"That's all right! You're not the first. Beth's already here. Go straight up! I expect Jack will be with you in a minute."
Gordon felt his heart beating strongly as he ascended the stairs. There was a rush of blood to his head. He went into the study. There were two bottles of wine on Jack's desk. Beth was looking at the titles on Jack's bookshelves.
She was wearing slacks. Gordon hated slacks. Apart from that, he liked what else he saw. The luxurious red hair came half way down her back. She was about the same height as himself. Her waist was slim. She turned and greeted him. He noticed her breasts were quite large and shapely. She was wearing a tight woollen jumper.
They were at ease with each other. They chatted about what had happened at their workplaces during the week.
Gordon told her how they had recently managed to gain recognition for a union and how difficult it was to involve his work-mates in union activities.
"They only show any interest when we have a pay claim in. This week I've had nothing but moans. Not much in the way of thanks for our negotiated pay rise.
"It's not as though I'm paid for doing my best for them," he continued. Being a shop steward is a thankless task. The bosses think you're trying to ruin the firm and the workers think you're not doing enough for them."
Beth rubbed a thumb and forefinger together and said, "Money! Money! Money!" She smiled sympathetically.
Gordon noticed that she wore no wedding or engagement ring. "Do you live with your parents?" he asked.
"Oh no, I left home for good as soon as I started work at Skerton. It's best to be independent don't you think? I share with my friend Leslie."
Gordon wondered whether Lesley was a man or a woman. "He's not with you here. Isn't he interested in politics?"
She laughed, "Lesley isn't a 'he'. She's another teacher at Skerton. We started on the same day there. We were friends at school and went to the same Training College. She was born and brought up in Halton too. But to answer your question about politics, no, we have similar views but Lesley always says she has better things to do with her time than mess about with politics."
"No boy friend!" Gordon thought. "So far, so good!"
During the week, he'd made up his mind that he wanted to see Beth on her own. He'd established that there was no boy friend around. And he'd got Margaret out of the way. The way was wide open for him. But he had only one free day when he would be able to see her. What could he suggest? He had until the end of the meeting to think of something.
Inadvertently, Jack solved the problem.
As usual, he took charge. He'd decided that the week's discussion should be about favourite books. This meant, for once, that each member had a chance to have a good say although Jack followed their words about their favourites with his own lengthy comments.
Just before the break for wine and for informal chatting Jack made an announcement.
"Tomorrow the local anti-Mosleyites are doing a leaflet drop. The ILP want to counteract what his lot did last weekend. They hope that we'll be able to help them."
Two at the meeting had other arrangements and couldn't help. Jack and the male colleague of his from Skerton School would be available all day. They agreed to work together around Owen Road. Beth and Gordon would both be free in the afternoon. It was Jack who suggested, "So perhaps Beth and Gordon could do around Halton Road for us?"
Gordon could hardly believe his luck. While they were sipping their wine, he arranged to meet her at half-past two, at the end of Halton Road, in Skerton. She took half of the leaflets and he carried the rest home.
"Next part of mission accomplished!" he gloated to himself.
Crossing the field on the way to Sefton Drive there was still a faint glow of red in the sky. It should mean a fine sunny day ahead. The family should be safely at Barrow by now.
"Red sky at night, shepherd's delight! More like Gordon's delight!" he hoped. He gave the cats a few scraps for their supper and went off to bed. Jesse decided he'd have to make do with second-best, Gwyn being away, and came upstairs after him. He curled up on Gordon's chest purring. Gordon went to sleep full of anticipation.
He went to work on Saturday morning as usual. The weather was so sunny that he didn't bother taking his waterproofs with him and he did not wear his cap. Before he went, he remembered to he had to feed the cats.
Coming back from work, he walked even more swiftly than usual. Margaret had left him a meat and potato pie to warm-up for his meal. It was easily cooked on the new gas stove. He had time to spare so he relaxed with a cup of tea, then he had a refreshing shave.
He whistled to himself, standing half-naked in the bathroom. When he'd finished, he had a good look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. "Not too bad for thirty-four!" he mused, frowning at the few wrinkles round his eyes and the greying at the temples. He tried to forget the bald patch which he knew was spreading on the back of his head. He stepped back and viewed his torso. That was okay. The time had not yet arrived when he'd have to make an effort and tense his muscles to make his stomach appear flat. His friend, Brian, already had a prominent belly. He bent his arms and admired his biceps.
"Gordon," he said out loud, "I think you'll do lad. You're not past it yet!"
Shirt on, collar attached, cufflinks fixed, hair slicked down, shoes well-polished, he viewed the weather. It was still a nice day so no need for a raincoat. "Off I go!"
He went the long way round by road. He did not want to take the shine off his shoes by going over the grass. "Oh what a beautiful afternoon it is!"
He passed Jack's house and carried on along Torrisholme Road. There were a few people out and about. He called a friendly greeting to those he recognised.
"Nice day, Gordon!"
"Certainly is! Couldn't be better."
Ryelands Park was next on his right, after he passed under the railway-bridge at the end of Khyber Pass. It was the site of the old estate of James Williamson and who'd built the Structure in Williamson Park, better known as the Ashton Memorial, and the new Town Hall in Dalton Square.
 |
| Lord Ashton |
He had a cycle track there and raced round it to keep himself fit, riding racing bikes specially made for him. The few witnesses of his antics said he was an adept trick cyclist, although one sardonic Skertonite had quipped: "Aye, he could always earn his living performing on his bike if he lost all his millions!
"He's always been a tricky bugger! Too tricky for us!"
The same man who had been given the sack 'for slackness at work' was one of many who declined the invitation to go to a party in the Park when Jimmy who'd become Lord Ashton, and provided ten thousand five-hundred splendid lunches for locals.
"For all of my friends and neighbours," he said.
Another time, when he opened his new Town Hall, all of the Lancaster school kids had to go to the official celebrations. They were given a box of chocolates and a commemoration medallion.
Many of the rebellious Skerton parents instructed the children to show their contempt for the presents and they threw them over the high wall of Ryelands Park on their way home from the event. Not naturally violent and normally quite subservient, the disgruntled employees had their ways of irritating their egotistical, domineering boss.
Williamson considered the persistent attempts of the ILP to unionise his workers outrageous. He made every effort to stop them, using his carefully contrived works' spy-system, to find whom he considered to be trouble-makers and to sack them.
In 1911, when it required the casting-vote of the Returning Officer to gain the election of his favoured candidate in a Skerton by-election, it nearly gave him a heart attack. He decided that he had had enough of his 'friends and neighbours', and spent most of the rest of his life miles away, near Blackpool. Creeps tried to organise demonstrations of loyalty for Jimmy but his pride was affronted. He could not be swayed. His mind was made up. He went away and stayed away from his town — but he still ruled every aspect of their working lives from afar.
When he came home to Ryelands to die more than twenty years later, he was still full of bitterness and anger against what he considered to be the disloyalty and ingratitude of the citizens he had patronised for so long.
Gordon knew all of these stories backwards. He pondered them as he walked past the Park, which was now public property. He thought it was ridiculous that one man should have had all that wealth and so much influence over thousands of lives. Although his long stride was taking him quickly to his assignment, it still took Gordon over ten minutes to walk the full length of the Park. And that had been only one of Little Jimmy's several living places.
Gordon crossed Owen Road and went down Aldren's Lane, the bundle of leaflets under his arm. There she was, waiting for him on the corner.
Jack had given her a list. They were to do some of the side streets as well as all of Halton Road. The River Lune was still tidal as far as Halton was over on the right.
"You walked here from home?" he queried.
"Yes," she replied, "it would be too awkward pushing my bike around with me while we work."
Gordon said, "I haven't got a bike. I love walking. Really enjoyed it this morning going to and from work. Lovely weather. The Park looked nice just now. A few leaves starting to turn brown and orange. Otherwise you might think it was still summer."
They planned their afternoon. The best way would be leap-frog leafleting. Each would post at every other house.
"And remember what Jack said, we're just leafleting. Not looking for arguments. If you become involved with a wrong-one you could be in real trouble. They come on heavy, these Blackshirts."
She nodded agreement. "I remember. I'll do what he said."
"Shall we have a cigarette before we start?" she asked.
"You carry on. I don't bother with them these days."
She lit up. Not many women smoked in the street! Obviously, she didn't care what any parents of her children might think. A lot of the houses they were visiting had kids from her school in them.
"I like your dress. It goes well with your hair," he told her, as they stood there. It was made of light cotton, a brightly-coloured summer frock, with quite a low neck.
"Thank-you! I'm fond of it. Lesley bought it for me for my birthday. She has good taste. Knows what suits me. Glad I'm wearing it. Need something cool on today."
As she smoked, he continued to appraise her appearance. He beagan making comparisons with Margaret. Margaret did not wear low-necked dresses. His wife did not have large breasts. On the other hand, Margaret would never be seen smoking in the street, puffing away on a Black Cat cigarette. Margaret would never dream of wearing slacks.
"Why am I making these comparisons?" he wondered. "It's not as though I'm going to have to make a choice."
She looked back at him, meeting his gaze evenly. She knew that he was making an effort to compliment her. Local men were not renowned for smooth talking.
"Living together, you and Lesley must be really good friends?"
"You could say that. She's a very tolerant person. Very easy-going," Beth replied. "Right," she pronounced, flicking her cigarette end into the gutter, "I suppose we'd better make a start. I'll do the first house."
They worked steadily. When they went down the side roads, they did the left-hand-side first and came back to Halton Road, via the houses on the right. After an hour, Gordon suggested a rest.
"Good," agreed Beth. " I'm sweltered. Let's go and sit by the river. We'll have a breeze there to cool us down a bit."
They crossed the road and sat on a bench overlooking the Lune. There were municipal gardens around them. Beth lit up again. Gordon let his outstretched arm rest on the back of the seat, nearly touching Beth's shoulders.
She asked him about his family. He told her about Michael's good progress at school, about his nightmares and moodiness. He spoke lovingly about Gwyn's easy-going nature and his concern for her health. He described how he loved playing with his kids. He didn't say much about Margaret.
She leaned forward, dropped her cigarette end to the ground and stood on it. Then she leaned closer towards him and he let his arm drop across her shoulders. She did not pull away. In fact she snuggled closer to him.
He'd had one or two glances around. They were shielded from the road and there was no-one about near their bench. It came as a shock when three angry-looking blokes seemed to materialise from nowhere. They came and stood right close in front of them where they sat. Their body language was threatening.
Gordon moved his arm from around Beth and tried to stand up. A hand shot out and pushed him back to his seat. A finger was poked in his face.
"Just you sit there matey," said a man wearing a suit and tie, the one who was standing back a bit from the other two rough- looking louts, "we've something to say to you!"
Gordon began to protest, "What do you think you're playing at?"
'Suity' spoke again, "Shut your gob, smart arse! I'm doing the talking." With that, he snatched the bundle of leaflets away from Beth and one of the tough-looking assailants grabbed Gordon's.
Gordon protested again, "What the hell's going on?"
This earned him a practised kick right across his shins, which really hurt. He grunted with pain.
"You deaf or something, smart arse?" 'Suity' went on. "I told you to be quiet."
Gordon bent forward to rub where he had been kicked and a fist hit him under the chin making him sit bolt upright again.
It was then that Beth started her tirade against the three, "I know what you are! You lousy Fascist shits! Why don't you piss off where you came from! Get back down the sewer you belong in!"
One of them grabbed her by her hair and told her, "Shut up, big tits -- or I'll smash your face in."
He'd dragged her to her feet but before he could push her back onto the bench she brought up a knee and thudded it into his balls. Letting out a shriek at the unexpected retaliation he let go of her hair and held his crotch with both hands. She was off running for help.
"Don't worry Gordon. I'll be back in a minute with the lads!"
The 'lads' were an invention. But the thugs did not know.
"Shit," said 'suity', "time we scarppered!"
Gordon received another kick on the shins and the trio went off, mouthing threats and their usual abuse.
"Jew lovers!"
"Commie bastards!"
"Traitorous shit-bags!" And so on.
After a couple of minutes, Beth reappeared. Gordon could hardly stand. His legs were still hurting him badly. He grimaced with pain.
"Where did that lot come from? I wasn't expecting it, were you?"
"Well, I know from what I've heard at school, there are one or two Fascist families in Skerton. But those had London accents."
"Perhaps they stayed over from last week They had a gathering here to help their local lot get more organised. One of their big names, Haslam, visited. I think we were just unlucky that they spotted us. What are we going to do about it?"
Gordon hesitated. The last thing he wanted was publicity and his wife knowing how he'd spent his Saturday afternoon. He decided, "Best let it go! We haven't any witnesses. Also, I'm not sure if our leafleting is legal."
"Only Jack could tell us that. If you say so, we'll just put it down to experience. We'd better be more careful in future. But I don't like to think of them having their own way. Can you walk yet?"
"I think so. I'll be all right in a minute. I've had worse, playing soccer."
"Well that's the end of our leafleting," Beth replied. "They've blown away all over the shop. We could go on to my place and sit in the garden. It's nice there. You could meet Leslie. We could have some wine and I'll make us something to eat."
Gordon suddenly felt much better.
Sounds like a good idea to me! Let's go!"
It was about a mile to the outskirts to Halton village. They went past the Greyhound Hotel and along Low Road until they came to narrow Mill Lane. They walked quite a way then followed a footpath, coming to a woodland clearing near the river. A train had just left Halton Station. They had glimpses between the trees of the smoke and steam from it. It was going slowly but picking up speed. It was going up the line towards Wennington on the other side of the river.
"What a lovely spot!" exclaimed Gordon. "It's perfect!"
"But," he thought, "that's not much of a place to live in." He was looking across the clearing. He'd rather have been back in Edward Street than have to live in the building, if you could call it a building!
Beth smiled at him and said, "We like it. We love it here. Come and meet Leslie."
They walked across the sunlit clearing. On closer inspection, Gordon could see that two railway goods wagons had been joined together. The large letters L.M.S. had been partially painted over. Trellising was nailed to the wooden side-wall and had a variety of plants flourishing on it. There were climbing roses, passion flowers, clematis, honeysuckle and winter flowering jasmine. The clematis was growing in wild profusion over the roof and and starting to curl around the metal chimney which protruded from the roof of the construction.
The dwelling rested on railway sleepers. There were three steps up to the doorway. "We need to be well off the ground in case the river floods," explained Beth.
"Lesley!" she called, "I've brought Gordon, Jack's friend to meet you."
Another woman, the same age as Beth, appeared in the doorway. She was another beauty: raven-haired and plump, with a Titian-like figure. This was quite obvious because she was bare-breasted. Without any hint of embarrassment, she came down the steps and offered Gordon her hand to shake.
She spoke softly in a husky voice."Hello Gordon! I'm pleased to meet you. Beth's been telling me all about you. I'm so glad you've been able to come. What would you like to drink? There's beer or red wine whichever you prefer."
"I'm pleased to meet you too," responded Gordon focusing on her face and trying not to look at her chest.
"A beer would do fine! It's been thirsty work."
"Yes," said Lesley, "it's the weather. Lovely isn't it? Maybe the last chance for sun-bathing this year. I've been sitting out in it until a couple of minutes ago. There's seating round the back. I'll bring your drinks to you. Wine for you dear?"
"Thanks, love!" replied Beth. "Come along Gordon. I think you're in need of a rest." Gordon was sweating profusely. It wasn't just the heat or the long walk!
There was a swing seat with three floral cushions. Beth and Gordon sat down. There was plenty of room for three. Leslie sat with them after she'd brought their drinks. Gordon sat in the middle. Either side of him were two gorgeous females. Leslie was still half-naked. "Free-thinking has some unexpected benefits!" he thought, sipping his beer.
"Well," he said, "Here's to it! Cheers girls! And thank-you!"
He was a long way from Sefton Drive. This was another world. Beth spent a long time telling Lesley the story of their leafleting and how it had ended.
"Good job they didn't really try it on with you darling," murmured Lesley, "or they might have received the full benefit of your black belt qualification!"
"Do you mean it? Has she really?" asked an astounded Gordon.
"Oh yes, our Beth has many hidden talents, haven't you dear?"
She turned towards Gordon. "And what about you Gordon? What are your secret talents?"
"I'm pretty good at making a fool of myself," he grinned.
Both girls laughed.
"I told you he wasn't a big-head," said Beth.
"Well, Gordon, that's one thing in your favour. We've known a few of those haven't we Beth?"
"More than a few," agreed Beth, passing her cigarettes over to Leslie and lighting one for her. Lesley had to lean sideways and Gordon felt her breasts brushing against him.
"You two stay here and I'll go and make some sandwiches," offered Beth. "Okay?"
"That would be lovely darling. You would like something to eat Gordon?"
"Yes, please," replied Gordon, "I am a bit peckish."
Beth went inside the house and Lesley took Gordon by the hand. "Come!" she said, "I've heard that you are a gardener. I'll show you what we've achieved."
She bent down to pluck a late-flowering blue-and-yellow pansy. But it wasn't the flower he was admiring. "Another Joyce!" he thought. "No knickers! What the hell am I getting myself into here?"
She stood upright and turned to Gordon and offered him the flower. "Here," she smiled, "kind sir. Put it in my hair for me!" Gordon took the flower and pushed it gently into her black hair. Her beauty was enhanced by it.
The women had worked hard and subdued the woodland undergrowth for a couple of yards either side of a path which led towards the river. The borders were filled with chrysanthemums, one of his favourites. They had other end-of -- summer blossoms: fuchias, geraniums and dahlias.
Lesley enthused about the garden and the joys brought by different seasons. " I think September is a lovely month," she declared, looking around the garden. "Still so many flowers and so much colour. I like April and its brightness, but I prefer the melancholy of September. Nature trying to keep her summer clothes on and not quite succeeding."
"A bit like you," Gordon thought.
She showed him the river. There was not much fresh coming down the valley. To the right, across the river, he glimpsed the roof of Halton's charming railway station. He could also see part of a footbridge. She pointed in the other direction to more woods.
"We call those the Bluebell Woods. There's just one solid carpet of blue there in late spring. And shush! Listen, you can hear the water falling over the weir by Helme's old mill, the one Williamson's own now."
Gordon felt like he'd known her for years. Everything was so natural between them, just like it had been with Beth, right from the first words exchanged.
There was a shout from back where they'd come from."I'm ready for you," Beth called. Gordon and Leslie left the riverside and went back. Quite a spread was laid out on a portable table placed in front of the garden seat. "I've secured it so that the seat won't swing while we're eating," said Beth. Lesley sat down and Beth handed her a plate.
"Do you think I could use your toilet?" asked Gordon. He always called it the 'lav' at home; 'toilet' seemed more appropriate in his present company. He'd seen 'TOILET' on the bosses' rooms at work.
Leslie waved towards the woods."Help yourself! It won't cost you a penny!"
Gordon went behind a tree out of their sight. "It's like being with a couple of mates," he thought. "I can say and do anything without causing offence."
He was good with new company after his initial shyness. He needed people to make him feel at ease. It had been the same when he first met Jack. No academic himself, he was wary of educated men, and women. But once Jack had shown friendship, that was forgotten. Gordon had felt his equal. These two women were the same. There were none of those stupid man and woman barriers between them. He felt that they were both already his friends. It was obvious that they liked him.
He went back and asked, "Where do I wash my hands?"
"The river of course!" Beth said.
Off he went again. A few clouds were gathering over the Lune and the sun went in suddenly. There were a few splashes of raindrops on the water. When he returned to the women, they were gathering up the food and plates and heading for their cabin.
"Bring the table!" Lesley requested. "We'll have to eat inside."
Gordon was surprised by how much room there was inside.
There was one big room. The only light was from the full-length panel of glass set in the door. It was a bed-sitting room with a couple of easy chairs, a settee, rugs and a bookcase. He put the small table down in the middle of the room. In one corner, was an octopus stove and a chimney going up through the roof. A lot of the space to the right was taken up by a large double-bed.
"A large double-bed? Just the one bed?"
Lesley pulled on a brown, woollen jumper and sat in one of the easy chairs. Beth invited him to occupy the other and she sat on the floor after the food had been redistributed. There was no more beer but there was plenty of wine.
Conversation flowed. The topics included favourite books, politics, work, family, the attack by the Fascists that afternoon. Gordon showed them his bruised shins. Humorous anecdotes, jokes and witticisms lightened their chat. Gordon began to feel the effects of the wine and relaxed even more.
It was raining heavily outside. His cats would be hungry. Ought he to go? It wouldn't be the first time he'd had a soaking. Memories of the Joyce debacle flooded into his memory. He decided to tell them about what had happened that night, when he and Joyce were stranded on Snatchems. They thought it was hilarious. Then he told them that he'd better be going.
Both protested. No! He must stay the night. There was no-one at home waiting for him was there? There was no point in getting wet through. It would probably be fine in the morning.
"But I have the cats to feed!"
"I think they're quite capable of looking out for themselves for one night don't you Beth?" laughed Lesley.
"Definitely," giggled Beth. The other two giggled with her.
There was no electricity and it was becoming quite dark. Beth lit two paraffin lamps. It felt really cosy in their dim light. It was still warm so they didn't bother lighting the octopus stove.
"You must be cold here in the winter."
"We don't live here in the winter! We only come here when the weather's good. This is our summer den. We have a house on the top road."
"Oh!" said Gordon.
"You didn't really think we stayed here all the time? We like our home comforts, don't we Beth?"
"We certainly do!" agreed Beth, as she topped up the glasses, once more. The rain was pattering away on the roof of the cabin. There was no wind. It was a pleasant sound, suiting their mood, enhancing the feeling of security and of sheltered well-being. He felt safe , safe from the rain and safe from all of the outside world. He was on a real high. He felt great. His mood expanded. He was good company. He proposed a toast, "Here's to us! Bottoms up!"
"Bottoms up!" both of the girls shouted in response.
Lesley pulled a wind-up gramophone from under the bed and a pile of 78's. Beth moved the furniture back and there was just enough room for them to dance together. They had all the latest Jack Hylton and Roy Fox records. When a record began to slow down nobody wound the machine up. It was hilarious all swaying together, more and more slowly, arms around each other as the music slurred and finally ended. They collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Inhibitions were banished. Hysterical laughter, dizziness, ticklings and squirmings followed.
"More wine! I want more wine," stuttered Beth. Another bottle was shared between them. They were all tipsy and it seemed quite normal when Leslie ordered, "Time for bed! It's late!" She'd obviously had enough of stupid frolicking on the ground. She turned the lamps out and groped her way to the bed, undressed in the dark, pulled back the bedclothes and climbed in.
It was a farcical situation. Gordon felt that he was in the dark in more ways than one! He wasn't sure what to do. Should he stay with Beth on the floor? Would Beth be joining Leslie in bed? Where was he supposed to sleep?
"Come on you two!" commanded Lesley. "I'm cold. I need warming up!"
Gordon slept between the pair of them. He left it to them what they wanted to do and what they wanted him to do. They expected quite a lot and he was able to oblige! As his son Michael might have said, "It was a really big adventure!"
The only unease he felt was next morning when he went for a pee in the woods. It was just before he left for home. He could hear their loud laughter coming from the cabin. Almost uncontrolled hilarious laughter! Were they mocking him? Had he been used by them? Had they planned it? How often had they done it? How many had been there before him? He went back inside, to say goodbye to them. They both sat there together, their eyes sparkling, their hands over their mouths, trying to stifle their mirth. He wondered what the joke was. Something told him that perhaps it was he. Perhaps he was the joke!
Web Links
• Lord Ashton - The Lino KingProfile on the Lancaster City Council web site
• Disused Railway Stations: Halton
No comments:
Post a Comment