Rough Clay

by Chrissie Loveday

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just . . . after all the hard work.’ She wasn’t simply referring to her own efforts. It seemed so unfair that her father should have to face this final ignominy.

  ‘Of course. I understand, my dear. Believe me, I don’t like having to ask all these questions but I have to be fair with everyone. You do have a case and it’s rotten luck for you all that it came at this time. Now don’t worry. I’m sure we shall be able to help. You’ll hear from us soon.’

  ‘You were very good,’ Archie said to her, on their way home.

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘The tears. Just at the right moment.’ She said nothing but scowled at him through the driving mirror. As if she would play a trick like that. ‘Listen, love, you know your Mum and me, well we’d do anything for you. We’ll make sure you go to college. Whatever happens.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad. I know. And, just for the record, those tears were genuine and not just for myself, either. I suddenly realised how tough it all is for you too. Maybe I should have forgotten about going to college and come into business with you. I could have looked after the books and kept you on the straight and narrow.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ he asked puzzled.

  ‘Made sure you actually filled the orders you had and not try to fob people off with something else. Organised how the girls worked and generally made you a whole lot more efficient. You’re too much of a dreamer, aren’t you?’

  ‘You’d have driven me mad, more like.’

  ‘I suppose. But it does all seem such a waste. You’re such a good potter but a useless businessman.’ He stared at his daughter. She was more perceptive than he had given her credit. For a few moments, he considered. It was obviously too late now, but might it have worked? He’d always promised himself that she should go on to university or college at least and never even given a thought to any other ideas. Maybe she would have been able to help and made it work. ‘You’re not exactly the world’s best businesswoman, love, and you are useless at painting and most other things to do with potting.’

  ‘I was as good as anyone at lithographing,’ she reminded him. ‘You said so yourself. And I could have learned other stuff.’

  ‘You see, in a small business like this, you have to be able to turn your hand at whatever is needed. I can make moulds if I have to. I can do the casting, firing, painting. I know what’s needed. What chemicals and materials we have to use.’

  ‘But you don’t know much about keeping books and records. This is the trouble, isn’t it, Dad? You could never manage the business. I saw what passed for your office. I saw the boxes of bills and screwed up papers. How could anything work properly like that? Besides, it’s all gone up in flames so what counted as records have gone. And what are you hoping to do now?’ Archie flinched at her words. But she was right. He was too much of a dreamer. He’d had it all and lost it through his dreaming. He felt as if everything had collapsed and nothing would ever be right again. But he must never let his daughter see it. He drew himself up and took a deep breath.

  ‘I’m starting again, as you know. At home. Fewer lines and then, eventually, a more modern place.’

  ‘Oh, Dad,’ she said fondly, knowing it would never happen and almost praying she was right.

  ‘Oh Dad, what?’ he asked. ‘There are times you know, when you sound just like your mother.’

  ‘Is that such a bad thing? I’m a proper mix of both of you. I’ve got something of your creative qualities and imagination. And I’ve got a lot of Mum’s common sense. I reckon I’m pretty lucky. I’ll make you proud of me one day.’

  ‘I’m already as proud as punch.’ Despite everything, he knew that was true.

  A few weeks later, Carole was awarded the grant, just before they had to move from their beautiful house to a small rented cottage. Even working all hours, Archie could never earn enough to pay off his debts. There was an old wash house in the yard and a kiln and some equipment was moved over to the cottage. Though it was growing ever smaller, Archie Barnett China was somehow managing to cling to tenuous life. Her parents had been dreading telling their daughter about the move but as she pointed out, ‘It’ll always be home, as long as you two are there.’

  Once she was away at college, Carole lost track of the daily goings on at home. Her exciting student life filled all her time. Between making his china, Archie had got himself some sort of travelling salesman job and arranged it so he and her mother called at her hall of residence most Friday evenings to take her and a friend out.

  Three years passed quickly for Carole but less so for her parents. For them, it was a long drag of many hours spent working hard to make simple items of china and then taking them out to sell along with goods for other manufacturers. He was managing to make some sort of living. When he had been declared bankrupt and left Greenacres, he had felt the deepest shame. Most of his wealthy friends had disappeared and it was only a few of the group who had stuck by him.

  ‘You find out who your real friends are, don’t you?’ Dora had said on many occasions.

  When Frances finally died, they held a quiet funeral, not even bothering to call Carole back from college. Mary also died suddenly and left a feeling of despondency hanging over them all. Harry moved into the tiny cottage with them and his house sold. Despite it all, they kept up their spirits and fought their way through the difficulties. Dora often wondered how she could bear all the problems they kept encountering but her indefatigable spirit and good friends somehow kept her going.

  Carole had met another student early on in her college life and they had fallen in love and become engaged. Her parents thoroughly approved of James and they looked forward to the wedding soon after she had finished her course. They wondered at times how on earth it would be paid for.

  Archie fought on cheerfully enough.

  ‘You’ve got grit, I’ll give you that, lad,’ Harry said one evening when they sat together to watch the television. ‘I know I haven’t got a lot behind me, but you’re welcome to a bit extra to help with the wedding. Can’t have our girl doing without, can we?’

  ‘I’m going to make it up to you, I promise,’ Archie said to them all. ‘I shall do it, just you wait and see.’

  When the business had folded, William had disappeared for a while. Nobody knew where he was and they all felt concerned. Out of the blue, he arrived back a few weeks before the wedding. It seemed he’d been working in various pubs around the country and had decided this was where he wanted to make the rest of his life.

  ‘How do you fancy coming in with me?’ he asked Archie and Dora. ‘We could get a place together and then Archie can carry on working or whatever he wants to do and I can be the landlord. They’ll only take on married couples,’ he admitted. ‘But as we all have the same name, I reckon we’d be OK. What do you think?’

  It certainly gave them something to think about. Soon after Carole and James were married, Dora, Archie and William moved to a pub. At this time, Archie had given up his attempts to be a manufacturer and got a job in one of the big china producers. His reputation was known in the industry and he was given a good job in the research development department. It suited him perfectly and he felt happier than he had for many months. Dora and her brother-in-law managed the pub while he was at work and he shared the evenings, working in the bar with them. They loved the life and things were finally going well for them all. When Carole announced that she was expecting their first baby, Archie was absolutely delighted.

  ‘I can’t believe it. I’m going to be a granddad. You’ll take care of yourself love, won’t you?’ Then he remembered all his old fears of pregnancy and held her very tightly. ‘You’ve got a precious cargo in there. Make sure it’s safe. They never did find a better way of producing babies,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

  ‘Oh, Dad. I’m proud of you too. All you achieved. All that beautiful china you made. You’ll have some tales to tell your grandchildren. Best of all, you have so
mething to leave behind you that very few people can claim as part of their heritage.’

  ‘I always thought I wanted to be famous. Didn’t quite manage that.’

  ‘But you succeeded in doing what you wanted. Look at all the things you made. Surely that’s success?’

  ‘Is that how you see someone’s life? Success is measured by what you leave behind?’

  ‘In some ways. Much more important is what people think of you. The memories they have of you. But few people can also leave something as tangible and unique as you have done. You’ve created such beauty. Something that anyone would be proud to own. Best of all, there are so many people that love you as a person, for being what you are.’

  ‘Then perhaps I might have been a success. But you know, the thing of beauty I’m most proud of, is you. My daughter. And all those who follow her. Including this bump.’

  They stood side by side and turned to gaze at the unique display of fine bone china. Things of beauty from Archie’s once dark world.

  ‘The Fine Bone China of Archie Barnett. There’s samples of it in homes all over the world. That’s success. Such beautiful things coming from rough old clay dug out of the ground.’