The Black Candle

by Catherine Cookson

  George Fields, wending his way towards her, stopped once to give directions to a young girl standing at the end of a table. It was still part of the pattern to show her that he was attending to his business, seeing that the workers were kept on their toes. And likely that little girl knew as much already about polish making as he did.

  ‘Good day to you, Miss Mordaunt. Isn’t this a pleasure now? Isn’t this a pleasure? Has Joe been looking after you? Have you come to look round? Everything’s in order, I can assure you. How long is it since your last visit?’

  ‘Oh’—she put her head on one side—‘it might be a month or more. And I’m sure everything’s in order, but I happened to be on my way back from Halden Street, so I thought I would just say hello.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ The old man pouted his lips for a moment and his head bobbed as he said, ‘Halden Street. Candles. Yes, you would have to look up there. Oh yes, I’m sure you would. Things goin’ wrong?’

  The last was said on a hopeful note, and she shook her head as she replied, ‘Oh, no, no. They are wanting an extension made and there was a little meeting, you know.’ Her voice trailed off. She knew she must not say that the candle business was booming under the management of Bertram King, who was the antithesis of this old man here. One of the new breed of managers. Men who got things done, but were little loved. And although the profits from the candle factory had gone up by thirty per cent in the last two years, she knew which factory she would prefer. No; that wasn’t right: she knew which set of people she would prefer to deal with; often when she visited here the girls would be joking and laughing; they made light of life, in spite of everything.

  And then there was Joe.

  ‘Would you like to come into the office for a minute? You might like to look through the books yourself. We had two fresh orders in last week. The liquid blackin’ is doin’ well. An’ the tins I ordered came on time…Good company that.’

  ‘Oh, that’s splendid. And yes, I’d like to come to the office for a moment, but not necessarily to see the books.’

  As she continued through the workshop she stopped here and there, saying, ‘Hello, Hettie,’ or ‘How are you, Tommy? And the family?’ Then again, ‘Harry, you seem to get taller every time I see you. How old are you now? Fifteen? I thought you had been here longer than a year. You have grown.’

  So it went on, stopping and starting until she reached the office with the little window, half of which was in frosted glass.

  The old man ushered her into his seat behind the long wooden table on which at one end stood a number of tin boxes, and at the other wooden bases in which skewers were stuck, providing a useful and very practical method of having lists to hand simply by piercing them on the skewers. There were also two thick red-leather-backed ledgers on the table.

  ‘Do sit down, George.’ She pointed to a wooden chair; but at this suggestion the old man shook his hand vigorously, saying, ‘Oh. Oh, no, miss. Don’t worry about me being on my pins; I’m used to that.’

  ‘Well, you’ve been on your pins, as you call them, for many more years than you should have been, and you know that. And last year, when your dear wife was so ill, you thought you would like to give up. Now didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I did then, miss, but she’s much better, she’s much better.’

  ‘Now, George.’ She leaned forward with her forearms on top of one of the ledgers and, looking up at him, she said, ‘I’m going to be firm with you: you’ve got to retire. You should have done it, oh, at least five years ago. But you were so valuable that I didn’t press you. Now I’m going to. Now, now.’ She wagged a finger at him. ‘I’ll see you’re well taken care of, you know that. And I promised you, you can move from where you are now or stay there if you like. But as I said, I promised you you would have a house in Birtley if you wanted, or Chester-le-Street, or perhaps in Gateshead.’

  ‘Eeh, miss, miss, you’re so kind! You’re just like your dad used to be. There wasn’t a better man living than your dad to work for. An’ when he went I thought he couldn’t be bettered, but you’ve lived up to his name, miss. You could have been his son in lots of ways. No falderals about you.’ He was wagging his finger. ‘No disrespect I mean, miss, no disrespect, because there’s not a finer figure on a horse than you are. Oh, I’ve said that all along, I have. I have.’

  She smiled as she thought, Yes, you have; but you were the first to nearly drop down with shock when I rode in in breeches. But then she thought, I’ve got to be very diplomatic in my next move. And so she began. ‘I know we’ll never get anyone to manage this place like you, George. I’m well aware of that. But I would like your advice on something. Now as you know, there’s a different kind of man coming into management. Not that I hold with all their ideas; but nevertheless, times are changing and there they are. A lot of them are called smart alecs. You’ve said that yourself, and I agree with you. Now, George, you tell me how I’m going to get someone to even try to fill your place, except one of these smart alecs, and he’ll likely have no idea of this trade at all. Oh, he’ll be all right on the money side, I mean with regard to doing a lot of chat when trying to get orders, you know what I mean. They all are.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, indeed, miss. I know what you mean.’ His bottom lip was thrust out now. ‘And smart alecs is the right name for them.’

  ‘Well, what are we to do?’

  ‘Well, miss, now I’m a straight man and I’m going to put it straight to you: I’d feel very bad indeed if you stepped out of this factory to find someone to take my place when there’s young fellas here who could take over the morrow. There’s Johnny McInnis, foreman over stores an’ transport. He’s been here a long time, longer than Joe Skinner, and he’s older. But, to my mind Joe’s got more on top, if you follow me, miss, and he’s out to learn, night-school classes an’ that. I know he’s young, but he’s worked with black lead an’ blackin’ even afore it was ever thought of being used to shine a boot or shoe. But it’s up to you, miss, it’s up to you.’

  She made her eyebrows rise as if in surprise, and she said, ‘Joe? Well, he is young.’

  ‘Excuse me interrupting you, miss, he’s only young in age, I mean, being twenty-three, but he’s got an old head on his shoulders and, you know, he knows this business from A to Z. You’ll never do better. I wouldn’t rest in me bed, no I wouldn’t, an’ I’d keep on in this job until I dropped at that desk rather than see it go to upstarts like that King fella. Why on earth, miss…excuse me for saying so, but why on earth, miss, you put him in there, I’ll never know.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, George, but it was either him or no-one. We had numbers after the post but no-one was experienced enough. And it appears that he had been working in…’

  ‘Yes, I know, I know’—he interrupted her again—‘in Hull, for Reckitts. Yes, I know, I know all about that, and his big ideas. Anyway, least said about him the better, for it gets me monkey up just to think about him. So what d’you say, miss? It’s either Johnny or Joe. As I said, it’s up to you, but if you want my opinion, you’d side on Joe. Aye, you would.’

  ‘Well, if you say so, George. If you say so.’

  ‘I do say so, miss, I do. An’ I’ve said it to meself; not only to meself, I’ve said it to the missis time and again, the one who should step into me shoes should be young Joe. It’ll be a big jump for him mind, because he’s only been in the business full-time for nine years.’

  Yes, she knew he had been in the business full-time for only nine years. She remembered the day she first saw him. She was on holiday from school and her father was doing his rounds and had taken her with him. And there was this boy. She thought he looked like an imp: he was darting here and there, and he had stopped before her and smiled at her, and she saw that he had the most beautiful eyes.

  ‘Is there something on your mind, miss, about Joe?’

  She started slightly before saying, ‘No, George; I was just thinking about Father, and I’m sure he would have thought along the same lines as you do
.’

  ‘Oh yes, your father. He knew a worker when he saw one.’ He leant towards her, saying, ‘How would it be, miss, if I sent him in an’ you broke the news to him yourself?’

  ‘I would like that very much, George. Yes, that’s a good idea of yours.’

  Alone in the little office, she looked down at her hands still encased in her riding gloves, and she thought, I’m about to make Joe the manager of a small boot-polish factory. Would it were Palmer’s Shipyard, or Redhead’s, or Armstrong’s. Oh yes, would it were.

  When the door opened and Joe stood there hesitating on the threshold, she said, ‘Come in, Joe. Come in.’

  ‘You wanted to see me, miss?’

  ‘Yes, Joe, I wanted to see you. And I’ll come to the point. Mr Fields is long past retiring. He should have done it five, or even ten years ago. But now I’m glad he didn’t, because you wouldn’t have been ready for the position, I mean, of taking his place.’

  When Joe didn’t answer her, but stared down into her face, she said, ‘You’re hesitating. Is there some reason? I know it will be a big change for you. You’ll have to train someone into your work; and then there’ll be the office.’ She now parted the ledger. ‘But you can read and write, can’t you?’

  ‘Oh yes, miss. Oh yes, I can read and write, and reckon.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I thought you could. Are you still going to the classes?’

  ‘Yes, miss, regularly twice a week; and a lecture when one’s on.’

  ‘Good. Good. Well then, what is your answer?’

  ‘Well, miss, it’s foregone. I mean, I was a bit stumped. I know old…I mean Mr Fields is gettin’ on, but he’s been here so long…well, I thought he wouldn’t be leaving till he dropped down dead on the job. An’ then there’s Johnnie, Johnnie McInnes.’

  ‘Oh, we’ve been over that.’ They exchanged a smile and then she said quietly, ‘Mr Fields is really tired and is recognising it. It was he, you know, who recommended you for the position.’ Then in a conspiratorial tone, she said, ‘I led up to it by asking him if he would like someone like Mr King, you know, from the candle factory.’

  ‘Oh.’ Joe’s head jerked upwards. ‘You put your foot in it there, miss. That name’s like a red rag to a bull to him.’

  ‘I thought it might be.’

  ‘He’d rather have taken Danny Green off the dray carts and brought him inside than have anybody like Mr King.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine he would. But he mentioned you; and if he hadn’t, I would have done so myself.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, miss. Thank you. You’ll not lose by it, I can tell you that; I’ve got ideas in me head. We could do much better than we do already, you know, miss. Not that, oh no’—his hand was wagging before his face now—‘not that I’m saying a word against Mr Fields’s ways. No, they’re steady, steady and sure. But I just thought that here and there, there could be a change that I think would bring in more custom. We could do a lot of advertising, like Mrs Martha Simms: Bone manure, charcoal, blackin’ and coal dust. You know, her and her lads in Nun’s Lane.’ He began to laugh, and she with him; and then she said, ‘I’ve seen it. It’s done in really beautiful script, too good for the product, I think, but nevertheless, she’s an enterprising lady, and we could do worse than copy her and put in an advert mentioning our acid-free boot-top blacking liquid and our special heel polish.’

  ‘Great, miss. Yes, great. An’ perhaps you could engage a traveller, sort of.’

  ‘Yes. Yes’—she nodded at him—‘that’s a very good idea, too. We must discuss it later, Joe.’

  ‘We will, miss. And thank you very much indeed, yes, indeed. An’ you know, it’s odd, miss, but I was gonna collar you…I mean, I was goin’ to ask for a word with you on your way out. It’s…it’s about a house.’

  ‘A house, Joe?’

  ‘Aye. Yes. Well, you see, it’s like this, miss. I’m for bein’ married soon.’

  Her lips parted, her head moved, and she repeated, ‘Married?’ and with the word she experienced a feeling like a smothered blow hitting her ribs.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I know it’s sudden, and it’s sudden for me an ’all. It…well, to tell you the truth, miss, an’ in private, it was sort of sprung on me, or I sprung it on meself, you could say, yesterday. It’s Lily Whitmore.’

  ‘Lily? Oh, she’s a very pretty girl, very pretty.’

  ‘Yes, she is, miss, an’ nice with it, but…but…well—’ He now looked down towards the desk and, reaching out his hand, he began to draw small circles with his forefinger on the edge of it as he went on, ‘I can…I can say this to you, miss, because I’ve always been able to talk to you, haven’t I, over the years? Well, it’s like this: I’ve had my eye on her since well, she was sixteen or so. Now she’s eighteen. But I’ve never thought there was much chance for me because, as you said, she is a bonny lass, an’ there have been others that had eyes an’ all, and this didn’t escape them either. So I felt on the sidelines as it were, looking on. And then yesterday I found she was in a fix, an’ so…You know what I mean, miss, don’t you, in a fix? She’s…she’s…well’—the circles increased in size as he directed his gaze down to the table again—‘she’s goin’ to have a bairn.’

  ‘Oh. Oh. She’s…? Oh, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Aye, so am I. But I’m takin’ it on me shoulders because, you see, I want her, an’ it’s a chance I mightn’t have got otherwise. At the same time, though, I wish it could have been otherwise, you know.’

  She now pushed her riding hat upwards off her brow and pressed a loose strand of hair under it before she said tentatively, ‘The father? What…what about the father, I mean?’

  ‘Aye. Aye, I know what you mean, miss. But there’s as much likelihood of the father marrying her as of—’ he was about to say, ‘me marryin’ you,’ but, his mind springing to a nursery rhyme that he remembered since his first and only attendance at Sunday School, he said, ‘of the sky fallin’.’ The line was mixed up with Henny Penny and Cocky Locky going to tell somebody or other that the sky was going to fall, and so he added, ‘That’s a line from a rhyme I remember hearing the only time I went to Sunday School.’

  ‘You know who this man is then?’

  ‘Aye, I do, miss.’

  ‘Is he of the—’ She couldn’t say gentry and she couldn’t say class, so she changed to, ‘I mean, is he in some kind of high position?’

  ‘Aye, you could say that, miss. Though I don’t know what he does for a livin’. I don’t think he earns his livin’. None of his type do.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, I see. Well, may I ask if he knows of her…condition?’

  ‘Aye. Aye, you may ask, miss, and I can answer, he does. And he tried to pay her off.’

  ‘Are you going to do anything about it?’

  ‘No. No, I’m not, miss, because if I did it would bring more disgrace on her head. So I’m just goin’ to stand the racket. It’ll be put on me in any case in most quarters.’

  His hand had left the table now. It was rubbing the bottom of his chin and mixing the sweat with the grime from his fingers.

  But for a moment there arose in her mind a picture of him dressed in a fine worsted suit, with tan leggings gleaming over highly polished shoes; at his neck a grey silk cravat and, topping his clean-shaven face and fair hair, a high hat. Such a fine figure of a man; and he could have been if only…if only…yes, if the sky should fall. Odd that he should remember that nursery rhyme since his once and only attendance at Sunday School. The teacher must have been a nice person in that she had deviated from spending the Sunday afternoon stuffing God and the Bible into their little heads.

  He was speaking again: ‘Well, as I said, miss, what I wanted to ask you was about a house. D’you have…or I mean, does your rent man tell you of any to let? I don’t mind where, miss. But I don’t want Lily to have to start married life in these hovels round here. I can say this to you, miss, because they’re not your property; you would never have put up with places like these. An’ I don’t mind where it is,
this side or yon side of Gateshead, Low Fell, Birtley, or anywhere, because we could always get the cart in, at least in the mornings.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure I can help you there, Joe; there’s bound to be a house going empty somewhere. It would be a two up, two down you’d like, would it?’

  ‘Oh yes, miss. That would be simply grand.’

  ‘Well, I’ll get in touch with my agent tomorrow and I’ll get a message to you.’

  ‘By, you are kind, miss! You are indeed. I’ve had a lot to thank you for over the years: I knew you had been behind me getting the gaffer’s job; and now you’re makin’ me manager. Well, there’s one thing I can say, miss, I’ll never be out of your debt. And, you know, when people say anythin’ like that they always end up by sayin’, “If there’s anythin’ ever I can do for you, you’ve just got to ask.” But at this minute I can’t see you ever bein’ in such a position that you would have to call on me for assistance. Yet, I’ll say it, if there’s anythin’…well’—he grinned now—‘you know the rest. But I mean it.’ He took a step back from her and, as a gentleman of rank might have done, he bowed to her from the shoulders, then turned and went out.

  If there’s anything I can ever do for you…Under different circumstances, what he could have done for her! Yes, indeed…under different circumstances. She rose from the chair and went out of the office.