Arthur of the Red Robe

by Gerry Spoors

“Well, I only know the bus route,” came Gerry’s reply. “That’s fine, son, as long as we get there.”

  ***

  It was early January, and they’d only been back at work for a couple of days after the Christmas and New Year break. Well, there wasn’t actually a New Year break in those days, as 1st January was not a Bank Holiday. Gerry had only joined the Forensic Science Laboratory the previous August, just after England had won the World Cup. He’d been living with wife, Elaine, and their daughter Julie, at Elaine’s mother’s house in Keswick Road, Peterlee, when he got the job of Scientific Assistant at the Forensic Science Laboratory in Gosforth, Newcastle.

  When Gerry had left school at the age of (nearly) 16, he’d taken the first job that came along, as a Junior Laboratory Technician in the Chemistry Department of Sunderland Technical College, which many years later became Sunderland University. But after about 18 months, he realised that he wasn’t going to get rich in that role and he needed more money. He quite fancied Forensic Science so his first instinct was to apply to the HQ of the Home Office Forensic Science Service in London. They invited him for an interview, so Elaine and he took the train from Sunderland to London and walked to the address which was somewhere in Finsbury. He didn’t know about London’s underground system or bus routes, so they just walked.

  He couldn’t remember much about the interview except that they advised him to apply directly to one of the Regional Labs and Nottingham in particular, as there was a vacancy there. They gave him the address and when they got back to Peterlee, Gerry wrote to Dr Adam Conway, the director, who replied to the effect that they did indeed have a vacancy and asked Gerry to fill in an application form. Now, for some reason, Gerry thought that this was offering him an actual interview, so he took another day off work and simply went to Nottingham, by train again, but this time on his own!

  Of course no one at the Nottingham Lab was expecting him and the receptionist was somewhat bemused by this young lad who’d turned up asking for an interview. Fortunately, Dr Conway was in the office that day though he seemed a bit irritated that Gerry had come without an invitation. Anyway, he explained that the job vacancy that they had was for someone with ‘A’ Levels and that Gerry could have saved himself a journey if he’d done the proper thing and submitted an application form first! However, he did say that the Lab in North-East England had a vacancy for a Scientific Assistant and he gave him the contact details.

  Gerry duly contacted the laboratory at Gosforth and received a reply from a Mr Samuel Dawson, Senior Experimental Officer, with an application form, which Gerry completed and returned immediately. Within a few days, he was on the X5, which was the express bus to Newcastle, for his interview, which as well as questions, included two practical tests: one was simply to see if he could handle a burette correctly, and of course he could, and the second was that he had to examine some road debris under a binocular microscope and write about it. He produced a page or two of description, in which he suggested several different possible scenarios. However, what really sealed the job for him was his familiarity and expertise with infra-red and ultra-violet spectroscopy, which was his main role at Sunderland Tech.

  Gerry soon received an offer through the post, and immediately accepted. But then disaster struck within days! One lunch-time, he was playing football down on Roker Beach with some of his workmates from the Chemistry Department, and he developed a searing abdominal pain. He went home early that day and Elaine told him that he was looking yellow. The following day the pain was worse and he was very sick. The Doctor was called and diagnosed infective jaundice which needed complete bed rest. So he now had to write to Sam and tell him about his condition. Sam was brilliant and just told him to get better and that the job would still be there for him.

  As well as being off work for 7 weeks, Gerry had been unable to take his ‘A’ Level Exams in Chemistry, Physics and Maths, for which he’d been studying part-time for the previous year. He lost a stone or so in weight and looked terrible. But when it was over and he was fit for work again, he phoned Sam, who asked him to come for a chat—just to make sure everything was in order. This time, Gerry took Elaine with him, but she didn’t go into the building and was content just to sit on the wall outside and watch life go by. All went well and within a couple of days, Gerry had a starting date!

  Elaine and Gerry decided to find a place in Gosforth, as the cost of Gerry getting the X5 everyday would wipe out the slight increase in wages that Gerry would be receiving. They saw an advert in the Evening Chronicle for a bedsit at 36, Salters Road in Gosforth, which was dead handy for the Forensic Lab and the shops. It was basically one room, on the first-floor, where you would sit, eat and sleep. It did have a fireplace, which was the only source of heat. There was an adjacent room which was a sort of kitchen in that it had a cold water tap over an old enamel sink, a gas cooker, and an old wooden table. Adjoining the kitchen was a dilapidated, narrow, ‘conservatory’ or greenhouse, which had some of the small panes of glass missing. They were to share a bathroom with the other members of the house, who were the old lady who owned the house, her son and his wife.

  Gerry was to pay the first week’s rent in advance from the middle of September, but as it was only the beginning of September, the landlady agreed that he could spend his lunchtimes painting the room. Furthermore, during the first weekend, Gerry and Elaine, with Gerry’s dad, Les, got the bus over to Gosforth with rolls of wallpaper, a packet of sizing, a bucket, some old sheets and a sizing brush. Les was an experienced decorator and he worked flat-out, completing the room in one day. He didn’t even have a sizing table, so they used the small table from the so-called kitchen.

  Gerry and Elaine really couldn’t afford the rent. They’d only been giving Elaine’s mam a few shillings each week and now they needed to pay £2-16s-6d out of Gerry’s wage, which was only £10 per week, but paid monthly. It was a problem that he was now paid monthly and as they didn’t put the money by, they soon fell behind with the rent. They struggled to find money for food sometimes. His parents had been able to help him with a few bob before, but they were now miles away in Newbottle, and no one in the family had a car. In fact, his mam and dad were also struggling, and on one occasion his mam asked him if he could lend her some money when he got paid at the end of the month. She’d got herself into a bit of a mess and couldn’t pay Billy Wilson’s weekly bill. Billy Wilson owned the corner shop near where Gerry’s family lived in Newbottle. In common with other families, Gerry’s mam and dad would get groceries (and vital cigarettes, as both Kathy and Les smoked) ‘on tick’ during the week and pay it back when the weekly wage came in on Thursday or Friday. Kathy, his mam, was to pay Gerry back when Les got paid on the following Thursday.

  Therefore, Gerry was expecting the money back over the following weekend as they were already in a pickle just one week into the month. A letter arrived on the Saturday morning from Kathy—but no money inside! She had decided to send Gerry (always known as Gerald to his family) what was known as a Jopling’s ticket. This was a voucher, purchased from a check trader, who’d bought it for (say) £8 from the shop in question then sold it to their customer, who would pay for it over (say) 10 weeks at maybe £1.20 per week, making a tidy profit.

  The Jopling’s ticket, of course, could only be used in Jopling’s one and only department store, which had a grocery section—but which, unfortunately, was in Sunderland, 15 miles from Gosforth! Gerry was livid and upset, as by now he had no money left. How was he going to get to Sunderland? There was another complication. For the preceding 2 or 3 weeks, Elaine had been poorly with the same infective jaundice that had laid Gerry low earlier in the year. They’d had the doctor out and, as when Gerry had been ill, Elaine was told to stay in bed. She had no other choice as she was so weak and constantly vomiting.

  Gerry coped in a fashion. He came home each lunch time and was never required to stay after 5 o’clock at the lab—except, that is, for Monday nights, as he had to go to Newcastle College of Further E
ducation, in Bath Lane, to study for his ONC (Ordinary National Certificate) in Chemistry. It was one whole day and one evening per week. When he’d joined the Forensic Lab in August 1966, Sam had advised him not to continue with ‘A’ Level studies but to switch to the more relevant Ordinary National Certificate in Chemistry. Not only did it have a more practical basis, it also had a greater emphasis on Chemistry than did the ‘A’ Level Chemistry course and it also covered Physics and Maths to the full ‘A’ Level standard. However, it was extremely hard work.

  But of course, when Elaine was poorly there was also Julie to think about—she was still only 18 months old. It was November by now and quite cold. The only coal that Gerry could buy was in small ‘handy packs’ from a local shop, together with some kindling and firelighters. He could also get milk and other essentials there—when he had money, that is. When he did have a few bob, he also used to buy a packet of assorted chocolates called Lucky Numbers, which were a treat for the 3 of them. The name ‘Lucky Numbers’ referred to the number on each individual sweet wrapper. Apparently, if you collected all of the many numbers you won a cash prize and Gerry and Elaine were so naïve as to think this was actually possible. It didn’t happen for them, nor, presumably, for the thousands of other collectors who must have spent a lot of money on this and other marketing ruses.

  Poor Julie had to have nappies, of course, and disposable ones presumably didn’t exist in 1966. So they had to be boiled on the gas stove, as they didn’t have a washing machine. Gerry would rinse the nappy down the toilet then boil it in a big pan with some soap powder. After rinsing again—in cold water—he would wring them out by hand and hang them up either in the so-called conservatory, which did get sunshine during the day, or on a very short line outside in the garden. Gerry struggled to keep up sometimes, when Elaine was poorly, and as he had to clear out the fireplace each morning, he often didn’t have time to take the ashes downstairs and round the back of the house to the dustbins. So he would put them in a cardboard box in the kitchen until he did have time. The landlady would look in sometimes and then complain to Gerry. He would apologise and promise to do better.

  When Elaine wasn’t ill, she managed to use a local launderette to do their washing. On one particular occasion, Gerry had got £10 out of the TSB bank—as two £5 notes—and paid the rent to the landlady. The next day he’d gone to work and was thinking about the money he’d withdrawn and was going to check in his pocket when he realised he’d changed his trousers that morning. He only had 2 pairs of trousers, and Elaine was taking a few things to the launderette that day. Gerry was extremely worried, and he asked Sam if he could just pop home and explained why. Sam said: “Just jump in the car and I’ll take you!”

  They arrived outside 36, Salters Road, and Gerry went inside to discover Elaine and Julie weren’t there. Then Sam said he would drive Gerry to the launderette, where there was no sign of Elaine and no one could remember her being there. Gerry asked if they could keep an eye out for her and warn her to check the trousers. But now panic was setting in as Gerry realised that he’d deliberately never told anyone at the lab about Julie. He was so embarrassed about the fact that he was married so young, never mind being a father, that he’d never mentioned it. As they drove along, he suddenly saw Elaine, in her yellow cape coat, pushing Julie in her pushchair. Thankfully, Sam didn’t notice Elaine, and of course didn’t know about the baby. Eventually, Gerry just gave up and said that he’d left a note in the room in case Elaine had come back. They went back to the lab.

  When Gerry got back home that night, he found that Elaine hadn’t even been to the launderette and the trousers were still in the pile of washing for the next day. Of course he could have checked on this when he called back earlier, but he had been in panic mode and it hadn’t occurred to him.

  Now, let’s go back to the Jopling’s ticket. So Gerry had got this on the Saturday, but he couldn’t just take a day off to use it. It was November and he’d only been at the lab for just over 3 months, and so hadn’t accrued any holidays. Elaine seemed to be a lot better by Tuesday, so they decided to go to Sunderland on the Thursday and Gerry would call in sick. The plan was that they would leave early on the Thursday morning and walk the 15 miles to Sunderland. Gerry had only five pence in his pocket, whereas the bus fare was a couple of shillings for the two of them. Their breakfast consisted of some dry cornflakes and some drinking chocolate—the entire contents of their cupboard. They set off at 6 a.m.

  Gerry was conscious of two things: firstly, he had to make sure he phoned the lab from a public phone box as soon as possible after 9 o’clock; secondly, they would be walking along the main road through Felling, Heworth and Boldon, and he had no idea whether any of the Forensic Lab staff commuted along that road. What if they saw him and told Sam? Anyway, phone boxes were all over the place in those days so Gerry phoned the lab from one of them but asked Elaine to talk and tell the receptionist that he wasn’t well. The call used up tuppence.

  After 2 or 3 hours walking, Gerry noticed that Elaine’s face had turned yellow again, and he became worried. At around the same time they came to a small newspaper/confectioner’s shop so Gerry went in to see if threepence would buy him anything. He came out with a small tube of Refreshers, which were a popular sherbet—tasting sweet at the time. They eventually reached Jopling’s at 11:20 a.m. and immediately started shopping in the grocery section. It was really a supermarket within a department store, although supermarkets as such hadn’t really arrived yet.

  Of course, when they’d shopped and paid for the groceries with the voucher, they had to get back home and in their state, they couldn’t possibly contemplate walking. On the way that morning they’d thought about asking Elaine’s Auntie Rita, who worked as a seamstress at Jopling’s, for the bus fare. But they didn’t even know if she was at work that day—thankfully, she was! Rita was a wonderful woman who would do anything for you if she could. She asked them how much they wanted, and Gerry—being Gerry—wouldn’t ask for a penny more than they needed. In fact, he under—estimated the bus fare! So when they got to Newcastle, they had to walk the remaining 3 miles to Gosforth. Although they now had plenty of food, they were just too tired to have anything substantial that evening—they just needed sleep!

  But the food soon ran out and Gerry couldn’t see a way out of the problem. He simply couldn’t afford the rent and he was constantly being pestered by the landlady. In fact, she’d told him to find another place—and soon! Also, his mam had been on at them about coming to live in Newbottle as one of her check-traders, Mr Watchman, had told her that he had a small mid-terraced house available for only £1–10s a week, and that included electricity! It wasn’t up to much and although Gerry would have to start paying bus fare again, the rent was much less and, of course, they would be very close to Gerry’s parents in case they needed anything. Kathy’s mother, Mrs Robinson, but known to the whole family as ‘Nana’, was even closer in her Old Aged People’s Bungalow. She’d said that they could have a bath there once a week!

  Gerry, Elaine and Julie went over to Newbottle the following weekend to have a look at the house, as Kathy had borrowed the key from ‘Watchman’, as he was commonly known. They walked up to the house, No. 6, Victoria Square, which was sandwiched between Nos 5 and 7. Presumably, the other houses in the square had been demolished long ago—and Gerry thought it a pity that 5, 6 and 7 hadn’t been also. To describe No. 6 as a house was a big stretch of the imagination. The ‘road’ in front of it was mud as it had never been made-up, and the house only had a front door. This opened directly into a small sitting/dining room, with a scullery (a tiny kitchen) off it. The scullery had one cold tap over an enamel sink and one movable electric ring—nothing else!

  The small sitting room also had a fireplace and at the other side of the room to the scullery was a staircase leading up to the one bedroom, which had one piece of furniture—an old wardrobe. The house didn’t have a bathroom or toilet! There was access to a toilet round the corner of the
little street where a block of 3 W.Cs stood, and the numbers 5, 6 and 7 were written in white paint on the allocated, dilapidated doors. They opened toilet number 6 to see that it was filthy beyond compare and the water in the bowl was frozen solid. To say that the house was a slum was a complete misrepresentation. But they really didn’t have any choice—they would be more or less homeless soon, although they would have been allowed to squeeze into Gerry’s parents’ house at 39, Cathedral View, for a few weeks, to give them time to sort things out.

  They moved out of the bedsit just before Christmas 1966, and Gerry’s mam had arranged for a neighbour with a pickup truck to move their ‘furniture’. Kathy, and Gerry’s sister, Lydia, aged 9, came with the truck, to show the man the way to Salters Road, but this reduced the seating options for the return journey as Gerry, Elaine and Julie had to go back to Newbottle with them. So on the return journey, the bench seat of the truck consisted of the driver, Kathy with Lydia on her knee, Elaine with Julie on her knee, and Gerry. No safety belts then, of course.

  Gerry had got himself into a bit of a state on the day before the truck was due. After all, they’d only been in the bedsit for a few months and with his dad’s help they’d completely redecorated the room. They’d papered it with quite nice wallpaper and Gerry had painted it all himself.

  He’d paid the rent despite weekly struggles to pay it on the due date. Admittedly, when Elaine was ill, he’d struggled with the dirty nappies and ashes from the fire. Anyway, he was angry and ‘accidentally’ pulled a small strip of wallpaper off the wall!

  When the truck arrived at No. 6, Victoria Square, they just dumped their few belongings into the front room. Their belongings consisted of a couple of shabby easy chairs, a small table, a radiogram (their only luxury), a bed, Julie’s cot—and that was about it. Then they went down to No. 39, where they spent Christmas, before returning to their new home on 30th December. The house was freezing and even lighting a fire seemed to make little or no difference. And they just couldn’t bear going to the filthy, frozen toilet. They decided to use a potty and after using it, they had to take it round and flush it down the toilet. But the toilet had to be thawed out first, which required a couple of kettles full of boiling water. They couldn’t believe the conditions they were living in, but what else could they do?