Many a Tear has to Fall

by Joan Jonker

  ‘I’ll leave this on a seat and go and get Ann.’ George threw the small bag down and wiped the sweat from his brow. ‘You’re right, Lizzie, it’s more like hard labour than a holiday. But things will improve, I promise.’

  They were lucky to end up with four seats because the train was packed to overflowing, with parents and children squatting on the tops of cases, or on the floor of the corridor outside which ran the full length of the carriage. Maddy and Tess shared a seat, taking turns to sit on each other’s knees. And they were getting more excited as each chug of the train took them nearer to their friends in Wales.

  ‘Was it as bad as this last time yer came?’ Lizzie asked, finding that if she wanted her feet to touch the floor she had to sit forward in her seat. ‘It would have been enough to put me off.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t nearly as bad. But then we came on a Monday and travelled home on the Friday, so we missed most of the crush.’ George grinned at her. ‘You look all hot and bothered, Lizzie, your face is the colour of beetroot.’

  ‘I was sweating like a pig before, but I’m beginning to cool down now. Mind you, as I’m getting rid of one complaint, another one’s cropping up. Can’t yer hear me tummy rumbling with hunger? I’m bleedin’ starving.’

  ‘You won’t be when we get to Mrs Gwen’s, she’ll have a big meal waiting for us,’ Tess said. ‘Your tummy won’t be rumbling then, it’ll be groaning with being too full.’

  ‘Don’t say any more, queen, or yer’ll have me mouth watering.’ Lizzie noticed the train had left the built-up area behind and was travelling through the countryside. ‘Ay, that’s more like it. Look at those green fields and the trees.’ She hoisted up her bosom, and much to the amusement of the other people in the carriage said, ‘Nature in the raw, that’s what it is. Just like God intended it to be. I’ll swap it any time for our back jiggers and the smell from the gas works.’

  ‘I doubt that, Lizzie, you’d miss all your friends and neighbours,’ Ann said. ‘When we were in Wales last year, I said I’d like to live there. But as George said, you have to be born into it. At our age it’s too late to appreciate the outdoor life, especially in the winter when the snow’s thick on the ground and you can’t get around. No dashing to the corner shop if you find you’ve run out of tea, or sugar. Or if your gas mantle goes for a burton, then you’d be left sitting in the dark.’

  ‘I’m way ahead of yer, queen.’ Lizzie was thinking of other things which would be missing from her life. ‘I wouldn’t see me granddaughter very often, and my feller wouldn’t last no time if he didn’t have his pub to go to. He’d be dead before I had time to say, “Hey, Norman, get a load of that mountain, isn’t it lovely?”’ She smiled at the woman in the seat facing, who was trying to hold her laughter in. ‘Well, it’s true, isn’t it, missus? When yer get to our time in life yer can’t change yer habits. I like me quarter of mint imperials and my feller would be lost without his nightly pint of bitter ale. When I was a baby in me pram, I used to have a dummy. But my feller used to spit his dummy out, and his mam told me the only way she could stop him crying was by giving him a bottle of brown ale. And he’s been partial ever since.’

  The two girls giggled as they conjured up a vision of the quiet man who was Mrs Lizzie’s husband. Listening to her talk, you would think he was a man who rolled home drunk every night, while he was just the opposite and she loved the bones of him.

  ‘I’m sure Norman would be very pleased if he could hear you,’ George said. ‘You give the impression he’s a drunkard.’

  Lizzie opened her mouth in horror. ‘Go ’way! Yer don’t think that, do yer, missus? Nah, yer must have known I only said it in fun. I mean, no baby could hold a bottle of beer to his mouth, could he? Unless of course he had a clever mother what put the beer in his baby’s bottle, which is what his mam did. It worked a treat, she said. He was the most contented baby in the street, never cried and slept most of the time.’

  And Lizzie continued to keep her travelling companions, and other passengers, amused for the entire length of the journey.

  The station master at Hope station was expecting them, and his face widened into a beaming smile when they stepped from the small local train. Hurrying forward to help with the cases, he said, ‘It’s a treat to see you again, welcome back. I’ve had strict instructions from Gwen to look after you. So if you’ll wait until I make sure all the doors are closed, and I give the driver the signal, then I’ll help you with your luggage.’

  ‘Well, fancy that now! Treated like we were some high-falutin’ dignitaries.’ The holiday was taking on a new meaning for Lizzie as she saw the station master wave his flag and blow his whistle. ‘It’s not often I get spoilt, but I could soon get used to it.’

  When she was introduced to the station-master-cum-porter-cum-ticket-collector, Lizzie gave him her most ladylike greeting. Holding her hand out like Lady Bountiful, she said, ‘I’ve heard all about you from my friends, and I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.’

  George nearly swallowed his Adam’s apple trying to keep the laughter back. ‘She’s being on her best behaviour. She can be a tinker when she gets going.’

  ‘Then she’ll be in good company with Gwen.’ Acting now as the ticket collector, the man took their tickets before picking up the cases. ‘I’ll carry these, Mr Richardson, if you’ll take the bag.’

  Tess was skipping beside him. ‘Is Goldie coming for us, Mr Porter?’

  ‘She is that, sweetheart, as soon as I blow my whistle.’ He looked down into the eager face. ‘You look better than you did last time you came, and you’ve grown quite a bit.’

  Maddy wasn’t going to be left out. ‘What about me? I’ve left school now and I’ve got a job in a shop.’

  ‘My word, that’s good, isn’t it, bach? Quite the little lady you are, and a very pretty one.’ Once outside the station gates, he put the cases down and blew on his whistle. ‘They’ll be here before you can say Jack Robinson.’

  When Lizzie saw the horse-and-trap coming towards them, she was almost lost for words. Almost, but not quite. ‘Well I declare! It’s just like yer see on the pictures.’

  Farmer Tom jumped down from the trap and was very enthusiastic in his greeting. ‘The wife and children have got me motheaten. I’m to tell you they’re expecting you first thing in the morning. They wanted to come with me now, but I said you’d be tired after the journey.’ He grinned at Lizzie. ‘You’ll be the Mrs Lizzie the girls write about. If all they say is true then we’re in for an entertaining week.’

  ‘Take no notice of them, I’m as quiet as a mouse and wouldn’t say boo to a goose.’ Lizzie had been giving the trap the once over, and the step leading up to it. Sure as eggs she’d show her knickers if she had to climb up that. ‘Will we all get in there? Pity the poor horse if he’s got to pull the lot of us.’

  Maddy and Tess were stroking Goldie, and the horse was nodding her head and neighing, as though to say she remembered them and was glad to see them. ‘Goldie is strong, aren’t you?’ Tess had her arms around the horse’s neck and was kissing her. ‘She’s as strong as an elephant.’

  ‘Well I’m getting in last,’ Lizzie said with a determined nod of her head. ‘I’m not letting the world see all I’ve got.’ And she stood and watched as George helped his wife and children up the step. Then came her turn, and what a performance that was. In her desire to keep the secret of her knickers to herself, she waved Tom away. ‘I’ll manage, you go and sit up front with the horse.’ The farmer did move away, but not very far because he had an idea she wasn’t going to get up that step without help. And although Lizzie didn’t know it, the porter was still at the station gate taking it all in so he could tell his wife. And he had plenty to tell her about the antics of the woman who put one foot on the step and then tried to reach the side of the trap to pull herself up. When that didn’t work, she turned around and tried getting up backwards. It was so hilarious everyone was in stitches. I mean, he told his wife later that day, there was nothing
for her to grip to lever herself up, only fresh air. So around she turned again. And this time she put her hands on the floor of the trap, thinking she could use that to pull herself on to the step, but her bosom and tummy got in the way. Red in the face, she growled, ‘Damn, blast and bugger it! It’s this flaming bust of mine! When I look down I can’t see me feet!’

  Tom came from his hiding place, his eyes wet with tears of laughter. ‘Let me help you, Lizzie, it’ll be a lot quicker.’

  ‘Yeah, okay. If I’m left to meself the bleedin’ holiday will be over before it starts.’ Lizzie could see the funny side herself, but until she was sitting in the ruddy trap she wasn’t going to let her laughter out. Her eyes went around those sitting comfortably and watching her struggles. ‘Before yer say anything, I’ll tell yer meself. I haven’t got me fleecy knickers on, I’m wearing me best cotton ones, and they’re blue. That’ll save yer the trouble of straining yer necks.’ She jerked her head at the farmer. ‘Come on, Tom, give us a hand to get in this contraption. And watch where ye’re putting yer flaming hands or I’ll clock yer one.’

  Gwen Owen had been keeping watch, and she was at the gate when the trap came to a halt. The girls were first to reach her, then Ann and George. Hands were shaken and hugs and kisses exchanged. Then George said, ‘I’ll give Lizzie a hand to get down.’

  ‘Oh, yer’ve come, have yer? I thought yer were going to leave me here for the whole week, save the trouble of getting me back on again.’ Lizzie was looking down at that one step which was the cause of her trouble. ‘D’yer think I could make it if I came down backwards?’

  George rubbed his chin and looked deep in thought. ‘You could try, Lizzie. Me and Tom will stand here and catch you if you fall.’

  ‘Listen to me, soft lad. If I fell on yer I’d flatten the pair of yer.’

  Gwen could tell a soul mate when she saw one. So going to the back of the trap, she said, ‘Hello, Lizzie, I’m Gwen. And I used to have the same trouble as you getting in and out of the trap. The best way is to come down sideways, with Tom in the trap holding one hand, and George at the bottom holding the other.’

  And it worked like a dream. In less than a minute Lizzie was on the ground and glaring at George. ‘Why didn’t you think of that, yer daft ha’p’orth? Yer see, it proves what I’ve always said. That a woman’s got far more nous than a man.’

  Gwen linked her arm. ‘Come on in, I bet ye’re dying for a drink.’

  Tom put the cases in the hall, then as he was leaving he whispered in Gwen’s ear loud enough for all to hear, ‘From what I’ve seen, Mrs Owen, I think you’re in for a very hectic week with lots of laughter on the menu.’

  ‘D’yer know, Farmer Tom, I think ye’re right. It’ll be like a holiday for me and Mered.’

  And Tom was right about the laughter. For at the dinner table that night, Lizzie’s plight was told, and acted out, by Maddy and Tess. And of course George threw in his twopennyworth. But the loudest laughter came from the woman herself, Lizzie. Looking across the table to where Mered was wiping his eyes, she told him, ‘They’ve left something out. They haven’t told yer about me new cotton knickers, which are sky-blue pink with a finny-haddy border. They haven’t got no pocket in, though, ’cos I didn’t see no point at my age. I mean, a pocket in me navy blue fleecy knickers what I went to school in, well that pocket came in handy to keep me ollies in. But I gave up playing ollies when I got married.’

  Tess came to stand beside her chair and put an arm around her. ‘You were a tomboy if you played marbles, Mrs Lizzie, ’cos it’s not a girls’ game.’

  Lizzie swivelled in her chair and lifted her skirt above her knees. ‘See them, queen? Well, they’re not housemaid’s knees what I got from scrubbing floors. They’re from kneeling in the gutter playing ollies with the lads, with me backside stuck up in the air and me tongue hanging out of the side of me mouth.’

  The dinner took two hours that night, because there was more laughing done than eating. And just over half a mile away, there was laughter around the farmer’s table as he related the antics of Lizzie. The children laughed so loud it was a wonder it wasn’t heard in the railway cottage, where the station-master-cum-porter-cum-ticket-collector lived with his wife. But then they wouldn’t have heard it, because they were too busy laughing themselves.

  Next morning, when Gwen was clearing the breakfast dishes, she asked, ‘Would yer mind if I came to the farm with yer today? Save me being stuck in the house talking to meself.’

  ‘You’re more than welcome, Gwen,’ Ann told her. ‘I’ll help you with these dishes and they’ll be done in no time.’

  ‘I’ll help as well, queen, seeing as that was the best breakfast I’ve ever had in me life.’ Lizzie felt full to bursting. ‘I thoroughly enjoyed it, Gwen, thank yer.’

  ‘You can’t wash the dishes, Mrs Lizzie, you’re coming to help me and Maddy feed the chickens.’ Tess had that no-nonsense look on her face. ‘You haven’t seen them yet, and you’ve got to meet Nelson and Cagney. Mr Mered said he would leave the food ready for us, and they’ll be hungry by now.’

  ‘Oh well, that’s me told, isn’t it, queen?’ Lizzie, who had only ever been near a dead chicken, didn’t know whether she fancied feeding live ones. ‘Are you coming, George?’

  ‘I wouldn’t miss it for a big clock, Lizzie. The poor chickens don’t know what they’re in for. Let’s hope you don’t frighten them so much they stop laying, or we’ll get no breakfast tomorrow.’

  ‘Take no notice of him, Lizzie,’ Gwen said, a huge tray between her hands stacked with the dirty dishes. ‘Our chickens don’t frighten so easily.’

  ‘Do they all lay eggs?’

  ‘Only the hens. We keep half hens and half cocks.’

  ‘You’ve still got Nelson and Cagney, haven’t you?’ Tess asked. ‘And Clarissa?’

  Gwen had been well primed by Mered for this, and she didn’t flinch. ‘Yes, they’re all still here.’ Knowing how sensitive the girl was, it had been decided not to tell her that Clarissa had graced someone’s Christmas dinner table. Nor that Nelson and Cagney had only been saved because neither Gwen nor Mered would have the heart to tell Tess that the birds she mentioned in every one of her letters were no longer in the land of the living. ‘You might not recognise Cagney, ’cos he’s grown quite a bit.’

  ‘Ooh, I can’t wait to see them! Come on, Mrs Lizzie, we’ve had a big breakfast and it’s not fair to keep the chickens waiting for theirs.’

  Lizzie took one look at the squawking birds behind the barbed wire and shook her head. ‘Yer’ll not get me in there for love nor money. If you’re daft enough to go in, then you go, but I ain’t budging from here.’

  George winked at the girls. ‘Come on, let’s show Lizzie how brave we are.’

  Tess thought she’d recognise the birds, but they all looked alike to her now. So she called, ‘Nelson, come on, Nelson.’ And sure enough, the biggest bird in the coop came close to her, squawking its head off. ‘Maddy, you feed him while I find Cagney.’

  ‘I think that’s him at the back, Tess,’ George said, spreading the seed over a wide area. ‘It seems he’s still as shy as he was last year.’

  Tess took a handful of seed from the bucket and made her way through the flock. ‘Come on, Cagney, it’s me again. You remember me, don’t you?’

  Lizzie began to feel guilty. She was being put to shame by two young girls! Well, she couldn’t let that happen, could she? Never let it be said that Elizabeth Ferguson was a coward. ‘Open the gate, George, and let me in. But don’t yer leave me, mind, you stick by me side the whole time. I don’t half like eating a chicken leg, but I don’t want one of them doing a tit-for-tat and eating one of my bleedin’ legs.’

  ‘Especially not today,’ Maddy said, giggling. ‘Not when you’ve got your best sky-blue-pink-with-a-finny-haddy-border knickers on.’

  Gwen grinned when she heard the laughter. ‘She’s a real case is Lizzie. I bet there’s never a dull moment when she’s around.’


  ‘She might not look it, Gwen, and she might not sound it, but she’s an angel. I don’t know what I’d have done without her when George had his accident. She was a tower of strength then, and she’s been my friend ever since.’

  ‘That’s what you call a friend.’ Gwen pointed to the large Welsh dresser. ‘The plates go on there, sweetheart.’ She looked around to make sure there were no more dirty dishes before pulling the plug out of the sink. ‘I can’t wait for Brenda to meet her, she’ll be in her apple-cart. There’s nothing she likes better than a good laugh.’

  Ann folded the tea towel and put it over the bar behind the door. ‘She’ll get plenty of those today, I guarantee it.’

  ‘Ay, this is the life, isn’t it?’ Lizzie said as they strolled up the lane towards the farm. ‘My feller doesn’t know what he’s missing. He’ll be sitting watching the clock right now, waiting for the bleedin’ pubs to open.’

  ‘Everyone to their own taste, Lizzie,’ George said. ‘If that’s what Norman likes, then who are we to disagree?’

  ‘Ay, maybe so. But if I have my way he’ll be coming with us next year. That’s if yer’ll have us, that is.’

  ‘We’ll have you any time, Lizzie, you know that,’ Ann said. ‘To use your own expression, we all love the bones of you.’

  ‘Ah, that’s nice of yer, queen.’

  They were nearing a bend in the lane when they heard young voices, and the two girls took to their heels. ‘It’s Grace and Alan!’

  ‘Are we near the farm, then, queen?’

  ‘Yes, Lizzie, it’s just around the corner. The next time you see the girls they’ll either be in the pig sty or in a field with Goldie.’

  Brenda was waiting at the door and hurried to the gate to greet them. Her welcome was warm and genuine. There were hugs and kisses for Ann and George, and a tilting of the head when she stood in front of Lizzie. ‘And this is your good friend who had a slight problem with our trap?’