‘This is supposed to be a party, you boring old things. Not a board meeting. You can talk pottery tomorrow.’
‘One more dance then, Dora. I think after that, we should be getting home. I’ve got work in the morning. Not blessed with a day off, like some I could mention.’
‘Isn’t your Dad off tomorrow? . . . today?’
‘Miners don’t ever work on New Year’s Day. They always say it’s unlucky. I reckon it could be summat to do with the ale they’ve supped to welcome the New Year.’
‘I’d like to meet your Mum and Dad sometime. D’ya think I could?’
‘Might put you off me for good and all. Now, are we having this dance or not?’
During the next few months, there was an air of expectancy throughout the factory. The last year of the twenties had proved disastrous for many companies and several of the smaller ones had considered closing. Once the worst of the slump was over, everyone tried to be optimistic that the bright new designs would sell. Clarice Cliff and Suzie Cooper were the innovators and Draper’s planned to be somewhere close behind. Though some of Archie’s designs had been taken up and were going into production, he felt less than content with the results. Bright and bold they may be, but to him, they were certainly not beautiful. They were somehow clumsy and lacking in delicacy. But, he set to work with a will and watched proudly as his very own first designs were packed up and sent to the shops all over the country and even to places abroad. Mr Draper took a personal interest in everything that went on, just as his father had done. Ernie was in charge of the sales department now and continued to go on trips to the business fairs that were beginning to be the most popular way of selling.
There were still the more traditional lines being made, though with less enthusiasm by the workers. The paintresses enjoyed the easier task of spreading the bright colours in simple, geometric patterns. If the lines were too thick or a bit uneven, it mattered even less.
Archie was disturbed by the almost careless attitude that was growing among the workers with the newer styes of china. When he was feeling irritated, he would go and watch Tom, as he painted his works of art, exactly as he always had done. They had a timeless quality and there was always a demand for his work.
‘I’m doing a full set of plates and dishes for a special order,’ he told Archie. The young man nodded. Though his jurisdiction did not extend to the master painters, he was usually aware of what they were doing.
‘Fruit mainly, isn’t it?’ Tom nodded.
‘Lots of gold as well. Someone has plenty of money to spend.’
‘Seems a shame to use them. Too much washing can’t improve them much.’
‘Not too bad if it’s done properly. No scrubbing at them or using water that’s too hot. Always amazes me that the china can break if the water is too hot, when you consider they’ve been heated to such great temperatures on the kilns.’
‘It’s cause they’re done slowly, with the heat building up gradually,’ Archie explained.
‘Is that right now,’ Tom said, a twinkle in his eye. ‘They’ve been teaching you properly have they?’
‘Sorry. I’m being daft. Of course you know all about it. Will you teach me something about colours and the chemistry of them?’
‘Now y’are asking summat,’ Tom replied. ‘I don’t have any education you know. All I know is what’s what. What works. I know how they’ll turn out in the kiln and after all my years, I’m rarely wrong.’
All the same, Archie studied the old man’s techniques and stored away hundreds of useful tips in his mind. The artist knew instinctively how much of this powder or that to put into his mix and how much linseed oil he needed to bind it together. He collected adverts from pottery magazines and papers and stored them in a folder he had made out of some scrap card. He began to take them home and spent hours poring over them in the dingy living room of his parents’ house. He no longer thought of it as home, exactly.
Dora had finally agreed to become engaged and nervously, Archie went to speak to her father. Henry Marsh was a gentle man. He was a manager in a grocery chain and worked long hours in the shop. One of eleven children, he had long since left the family farm and found his way into retailing. Fresh farm produce was always on sale so he didn’t feel that he had betrayed the family’s heritage. He’d fought in the Great War, spending agonising hours in the misery of the trenches. He’d picked up a piece of shrapnel in one leg and it had become badly ulcerated, in any case, precluding him from working on the land. Luckily for him, the end of the war had come before he was forced to return to France. He had adored his two little girls to distraction ever since, trying to make up for missing the vital years of their childhood. His wife Mary had always managed to cope with whatever life had thrown at her. She was a wonderful cook and now, with the good food he was able to provide, she happily baked, cleaned and kept the house immaculate.
When Archie had begun to call, he instinctively knew this was the right man for his Dora. There had been several others but none of them had come up to his high standards. He hoped Dora would see him for what he was and show the good sense to make the right choice. He took Archie into the parlour, a stiff uncomfortable room which rarely saw a fire.
‘I reckon I know what’s coming,’ he said to the nervous young man.
‘You do? Has Dora said something?’
‘She didn’t need to, lad. We’ve all seen it coming. It was a matter of time. Well, I expect you’ve prepared a speech. You’d best get on with it so we can get back in the warm.’
‘The fact is, well, I’m getting, that is we . . . will be getting . . .’
‘You want to marry my daughter?’ Archie nodded miserably at his sudden inability to express himself. He’d tried to plan what he’d say but he’d made a right mess of it. ‘Can you afford to keep a wife? And probably a child or two?’
‘I shall, in time. We don’t expect to get married for a bit, yet. We want to save up some more. I’ve been putting a bit by every week in a savings account at the bank. I’d like to buy a ring soon and then start to look for a house. Nothing fancy yet awhile but one day, I’m going to have a proper big house with me own bathroom and hot water and everything.’
‘I’m delighted to hear it. I’m proud to welcome you to our family. We’re not well off but I think we can help out a bit. My Mary’s a very careful shopper and keeps a good home for us. I expect it’s rubbed off on Dora.’
‘Does that mean you agree? I can marry Dora?’
‘If that’s what she wants.’
‘Oh she does.’
‘Do you mean to say you’ve already discussed it with her?’
‘Oh. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t I have done? It didn’t seem worth bothering you if she didn’t want to marry me.’ Archie looked crestfallen.
Henry grinned.
‘Only teasing, lad. Course you’d have asked her first. I’m not royalty you know. Let’s get back to the women folk and give ’em the news.’ They went into the other room. Archie’s grin was wrapping itself from ear to ear. ‘Mary, love, this young man believes he can make our girl happy. What do you think?’
‘I’m very pleased, love. I’ve always said you’re the right one for her. Congratulations both of you.’ Dora’s mother put her arms round her daughter’s new fiancé and hugged him. He gasped in surprise and felt his eyes beginning to fill with tears. Never, ever had his own mother hugged him like that. He held onto her for as long as it was decent, drawing the warmth of her very being into his own. Henry thumped him on the back and Dora stood watching this first real welcome from her parents. She too felt moved to tears and knew deep inside she had made the right choice.
‘I did think of getting you a ring before I came over today,’ Archie told her later. ‘But I thought you’d like to help choose it for yourself.’
‘Thanks, love. Yes, I’d like that. You did the right thing.’
‘We’ll go next Saturday afternoon, after work, if you like.’
‘What about
your precious match? Ernie won’t be too happy if you don’t go with him.’
‘I think this is a bit more important than some old football match, don’t you?’ Dora was impressed. She nodded. ‘Besides,’ continued Archie, ‘it’s an away match next week.’
‘You rotten thing,’ she said as she punched him on the arm.
‘Only joking,’ he laughed. Nothing was going to quell his spirits today. He was well and truly on his way. ‘I love you,’ he said, his voice cracking with the emotion of it all.
Archie kept his news to himself. His own parents seemed to be disinterested in what he did with his life, though he had grown closer to his father since they’d taken to sharing a few drinks together. The china industry was still proving a difficult business, with customers less ready to part with their cash. Superficially, everyone seemed full of optimism but there was always the constant dread of another slump. He had bought Dora the engagement ring she had wanted. He had taken the precaution of visiting the jewellers before he met Dora and getting the owner of the shop to put a selection of rings out, all within the amount he could afford to spend. It was a clever move. When Dora was faced with the tray of rings, all set out on black velvet, she had pounced straight away on a solitaire diamond, set in platinum.
‘Oh, Archie, it’s just what I always dreamed of. It’s lovely. Are you sure you can afford it?’
‘Course I can. For you, only the ring you really want is good enough.’ He winked at the jeweller and he put the tray beneath the counter, bringing out a tiny box for the precious ring. Dora was grinning happily, as he placed it in her hands.
‘Oh, Archie, I’m so happy. Can I put it on now?’
‘Course you can, love. It’s yours now and always.’
They walked along the road, holding each other’s hands when they thought no-one was looking. Dora kept glancing down at her hand as if she couldn’t believe it.
‘I’m sorry it wasn’t a bigger diamond, Dora love. I know you deserve much better. I promise you, one day I’ll buy you the biggest diamond that’ll fit on your finger.’
‘I’m happy with this. It’s perfect, Archie. Anything else you buy will never mean any more than this ring does.’
‘I’m glad to hear you say that,’ Archie said huskily. For once in his life, he felt the urge to let the tears flow. He swallowed hard. He wasn’t some soft lad who cried at nothing. ‘Well, we’d better go home to your place, see if your Mum approves.’
‘Oh she will, I’m sure of it. Speaking of Mum. When am I going to meet your family? You do know I haven’t even seen them, let alone met them?’
Archie blushed. He didn’t want Dora seeing where he came from. The poverty of his area and his own home were something that constantly embarrassed him. It was wrong of him, he knew. But he also knew well that his mother would never give a proper welcome to anyone he brought home.
‘Eh, you’re not ashamed of them are you?’ Dora asked. He reddened even more. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? For heaven’s sakes, Archie. I’m nothing so special that I don’t realise how folks struggle around these parts. And you’ve no business being ashamed of your family. You’ve turned out well, so they must have done some things right.’
‘It’s not that I’m ashamed,’ he fibbed. ‘But you don’t know my Mum. She’s difficult. She doesn’t ever approve of anything I do.’ He looked away. How could Dora ever understand? Her family were wonderful. Warm and caring people who took an interest in everything their daughter said or did.
‘Right, Well, you’d better tell your Mum that I’m planning to visit them very soon. I have to know what my future in-laws make of their daughter-in-law to be. What will they think if I never come round?’ She paused, looking hard at Archie. ‘They do know about me, don’t they?’ Archie looked away. ‘You haven’t told them, have you?’ she said, her voice rising slightly in anger.
‘No. They don’t approve of anything, like I said. Well, me Dad’s all right. He knew I was courting. But he doesn’t know I’ve actually asked you to marry me.’
‘I think it’s high time they did know. You’re not ashamed of me, are you?’
‘Ashamed of you? How could I be? You’re lovely, kind and thoughtful and you’ve probably got the best parents in the world.’
‘Aye, well it’s me you’re weddin’, not my parents. But I love you, Archie. That’s enough for me. It doesn’t matter what your parents are like. Not really. I mean to say . . . look at the way you’ve got on. From what I can make out, you fought very hard to get where you wanted to be.’
‘And I’m not done yet. I’m going to have a big house with a bathroom and hot water. Then I want at least two cars parked outside.’
‘And you’ll get it all, Archie. I know you will. But for now, how about letting me meet my future in-laws?’
‘Oh heck. I know this is going to be a very big mistake but I’ll ask me Mum if you can come for your tea. Next Sunday suit?’
‘Yes please. And don’t worry. I love you, Archie. How could I not love your parents?’
‘Quite easily,’ he replied grimly.
His worst fears were realised when Archie broached the subject of bringing his young lady home to meet his parents.
‘Typical,’ his mother snapped. ‘Just when you’re starting to earn good money so’s your Dad can take it a bit easier, you get the notion to try courtin’ some girl. Where’s she from?’
‘She lives out Normacot way. Near Longton.’
‘And what does her Dad do?’
‘He’s the manager of one of the Maypole grocery stores. Dora’s a hairdresser. She’s about to be made up to manageress. Doing really well for herself. So, is it all right if I tell her she can come for her tea on Sunday?’
‘If you have to. I’m not putting myself out though. She’ll take us as she finds us.’
‘Is she good-looking?’ asked William.
‘I dunno. Yes. I think so anyhow. I don’t bother too much about looks. She’s just a lovely person. I’m sure you’re going to like her, Mum. I’ll give you a bit extra from me wages this week. Then you can get something a bit special in. I expect Mrs Machin will have some of that ham in at the weekend.’
‘Are you trying to tell me how to set out a decent tea?’
‘Course not, Mum. But I want it all to be just right. I want you to like her and for her to like you.’
‘Don’t know what all the fuss is about. She’s just a girl isn’t she?’
‘She’s the girl I’m marrying.’ He bit his lip. He hadn’t mentioned the engagement before and now he’d let it slip without making the proper preparations.
‘You haven’t gone and got yourself engaged to this . . . this piece. Tell me you haven’t.’
‘Well, yes. I have as it happens. Got the ring last week.’
‘Where did you get the money to go buying some ring?’
‘I’ve earned it, Mum. Every penny. I didn’t see that I had to give you everything I earned. It isn’t right.’
Frances’s face hardened. Her mouth disappeared into its little tight line.
‘We’ll see what your father has to say about this. You’re an ungrateful sod. All we did to send you to that posh school. We had to do without, for you. This is the way you thank us. Holding back on your wages. I’ve never heard the likes. How could you, Archie? I’ve never been so ashamed of anything in my life. You’re a liar and a cheat.’
‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I think I deserve to be able to have a life of my own. I’ve always worked very hard. As for the so-called posh school, which, you’ll remember, I had to leave early to earn a living. If it hadn’t been for meeting Ernie Draper there, I’d have been down the pit with me Dad. I’d never have got on like I have.’
His mother left the room and started banging pots round in the scullery. Archie knew there was nothing to be gained by saying anything more and went up to his room. He had always felt slightly guilty about putting his money away each week but he still felt it was justified. He was twenty-two,
after all. Time he started out on his own. His mother shouldn’t even be thinking she could control him any more. All the same, he wondered how on earth he and Dora would ever manage to afford somewhere half decent to live.
On Sunday afternoon, Archie stood outside the house, waiting for Dora’s little car to appear round the corner of his road. She’d saved hard and bought it a couple of years earlier, helped by her parents. They were glad to be spared the anxiety of having their daughter out and relying on public transport either for her social life or work. Archie smiled to himself, despite the rain that was beginning to pour down steadily. It washed along the street, making tiny rivulets between the cobbles and forming grimy, dark grey topped streams in the gutters. It was never enough to wash anywhere clean. He glanced along the depressing street. No doubt the neighbours would have their curtains twitching within a few minutes, nosing out to see who was visiting. It would be something of a novelty to have a car parked outside. He’d have liked to be able to collect Dora from her home but it was impossible. He held the car door open for her as she stepped outside and took her hand as they went into the terraced house that was his home. He’d helped clean the living room during the morning and organised William to help with the washing up after Sunday dinner. He wanted everything to be just right, to make up for the miserable reception he expected from his mother. He’d tried to see what she’d got in for tea but she’d sent him packing before he could even open the meat safe. He really hoped there’d be some ham and a bit of cake. He couldn’t remember his mother ever baking a cake, so it would have to be something like a piece of slab cake from the shop.
‘I hope you’re not expecting too much,’ he said to Dora as he pushed the door open.
‘Course not. You’ve told me a bit about what they’re like. I’m not making any judgements till I’ve met them all.’
‘Here we go then.’ He gripped her arm tightly as he pushed open the door. ‘We’re here Mum, Dad.’ He went into the living room and held Dora’s hand as he introduced her. ‘This is Dora. My fiancée.’ He said the word proudly, using it for the first time. His mother’s mouth was held in its customary tight line and she held out a grudging hand to the girl. Dora took it and smiled one of her most radiant smiles.
Rough Clay Page 13