by Paul Kelly
“Yes ... He ... Mr. Bangs is my boss at the Site where I work. I’d have to ask him and he’ll let you know, but as I’ve already said, I’m only an apprentice.”
“Oh! Lovely I’m sure your excellent at your job, Willie,” added Beattie Carson, “Phone him now G.P and get it all arranged, will you?”
“He will have gone home by now, I would imagine,” said Willie, “And I should be getting off myself, if you don’t mind. Thanks for the tea. You are both very kind.”
He left the house and got into the truck and the two ladies peered at him from the lace-curtained window of their lounge, with their heads together. They looked quaint, framed in the window as Willie found difficulty with the gears. It had to happen like that when he wanted to make his exit so quickly, but he glanced back at the window and waved a final good-bye to see Trottie wiping her mouth carefully with a tissue and Beattie twitching with a sweatier face than she had had for a very long time. Willie smiled as the truck started to move slowly at first away from the house before he gathered speed when he changed up on the old, cranky gears and pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator pedal with his dusty, size eleven, steel-capped boot.
“Don’t think your brogues would fit me now, Miss Carson,” .he giggled.
***
Trottie was delighted to have met Willie again. Their meeting brought back so many happy memories of her days at St. Bonaventure’s and it had been so unexpected. Completely out of the blue and almost like a miracle. Life had been pleasant for Trottie in those days before her romance had turned sour and had it not been for the kindness and understanding of Beatrice Romana Carson, she would certainly have suffered a very severe and acute nervous breakdown. Beattie had invited Trottie to share her home with her for as long as she needed and although the offer was the perfect solution for Trottie at that time, her nerves had already become so frayed that she had taken to smoking and drinking as an anticipated relief. She had abandoned her career as a gymnastic instructress and her new position as a local librarian did not totally satisfy the demands of her character, nevertheless, she did her best and her gratitude to Beattie was always with her. She occasionally lashed out when her drinking bouts took over, but Beattie had enough tolerance and patience for both of them and they became very good friends.
Trottie lit up another cigarette and poured herself a neat Schmirnoff.
“Want a drink, Beattie?” she asked but her friend was still thinking of the vision that had just left her house and she heard nothing. “Wasn’t that kind of Banger to let us have those bricks Beattie? I know he said he would, but I thought he was joking.”
Trottie looked at Beattie as she spoke, but she got no response. She was well aware that dear Miss Carson, ex-Headmistress of St. Bon’s never had a visit from an ex-pupil and so she should have understood her deep appreciation of the event that had just transformed her routine and mundane life, now since she had retired, but Miss Golding-Potts, spinster of the Parish of St. James the Less or was it James the Great she wasn’t sure ... was a little more practical, if even adventurous and mischievous about her destiny. She decided to take a walk in the park and went upstairs to get her coat, but when she returned downstairs, Beattie was still languishing in the lounge. She slung her coat across her shoulders and lit another fag.
“Want anything when I’m out, Dear?” She called as she was leaving.
Beattie Carson sighed.
“Yes Banger is very kind Dear ...” she said softly and stared blankly ahead.
Trottie stood very close to her friend and with very determined emphasis, she said, “I’m going to knickers to buy Harrods, Dear.”
“Yes, dear ...” Beattie replied, “Thank him for the bricks dear.”
Trottie blew a puff of smoke into the air and left the house, closing the door quietly behind her.
***
The foreman watched Willie as he cleared the runway to get his barrow moving.
“You know them bricks you took to Clarkston last week, Blair?”
“Yes, Mr. Bangs,” Willie answered, eager to say Banger and to watch his superior’s reaction, but he resisted.
“Well I want you to go there again this morning actually and make a start at re-building a garage wall. It shouldn’t take you long well I don’t know so much about that really the way you work ...” Willie raised his head and stared at the sky as Mr. Bangs went on with his remarks ...”Well, you’re coming along quite nicely actually, Blair and it will be good practice for you.” Banger spoke condescendingly.
“How long should it take me?” Willie asked, already with the knowledge of having seen the work required and Banger stared at him. He grunted and closed one eye.
“No more than two days, I should say...Mind you if I was doin’ it, I could knock it out in half -an-hour that little lot.”
I could knock it down in less, thought Willie, but he said nothing about the competence of Mr. Charles Bangs.
“Will I go now?”
“Yes and take what tools you’ll need from the store and no sittin’ aroon, drinkin’ tea or anything like that when ye get there, mind.”
Willie proceeded to the stores, giving Bangs a salute as he passed him and the latter smiled proudly. Well, he took Willie’s sign to be a salute .You see, he thought, it was easy to train these young lads all you had to do was be firm and show them who’s boss.
When Willie arrived at 52 Graham Road, he didn’t need to contact anyone in the house. The garage was at the front of the building and he had all the tools he required. The bricks were on site and there was an outside water tap nearby to mix his cement. He took off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, but the sun got hotter as he worked and he eventually removed his shirt. He had been working for nearly an hour when he was interrupted.
“Come and have a cup of coffee, Willie. You’ve been working long enough at that.”
He looked around to see Trottie standing beside him. He was on his knees and her shape shadowed the sun and took the heat from his shoulders.
“I didn’t think anyone was at home, so I just got on I hope that’s O.K?” he replied mopping his brow as he stood up. Trottie smiled at him.
“Changed days when you were just a wee nipper, eh? I could have cuffed you round the ear then, but I wouldn’t like to try it now,” she quipped as she led the way into the house.
“I’ll just put the kettle on. Sit down somewhere ...anywhere,” she said and sauntered off into the kitchen.
“Excuse me Miss.”
Trottie guessed what he was about to say and with forethought, she indicated that it was the first right at the top of the stairs. He raced up, two at a time and returned a few moments later. Trottie had already set the tea tray on the table and Willie could see Banger’s face staring at him in that moment.
‘Don’t sit aroon, drinkin tea aw day “... he heard the voice again and the face sneered as he dusted his trousers and sat down, sticking his cap as usual in his hip pocket.
“Do you ever see any of the other boys now-a-days, Willie? I mean, the lads who were at school in your time?”
Willie sipped slowly from his cup.
“One or two occasionally,” he said, “But my best friend, Wattie er James Watts has been conscripted into the army. I had a letter from him this morning actually and he’s somewhere in the Middle East, from what I can understand.”
Willie was feeling more confident as the conversation progressed and he wanted to ask Trottie about Mr. Finnecan, but he thought it best not to under the circumstances of his leaving the school and anyway, she didn’t offer any information about him, or any of the other teachers from St. Bon’s except Miss Carson, of course.
“Don’t think I can remember Watts,” she said, “He wasn’t that young lad who was found in the Clyde one dreadful morning, was he? Something to do with a wicked step father or something like that
” Willie lowered his head and remembered bitterly.
“No that was Craig Danniels. He was a good friend of mine too.”
“Oh! Yes, of course it was Craig Danniels. I remember clearly now when you mention his name. Beattie That’s Miss Carson and I have been together here for the past two years. She is a very good friend and has helped me over a somewhat difficult patch and I shall always be grateful to her.” Trottie looked sad; almost as if she felt a compulsion to tell her young listener of her misfortune, even against her inner judgement. She shrugged her shoulders and put her cup back on the tray. “She’ll be back in about an hour, I should think. Do you want a drink? I mean something stronger than tea?” ... she enquired as she nodded towards the whisky decanter.
“No thanks, Miss.”
She looked imploringly at Willie and then at the whisky. Its amber depth tantalised her as it gleamed in the sun.
“No” she concluded, “Nor will I” and she smacked her hands on her knees as she rose and the chair creaked.
“You’re a steadying influence on me Willie Blair. Do you know that?” Willie stood up and looked at Trottie. He wanted to remember her as he once knew her the bouncing, carefree, lovable, dependable Trottie who was in complete control of her life, but he knew he was looking at a different woman and it grieved him. She put her hand on his arm and her grip tightened.
“Call me Trottie, please ...you handsome creature, you.” Willie blushed as she wiped a tiny tear from the corner of her eye “Will you have lunch with us?” she asked, “Beattie will be home soon.”
“I can get something at the cafe Trottie, thanks”
She sniffed and threw her head back, making her hair bounce across her broad shoulders.
“You will have lunch, HERE,” she proclaimed and he left the house to continue his work on the garage.
***
Beattie arrived home just after twelve noon, laden down again with her shopping and Willie rushed to help her as she searched in her handbag for her key, but before she could find it, Trottie opened the door. She took the shopping indoors and Beattie lingered a little at the front entrance to admire the progress in the garage construction.
“My, my... You’ll soon have that job finished,” she said shyly as Willie picked up his cap which had fallen as he had gone to help her with the shopping and shoved it into his back pocket.
“I only have the door to hang and I should get that done this afternoon. I hope then, everything will be O.K.”
Beattie wished he hadn’t been so efficient, nor so fast with the repairs and she puzzled in her mind if there wasn’t some more work she could find somewhere for him to do.
“Hi there ... How are things then?”
Willie recognised the voice and waited for the criticism of his work which he was sure was to follow, but Bangs smiled and said nothing to him. Nothing at all ... In fact he ignored him and turned his attentions to Miss Carson and smiled.
“Ah! Mr. Bangs Yes, everything is fine ... Just fine. Young Willie here has done a magnificent job and we are just going to stop a little while to have lunch. He’s a splendid young apprentice. You must be proud of him.”
Bangs sucked his teeth.
“Yea ... He’s alright got a lot more to learn, but he’s alright, I suppose.”
He left his smile with Miss Carson and turned to Willie with a frown as he tossed half-a-crown into the air and caught it again in the palm of his hand. “Get yerself something to eat at the cafe, and then clear orf ...”
“Thank you Mr.Bangs.” Willie put his tools away and stuck his trowel into a bucket of water and as he made his way to the cafe, Bangs followed Beattie into the house.
“Are you there, G.P,” she called out to Trottie, removing her kid gloves as she spoke and tucking them into the pockets of her Astrakhan coat.
“I’m here dear. Lunch will be ready in five minutes.”
“Thank gawd,” muttered Bangs, “I’m starvin’” he rubbed his hands together and sucked his teeth for the second time. “Could eat a scabby ‘orse, I could,” he grinned and raised his eyebrows in expectation just as Trottie appeared in the doorway of the lounge. She looked around the room before she crossed the floor and glanced out of the window in the direction of the garage.
“Where’s Willie?” she enquired angrily as she saw Banger sitting complacently on the settee.
“Ye mean, the lad? Oh! I sent ‘im orf to the cafe for ‘is break,” Bangs sniffed in assurance of his authority, “Now I’m sure you’ll have enough for three, eh?” He rose from where he was sitting and winked at Trottie but she ignored him and he did not like it. He put his arms around her and pinched her bottom, but she slapped his hand and tightened her lips in anger.
“Don’t do that...” she snapped, “I thought Mr. Blair would be having lunch with us. Didn’t you Beattie?”
Banger shot his head forward and twisted his neck to release his tie which was beginning to cause him discomfort. He wasn’t used to such fineries.
“Mr. Blair ...Mr. Blair, indeed. What the hell is this? He’s only a bloody apprentice. He’s ten-a-penny that one. What’s he been fillin’ your pretty ‘eads wiff, girls?”
Trottie ignored his remark with a look of disgust. “I can hire or fire that lad, just as I please,” he went on.
Trottie stared at him and her eyes were wild. She had allowed old Banger certain liberties, because he had been kind to Beattie and herself in doing jobs and supplying materials at a reduced rate, but this was too much. She restrained herself for Willie’s sake as she did not want him to lose his job and Beattie looked afraid as she watched the reaction.
“You’re a very important person, Mr, Bangs,” Trottie patronized, “but that young man has worked extremely hard on our garage and although I am grateful to you for everything I do feel he deserves more than a little praise.”
Bangs was astounded.
“Call me Banger, Darlin’ not Bangs, that does make me feel important, but he’s only an apprentice, I tell you. Any one of my lads could ‘ave done that there job ... an’ better too, I shouldn’t wonder. I’ll inspect his work after I’ve had dinner wiff you and I’ll give you me verdik then, O.K. It was just that he lived nearest to where you is ... or he would never ‘ave got the job in the first place. That one’s a skiver, take it from me. He’s got big baby blue eyes an’ a set of even white molars, but he’s no better than any of the others at the Site. He acts better... that’s all.”
Trottie could stand it no more and as she stormed out of the room, Beattie’s eyes widened with disbelief and her twitching started again as Banger’s face fell. He could not believe his ears.
“I say arseholes to you Mr.Bangs. ...Arseholes, Sir.”
Bangs opened his mouth wide as if to say something but no words came and Beattie Carson tried to cover her ears with her scented handkerchief as Trottie threw her coat across her shoulders and left the house, slamming the door hard behind her. Willie had only just collected his lunch on a tray from the counter of the cafe when she arrived and she moved swiftly towards the counter and addressed the woman who had just served him.
“I’ll pay for that,” she barked and passed the woman a one pound note. “Keep the change.” Willie stood holding his tray in confusion as Trottie pointed to a vacant table nearby. “Let’s sit here,” she said, guiding Willie with her as she threw back her head and laughed aloud.
“Thank you for paying for my lunch, Trottie. You didn’t have to do that. Mr. Bangs gave me ...” She cut him short.
“I know what Mr. Bangs gave you Willie but you don’t know what I gave him do you?”
Willie looked confused.
“Are you alright .... Trottie?” he asked and she stared at him mischievously as she hunched her broad shoulders.
“I’m fine, Willie. I’m really, really fine.”
She picked up a fat sausage from Willie’s plate and dabbed it on a paper serviette to remove the grease, then she made a face at it.
“May I?” she presumed, as she stuck the hotdog in her mouth and bit a lump off the end.
“Be my guest, Trottie,” he said.
Chapter Sixty-Three
“Alright ... Alright, I’m coming.”
The door bell rang, demanding urgent attention and continued to ring until Mary opened the door.
“Whatever is the matter ... Oh It’s ... It’s Mrs. Watts, isn’t it? Rita Watts?”
Rita Watts stood crying uncontrollably on the doorstep and Mary put her arms around her as she led her into the house, where they sat down in the lounge.
She was surprised to see Wattie’s Mammy in Rouken Glen. It was a fair distance from the Gorbals and must have taken Rita at least an hour to get there and a considerable fare on the bus. Her eyes were red and her nose was shiny from the incessant tears she had obviously shed.
“Sit down Rita and I’ll make some tea.”
Mary knew it would be difficult to get an explanation from Rita Watts until she had settled her with a cup of tea and she was worried. She knew Wattie’s Mammy of old and she also knew that she was not the type of woman to act in this way unless something serious was wrong. As she made the tea in the kitchen, she suddenly became afraid of the reasons for Rita’s visit and her heart leapt. My God, she thought ... It must be ... It must be that something has happened to Wattie. She ran back into the lounge and her instincts needed no further explanation as she put her arms around Rita and hugged her closely. Rita cried even more pathetically with the sympathy that she received and Mary did not have to read the telegram that her friend was clutching tightly between her fingers. She looked into Rita’s eyes and she knew ...
In the kitchen, the kettle whistled its demand for attention but the two women sat quietly motionless. Mary could think of nothing to say as she swayed to and fro with Rita in her arms, but she took the telegram gently from her hand and read it. Her heart was heavy and her mind was in pain. Tenderly, she stroked Rita’s head and her scarf slid over her ears.