William ignored him and began to walk back along the nave towards the door. As he went along the path outside to the street, the man came to the door and called out to him.
‘If you pray to God he will help you.’ Then he closed the door firmly and turned a key in the heavy lock.
Without knowing where he was going, William walked back towards the town. Across the road he saw a girl approach a man who was passing by, but the man spoke to her brusquely and shoved her aside so that she stumbled and fell. She shouted after him.
‘Piss off then, you bastard!’
He recognised the girl from the café, and went over to help her up.
‘What about you, luv? D’you want to have a bit of fun?’ she said.
‘I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.’
She peered at him closely. ‘I know you, don’t I? I know! You was the one in the café.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
She came closer and pressed her body against him. ‘Since it’s you, and you was nice to me, I’ll do yer for sixpence if you like.’
He shook his head. She was younger than he’d thought. Perhaps as young as fifteen. ‘Sorry.’
She shrugged. ‘Suit yerself.’
They heard the sound of footsteps as somebody came towards them. The girl frowned when she recognised who it was. ‘It’s only you,’ she said disappointed.
‘That’s right, only me, luv.’
William recognised the voice straight away. It was Carter, the salesman he’d met at Mrs Hall’s.
‘Hello there, it’s young William isn’t it?’ Carter said sounding surprised. ‘What are you doing ‘ere? After a bit of sport with Lucy are you?’ He winked lewdly.
‘He just ‘elped me up after some bloke pushed me down,’ the girl said. ‘I don’t think ‘e’s got any money.’
‘Are you staying at Mrs Hall’s again?’ William asked, though even as he spoke he noticed that Carter’s suit was stained and his shoes were scuffed.
‘Lost me position,’ Carter said. ‘Some business about expenses, or some such thing.’
‘I wondered why you never wrote to me,’ William said, though from Carter’s blank look it was obvious he didn’t know what William meant.
‘What’s this about not ‘aving any money then, William?’ Carter said.
‘All I’ve got is five shillings,’ William said. ‘I had to leave Mrs Hall’s because I couldn’t find a job.’
‘Five shillings is it?’ Carter said. ‘You’d better let me look after that for you. You don’t know what sorts you might run into out ‘ere.’
‘It’s alright,’ William said, suddenly not liking Carter’s menacing undertone. ‘Actually I ought to be getting on.’ He started to turn away, but Carter produced a knife from his pocket; the blade a dull flash of steel.
‘You’d better give it to me, William,’ Carter said again, all the cheerfulness gone from his voice. He stepped closer with his hand outstretched, but William knocked it away and stood back warily. Eyeing the blade of the knife he took a few coppers from his pocket and dropped them on the ground.
‘Take that,’ he said. ‘But I warn you, I won’t give you anymore.’ As the coins hit the pavement he began to walk away, looking back over his shoulder as he went. For a moment Carter hesitated, then the girl pushed past him to pick up the money and he grabbed her by the arm.
‘What do you think you’re doin’ then?’ he demanded.
William hurried on, and left them to argue between themselves.
In the morning he read of a position in the stock department of Ballantynes, which was the largest shop in Northampton. When he arrived he was directed to the goods yard at the back, where as usual a line of men were waiting. He took his place and waited to be called.
Some men were loading furniture into the back of a lorry that was painted green and had the name of the shop written on the side in gold lettering. One of the men went to crank the starter handle, but after several unsuccessful attempts he leaned against the radiator breathing heavily, his face red and sweating.
‘You’d better tell Mister Wilkins the bloody thing won’t start again,’ he said to his younger helper.
‘Let me ‘ave a go,’ the young one said, and took over cranking the handle until he too was sweating and breathing hard. He gave up and gave the wheel a savage kick. ‘Bloody thing,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘You can tell Wilkins,’ he said to the older man. ‘He’s in a right mood already, and if we don’t get this lot out he’s going to get a right earful from upstairs.’
The older man glanced toward the open doors, clearly reluctant to be the bearer of bad news. ‘Let’s ‘ave another go first.’
As he bent to the handle again, William spoke up. ‘You ought to check the contact breakers, that’s often what the problem is.’
Both men looked at him in surprise. ‘What’s that when it’s at ‘ome then?’ asked the younger man.
‘I’ll show you if you like,’ William offered. ‘Open the bonnet.’
The two men glanced at one another, and the older one shrugged. ‘Can’t ‘urt to let him ‘ave a look.’
The younger one lifted the bonnet and fetched some tools. William took the distributor cap off and saw the problem at once. ‘It’s this here, you see, it’s dirty. Have you got a rag or something to clean it?’
Within a few minutes he’d cleaned and re-set the gap which looked too big. ‘Try it now,’ he said, and this time when the older man cranked the handle the engine started straight away. ‘You ought to do that regularly,’ William said as he closed the bonnet. ‘And the plugs could do with a clean to by the sound of it.’
‘Lucky you was ‘ere,’ the younger man said. ‘You come about the position then?’
‘Yes,’ William replied.
‘You’ll be seeing Mister Wilkins then. That’s ‘im now.’
A man in his fifties wearing a dark brown suit came out the door. He wore a harassed expression when he saw how many men were still waiting to be seen. ‘I ‘aven’t got time to see all of you,’ he said. ‘So anyone who ‘asn’t worked in a stock room before might as well not wait.’
About three quarters of the men turned away with disconsolate expressions, and William began to follow them.
‘Where’re you off to?’ the young man asked.
‘I’ve never worked in a stock room,’ William explained.
The young man looked at the older one. ‘We should tell Mister Wilkins he fixed the lorry.’ Without waiting for the other man’s opinion, he went inside while William lingered, unsure what to do. A few moments later the man in the brown suit reappeared and gestured for William to come over.
‘I ‘ear you mended the lorry,’ he said.
Though he was about to say that it was only a matter of cleaning a dirty contact breaker, William changed his mind. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said instead.
‘What’s your name then?’
‘Reynolds, sir. William Reynolds.’
‘You know about engines and mechanics, do you, Reynolds?’
‘A bit, sir, yes.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘Nowhere presently, I’m afraid. I was lodging in Cumberland Road, but I ran out of money.’
‘Any experience in this sort of work?’ Wilkins asked.
‘I’m afraid not,’ William admitted his heart sinking.
Wilkins studied him doubtfully, and William waited for the usual dismissal, but for once it didn’t come straight away. Eventually Wilkins turned and beckoned for William to follow.
‘You can start tomorrow if you want,’ he said. ‘Your wages are ten shillings, but that’s just pocket money. You get your board and lodgings on top.’
William could hardly believe what he’d heard. Though ten shillings sounded a pitifully small amount, he was too tired and relieved to care. ‘Thank you,’ he said gratefully. ‘I won’t let you down, Mister Wilkins.’
‘I’ll give you the address of the place where you’ll be l
iving. You can go there tonight if you want. The doors are opened at half past six. Ask for Taylor, ‘e’ll show you ‘round.’
Five minutes later William went outside again. The other men waiting had already been told the position was filled, and he was aware of the envious looks they gave him and the dull despair in their eyes. He couldn’t look at them. He could hardly believe that a few short minutes ago he had been like them and now, suddenly, by a stroke of good fortune, everything had changed.
CHAPTER 7
The first weeks at Ballantynes passed quickly. Besides William there were half a dozen people working in the stockroom in the charge of Mister Wilkins. They were responsible for taking delivery of goods and distributing them to the appropriate departments, and also for arranging delivery of items to customer’s homes. They were kept busy most of the time, but the work wasn’t particularly strenuous or difficult, and they kept the same hours as everybody else in the shop, which meant they started at half past eight in the morning and finished at half past six.
William’s mechanical knowledge stood him in good stead. The Hallford lorry, which was the pride of the shop’s manager and a symbol of the firm’s determination to keep abreast with the times, frequently broke down. Since nobody else knew anything about mechanics it became William’s unofficial responsibility to maintain the lorry and keep it on the road. He didn’t mind because he found it interesting, and during his first week he subscribed to an automotive magazine so that he could learn more. A month later, an opportunity arose to improve his knowledge further when the manager of the shop bought a new Sunbeam and asked if William would look after it for him. William accepted gladly, and afterwards the manager would occasionally ask him some question or other and they would end up discussing the latest developments in the automotive industry, their relative positions in the shop briefly forgotten.
The other advantage of looking after the lorry was that it got William away from the shop. After his initial relief at having found a position that also gave him a place to live, he found that his life was almost completely given over to Ballantynes. The firm owned several houses where many of its employees lived. William shared a room with four other men, and one of the first things he had to do was learn the rules that governed the arrangement. He discovered that there were set times when they were allowed to come and go, and everything had to be done in the manner laid down. Beds had to be made in a certain fashion, possessions kept tidily and to a minimum, and if any rule was infringed there was a fine. Their meals were taken at work, half an hour for dinner at midday, which would be a hot meal, and another half an hour for tea which might be bread and butter and jam, while they had to provide breakfast at their own expense.
Employees also had to provide for themselves the clothes they wore to work, though Ballantynes had strict rules governing those as well. William discovered that many people spent almost all of their meagre wages on either the food they bought to supplement the basic fare they were given, or on items of clothing. Since the slightest infraction of the many rules they lived under earned a fine, some people ended up paying over as much as half of what they earned back to the firm. The whole system seemed designed to ensure that their lives were not their own.
Every second Wednesday evening, a staff social was held in the basement restaurant where they ate their meals. It was an opportunity for everybody to gather together informally; the shop girls and departmental buyers and assistants, the people who worked in the offices on the top floor, the floorwalkers, the people who did the window displays and also the stockboys. At all other times, especially during the working day, a definite hierarchy operated. The buyers considered themselves above everybody else, as did their assistants, and the office people thought the same of everyone except the buyers. William observed that even the shopgirls differentiated themselves from one another according to the department they worked for. Those in Ladies Fashions imagined themselves at the pinnacle of all the salespeople, while for some reason that William couldn’t fathom, anyone who worked on the housewares counter was at the very bottom. Beneath them all, the lowliest of the low, languished the stockboys as they were universally called, even though Frank, who drove the lorry, was in his fifties.
It was Taylor, the young man who’d helped William get his job, who introduced him to his first social. The tables had been put aside and everyone was dressed in their best. The men wore lounge suits, and the women and girls wore elaborate dresses. Since nobody really spoke to the stockboys, even on these occasions, Taylor kept up a running commentary in a low voice, so that William would know who was who.
The evening began with people volunteering some sort of entertainment. A young woman played a popular tune badly on the piano, and when she finished turned to the applauding crowd and inclined her head graciously, as if their acclaim was her rightful due and they were at the Albert Hall.
‘That’s Miss Worth from Perfumery,’ Taylor said. ‘If you take a delivery to ‘er department she won’t speak to you directly, but tells ‘er girls anything she wants to say instead, even if you’re standin’ right in front of ‘er.’
A man in his late thirties with a thin and serious face stood up next to recite a poem.
‘Mister Cook from Gentleman’s Hosiery,’ Taylor said. ‘Does the same thing every time.’
The poem was Tennyson’s The Charge of the Light Brigade, and was rendered with much gesticulation and overly dramatic emphasis. Mister Cook’s voice swelled and thundered to give the impression of galloping horses and booming canons, but was so overdone and with such seriousness that William wasn’t sure if it was meant to be parody.
Canon to right of them,
Canon to left of them,
Canon in front of them
Volley’d and thunder’d:
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
At the end, the man was red-faced from the effort and the emotion of it all. He looked down at the floor and absorbed the rapturous cheers and applause, mainly from the young men in his department.
A very large woman, who wore lace gloves and too much glittering jewellery, sang excruciatingly out of tune. Another man did a tap dance. Mrs Ferris did palm reading with much oohing and aahing and melodramatic pronouncements of tall dark strangers, unexpected surprises, long trips abroad and other banalities, though she herself had a different perception.
‘It’s a curse, you know, the gift. Sometimes I see such terrible things, I do.’
Afterwards there were sandwiches and coffee and tea. Alcohol wasn’t allowed. Then the tables were arranged for progressive whist.
‘That’s Ruth Hodges, there,’ Taylor said about a blonde girl of about eighteen. ‘And that’s Catherine with her. They’re on Haberdashery.’
Catherine was small and dark, but had a haughty look about her. Taylor took William over to introduce him and started talking to Catherine. He asked if she was enjoying herself.
‘I daresay it’s alright,’ she answered barely looking at him.
Taylor looked at her desperately, trying to think of something to say. ‘I like that frock you’re wearin’. It really suits you.’
‘Thanks,’ she said coolly.
‘If you wanted, I could take you to a place I know one evenin’,’ he suggested suddenly. ‘We could ‘ave a drink and a bit of a laugh.’
She looked at him in astonishment, then turned to Ruth. ‘I think I’ll join in the whist. Are you going to come?’
‘In a minute I will,’ Ruth said, at which Catherine threw a withering look at William and walked off, completely ignoring Taylor, who stared disconsolately after her and then wandered off to talk to Sayers, who was one of the others who shared their room.
‘Catherine can be a bit stand-offish sometimes,’ Ruth said to William. ‘You mustn’t take too much notice of her. She don’t really mean anythin
g by it. Is this your first time to a social then, William?’
‘Yes, it is,’ he said.
‘They’re quite good fun really if you haven’t got anything else to do. I don’t usually come myself, of course,’ she added unless he should think the caveat applied to herself. ‘Who did you like the best anyway?’
‘I thought the lady who played the piano was very good,’ William said to be polite.
‘Miss Worth? Oh yes, she’s lovely, and ever so talented.’
They talked for a little while longer and then the tables were cleared away again and Miss Worth returned to the piano. She began to play a waltz, and very soon there were couples dancing. Ruth and William looked on, and he felt she was waiting for him to ask her to dance. When the second tune began he asked her.
‘I’d love to,’ she said.
It was hot in the room. Ruth danced well, much better than he did, William thought. He apologised, and explained he’d only danced with the boys at his school before, when they were made to.
She giggled. ‘What sort of school was that then?’
‘A boy’s school at Oundle.’
‘Was it very posh then?’
‘Why do you ask that?’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘Well, nobody else I know talks like you do. And I bet that suit you’re wearing didn’t come off the rack either did it? I saw Mister Porter looking at you before. He was quite jealous, I could tell.’
‘I suppose it is a good school,’ William admitted.
‘So what are you doing working here then?’
‘I didn’t have a choice. I haven’t got any money.’
‘Oh well, it doesn’t matter does it. I expect you’ll do very well here. Somebody told me you’re already in well with Mister Dodd, and I never heard of him taking notice of a stockboy before.’
‘I only look after his motor,’ William said.
‘Perhaps you do now, but it’s bound to lead to other things, you mark my words.’
A few weeks after the social, William asked Ruth if she’d like to go to for a walk with him one Sunday, and perhaps have tea later. She agreed and they spent most of the day together. Though they didn’t really have a great deal in common, William enjoyed the time he spent with Ruth. He hadn’t realised until then how lonely he had become. He liked her and she seemed to like him too, and it became a regular thing for them to spend Sundays together. They often went to the park or took a tram out to the edge of town and walked along by the river. Sometimes William read to her from The Odyssey, and though he didn’t think she was really interested she didn’t say so. When Mister Wilkins gave him the job of helping with the stock ledger, Ruth surprised him by throwing her arms around him and kissing him.
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