They shook hands and as breakfast arrived they were soon tucking in. There was no further conversation between them, Joe opened the book he had with him and began to read it, even as he ate.
Claude made no further conversation. When Breakfast was finished both men rose and walked into the lounge. Joe continued to read whilst Claude sat wondering what if anything he could do, he didn’t fancy reading.
Reading in fact was never an option, for him, he had discovered over many years, once he began to read, he was soon asleep. That would never do he thought; I don’t want to get into that habit, not here, not now, no way, would he be a sleeper.
It was nearly lunchtime; in the end he had simply watched the lounge television. After some time Angelina arrived in company with Joe.
“I think you are acquainted with Joe,” she said “Your next-door neighbour from the other side of your room. I have been telling him of your past and your vast array of experiences, Joe agrees with me. These stories might well be of great interest to others, that is if you will tell them.”
Claude said, “A problem may well be matron, she has indicated to me, time on the home computer is limited to an hour each day for each person. If a resident uses their own they are likely to have the machine linked to a coin meter and the cost would be very high.”
Joe looked over his book and said, “Make sure she doesn’t find out, wack.”
Always, an honest view from a Scouser thought Claude but looked at Angelina, they smiled at each other.
Chapter 5
Some days later whilst in the town Claude met an old colleague and they began to converse of the old times.
He received a reply “I want to forget it all, the police are done for me, I never tell anyone I was a copper and don’t admit to it.”
As they parted company Claude thought back of the times they had worked together.
It was possible he didn’t recall anything thought Claude, when anything happened, this fellow always managed to engage himself in some menial task. If a fatal or police vehicle accident involving a lot of work occurred, he would be busy booking in some husband on a warrant for not paying his wife’s maintenance. If anything went wrong he was either on a day off or annual leave.
The fellow had a very useful skill thought Claude. The art of doing nothing or as little as possible but was able to convince senior officers he was busy. That, thought Claude was useful if you didn’t want to do anything. Any fool can be idle but to have the skill to do nothing yet convince those who matter one is industrious is a very useful skill.
Claude recalled how this chap had always had a soft touch, mostly worked in jobs 9 am to 5 pm with every weekend off. No working early morning shifts or worse full night duty. On leaving a warm cosy inside posting he was fortunate enough to get moved to a rural Police Station on the outskirts of Copton town. He once again fell for the easy life. The sergeant at such places always worked 9 am to 5 pm; the remainder of the time supervision was covered from Copton Police Station.
After some time a new chief arrived. He eventually noted his sergeant was booking on at 8 am and finishing at 4 pm but never arrived at the office till after 9 am, he left just before 3 pm. When the new boss took this up with his sergeant the officer had said he always called at Copton Police Station to pick up the mail and finished there at 4 pm after returning the mail.
Diligent enquiries were made and the new chief discovered that his sergeant was in fact taking his children to school for 9 am each day and collecting them after 3 pm. He was, to quote a phrase, “Giving a bullshit excuse and was working it.”
It was then decided on the new Chief’s recommendation that the talents of his sergeant would be best served elsewhere. Nothing was said concerning booking on and off but he was posted from the rural station to Copton main station and put on regular shifts, early morning, late and full night shifts.
Claude thought of the old story he once had told to him when another senior officer fell from grace.
A cockerel was pecking away in a field and after some time he became friendly with a bull. A Pheasant arrived and perched itself at the top of a tree.
One day the bull heard the Cockerel say. “If only I could fly to the top of that tree what a sight it would be to see the entire world, much better than struggling around in the muddy field.”
The problem was the cockerel didn’t have enough energy to fly that high. The Bull looked and told the cockerel, the farmer fed him corn, which is full of energy, advising the cockerel to eat some of his droppings, which contain the remnants of the corn. The cockerel did just that.
After the first day he was able to fly to the first branch of the tree.
The cockerel was so pleased that each day it ate more droppings until eventually it was able to fly to the top of the tree. The farmer was passing looked up, saw the bird and shot it, taking it home for his dinner. When the farmer had gone the bull turned to its calf and said.
“There is a lesson for you my son. If you want an easy life bullshit is very likely to get you to the top of the tree but it won’t necessarily keep you there.”
Yes indeed thought Claude the new boss was a pain in the ass but weighed up his “Passing brief colleague.”
This caused him to think of the time he was a uniform station sergeant.
Officers had arrested several criminals. He had accepted them into custody and locked them in the cells. Later the same day a senior officer had arrived and instructed Claude the prisoners were to be detained overnight for further enquiries the next day.
When he finished duty, he was relieved by the ex colleague who had just left. Claude updated him as to the circumstances and of the instruction to keep the prisoners in custody.
When Claude arrived for duty the next day the prisoners had been released by his colleague the previous evening, in spite of what Claude had told him.
Later that day the same senior officer arrived and Claude was called to see him.
“I instructed you to keep those prisoners in custody, they have been bailed,” he said.
“I did keep them in custody,” replied Claude, “When I left off duty at 2 pm I fully briefed the on coming sergeant, it was he who ignored your instructions.”
The senior officer replied, “Don’t try to blame him, he only had a passing brief, you were the officer who accepted the prisoner and to whom I spoke, it’s down to you.”
Claude replied, “But I was off duty at home there was nothing I could do.”
It made no difference the boss didn’t want to know, his old friend he thought, always had a passing brief or was on a day off when the wheel came off the wagon.
Over the next month Claude spent most of his time making notes but also out walking and not forgetting the views from his room window. He obtained some very nice shots, which he downloaded and made some very nice film clips to which he added music.
One afternoon whilst looking through the window he saw a lady dressed in country clothing and wearing a large hat pulled down over her face, walking along the canal side. She went to the lock Keepers shed and once inside closed the door.
Over the following weeks to come Claude saw her make regular such visits. On occasions she arrived at the cabin alone on others she met with the lock keeper and they walked together for a while before disappearing into the “love nest.” They were less than prudent once inside the cabin for they could be seen cavorting.
Now armed with a camera and a long lens Claude filmed what he saw. He was not a “Peeping Tom,” certainly not, with his respectful background.
He thought “This Matron pretending to be a Prim and Proper and such a stickler for the rules; in fact she was verging on a tyrant.”
He decided to store the images, say nothing, show them to no one just retain them for “Insurance Purposes,” he thought.
It was some days after witnessing the latest Matron and Lock keeper event that on coming down for his evening meal he over heard Sally speaking with Spud.
“Is that a fact?” said Sally, “And so the old man collapsed and when you called for Matron and her nursing skills she was not to be found.”
“No,” replied Spud, “It cost the old bloke his life according to the paramedics, had he received quicker help there was every chance he would not have died.”
“Where was Matron at 4 pm?” asked Sally, she was the only trained nurse here at that time, she knew that.”
“Oh,” Spud came back, “It seems she was not well had taken some painkillers, fallen to sleep and couldn’t be roused.”
Claude knew this to be a lie; at that time he had seen her with the lock keeper.
When he retired that night he down loaded his films, noted the time and date and the details of the old man who has passed away. He then copied everything and filed them separately.
Over the following weeks, life at The Homestead for Claude, Angelina and Joe continued as normal. They continued as friends and neighbours.
Angelina set up her sewing classes in spite of Matron not agreeing to them being held in any of the public lounges. It made no difference, all the ladies involved were enjoying themselves either in small groups in their rooms or individually but visited and helped by Angelina.
Joe the Scouser, he read on, and on, and on.
It was a Sunday morning Angelina, Claude and Joe were in the lounge at 11 am, coffee time. Claude announced he would commence to write down his experiences and would invite Angelina and Joe to read them over. They both agreed and said they would look forward to doing so.
Chapter 6
Claude awoke early, there was not a sound, and so he arose brought out his new found toy, the laptop computer. He plugged in the device and decided to make a start on recalling items for insertion into his proposed book; “A British Coppers Lot” was about to be born.
He sat contemplating in the solitude of his room, “Ah” he thought a little history as a background, and now let me think,” he spoke aloud.
His mind was momentarily distracted when, just before commencing to type with the forefinger of each hand, he recalled when he first began to learn to type just after joining the Police Service, it was on the old Remington typewriter.
The user used two sheets of paper; everything was required in duplicate with carbon paper between the pages, any typing errors to be painted out with some white liquid the name of which he could no longer recall.
He smiled as he recalled when he started a long report the steady tip tap on the keys brought an older officer into the room with a bucket of water, he placed it down and was about to leave. Claude had looked up from his work and asked the reason for the bucket of water. “Just in case you type that fast the machine gets red hot and goes on fire.”
Dreaming time over, he thought of those who had supposedly written books but in reality they had simply related their story to someone else and it was they who had in fact done the writing based on the fake author’s rough verbal account. He recalled such a person who had visited The Homestead only last week.
A well-known businessman who could be heard bragging of his book. When he had gone a care worker said, “He didn’t write a word he paid someone else £8000 to write it and publish it.”
That would not be the case here he thought, as he looked down and began what would be the mammoth and occasionally dramatic task of writing his first book.
Harry Friendly was a coal miner as were his siblings, he had always resided in the village of Hafod a mining village only a stones` throw from the Welsh border. The village had come to life upon the demise of the canals as the Country’s main transport system. When the new coalmine opened in the village together with others in nearby Wales the area was transformed. Many of the boatmen had transferred to the mines; the Friendly family were no different. Tom Friendly and his wife Mary Jane, Claude’s grandparents both from canal families had attended The Church of England School built in the village of Hafod in the mid eighteen hundreds by Lord Muckston the estate owner who resided just over a mile away in Wales. Harry, Claude’s father and his brothers were to follow suite attending school and working in the mine.
Far away in Lancashire Margaret Naylor was one of fifteen children, her parents were of the Roman Catholic faith, Ron Naylor worked as a glass blower as his did his sons, save one who became a police officer.
In 1939 with the outbreak of the world war Margaret was obliged to leave home and work in service, finding employment as a cook in a school for deaf children.
Harry the same age became a miner and remained in the mines for the remainder of his working life. His contribution to the war effort other than providing coal was to serve in the village Home Guard unit.
Consistent with most other children from working class backgrounds Margaret and Harry left school on their 14th birthdays. It was an accepted practice in those times that working children paid most of their wages to their parents as an additional family income. Margaret received a few pence each week as pocket money the remainder she posted to her family home. Harry and his brothers arrived home each Friday putting their wage packets, unopened on the table for mother to open. Having done so she then handed them their allowance and retained the remainder. Claude’s father had done this until the day before his marriage when he was aged 30 years of age.
The couple met when Margaret visited Hafod for a holiday with the parents of a child at the deaf School, as it was then known.
The couple married a year later in 1943, being wartime things were hard and in particular finding a house was all but impossible. The couple were obliged to seek lodgings. It was commonplace for several siblings to sleep in one bed and on the marriage of Harry and Margaret with no place to live they commenced married life living with his parents, which caused pressures and frustrations on the other members of the family.
Margaret was expected to help in and around the house with chores and although pregnant she was still expected to work hard. One day a doctor visited old Tom, now ill with cancer and on seeing Margaret scrubbing floors only days from her expected labour date he raised a fuss with Mary Jane and directed the girl be sent to rest in bed.
Some days later Harry was working in the mine when he received an urgent message to attend the local hospital, Margaret was in the throws of giving birth but there were complications. He attended to be told his wife was at the point of death.
God shined down and Margaret was saved but could bear no further children, the newborn, Christened Claude was to be the only child. He would think in later years how strange it had been his mother being of the Catholic faith, they had in fact been Married and he christened in the Church of England parish church and further, he was to recall in later years there had never been any signals of dissent from Margaret’s family as it was seemingly often the case in mixed religious faith marriages.
Five years later Harry and Margaret had their own home a semi detached house rented from the local colliery company as did hundreds other miners.
Claude, following the footsteps of his ancestors attending The Church of England School in the village.
The first time Claude was to encounter the “Policeman” was at the home of his grand parents Tom and Mary Jane. Years later Harry was to relate this story to Claude.
In the year of 1924 Ted Friendly, Harry’s` oldest brother was walking home from the mine when he saw swedes growing in a field. He climbed over a gate and into the field and took a swede to make a mask for the Halloween night or similar. Tommy Lewis the farmer caught him and called the local Policeman. Ted eventually appeared before the Court and was fined five shillings or 25 pence for stealing the swede.
Some twenty 27 years later, Tom Friendly was a keen gardener and rented a large piece of land from the nearby Coop village general stores. One-day cattle from the Lewis farm strayed onto the road and entered the Friendly garden. Tommy Lewis arrived and removed the cattle but Mary Jane wasn’t happy.
It was known locally if anyone touched her children or husband she would visit the offender
and deal personally and physically with him or her.
A man from a nearby village had assaulted Tom at the Colliery and the next day the offender on his way home from work was taken by surprise as he rode past the Friendly residence, Mary Jane appeared armed with a walking stick and gave him “A thrashing.”
Mary Jane was also famed for making tea for the teams at half time at local football matches. This often proved a disadvantage to referees when she and another local miner’s wife often ran onto the pitch to remonstrate with players from the other side or worse with the referee. Claude in adulthood was to learn of this personally, many years later.
Mary Jane had a long memory for after Tommy Lewis had gone taking his cattle with him she visited the local Policeman and complained of the damage the cattle had caused.
With a view to resolving the matter the officer arrived at the Friendly home in company with farmer Lewis. Farmer Lewis duly paid up money to cover the cost of the damage.
The officer said, “That will be the end of the matter, Mrs Friendly."
Mary Jane replied, “Many years ago Lewis here had my lad up in court for stealing a swede, our Ted was fined five shillings, nearly a weeks` pay, we were hard up and couldn’t afford it.” I want him in court.”
Lewis was charged with permitting his cattle to stray on the highway he appeared in court and was fined.
In those days the village policeman, it was always a man in those times, rode a pedal cycle and the only communication he had was a house telephone and his wife who was expected to stay at home to take calls whilst the officer was either on patrol or answering a call. Each officer was more or less in full control of law and order for the community, his only hope of assistance being initially from officers stationed at an adjacent village, or a Sergeant who lived at one such station but supervised several.
The police areas were known as beats and the main town as Divisional Headquarters. As far as the locals in villages were concerned their only contact was the village officer; the remainder of the police establishment was, to them, in another world.
Police Memories Page 8