by Joan Jonker
‘Ay, I’m not having that, Dad!’ Maddy said. ‘I take after you and I think we’re the two best-looking in the photograph.’
‘I won’t argue with you over that,’ Ann said. ‘Seeing as when I met him I thought he was the most handsome man in the whole world.’
George took his eyes from the group of smiling people standing by the tractor and looked across at his wife. Compliments and flattery coming from his wife in front of the girls were rare. He passed the snap over, saying, ‘Here’s another one of your handsome husband, and I thank you for the compliment.’
Ann leaned across the table. ‘We’re all waiting for you to look down at the last photo, to see the surprise on your face.’
He chuckled when he found himself staring into the smiling faces of Gwen and Mered. The photograph had been taken in their back garden with the fruit trees behind them. ‘Oh, that’s nice! I don’t remember it being taken.’
‘No, it was one taken last summer. Gwen gave it to Brenda and asked her to put it in with the others. She thought we might like it. There’s a nice letter, as well, but would you rather have your dinner before you read it?’
‘I’ll read it while you’re putting the dinners out.’ When Ann made her way to the kitchen after passing him the letter, George motioned for his daughters to stand beside him. ‘We’ll read it together, eh?’
‘We’ve read it a dozen times, Dad,’ Maddy told him. ‘Over and over and over.’
Tess nodded. ‘I know it off by heart.’
‘Oh, well, if you’re tired of it, you help your mother while I sit back and enjoy reading about how our friends are keeping.’
But this was not what the girls wanted. ‘We didn’t mean we were tired of it, Dad,’ Maddy told him, in a tone which said she didn’t know how he could even think such a thing. ‘We want you to read it out to us, please?’
The letter covered both sides of a single sheet of notepaper, and George read that everyone hoped they’d arrived home safely and the journey wasn’t too tiring. The Thomas and Owen families were missing them very much and hoped it wouldn’t be too long before they met up again. Both families were well, as were the animals, and they were looking forward to news from Liverpool. Especially Grace and Alan, who asked for the girls to write. They all sent their love, including Goldie, and very best wishes. The letter was signed by Brenda and there was a line of kisses along the bottom.
‘Nice letter from nice people, eh?’ George looked from one to the other. ‘I think we dropped in very lucky with our choice of holiday.’
‘We can thank Uncle Ken and Auntie Milly for that,’ Maddy said. ‘If it hadn’t been for them we would never have heard of Rose Cottage, or Hope.’
‘Yes, we’ll take a walk down there over the weekend and tell them what a wonderful time we had. And we’ll take the photographs to show them.’
Ann came in carrying two plates, which she set before the girls. ‘I was thinking of that myself. But we won’t go overboard on how good everyone was to us, or they’ll think we’re showing off.’
‘We don’t need to tell them anything, Mam,’ Maddy giggled. ‘Just show them the photographs and they’ll see for themselves.’
‘I wanted to show them to Nita and Letty next door, but Mam wouldn’t let me,’ Tess said. ‘Not until you’d seen them first.’
‘You can show them tomorrow.’ Ann walked back to the kitchen. ‘As long as they don’t get dirty, or torn.’
‘Would you leave it until the day after?’ George asked. ‘I’d like to take them into work tomorrow to show Bill, and Lizzie, the woman who makes our tea.’
‘You do that, love. The girls can take them next door when you get home. Now put the letter away, please, I’m bringing your dinner through.’
When Lizzie handed out the mugs the next morning she was wearing a pair of glasses. George showed surprise until she winked at him and he realised there was no glass in the steel frames. Bill was busy talking to one of the other men and didn’t notice Lizzie until he turned and held out his hand for the mug.
‘Who did yer say yer looked like? Cary Grant, was it?’ The cleaner’s mountainous bosom was shaking with laughter being held back. Cocking her head to one side she said, ‘Well, if I was asked my opinion – which I never am, like, ’cos ignorant people think the only thing I’ve got between me ears is fresh air – but supposing I was asked, like, I’d say yer were more the Boris Karloff type. Ye’re a dead ringer for him, especially with that nut and bolt sticking out of yer neck. And yer’ve got a face like a wet week what would frighten the living daylights out of anyone.’ She huffed loudly. ‘Cary Grant my bleeding backside.’
Without saying a word, Bill bent to put his mug down on the low wall. Then he whipped around and snatched the glasses from her face before she knew what was happening. ‘Lend them to me for a minute.’ He put them on and a slow smile crossed his face. ‘Well, I’ll be blowed! If it isn’t Maureen O’Sullivan pretending to be Cinderella’s wicked stepmother! It’s a smashing make-up job. They couldn’t have made yer any uglier, with yer red wig, bad teeth and cross-eyes. Yer really do look wicked, but I’m surprised at yer letting them pad yer body out like that, Maureen, yer look like a bloated whale. In fact yer remind me very much of a woman I work with. Red hair, rotten teeth, and cross-eyed. And she’s got a backside as big as the back of a tram. She’s got no sense of humour, either, otherwise she’d be laughing right now instead of rolling her sleeves up ready to pulverise me.’
‘Nah, I’m not very good at pulverising people. I’m more yer pick-’em-up-and-throw-them-in-the-Mersey type. Or, if that doesn’t appeal to yer, I can either kick yer into the middle of next week or belt yer one.’
Bill stroked his chin. ‘Can I have a bit of time to consider me options, Lizzie? I mean, there’s a lot at stake here. Give me till dinner time, eh?’
‘Don’t be trying to get out of it, Bill Jeffrey. Yer’ve wounded me pride now and I can’t let yer get away with it ’cos I’ve got me reputation to consider. If I let you off, the others will all think they can take liberties and I can’t be having that.’ Then a thought struck Lizzie. ‘Besides, I don’t make yer tea at dinner time, yer make it yerself. So don’t be coming it, soft lad, I wasn’t born yesterday.’
When Bill bent to get his mug, he murmured, ‘Yer were never born, Lizzie, yer were hatched.’
‘What did you say?’
When he turned around his face was that of an innocent baby. ‘I never said nothing! I was singing to meself, if yer must know. I would never talk behind yer back, Lizzie, yer know I love the bones of yer.’
George butted in. ‘There’s the bell now, so will you two call it a day? And by the way, Lizzie, I’ve brought my holiday snaps for you to see. So can yer spare five minutes at dinner time? I promise to keep the queer lad off your back.’
‘Oh, don’t yer take any notice of me and Bill, we understand each other. Yer see, George, there’s them what I like, and there’s them what I don’t like. And if I didn’t like you and Bill, yer’d have known about it long before now. Anyway, yer’ll be sitting out here to have yer sandwiches in the sunshine, I suppose, so I’ll come out then, ’cos I’d like to see yer photies. I’ve never had me picture took in me whole life, but I keep promising meself that one of these days I’ll go to Jerome’s in London Road, dressed in all me finery, and have me photie took.’ She raised her brows and glanced at Bill, who was standing nearby and taking all in. ‘Any sarcastic remarks to make about that, me bold laddo? Something like I’ll probably break the poor man’s camera?’
‘I’m not saying a dickie bird, Lizzie, I’m not a glutton for punishment. Already I’m in line for being thrown in the Mersey, kicked into the middle of next week or being belted. The only thing yer haven’t threatened me with is tying me to a mast and whipping the skin off me back. And how would I explain to me wife how me back came to be torn to shreds? She’d think I’d been down an entry with another woman, one what had long nails and was very passionate. I mean,
she wouldn’t believe I’d been tied to a mast, would she? That’s something yer only see at the pictures.’
A voice from above yelled to them, and they looked up to see Vin shaking his fist. ‘Have you two lazy buggers any intention of working today?’
Lizzie shouted back in a voice that any docker would be proud of, ‘If yer want to shout, do it to me, ’cos I’m the one what’s kept them talking.’
Vin’s face was creased in a grin as he doffed his cap. ‘I never argue with a woman, Lizzie, it doesn’t pay. I found that out the day I got married. Sweet as honey the wife was while we were courting, but from the minute I slipped that gold band on her finger she changed into a bleeding shrew.’
‘Perhaps that’s because ye’re a tight-fisted sod. How many children have yer got, Vin?’
‘It was three at the last count. And I’ll have yer know I’m not tight with money. I often buy her a slab of Cadbury’s.’
‘I bet yer’ve bought her three slabs of Cadbury’s in the twelve years yer’ve been married. Am I right, or not?’
Vin chuckled. ‘Just about, Lizzie, but how did yer know?’
‘Three children, three slabs of chocolate. And I’ll bet the three times yer went into a sweet shop and put yer hand in yer pocket to buy something for the little wife was nine months before each of the kids were born.’ Lizzie’s parting shot, as she walked away, was, ‘As I said, Vin, ye’re a tight-fisted sod.’
‘What have you got today, George?’ Bill asked, looking down into the small square tin box that had his carry-out in. ‘I’ve got cheese and piccalilli.’
George lifted out a sandwich. ‘Brawn with sliced tomato.’
‘Do a swap, shall we? One of mine for one of yours?’
‘Yes, that suits me. They say variety is the spice of life.’
‘I wish my wife knew that. She’s so predictable with me carry out, I know what I’m getting before I open the tin. I’ll lay odds on it being fish paste tomorrow, and corned beef the day after. Yer’d think she’d change them around now and again to give me a surprise.’
‘I’m not a nosy person,’ George said, ‘but I can’t help seeing that Joe does very well every day for his carry-out. Like now, he’s sinking his teeth into a large meat pie which would feed my family of four, with some chips of course. And he always has a cake for afters.’
‘That’s because there’s only the missus and him to feed. But I’d rather be in my shoes than his, and I know you wouldn’t swap places with him. Losing two babies before they were two years old must have broken their hearts. It’s ten years ago now, but they’ve never got over it. Joe said he wouldn’t put his wife through it again, or himself. So under the circumstances, I’d rather have me fish paste sarnies than his meat pie with a cake to follow.’
George sighed. ‘It was thoughtless of me, I should have had more sense. I agree, it must have been terrible for them. Particularly the wife, she must have been devastated.’ He bit into his sandwich and was quiet for a while. Then he said, ‘I can’t imagine life without my two girls, I think I’d go out of my mind if I lost them.’
‘Joe never spoke much about it, but living near him I know him and his wife were nearly destroyed. He told me once it was only their love for each other that kept them going.’ Bill handed another sandwich over. ‘Another swap, George? Yours are far more tasty than mine.’
George passed his box to him. ‘Here’s Lizzie, I’d better go and get the photographs out of my coat pocket. Help yourself, but make sure you leave enough for me.’
When he came back, the cleaner was sitting next to Bill on the wall. ‘I don’t know why you don’t have your dinner break out here, Lizzie, and take advantage of the lovely weather.’
‘I’m afraid red hair and sunshine don’t go together, George. I’ve got enough freckles as it is, but if I sat out sunning meself, yer wouldn’t be able to put a pin between the spots.’
He gave her the photos. ‘If you’d been there with us, you’d have been as brown as a berry and no one would have known you had freckles.’
‘Oh, that’s nice! Are these yer two daughters?’
‘Yes, the tall one with the dark hair is Maddy, and the other is Tess. They really had a wonderful time. If I’d been able to afford it we would have stayed the whole fortnight.’
‘Don’t be looking over me bleeding shoulder, Bill, wait yer turn. I can’t abide anyone breathing down me flaming neck.’
‘Well don’t take all day about it, I’d like a dekko before the bell goes.’
But Lizzie took her time, studying each photo with care and wanting to know who was who. ‘Yer seem to have enjoyed yerselves all right.’ She had another quick look, then passed them to Bill. ‘I wouldn’t mind a holiday like that meself. Trouble is, my feller won’t go anywhere where he can’t be back for his pint in the corner pub. I’ll swear if he had to choose between the pub and me, I’d be the loser.’
‘Ay, these are good,’ Bill said. ‘Who’s this?’
‘Gwen and Mered Owen, where we stayed. And the others are Tom the farmer, and his wife and children. And of course the animals are theirs.’
‘I’m glad yer had a nice time,’ Lizzie said. ‘Next year can yer put me in yer case and take me with yer.’ She stood up and smoothed down the front of her overall. ‘I’ll get back now ’cos I’d like another cuppa before the bell goes. Thanks for bringing yer photies in, George, I’ll tell my feller about them tonight. Not that it’ll make any difference, he’s got a one-track mind and it only goes as far as the pub.’
‘If you’ve seen them all, Bill, I’ll have them back to put in my coat pocket,’ George said when Lizzie had left. ‘The wife will go mad if there’s a mark on them.’
The bell was going as he made his way back. ‘Just in time,’ he said, packing his tin box into a canvas bag. ‘I’ll leave this here for now and put it with my coat later.’
The first sack was lowered and the afternoon started the same as any other. George and Bill chatted as they worked, and up above, Vin kept up a conversation with his mate Greg, who operated the pulley. The four men had worked together for years and enjoyed a good relationship.
‘Are yer going for a pint tonight?’ Greg asked, as Vin pushed the iron hook through the rope tying a sack. ‘I’ll meet yer in the pub if yer are.’
‘Yeah, okay, but only one pint, mind, I’m not exactly flushed.’ Vin pushed the sack to the edge of the opening with his knee and raised his hand to signal it was ready to be lowered. He watched the sack fall away from the building, and in a split second saw the ropes were slipping. He looked down to where George and Bill were facing each other, talking, and yelled at the top of his voice, ‘Move! For God’s sake, get out of the way!’
Bill was the first to see the sack slipping to one side and he grabbed hold of George’s arms and pulled him forward. But the sack had worked loose, and being so heavy it dropped right down like a ton of bricks and fell on the lower part of George’s back, felling him, screaming, to the ground. Bill closed his eyes for a second, in horror, then dropped to his knees beside his mate, who had stopped screaming and was lying unconscious with the sack still on his back, spilling its grain over the inert form and on to the ground. ‘Oh my God!’ Bill was feeling for a pulse when the other men crowded around, and Vin and Greg appeared, ashen-faced.
‘Is he breathing?’ Vin asked, the whole scene running through his mind over and over. He wasn’t to blame because he didn’t tie the sacks, but somehow he felt responsible. ‘Should we take the sack off him and turn him over?’
‘I can feel a pulse, but I don’t think we should touch him. For all we know he might have broken his back.’
Lizzie came running and elbowed the men out of her way. She got down on her knees, slipped a hand under George’s chest and felt for a heartbeat. ‘Go and get the boss! Don’t stand there like gormless idiots, as though ye’re expecting him to get up and walk, ’cos he ain’t! One of yer run to the office, tell Mr Fisher what’s happened and say I said it
’s urgent and he should ring for an ambulance right away.’
‘George is going to be all right, isn’t he, Lizzie?’ Bill felt sick in his tummy. If he’d acted a second sooner he’d have had his mate clear.
‘I’m not a doctor, Bill, so I can’t say. His heartbeat is strong, so I don’t think he’s going to die. But yer don’t need to be a doctor to know that bleeding sack is a dead weight, and yer don’t have one of those fall on yer without doing any damage.’ She wiped a tear away before anyone could see it. ‘To think it’s not half an hour ago he was showing us his holiday photies. Please God things are not as bad as I think they are.’
All work had stopped and the men were milling around, white-faced and silent. They would have done anything to help George, but were helpless.
Mr Fisher came running, took one look at the still figure sprawled on the ground, and told them, ‘The ambulance is on its way, it should be here any minute. I’ll go to the hospital with George and find out as much as I can about his injuries. If they’re keeping him in, which is more than likely, I’ll let you know and ask one of you to inform his family. And when we’ve all got over the shock, and our nerves are settled, I’ll be asking questions about how this could happen.’
‘I can’t go straight back to work, Mr Fisher,’ Vin said, mopping his brow. ‘I keep seeing the rope slipping and the sack falling to where George and Bill were standing. I couldn’t do a thing to stop it ’cos it happened so quick. But I’ll tell yer, me nerves are shattered.’
‘Mine too!’ Bill felt physically sick. ‘I was pulling George out of the way, and in another second I’d have had him clear. But that bloody sack came down so fast I didn’t have that extra second.’
The boss looked around the faces of the men. ‘I’ll ask Lizzie to make you a drink and you can sit and calm down for an hour. Anyone who feels they can’t carry on after that hour can go home and they will not have their pay docked.’
‘I don’t think any of us will go home until you come back from the hospital and we find out how George is,’ Joe said. ‘I wouldn’t sleep tonight if I didn’t know.’