Bill Bailey's Lot

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘That isn’t fair.’

  Bert looked at Katie. ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, they’re all older and they’ll know more. Mamie won’t know any and I doubt if Sammy will.’

  ‘I ain’t daft. I know towns and countries as well as you. And I go to the pictures on a Saturda’ mornin’, so I know actors and actresses an’ all.’

  ‘There you are,’ said Bert loudly now. ‘We’ll not only match them but we’ll beat them.’

  Fiona looked down the table towards Bill; then they both looked at Nell. Nell was smiling widely as if with pride. Her husband-to-be was not only a good man, he was a diplomatic man; he had saved the birthday party. Oh yes, indeed, because Fiona had been ready to blow her top. Mr Samuel Love’s oration on morality and on the filial piety of mothers from a son’s point of view had obliterated Pat and Mick and the Volvo car. Oh, she must remember that one.

  When the phone rang Fiona put her hand up, checking Bill from rising, saying, ‘I’ll see to it.’ And as she passed the bottom end of the table, Bill pulled her towards him and, above the noise of the counting, he said, ‘Tell her where to go to.’

  Fiona picked up the phone. He had been right, it was her mother. ‘Fiona?’

  ‘Yes, Mother.’

  ‘It’s Willie’s birthday and as he hasn’t called for his present and I have not been invited to his birthday party, it remains here until he comes.’

  ‘Mother, the birthday party is for children, and if I remember rightly you expressed the opinion that you can’t stand children in a horde.’ She almost added, ‘You couldn’t stand one, singular.’

  ‘If I’d been invited I could have looked in for a moment. I…I feel very isolated, Fiona. And it’s your doing, and…and…and that person’s.’

  ‘I’ve warned you, Mother, that if you do not refer to Bill either by his name or as my husband I shall refuse to talk to you, even on the phone.’

  ‘You’re hard, Fiona. You don’t take after me.’ No, thank God. Again she’d had to restrain herself from voicing her thoughts, but she said, ‘You’re not very isolated, Mother, when you can play bridge three times a week, go to the theatre on a Saturday night with your cronies, have your coffee mornings and your weekends away for relaxation. Your life hasn’t altered a bit over the years, Mother. You don’t need me. You never have; all you want to do is to disrupt my way of living, my life. Now, look, I’ve got to see to the children. I’ll send Willie tomorrow after he comes from school. Goodnight, Mother.’

  ‘Fiona.’

  As she thrust the phone down the term ‘serpent in heaven’ came into her mind. The party had been going beautifully, and she had to ring. What was she talking about, going beautifully? That child had nearly ruined it. Something would have to be done. But what? And his father talking to him about whores. Really! If only Willie wasn’t so set on the boy. Well, she’d have to put her foot down; that association couldn’t be allowed to go on.

  Bert’s game was a great success; and it went on for a half-hour or more, until Bill gave the signal for an end to festivities, at least in the dining room, by rising from the table, saying, ‘The slave women want to get this table cleared, so the rest of you up aloft and see what you can do with Willie’s computer. Only don’t break it.’ And pointing his finger down at Willie, he warned, ‘That cost me a packet.’

  ‘Yes, I know, Dad. And thank you very much,’ Willie said as he put his arms around Bill’s waist; and Bill ruffled the boy’s hair as he muttered, ‘Later on tonight you come back and tell me it’s bad manners to say what you paid for a present, because if you don’t your mother will; and I’d rather it came from you.’

  Bert and Nell helped to clear the table and wash up, after which when everything in the dining room was shipshape again they returned there to discuss the big event of the morrow. And it was as Bert was saying, ‘I can’t help feeling guilty, boss, in taking leave at this time, when everybody’s working all out to get the places finished,’ that the phone rang again. And Bill, stopping Fiona from rising, said, ‘It can’t be her again so it’ll likely be for me, although I don’t know who’ll be ringing unless it’s more trouble.’

  His expression was blank as he picked up the phone: ‘Fellburn 7843,’ he said.

  ‘Hello, Bailey. This is Sir Charles here.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, Sir Charles? How nice to hear from you. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Very well at the moment, at least in my mind. If my body was as good as my mind I’d be running races.’

  ‘I’m sure you would, sir. You know about the latest attack, about the pigeons?’

  ‘Yes, you told me at the time, and I said I’ll make it all good. But that isn’t what I’ve rung you about.’

  ‘No, sir?’ Bill’s voice was still flat.

  ‘Are you standing up or sitting down?’

  ‘I’m standing up, sir.’

  ‘Well, put your hand out and hang on to something.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir.’ Bill gave a slight laugh. ‘There’s nothing within reach that I can hang on to, except a chair here, but that’s rather fragile. I rarely sit on it in case I snap the legs.’

  There was no response to this, jocular or otherwise, only silence on the line, and he was about to enquire, ‘Are you there, sir?’ when Sir Charles’ voice said, ‘You’ve as good as got the contract, Bailey.’

  Bill’s hand did shoot out now and grip the back of the chair.

  ‘Did you hear what I said?’

  Still Bill could not answer for a moment; then he muttered, ‘Yes, sir. Yes, I heard what you said.’

  ‘Well, there’s been a meeting here today, the whole crew of them, and I can tell you I had to resort to a little wangling, a bit of persuasion, and in one or two cases perhaps a bit of threatening. One big boy wanted to know why such an important project should be given to a small builder, to which I replied that that small builder’s work was better than any other’s I’d seen.’

  Again there was a pause before Bill could say, with a break in his voice, ‘Oh, thank you, sir. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. If I can ever do…well, it’s not easy to say this from where I’m standing, but if ever I could do you or your family any service you’ve only got to to say.’

  ‘Oh, well; that you might be able to. If that madwoman of whom I’m rather fond doesn’t let up, and if those rascals are found she might be in need of help. Then whether the case comes up or is dropped will be up to you.’

  Bill didn’t answer for a moment; but his tone was thoughtful as he said, ‘Well, I never break a promise.’

  ‘Good man. Now, what you must do is be in Newcastle tomorrow at the Civic Centre at three o’clock. I’ll be there, if I’ve got to be pushed in a wheelchair. But I can manage the car now, so never fear, I’ll be there. Put on your best bib and tucker. And there’s no need for me to ask you to answer straight because you always do that; but on this occasion, not too straight. Try a little diplomacy here and there, for there’s a couple on this finance board who would still have their own favourites. You understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Yes I do. And oh; thank you very much, and not only on my behalf but on behalf of my men, especially the ten that have stuck by me all these years.’

  ‘Well, you’ll need many more than ten when you start on this project. It’s a big deal, Bailey. You’ll need to take on supervisory help, you know that. And also you’ll need to have a long talk with your bank manager…oh, yes indeed.’

  ‘Oh, aye. Yes, sir, I’ve worked it out, just in case,’ and he smiled at the phone as he said, ‘Night after night for weeks now, I’ve gone over and over it: who I would need, and what I would need. You can’t work a project like this on your own. But I have the men in mind: two of my own men will be site managers; and two others will take on gangs. These are the ones who don’t mind responsibility. Others are good workers; but after work they consider they’ve earned their clubs, and darts, and snooker. Oh, yes; I’ve got it all worked out, sir. And again and again, I thank you.
’

  ‘Well, see you tomorrow. Don’t let me down.’

  ‘I’ll never do that, sir.’

  ‘Goodnight, Bailey.’

  ‘Goodnight to you, sir.’

  He stood for a moment with his hand pressed tight down on the receiver, and actual tears welled up in his eyes, which he slowly rubbed away with his handkerchief.

  He did not run into the sitting room, he walked in quietly, and straight to Fiona, who was looking at him enquiringly.

  He pulled her from the couch, then drew up Nell, and, when Bert, too, got to his feet he put his arms as far around them all as he could, clutching at Bert; then his head dropped between them and there was a break in his voice as he said, ‘I’ve got it, the contract.’ Then, his manner changing, he threw his head back and let out a ‘Whoop!’ and amid cries of, ‘Wonderful! Marvellous!’ he took Fiona into his arms; and when she buried her face in his shoulder he patted her, saying, ‘There now. There now; I feel like that meself, but I’ll wait till I get into bed.’

  Looking at Bert, who was holding Nell and whose face, too, was showing emotion, he said, ‘We’re set, Bert. We’re set. Work for the lads for some years ahead; and for others an’ all. Oh, yes, dozens of them. Oh, let’s drink to it.’

  Gently now, he pressed Fiona onto the couch; then on his way to the cabinet in the corner he turned towards Bert and said, ‘I’m not going to tempt you, but would you?’

  ‘No thanks, Bill. No thanks. I can get high as a kite on orange juice.’

  Amid the laughter Bill said, ‘How about you, Nell, sherry?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  He brought the tray to the couch, on it the two glasses of sherry, the orange juice and a whisky. And as their glasses clinked, he said, ‘Let’s drink to an outsize in miracles because, believe me, when I knew how many were in for this, although I kept struggling and hoping, I felt I really hadn’t a chance.’

  ‘God’s good.’

  Looking at Bert, Bill said., ‘I’ll believe it after this. You take it from me, I’ll believe it after this…’

  It was eight o’clock when Bill drove Roland and Sammy back to their homes, homes set well apart in the town’s layout. Roland had been effusive in his thanks for the wonderful party, and Bill had said that he had gone a long way towards making it a success, and assured him that he would never forget that story; he also hoped that one day he would bring his uncle to see them.

  When he dropped the boy before the iron gates at the entrance to the short drive leading to the white stuccoed house that faced the moor, Roland turned and said to Sammy, ‘Be seeing you again, Sammy.’ and Sammy’s mouth opened and shut twice before he answered, ‘Aye, OK.’

  Having watched Roland walk towards the gate, then turn and wave, Bill started the car, and Sammy leaned over the back seat and said, ‘He said he’ll be seein’ me. Think he meant it?’

  ‘Of course he did; he’s a very nice boy that.’

  ‘Not snotty?’

  ‘No; no, he’s not snotty.’

  ‘Like some.’

  ‘Well, in life you’ll always find there’s some and some, Sammy; young and old, there’ll always be some and some. But the real ones, the real gents and ladies, they’re never snotty.’

  Bill drove through Bog’s End and when he stopped at the block of flats he said, ‘Will your dad be in?’

  ‘Don’t ‘spect so. But I’ve got a key.’ He dug his hand into the bottom of his pocket, pulled out the door key, and Bill looked at it for a moment before he said, ‘Would you like me to come up with you and see you in?’

  ‘No. No, I can go by meself; I always do.’

  ‘Yes, aye, of course. Did…did you enjoy the party?’

  ‘Aye. Aye, it was good. Nice food. An’…an’ did ya think that Willie liked me present?’

  ‘He loved it.’

  ‘I didn’t get it off the tip. Me da give me the money for it, and he helped me pick it. He said it was the best model car on the market.’

  ‘It is; it is that. And I know one thing, it’ll start Willie on collecting them.’ Bill now leant over and opened the back door, saying as he did so, ‘Goodnight, Sammy.’

  ‘Goodnight, mister.’

  The boy was standing on the pavement now, and he said, ‘What have I got to call ya besides mister?’

  ‘What about Mr Bill?’

  ‘You won’t lose your hair if I call ya that?’

  ‘Well, I’ve just said so, haven’t I?’

  ‘Aye. ‘Night then.’

  ‘’Night, Sammy.’

  Bill watched the small figure open the paint-scratched and scarred door that led into the hall of the flats before starting the car, saying to himself, ‘God above!’

  He, too, had had a rough childhood but nothing like that kid’s. His own mother had always been at home waiting with a meal, even if her hand might be outstretched towards his head if he wasn’t on time to sit down with his dad and her; and when he was younger she would always kiss him goodnight after he’d had a playful slap on the backside from his father. He didn’t know why he felt so concerned about this little fella, but he was. Yet it was obvious Davey did the best he could for him: he was well shod and clothed and likely got plenty to eat; and it would seem that he tried to instil a certain morality into him, even if it was about the whores. Eeh my! He grinned to himself. He had thought he would collapse when he heard him, and he wanted to bawl even louder than he had done at Roland’s Pat and Mick story. And by! That was a corker an’ all. My goodness, what kids came out with these days! But that lad; he would like to do something for him, and he would. Yes, he’d do it through giving his dad plenty of work that would enable them to get out of that hole and into a decent little house.

  Work. He was set. Set for years ahead; for once he had done a job like that the world would be his oyster ’cos he’d build those houses like houses had never been built before. There’d be hardly two of the same design. He’d fight to get his ideas through. But then, they must have liked them in the first place to give him the contract.

  Dear Lord—he was swinging the car round into the drive—he had never felt like praying but at this minute he wished he was going into a church where he could kneel and say thanks to whatever was there. He did that.

  A bubbly feeling rose in him and his step was so light that he almost danced into the house, only to realise straight away that the party atmosphere was changed.

  Nell was coming down the stairs and Fiona behind her.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I’ve…I’ve been thrown out, finally.’

  ‘Come and sit down.’ Fiona put her arm around Nell’s shoulders and guided her into the sitting room, Bill following, saying, ‘The old devil threw you out?’

  ‘Literally.’ Nell sniffed, then blew her nose. ‘Mam tried to stop him, but he nearly knocked her on her back. He had my cases and everything lined up in the kitchen, with the ultimatum that either I gave up this mad idea and stayed where I belonged or else I could go to my fancy man now and he never wanted to set eyes on me again.

  ‘I went to pick up the cases, and he actually punched me in the chest; then, one after the other, he threw my things outside. I called over the fence for Bert, and when he saw what had happened he wanted to go in to him, to reason with him. But I told him you couldn’t reason with that man, or at least the man he had become.’

  ‘Where’s Bert now?’

  ‘He got a taxi and took my things along home. Funny…I already think of it as home.’

  ‘He should have waited; what’s my car for?’

  ‘He…he didn’t know what time you’d be back. Anyway, you’ve got a lodger for the night.’

  ‘My God! I’ve a good mind to go over there and give him the length of me tongue, if nothing else.’

  ‘It’s no use, Bill. It’s as if the devil or something has got into him. I can’t understand it. He’s…he’s become a frightening creature.’

  ‘Well, this time tomorrow you’ll be away f
rom it all. Look, now that things are settled for the future, why not make Bert take a week off. What’s two days for a honeymoon?’

  ‘All I want, Bill, is to come back into that house and know that I’ve got a real home and a real man at last.’ She now turned to Fiona, saying, ‘And yet I won’t feel safe until after the ceremony tomorrow morning. I’ve got the feeling that something will happen, that he’ll do something.’

  ‘He’ll do nothing of the kind, because we won’t let you out of our sight until the deed is done and you’re on that train. So don’t worry. And look, Mrs B’—he turned to Fiona—‘go and make some of your rotten coffee, and lace it with a little brandy before Bert gets back, because if he sees her having the hard stuff he’ll think we’ve already got her off the straight and narrow.’

  As Fiona passed the bottom of the stairs two voices hissed at her, ‘Mam! Mam!’

  She looked up to see Katie and Willie, and in stage whispers they said, ‘We heard Nell.’ And it was Katie who took up the conversation now. ‘I saw Mr Paget going up and down his garden. He seemed to be talking to himself. All the lights were on in the house. Willie saw him an’ all, and he came for me.’

  ‘It’s all right. Go back to bed and get to sleep or else, mind, it’ll be school for you tomorrow and no wedding. Go on now.’

  ‘What’s the matter with Mr Paget, Mam?’ This was from Willie.

  ‘He’s…he’s not very well.’

  ‘Then he should go to bed, shouldn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, he should. Now both of you get back to your beds; I’ll be up in a minute.’ And hearing them dutifully scampering across the landing, she turned and went towards the kitchen to make the coffee.

  This was made and she was about to lift the tray with the three cups on it when there came a knock on the back door. It was a hard knock, and she wondered why Bert hadn’t come the front way, as he had been doing of late.

  She unbolted the back door, pulled it open, then stood gaping at the man confronting her, for she did not recognise John Paget: the man who was always meticulously dressed was wearing only his under-vest and trousers and slippers. He did not attempt to come into the house; in fact, he stepped back from her as if, it would seem, to give his arm and finger more length to point at her as he said, ‘You tell her she’s got to come back. Do you hear? She owes us that much. My wife needs her. I’m sorry we ever saw this house, and you and your big-mouthed man, because it’s him that’s the cause of this. Yes, it is. Yes, it is. He pushed his low-type workman at her. He did it to spite me because he never liked me. But he’ll pay for it. Oh yes, I’ll get him. Oh yes, I’ll do for him, or I’ll burn him out and the lot of you.’