Rough Clay

by Chrissie Loveday

  ‘D’ya want me to have a word with me Dad? He might tek yer on.’

  ‘D’ya think he would? That’d be a blinkin’ miracle. I’d do anything. I’m big for my age and quite strong. I’m growing all the time so it wouldn’t be long before I can lift the saggers, if that’s what he’d want me to do. I wouldn’t care.’ Archie’s eyes were bright at the thought of any chance of reprieve from working in the coal mines.

  Somehow he survived the day without getting killed by Scratcher, the Latin master. As he was leaving, he cornered Ernie once more.

  ‘You will ask your Dad for me, won’t you? I’m depending on you.’

  ‘Course I will. You’d better come round for tea tomorrow and then he can talk to you. You should be OK. He likes you, ya know.’ Ernie knew than if his dad employed his friend, there was a good chance they’d be able to stay friends. Their backgrounds couldn’t have been more different but they had a deep affinity. Neither of them made real friends with the other boys and they had formed a close bond.

  ‘Thanks, mate. You’re a good pal. I’ll come round after school tomorrow, then. I can tell me Mum tonight. Sure your Mum won’t mind? She did say Friday and it’ll only be Wednesday tomorrow.’

  ‘She won’t care,’ Ernie assured him. ‘She likes yer as well. Cheerio then.’

  Archie went home much more slowly than usual. It was as if he wanted to savour each little part of his routine, which was to end so soon. If only Mr Draper could have faith in him. He knew he could or would do anything for this chance.

  ‘Your Dad’ll send a letter with you tomorrow,’ his Mother said brusquely. ‘He’s getting some paper and an envelope from the shop on his way home. You finish school Friday and start work on Monday, like we arranged. I don’t want you carrying on about it. It’s all over and done with. Right?’

  ‘Right, Mum. How’s William today? Is his chest better?’

  ‘You’ll not get round me with your soft soap. He’s better. Not much mind you, but his breathin’s a bit easier. Now, get out from under my feet. I’ve work to do.’

  Archie wandered into the grimy backyard. He stood staring at the black walls and grey slates of the roofs. This was an awful place to live, day after day. We should paint our door red. Bright red, he thought to himself. He gave a rueful smile. When would there ever be any money for paint? The rooms inside were just as bad. There may once have been a pattern on the wallpaper but it had long ago faded into uniform brown with occasional darker brown blots. One day, he would live somewhere where there was light. Bright sunshine getting into every window. On top of a hill. High over the town, looking towards the country. The sound of his little brother wailing as usual brought him back from his forlorn dreams. Whatever else happened, he was leaving school on Friday. He wondered if Ernie was talking to his Dad yet. He went back inside and picked up his parcel of books. Quietly, he sat at the kitchen table and began to do his homework.

  ‘Don’t know why you’re botherin’ with all that rubbish,’ his Mother scolded. ‘Ain’t worth it as you’re leavin’ any’ow.’

  But the boy plodded on with the irregular French verbs and Latin translation. She was right, his Mum. French and Latin would be of no use to him ever again. But there was a sort of ritual in his working, as if he were trying to lessen this period of impending bereavement.

  ‘You’ll have to move in a few minutes. Load a rubbish. Givin’ you fancy ideas. Set the table for tea.’ Why did his Mother always resent him working on school things? He made a promise to himself. Whatever happened, he’d find some way of continuing his studies. Somehow, he had to try and keep learning new things.

  ‘Me Mum and Dad say it’s all right for you to come round tonight,’ Ernie announced at the school gate. Archie gave a jump. What with everything else, he’d forgotten to tell his Mum. He’d have to run home first or she’d be very angry with him. Anything to do with school or the Drapers made her angry.

  ‘Thanks, Ernie. Did you ask your Dad if he’d got any jobs going?’

  ‘I did. He wants to talk to you when you come round tonight. He didn’t say yes but he didn’t say no either.’

  ‘Sounds all right. Look, I’d better go in cos I have to see the Head. I’ve got me Dad’s letter.’ He touched his pocket, unwilling to show his friend the ink blotted envelope with his Father’s scrawl written on it. His Father may have been able to read and write a bit, but even his writing was little better than that of a small child.

  ‘Eh, Archie, this place is going to be grim without ya, ya know.’

  ‘You’ll be all right, lad. Keep on graftin’ with your head down and you’ll come out right. You’re a bright enough lad.’

  Ernie looked down. His own eyes were just a little tearful and he daren’t let anyone see him or he’d get teased even more. Get accused of being a mummy’s boy, the worst thought possible.

  ‘Right. We’d better get to it then. I’ll see ya later.’

  At the end of the day, he left Ernie to walk slowly home while he ran back to his own home to tell his Mum that he would be out for tea. Unusually, she wasn’t at home when he arrived. The back door was open as normal but there was no sign of either her or his brother. He cursed and pulled out a bit of paper from his exercise book. Quickly, he scribbled a note and left it on the table, before running out again and to his friend’s house.

  Mrs Draper welcomed him, as always, and commiserated on the change in his circumstances.

  ‘Such a pity when a bright young man is forced to abandon his studies,’ she said with a sympathetic smile. ‘But let’s hope this isn’t the end of your friendship with Ernie. I know how fond of you he is.’ Archie felt embarrassed. Nobody in his family ever really mentioned how they were feeling about anyone else. It simply wasn’t done.

  ‘Reckon I’ll miss old Ernie as well,’ he mumbled.

  The two boys went up to Ernie’s room and listened to some records. Somehow, Archie could not enjoy the lively tunes or even talk much. He was busy with his own thoughts and however much his friend tried to take his mind off his gloomy future, he continued to sit staring into nothingness. They heard the front door shut and looked at each other. It was Mr Draper returning home and the hour when Archie might learn his fate. They sat motionless, quiet as they waited for a summons from downstairs. It would either come as a call for tea or a request for Archie to go into the study. Tea came first, almost to Archie’s disappointment. The tension of sitting through a meal was almost too much. As usual, Mrs Draper had laid on a good spread with a pork pie, ham and salad and a huge crusty loaf. There were several kinds of cake to follow, all of which Archie would normally have devoured with an appetite approaching greed. Today, he toyed with his generous plate of food, as Mrs Draper watched him anxiously.

  ‘Aren’t you feeling well, dear?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s worried,’ Ernie said confidently. ‘Knows he’s having to leave the school to make a living and he doesn’t know where it’s coming from.’ His parents stared as they heard his words.

  ‘I’m sorry, lad,’ Mr Draper said kindly. ‘Didn’t realise it meant so much to you. Think our Ernie’d be off and away from school tomorrow, if I’d let him. Eat up your supper now. And don’t worry. I reckon as we can work summat out.’

  ‘Really, sir?’ Archie burst out. ‘Do ya really think ya can give me a job?’

  ‘I reckon so. But come on now, eat up or my wife’ll think there’s summat wrong with the food and she’ll be that upset, I’ll not know what to do with her.’

  Archie stared at Ernie’s Mum. He couldn’t imagine anyone being upset about food being left but then, in his own house, there was rarely enough food for one meal, not to mention leftovers. The boy’s grin was enough to cheer all the Draper family and the rest of the meal became a happier occasion. Once the plates were emptied and the final drop of tea drunk, Mr Draper rose to his feet and, looking serious, asked Archie to accompany him into the study. It was the first time he’d entered the rather dark room, which was always kept
locked. It was business-like, with a large desk dominating the space. Bookshelves lined the walls and boxes of loose papers filled the lower shelves. Archie had never seen so many books in one house. Mr Draper followed his eyes.

  ‘Always been a bit of a soft touch for buying books,’ he muttered. ‘You’ll be needing to read a few of them if you’re to get on in the pottery trade. All sorts of technical stuff here. Now, down to brass tacks, as they say. It’s all a bit hard going at the moment. But I think we’re getting over the worst. I’m prepared to offer you an apprenticeship. A proper one. Papers an’ all. You’ll no doubt want to be working on the decorating and design side eventually, but I’d like you to have a thorough grounding first. No good starting in one place without knowing what’s involved in the rest of the works. I’ve said the same to Ernie, though he shows little enough interest in my business. Maybe with you working there, he’ll change his ideas in the future. Now, lad, fire away with your questions. I can see by your face that you’re nearly bustin’.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Archie stammered. He was so overcome he was almost speechless. ‘Thank you. I can hardly believe my luck.’ His eyes were wide and he knew that tears weren’t too far away. Even if men weren’t supposed to cry, he felt pretty close to it. He wasn’t used to people being kind.

  ‘It’s all right, me boy. Don’t think I’m doing you any favours. You’ll have to work. Work bloody hard, I can tell you. And if you don’t come up to scratch, you’ll get your cards like anyone else. It’ll be the usual five year apprenticeship before you decide exactly where you’ll be working.’

  ‘Er . . . well, thanks a lot. You’ve been more than kind but you do understand that I have to earn some money. That’s why I’ve got to leave school. Me Dad’s been put on short time and we haven’t got enough coming in. Me brother’s always being poorly and we sometimes even have to get the doctor in. Expensive business being ill, me Mum says.’

  ‘You’ll not be getting much of a wage, not while you’re learning. The pay’s usually eight shillings and sixpence a week for the lads. I’ll start you off on that and we’ll see how you go on. That satisfactory for you?’

  ‘Thanks very much, Mr Draper. I think that should satisfy me Mum. I haven’t given much thought to actual wages. But they’ll be saving money anyhow when they don’t have to keep me in clothes for school.’

  Mr Draper looked at the boy’s shabby, worn clothing and bit his lip. Poor little tyke. He’d had to make do with everything in life, so far. If he’d thought the family would accept it, he would even have sponsored the boy’s stay at school himself. If nothing else, it would have been worth it to keep his own son happy. But he knew that for one thing, the parents wouldn’t allow it and for another, it would smack of the sort of charity that would never be acceptable these days. He hoped that, at least, a new start would herald the beginning of something better for Archie. The boy had guts and he was obviously determined to make something of himself. One day, he’d probably end up at least as a manager in the decorating shop or even better.

  ‘Right. Well, I’ll get the papers drawn up and you can start on Monday. Now, you’d better get back to my son or he’ll complain he’s hardly seen you. I hope you two will stay friends. You’ll have to come round for your tea on a Sunday in future. I shall want to keep in touch with how things are going. I should warn you. Don’t talk about your friendship with Ernie to the other men. It won’t do you any favours if they think you’re too much at home with the bosses.’

  At eight o’clock, Archie took his leave of the family who had become his benefactors. He shook hands with the parents and even with Ernie. Two more days at school and he’d become a working man. He ran all the way home, much happier with the prospect of his new future. He arrived home, only to have his bubble of happiness burst.

  ‘Where the bloody hell have you been till now?’ his Mother yelled as he clattered in through the door.

  ‘At the Drapers’. I came home to tell you but you weren’t here. I did leave you a note.’

  ‘What’s the use of that? I can’t read, you smart arse. Just trying to show me up, were you? Never could read, so now you know. I didn’t have expensive schooling like some as I could mention. Going off to your posh friends and leaving me with the baby to cope with. I ’specially needed you this evening to sit with him. Mrs Harris next door was taken poorly and I had to go and help out.’

  Archie stared at his mother. It was the first time she had ever acknowledged the fact that she couldn’t read.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum. But it wasn’t just for tea. Mr Draper’s offered me an apprenticeship. In his factory. I can work in the potbank, just like I always wanted.’

  ‘Potbanks? Rubbish. Your Dad’s sorted you a job and you start on Monday. That’s an end to it. Ya can hold ya tongue ’cos I don’t want to hear any more of it. Now get up those stairs and I don’t want to hear another sound out of you. You’re lucky I don’t take a broom handle to your backside.’

  ‘How much would I be gettin’, at the pit, like?’ Archie asked, crossing his fingers. It was the one sure fire thing his Mum would know to the last halfpenny.

  ‘Seven shillings a week. Make all the difference that will.’

  ‘Mr Draper’s offered me eight shillings and sixpence and a proper apprenticeship with papers and everything.’ The eight and sixpence was his trump card. Frances Barnett stopped and stared.

  ‘Eight and sixpence eh? S’pose that’s cos he knows you.’

  ‘No, Mum. All the lads get that rate. He said so. And if I turn out to be any use, he’ll probably review it. That means increase it. Oh, Mum. Please. It’s just what I want to do.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s that simple.’ She continued. ‘Your Dad has gone to a lot of trouble to get you the position. His own job could be lost, if you mess him about. Then where’d we be? You can hardly keep a family on eight shillings and sixpence a week.’

  Archie felt his world crashing around him once more. His life seemed to flit from one crisis to the next. Just when he’d thought things were going to work out, this new situation arose. How on earth could he tell Mr Draper that he couldn’t, after all, take up his offer? Probably the same difficulty as his father faced with his boss. There was nothing to be done for the moment. Once Dad came home, he’d tackle him, man to man. His Mother didn’t really understand business. How could she? Women had nothing to do with such matters.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘I really don’t know,’ Ralph Barnett said later that evening. Although he was back on days which were the lower paid shifts, occasionally he was offered overtime to cover for absence or if there was extra work on. It was almost eleven o’clock when he returned, exhausted. In just a few more hours, he would be on his way back through the grimy streets. He was bone weary and longed for something to eat and his bed. Instead, he faced an angry wife demanding that he ‘tell the lad straight’ what he was to do. The lad in question was still sitting at the bottom of the stairs, quite unable to sleep or even go to bed. His wonderful offer of a job had been belittled by his Mother. She simply didn’t understand. To her, work was work. You did it for the money, whatever it entailed.

  ‘It looks to me as if our lad has shown a bit of initiative and got himself sorted with a job he’ll like. I can’t quite see why meself, but I can understand he doesn’t want to go down the pit. It’s now a matter of who we tell and what we tell them. I’ll have to see Mr Copestake or else Archie has to go and see his friend Mr Draper. On balance, I’d say he’s got better prospects with the Drapers.’

  ‘Yes,’ whispered Archie in some triumph. ‘And it’s one and sixpence a week more money, Dad,’ he pointed out, slightly more loudly in case his mother hadn’t taken it in.

  ‘I’m more sorry than I can say, that it’s come to this, lad. Leaving school and all. I had such high hopes for you. You go and get yourself to bed. I’ll have another word with Mr Copestake tomorrow. I reckon he’ll just have to continue to manage without you on the books.’
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br />   ‘Aw thanks, Dad,’ the boy said. ‘I’ll make you proud of me, Dad. Honest I will.’ He turned and rushed upstairs. He too had an early start the next day and not much night left for him to try and sleep. He may have to give up his learning at school but he was going to make a start on his adult life. He had the chance to work somewhere he was sure he was going to like.

  The last two days of school flew by for Archie. Surprisingly, his teachers expressed sorrow that he was leaving. Even old Scratcher shook him by the hand, telling him never to stop learning. ‘There will always be something new to discover, every single day,’ the old teacher told him.

  Ernie was distraught. No longer would he have anyone to chat to at play times. And who would support him against the other boys? His own life was about to change for the worse. Once Archie was working, he’d be sure to lose interest in his friend and there would be no more collaborating on homework. How would he ever manage mathematics without Archie’s good sense to put him on the right track? They walked home together, for the last time.

  ‘You’ll be a working man, come Monday,’ Ernie said sadly. ‘No more time for us schoolkids.’

  ‘I’d sort of hoped we could still be friends. I know it’d be difficult, your Dad being me boss and all that. But maybe we could meet up sometimes. You can tell me about what you’re learning and I might even keep up a bit with me education.’

  ‘You’ll be making new friends. Workmates. You’ll soon forget about me, mark my words,’ Ernie replied wisely. ‘But, I s’pose you can still come for your tea sometimes. Maybe on a Saturday or Sunday? Wouldn’t do for you to be seen coming home with my Dad, after work. I reckon you’d get some stick from the other lads at the factory.’

  They shook hands, marking a formal end to their school friendship. Archie returned home, sad and not a little daunted at the prospect of becoming a working man. His parents were also aware of the change that was about to happen. On the table stood a can with a handle over the top and a lid. It had once been enamelled but most of this had worn off, leaving the bare metal beneath.