Comet

by Andie J Fessey

  “Oh, that’s his collar,” he replied, smiling, “keeps Comet secured to the cart and will keep him secured in the future.”

  Turning, before the children asked him any more questions, he knelt in front of them.

  “Back in 1924, a pair of Shire draft horses, a bit like Comet here, pulled a load of fifty tons and the same year, another Shire, a bit smaller than Comet I hasten to add, but a local horse all the same, single-handedly pulled twenty-nine tons! What do you think of that eh?”

  The children stared at him, uncertain whether he was joking.

  “Really, Mister Archie?” Daniel asked.

  Leaning across to him, Archie ruffled the youngster’s hair with one of his leathery hands.

  “The Gospel truth me lad, the Gospel truth,” he said sincerely and smiling.

  Daniel stared into his face and smiled, before joining the others in looking at the horse in awe.

  Smiling, Archie climbed onto the cab and giving the children a wave, beckoned Comet forward.

  Chapter Eleven

  Though there hung no threat of rain in the evening air, unlike the torrential downpour casting its embrace across the city the previous night, the harsh wind originating from the river, began to pick up and now howled around the two men.

  “Are you sure it’s alright Bert?” Archie asked, stood next to the lit metal brassier at the side of the road, his hands dug deep within the pockets of his heavy overcoat.

  The other man rubbed his own grizzled hands as close to the heat of the coals as possible, without the heat becoming too unbearable, their glowing embers radiating a deep crimson in the darkness and flying from the brazier into the air like glowing fireflies.

  “Look Archie, I know you don’t do anything under hand mate and I promise that it is all above board. O’Leary is supposed to be going in there in a few days to mop it up. It’s all open game right now.”

  “O’Leary?” Archie asked, his bushy grey eyebrows rising.

  “Aye, bastard seems to have his bloody finger in every pie around here at the moment,” Bert replied, spitting onto the ground.

  “I don’t know if I want to be going rummaging around if O’Leary has already laid claims to it. I get enough grief from him as it is,” Archie said.

  “It’s your call Archie,” Bert stated.

  Archie looked passed his companion, to the derelict buildings.

  This must be what that Tobias bloke was on about.

  The dark outlines of the remaining walls like ancient, jagged teeth, protruded from the ground, after being hit by the Luftwaffe during the infamous May blitz several years before.

  Taking stock of his situation, Archie knew there was enough set aside to make sure Comet was always tended to, and he knew, rationing aside, there would be food on his own table, but opportunities like these were few and far between.

  He had scoured many derelict buildings before, victims of the Axis onslaught, but who knew what treasures may be discovered beneath the rubble of this untouched dockland victim?

  “You’d have thought it’d have been long picked through by now.” Archie said, thinking aloud.

  “Corpy have had their hands full enough as it is Archie,” Bert replied.

  “You won’t be getting in trouble for this will you Bert?” Archie asked.

  Bert grinned, with but a couple of teeth left in his mouth, this gave his face a comical expression.

  “Nah, not at all Archie. The walls around the docks took a hell of a battering during the war as you well know, I can’t be expected to keep an eye on all of it,” he replied with a wink, accentuating his comical look.

  Archie knew various merchandise disappeared from the docks on a regular basis, with the rationing still hitting people hard, it brought a smile to many local faces.

  Tobacco, clothing, fancy goods and alcohol especially, there was always a demand for whatever found its way from the ships to the shores of the Mersey.

  Archie was averse to stealing anything, but you could not always turn away a bargain if it fell from the back of a ship.

  “What about the bombs which fell on it?” he enquired.

  “Oh, the army blokes cleared it out a year or so ago, they weren’t here for too long as they were being shipped over to the Raj or something. They made a bloody good job of it too. I can’t even remember what was in the sheds before they went up, but there must be some good metal in there otherwise O’Leary wouldn’t be bothering his arse about it.”

  “Well, I can always go have a butchers and see if there’s anything worth having.”

  “You do that Archie.”

  “I can be back in the morning with the cart and grab anything then if that’s alright Bert?”

  “That’s fine Archie, I will be here until about eight o’clock before old Herb takes over.”

  Smiling, Archie walked slowly to the distant ruins of the buildings, the harsh wind blowing across the Mersey cold enough to make him pull up the collars of his trench-coat even more, to protect his neck and face from its icy embrace.

  More than once, he found himself slipping or tripping over the rubble, hands held in front of him to steady himself, slowly walking to the immense carcass of the largest building.

  Pieces of brickwork lay strewn around of him, shards of metal work protruding from the ground.

  There’s a fair bit of picking to be had here for sure.

  The wind blew around him more violently now, scaling the vast mound of rubble leading to the remains of the building.

  Turning around, he saw the glittering light of the brazier glistening in the distance, causing a faint glow to outline Bert’s figure.

  Returning his gaze to the shell of the building he was heading to, another sharp, powerful gust of wind from across the Mersey caught him and he found himself leaning forwards to be able to keep upright.

  Jesus H Mary, Mother of Christ, this is ridiculous.

  The wind screamed around his ears, piercing whistles penetrating the air, as it found its way through pipes and around broken sanctions scattered amongst the debris.

  Hunching the collars of his trench coat higher around his neck, he pulled its lapels tightly to his chest, as it felt the wind brought with it the icy embrace of the deep depths of the Mersey itself.

  It was an arduous ordeal traversing the remains of the buildings.

  He was careful not to stand on any of the protruding spikes of metal work, appearing from the ground like metallic foliage, reaching up to the sky hoping to grow again into what it once stood before.

  A ferocious gust, howling and piercing his ears in a shrill banshee-like scream hit him, causing him to stumble backwards, his hands reaching out instinctively, grasping onto a piece of shattered wood thrusting from the nearby ground.

  Holding tightly to it to keep his balance, he turned around to look through the distance to Bert.

  Too bloody dangerous here, I’d best head back.

  After waiting until there appeared a lull in the onslaught of the wind, he found his footing again and steadied himself to begin his trek back, when a glow to his right caused him to turn, noticing the moonlight glistening from a surface within the carcass of the building.

  Carefully he edged his way to the gaping hole in what was left of the brickwork. Peering inside the ruined shell of the building, he spied upon great pieces of corroded metal scattered within, some lay on the floor, with others stood erect in defiance of the destruction they suffered during the war.

  Looks promising.

  Steadying himself, he clambered over the broken brickwork into the interior of the building, stumbling as his feet located a steady grip onto the floor beneath him.

  Looking around he watched the detritus upon the floor swirl in a maelstrom brought on by the gusts of wind from the river, coughing harshly as particles of entered his throat.

  Looking up, he saw the moon appearing through the dark clouds above, casting welcome light dissipating the darkness surrounding him.

  Catching
sight of a great hole in the floor ahead, he traversed the rubble, his curiosity piqued by whatever lay underneath.

  Reaching the broken wooden flooring, bricks and rubble laying around it, he slowly and carefully edged his way forward, until he became close enough to risk peering into the darkness below.

  Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness below, he nearly gave up hope, when the moonlight appeared again.

  Though not strong enough to clearly illuminate the darkness within the hole, it was enough to enable Archie to make out a mass of crumpled metal.

  Bloody hell, that looks like a large piece!

  Edging his way closer to the lip of the broken floor, he found he was unable to discern the exact size of the object, as another cloud obscured the moonlight.

  Damn and Blast!

  Looking around to see if there was anything he could hold to brace himself, he caught sight of a wooden beam protruding above his head.

  Stretching his arm upwards, he took a firm grip on it.

  Shaking it gently, he realised one of the smells pervading his nostrils being his own perspiration.

  It appeared sturdy and stable enough so, holding on to it tightly, he leant over the hole to gain a better vantage point.

  Underneath him lay a thin veneer of dust and light rubble covering most of the object, tiny specks of dust floating above it like will o’ the wisps.

  Leaning in closer he became aware of two things simultaneously, the first being the realisation the beam he was holding onto broke away from the remainder of the flooring it had been attached to.

  The second, being the understanding of the nature of the object he fell towards, as heavy rubble from the floor above cascaded after him into the hole.

  Even from the distance he stood away from the derelict remains of the building, Bert found himself thrown to the ground by the force of the explosion.

  “What the hell?!” He shouted, though his voice was silent to his deafened ears.

  He scrambled away from the pieces of burning coal rolling from the fallen brazier onto the ground around him.

  Struggling to his knees, he stared in the direction of where the explosion had originated from and where flames now Iris, reaching heavenwards into the night sky.

  His ears rang with the sound of a thousand bells as his heart pounded hard in chest, before the cold harshness of realisation washed over him, as it dawned upon him what he stared at.

  “Archie!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Frank sat adjacent to his brother Jack on one of the long wooden benches located to the rear of the large, spacious hall, both boys assisting each other with pulling on their boxing gloves.

  “What are we doing today our Robert?” Jack asked, assisting his brother with a flawless ease in regard to lacing up his large brown gloves, comically dwarfing his twin’s young arms.

  “I’m not sure Jack, I’ll go ask Tom in a mo.” Robert replied, kneeling next to the bench, taking in the scene of activities commencing within the hall.

  The brothers looked in the direction of Tom Murphy, a short, slim man in his early fifties currently stood halfway across the hall from them. He was in the midst of giving instructions to two youths standing in the middle of one of the two rings dominating the centre of the hall.

  The hall, situated on Seaforth Road, presently contained approximately twenty lads of various ages and sizes, being put through their paces by Tom and a couple of older youths acting as his coaches.

  Standing, Robert ran to Tom who, after finishing instructing the two lads of the movements he required them to perform, was in the middle of rolling up a cigarette.

  He turned, hearing Robert approaching him, the squeak of his pumps loud upon the recently waxed wooden floor.

  “Alright Rob son,” he said, placing his lips upon the paper of his roll up.

  “Yeah Tom, only wanted to know what you wanted us to do first today?”

  Tom glanced at the rest of the youths in the club, some lifting iron weights, some performing sit ups or push ups, others climbing the ropes hanging from the ceiling high above them.

  “Get yer brothers to use the skipping ropes and yer can get to work on the climbing ropes, before I put yer in the ring for some sparring.”

  Robert glanced in the direction of the closest ring where the two boys were circling one and other, their arms held up to protect their faces from the possible swing or jab of a punch from the other.

  He inhaled a long breath, watched the two pugilists slowly circle each other.

  The ring was where he wanted to be precisely then. It was where he felt most alive, most at one with himself in the purity of the fight and the ring.

  In his fantasies and day dreams, he longed to be as good as his hero, Joseph Louis Barrow, better known as Joe Louis, the American professional boxer nicknamed the ‘Brown Bomber’ who held the world heavyweight championship title since 1937.

  In Roberts view, he was the greatest heavyweight of all time.

  Knowing it would soon be his time to step back into the ring, he turned to his mentor with a smile upon his young face.

  “Okay Tom”, he replied, returning to his brothers.

  “Okay lads, Tom wants you two to start using the skipping ropes.”

  “I thought we were going to go in the ring, like you promised?” Jack asked, both surprised and sad.

  “You will do, Tom said last week that it’s time you two started sparring,” Robert replied, “but you’ll have to warm up first and anyways, Chris and Davey are in there at the moment.”

  “Are you doing any sparring today?” Jack asked, whilst they watched the two young pugilists in the ring.

  “Tom said I am, I don’t know who with though,” Robert said, looking around the hall at the other youths assembled there, “probably with Mark Young I think.”

  They looked in the direction of the heavy-set youth halfway across the hall performing sit-ups, head moving left to right as each alternate move brought it to his knees.

  “He’s alright is Mark, he’ll go easy on you,” Frank said good-naturedly.

  “Cheers Frank, a vote of confidence,” Robert replied smiling.

  “He’s a lot taller than you, so he’s a longer reach Rob,” Jack said, “but he likes getting kidney punches in, so keep your arms tucked in low.”

  Robert smiled, feeling proud of his siblings.

  He knew Jack struggled at school, having problems remembering a lot of the topics his teacher spoke about in class. But, when it came to the confines of the boxing hall, he remembered each minute detail.

  The trio of siblings separated, walking to the various apparatus they were assigned to.

  Robert reached one of the several long ropes hanging from the ceiling, as Mark reached the one dangling next to it.

  “Alright Rob,” Mark said with a broad smile, raising his hands, to take a grip on the rope.

  “Alright Mark, how’s it going?” Robert replied, mimicking the procedure, as he raised himself from the ground.

  “Not bad lah, not bad,” Mark replied, raising himself, with his muscular arms.

  Making their way slowly up the ropes, keeping level with one and other, they continued to engage in conversation.

  “Did yer hear that big bang last night?” Mark asked.

  “I slept through it, but our Iris said the windows shook.”

  “I know ours did, but we’re closer to where it happened than you.”

  Mark and his family lived in one of the streets near the lower end of Marsh Lane.

  The sound of the explosion not only awoke his family, but most of the households around the area.

  “Any idea what it was?” Robert managed to say, pulling himself further up the rope, the muscles in his arms straining with a burning sensation as he lifted his body up.

  Unlike the younger youths frequenting the club, Tom preferred the older boys did not use their knees or legs to assist them in their ascent of the long ropes, only the strength of their hands a
nd arms.

  “A bloody big bang!” Mark replied grinning wide, using his long arms to pull himself further up his own rope, overtaking Robert.

  Robert shook his head and chuckled, pulling harder on the rope, becoming nearly level with his friend.

  It took them a few minutes to reach the tops of their respective ropes, Mark managing to beat Robert by only a mere yard.

  I’ll soon be as quick as him.

  They wrapped their legs tightly around the ropes, taking a breather before they began their descent.

  Descending, they saw the large wooden doors forming the entrance to the club open widely, as a tall, wiry man walked in, dragging a stocky ginger haired youth in his wake.

  Maurice Nelson!

  Robert rapidly speeded his descent, when he saw Maurice point to where Jack and Frank skipped.

  The surly looking man, squinted to where his brothers stood, before grabbing Maurice by the shoulder and marching him towards them.

  Robert barely reached the ground, when he let go of the rope and dropped to his feet, immediately falling into a kneeling position.

  He quickly rose, running to Maurice and his companion, as Tom reached them first.

  “I know yer, don’t I?” Tom asked the young man.

  “Ian, Ian Nelson,” he replied.

  Tom stood pondering for a moment, taking a drag on his roll up.

  “Ahh,” he said, pointing his roll up at him, “yer used to come here years ago didn’t yer?”

  “Aye, I did right enough,” Ian replied.

  “Thought I recognised yer,” Tom said, staring at him intently, “didn’t I ban yer for nicking or something?”

  Ian realised a few of the nearby youths, stood staring at him.

  “I was a nipper back then, didn’t know right from wrong in those days,” he replied.

  “I suppose, we all did stuff we’re not proud of back when we were kids,” Tom said, staring into his eyes.

  “Aye, that’s right,” Ian replied, “and I did learn right from wrong, that’s why I’m here.”

  “Oh, how’s that then?”

  “I want justice for my brother ‘ere,” he said, pulling Maurice forward by the scruff of his collar.