleased with things. And the architect, you know, is Pilby’s brother-in-law. Anyway, love, I must tell you…you still make rotten coffee.’ He drained the cup.

  ‘Bill.’

  ‘Yes, love?’

  She put her hand up and stroked his cheek as she said, ‘Promise me you won’t do anything more? I mean, when Brown comes. You won’t lose your temper and…and…?’

  ‘Hit him?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll try me best not to.’

  She smiled at him as he said, ‘Remember what Katie says when Willie gets at her. “Sticks an’ stones will break me bones but callin’ will not hurt me.” Oh, that saying, like lots of others, is daft when taken to pieces, for I’d rather have a black eye than turn me back on the fellow who said me mother didn’t know who me father was or words to that effect. And that, Mrs B, actually happened when I was on the buildings. He was an oldish bloke, oldish to me anyway, he was in his thirties then, but before he gave me a black eye I split his lip an’ told him his trouble was he had never had the chance to turn a young lass into a woman. Think that one out, love.’

  ‘You’re an awful man, Bill Bailey.’

  ‘I know that. Goodbye, love.’ As he went out of the door he turned and grinned at her, saying, ‘If the police ring up, you’ll know I’m in clink.’

  He was halfway down the path when her voice halted him. ‘Be careful, for my sake.’ He made a face at her, then went on.

  Mr Brown did not put in an appearance but his wife did. Bill happened to be at the far end of the estate when one of the men came hurrying up to him, saying in an undertone, ‘Mrs Brown’s in the cabin, boss.’

  ‘You mean, Mister.’

  ‘No, boss, Missis.’

  ‘Mrs Brown?’

  ‘Aye.’

  He straightened his collar, pushed his tie up into a knot, tugged his coat straight, pulled his tweed cap to a slight angle; then, as a somewhat deflated man but one ready for battle, he made his way to the cabin.

  Mrs Brown, he saw immediately, was one of the unusually tall women that seemed to be bred these days. She looked like a Miss World type: she was plainly but expensively dressed; she wasn’t good-looking by his standards, he would have called her arresting, but when she spoke her voice stamped her class.

  ‘Mr Bailey? I’m Mrs Brown.’

  ‘How d’you do? Won’t you sit down.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She sat down at the other side of his desk, crossed her legs, then leant her right forearm along the edge of the desk and, looking straight at him, she said, ‘You will of course know why I’m here.’

  For answer he gave a small huh of a laugh and said, ‘I’m trying to guess, but candidly I was expecting your husband.’

  ‘He happens to be in London and won’t be back until tomorrow evening. My son phoned me from school, as did the headmaster. I understand from both of them that you thrashed the boy.’

  ‘Yes, yes I did, ma’am, I thrashed him. But do you know why?’

  ‘As a result of a prank I’ve been informed. But I felt there was more in it than that to warrant your action.’

  Bill stared at her for a moment, then leant to the side, pulled open a drawer and took out three snaps and, laying them on the table, he twisted them around, then pushed them towards her, saying, ‘That’s the result of your son’s prank on mine. I brought them to show your husband. These were taken by an instamatic, but there’ll be some clearer ones later on which I took with a proper camera. My boy was held down by your son’s crony and your son pushed a lighted firework down his trousers. Would you call that a prank, Mrs Brown? And this happened because my son stood up to him. I think he objected to cleaning his boots, making his bed, havin’ to give him the best part of his tuck box. But the final thing that broke him was to hear me slandered. So he retaliated.’

  He watched her now pick up one snap after another and stare at it, and then, when she looked at him without speaking, he said, ‘I could, of course, have made a case of it, which would have hurt a good many people, so I decided on the old Jewish maxim, an eye for an eye, a backside in this case. What is your opinion, Mrs Brown?’

  She didn’t speak for some seconds, and when she did, she said, ‘In your place I would have come to a similar decision. But I must tell you that my husband won’t see it in the same way, and I hope that after what I am now going to say, you will do me the kindness to forget that I’ve said it. It is simply this: my husband should have followed your example years ago. Had he done so, this incident would never have happened.’

  She rose to her feet; he too, and, moving round the table, he held out his hand to her, and she placed hers in it. And they stared at each other before he said, ‘Thank you, Mrs Brown.’

  He now escorted her to her car, and as he held the door open for her she again looked at him and said, ‘Of course, you understand, my husband will make more of this, although I shall indeed put the facts to him as you have given them to me.’

  ‘I understand, Mrs Brown…perfectly.’

  She turned her head away now and looked towards the buildings, saying, ‘I like your houses, Mr Bailey; they have individuality, they’re not merely boxes. It’s going to be a fine estate.’

  He had to check his tongue from saying, ‘I wish you’d tell that to your husband.’ He smiled at her, inclined his head towards her, then closed the car door on her after she had taken her seat behind the wheel.

  He remained standing where he was until she had turned the car around, and as she passed him she glanced at him and smiled, and he smiled back.

  When he opened the back door at his usual time there were no cries from the children, and the kitchen table was clear of food. Taking off his outer things, he went quickly into the hall, there to meet Fiona coming out of the dining room.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘What d’you mean, what’s up?’ she said.

>   ‘Where’s everybody?’

  ‘Oh, that. They’ve had their meal; they’re all upstairs. I…I thought we’d have ours in the dining room tonight. I lit the fire.’

  ‘Celebrating something?’

  ‘No; but I thought you’d be coming in, well, full of steam and you’d want a little quiet. But’—she gave a slight shrug to her shoulders—‘you appear normal. What happened?’

  ‘He never turned up…but his wife did.’

  ‘His wife?’

  ‘Look, Mrs B, my stomach’s yellin’ out for substance. Get it on the table and then I’ll tell you all. By the way, what is it?’

  ‘Roast lamb et cetera.’

  ‘Good.’

  As she made to move away he checked her, saying, ‘Here, woman.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You haven’t kissed me.’

  ‘You didn’t proffer your face, Mr Bailey, so now you can wait.’

  ‘You’ll pay for it later.’ He laughed as he turned from her…

  They had been seated at the table for some minutes when Fiona said somewhat impatiently, ‘Well, tell me what happened. Why did she come? And what is she like?’

  ‘To answer the first part, she came to apologise. As regards the…what is she like.’ He now placed his knife and fork slowly down each side of his plate and, looking along the length of the table, he said dreamily, ‘Smashing.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ She gave a laugh. ‘Was she as bad as that?’

  ‘No.’ He picked up the knife and fork again, put a piece of lamb in his mouth, chewed on it, then said, ‘That’s what she was, smashing. No kiddin’.’

  ‘Really?’ The word came out on a high note then she added, ‘You were definitely impressed?’

  ‘I’ll say. Who wouldn’t be? Five foot nine, I’d say, a figure like, you know…pounds, shillings and pence, and clothed to match.’

  He glanced at her. She was looking down at her plate while she chewed slowly. And when he said, ‘She was your type,’ she looked up at him, saying, ‘I am not placated.’

  ‘Well, you should be’—he again put down his knife and fork and, reaching out, caught her wrist—‘because every inch of her put me in mind of you. And I’m going to tell you something more: I know you took a step down when you married me, but by God! that one took a big jump when she got hooked up with Brown, because he’s a slob at bottom and his veneer doesn’t cover it. How in the name of God that woman married him will always beat me.’

  ‘She did impress you, didn’t she?’

  ‘Jealous? Go on…say you’re jealous. Oh, I’d love you to be jealous.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. And that lamb is congealing. Anyway, let’s get to the point: why did she come in place of him?’

  Again he took a mouthful of food and chewed on it before he said, ‘Well, it’s like this. The old boy’s in London on business. He’s got his fingers into numbers of pies that one, money talks. But to keep to the point. Her son had phoned her, and the head had phoned her…all about the prank the dear child had played. Well, she didn’t call her son a dear child. Believe it or not, in a way, she actually thanked me for what I’d done, and off the cuff of course and mustn’t be repeated, words to the effect that she was glad I did it and that her husband should have done the same a long time ago.’

  ‘She didn’t.’

  ‘She did though.’ His voice had a serious note to it now. ‘I couldn’t believe it. Yet all the time she was talking I couldn’t help thinking, how in the name of God had she got linked up with that fellow ’cos she’s county and he, you could say, came from the same backyard as me, except’—he wagged his head now—‘he hasn’t got my charisma. But seriously love…By the way, you’ve never seen Brown have you?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘Well, you’d have to see them together and listen to them to get the full value of my meanin’.’

  ‘I’d like to meet him, I’d likely find him very interesting.’

  ‘Aw, there we go again.’ He was grinning now and flapping his hand out towards her. ‘Don’t worry, my dear, I’m not goin’ to walk out on you.’

  ‘Bill!’ The movement she made thrusting her chair back from the table startled him somewhat. ‘Don’t say things like that, even in fun. Remember Nell.’

  ‘Oh, honey’—he was out of his seat bending over her—‘you should know by now it’s just me and me tactlessness; I must be funny or die. I’m sorry, love.’

  He kissed her; then, pushing her roughly by the shoulder, he said, ‘Anyway, it’s your own fault; you should have been working on me an’ smoothing off me corners.’

  ‘I’m no magician.’

  He laughed now as he said, ‘Aw, hitting below the belt. And you know what? You sound just like your mother there.’ He sat down again, saying now, ‘Had any word from your dear mama lately?’

  ‘Yes, I had a letter from her. She’s thinking of moving.’

  ‘Good. How far? Australia?’

  ‘No, only a quarter of a mile nearer here.’

  ‘Aw! no.’

  ‘It’s a smaller house, a bungalow. I can understand her doing that because, as she said, what does she want with nine rooms now and on her own.’

  ‘Poor sod.’

  ‘Bill!’

  ‘Well, there’s nobody else to hear me except you, and you should be used to it by now, and that’s what she is, at least the latter word. Now tell me some nice news. What have the bairns been up to?’

  Some seconds passed before she said, ‘There was a bit of a to-do with Mamie today. It started in the car. I couldn’t understand it at first. Apparently Japan had come up in one of Willie’s lessons, and you know how he goes on when he’s excited about anything. And he happened to say, “I’m going on my holidays to Japan, Mam; I’m going to save up.” And that’s as far as he got because Mamie turned on him and hit out at him and shouted, “You’re not going on holiday. You’re not! You’re not!” In fact, I had to stop the car and bring her into the front seat. And when we came in I couldn’t pacify her for a time and she kept begging me not to let Willie go on holiday. Then it dawned on me.’

  ‘What dawned on you?’

  ‘The word holiday.’

  ‘Oh. Aye, aye.’ He nodded at her. ‘You’ve always said Susie and Dan and the lad were on holiday. Well, we’ll have to do something to change the meaning of that word for her, won’t we?’

  ‘I don’t know how; it will be engrained in her mind, and the word is bound to come up among them, it’s only natural.’

  ‘How is she now?’

  ‘Oh, she’s all right. I made Willie tell her that he’s not going on holiday. I explained to him as simply as I could why. She adores Willie. And there’s another thing. I was on the phone to the headmaster of The Royal Grammar School. He said to bring Mark down tomorrow. He’ll have to go through a test of some kind, for the prep department.’

  ‘Well, that’ll be nothing to him. He’s got a head on his shoulders.’

  ‘He may have, Bill, but inside he’s afraid of another new start. Yet he’s relieved that wherever he’s going it’s as a day pupil. But to get back to the Brown business. Do you think he’ll turn up?’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes, he’ll turn up all right. But I’ll be ready for him, more so than ever I was now I know his home situation.’

  ‘Yes, of course, now that you know his home situation.’

  ‘Drop that tone, Mrs B, now I’m tellin’ you, else I’ll skelp your lug for you. Eeh!’ He closed his eyes and rocked his head on his shoulders. ‘Will I ever get to know women?’

  She rose from the table, smiling at him now and saying, ‘Oh, I shouldn’t worry; your practice is bound to pay off, just keep at it…Do you want rice pudding or apple tart?’

  It was Wednesday morning when Brown came into the yard. Although he was on Bill’s mind his entry into the office touched on surprise because the door was thrust open and there he was.

  Bill remained in his seat as he said, ‘People usually
knock; this is my office.’

  ‘Yes, yes; and you’d better cling on to it, Bailey, for it mightn’t be yours much longer.’ He was now at the other side of the desk, his hands flat on it, and leaning towards Bill, and he growled out, ‘Who the hell do you think you are, daring to lay a hand on my son!’

  As he had done two days earlier, Bill opened the drawer and took out three snaps and, as again he had done on that day, he laid them flat on the table, saying, ‘Look at those. That’s the result of your son’s venom.’

  Brown hardly glanced at the snaps before scattering them across the table with a sweep of his hand, saying, ‘It was just a prank.’

  ‘A prank that frightened the headmaster and his staff into coercing my boy to keep quiet about it. There were two options open to me: to let the newspapers deal with it, or take matters into my own hands. And which would you have preferred, Mr Brown? You’d rather have your son skinned alive, wouldn’t you, than let the newspapers get hold of it?’

  ‘There was nothing for the newspapers to get hold of. They would see it as something petty. They would have seen it as another way of blowing your big mouth off. Anyway, I’m warnin’ you, you’ll have to keep your nose clean in future else you’ll find yourself suffering the same medicine as you doled out to my son. But it’ll be more lasting because you’ll be plumb on your arse outside.’

  ‘Well, I can promise you this, Brown, that if I go, I swear to God I won’t go alone. Keep me nose clean, you say. Well, here’s some advice to you. Keep your fingers out of little men’s pockets. You’re on the council—aren’t you?—and as far as I understand it’s not only frowned upon but illegal to extract your pound of flesh by ten per cent in pushing jobs here and there.’

  Of a sudden Bill had the satisfaction of seeing the man’s face become suffused with colour. He watched his mouth open and shut twice before he managed to say, ‘You’d better be careful what you’re insinuating.’