Chapter 53: Summer 1939

During the early summer, Nan moved from Marton Street to Hareruns, a new Corporation Estate only a mile away from her son Gordon. One aspect of the move was humiliating because the removal van was a fumigator. Nan had always been a model of hygiene and cleanliness. "I don't see why my stuff needs to be done. We've always managed to keep the bugs and rats and things like that out of our house!"

But it was a small price to pay for the splendid amenities in her new dwelling. There was the convenience of mains water from inside taps and lavatory; the benefit of the back-boiler which gave her as much instant hot water as she needed. She had a small garden, front and back. The two-bedroom house looked out onto grass with mature trees. The houses were arranged in a crescent around the green. One of her neighbours from Marton Street had moved next-door. There was a good community spirit in the area.

Every Sunday morning, Gordon took his children to see his mother. Gordon and Margaret had succumbed to Michael's pestering. He had been given a junior's bicycle for his birthday. He rode it on the pavement ahead of Gwyn who skipped happily along holding Gordon's hand.

Nan and Frank gave Michael and Gwyn a silver-coloured sixpence each every week. Before they left to go back home Nan went to her built-in-wall-cupboard and reached for a bag of sweets.

"You can have one now," she told the children. "I'll give the rest to your Dad to save for you. For later. You don't want to spoil your dinner." Sunday lunch was always called dinner.

Sometimes, the Matthews had the Watsons around on Saturday afternoons. One week, when the weather was good the two men took the boys into Ryelands Park. The men sat and talked and the boys rode their bicycles round part of old Jimmy Williamson's cycle track. They kept to the part near the new municipal tennis courts, close by the new art deco pavilion and cafe.

The two men could keep an eye on the boys from where they were seated.

"They have a clinic in there now," Jack told Gordon, pointing to Ryelands House. " For mothers and children. Sheila takes the baby there to be weighed once a fortnight. There's a nurse to keep an eye on them and see that their progress is satisfactory."

"I wonder what Lord Ashton would have thought of it?" Gordon laughed.

"Him and his wall to keep the riff-raff like us at bay! You couldn't even see in here during his lifetime, let alone come and go as you please and enjoy yourself."

"Yes," mused Jack, "Some things do seem to be improving. But the war situation doesn't. It's worse by the minute. I think it's only a mater of weeks or months before the balloon goes up. Old Adolf will be trying to blow us all up. What do you make of it?"

Gordon was surprised that he'd been able, for once, to express his opinion before Jack lectured him.

"Well, if the newspapers are anything to go by, I agree, we'll be at war before Christmas. Things are going from bad to worse. It's getting closer to, 'Told you so' time."

The two had seen little or nothing of each other since Margaret's ban on Gordon going out on his own. Gordon catalogued all the disasters of the last few months. In January, with very little resistance, Franco had captured Barcelona. Many citizens emerged from the rubble hailing the invaders and giving the Fascist salute. Thousands had fled to the French border, hoping to be allowed into France.

'Franco! Franco!
You may strut,
But, one day
I'll kick your butt.'

The verse had a hollow sound now. Nobody believed it anymore. Thousands had been killed opposing Franco and in the fighting between rival left-wing factions. Jack recollecting this shook his head in dismay and disbelief. It was sad remembering how the factional fighting on the left had helped the enemy and undermined any belief in Socialism.

"Unity is strength! What a joke!" Gordon grimaced.

Britain had quickly recognised Franco's Fascist Government.

"Betrayal after betrayal!" Jack moaned. Then he changed the subject from the past to future events. The Royal Air Force were receiving 400 new planes each month, free air-raid shelters were being given to Londoners, the Territorial Army was being doubled. Plans were afoot for evacuating British cities. There was a frantic scramble to be prepared for an onslaught from Germany.

"What are you going to do?" Jack asked.
"I expect I'll have to join up."
"It's not much more than a year since nearly everyone was saying, 'Never again!'."
"Times have changed," answered Gordon. "People have changed with them. What about you?"

"In case you've forgotten, it's only twelve months since I was trying to persuade you that it was the last chance to show the swines a strong arm."
"Didn't work out though did it? All you got out of it was a lost arm and disillusion with our side. I wonder if people will give in easily, if it does come to fighting Adolf?"
"God knows! Depends how the propaganda is used. It's only too easy to lead most people by the nose. As for me personally," Jack waved what was left of his damaged arm, " this rules me out from fighting. But I'll find something to do."

In March, proud Prague citizens had had to bear the consequences of Britain's treachery. Hitler invaded without any threat of intervention. The populace bravely jeered and hooted at the invaders. They booed Hitler when he drove proudly through their city, surrounded by bodyguards.

There was bad news closer to home. The IRA were active, bombing in London, Manchester, Birmingham and Northumberland. "Pity they don't blow bloody Adolf up!" Gordon remarked.

The final straw in August would be a vow between Stalin and Hitler. Germany and Russia signed a Non-Aggression Pact! That was yet to come but the rest of the current news was bad enough, when Jack and Gordon sat in the Park, enjoying watching their sons ride their bicycles.

"It makes you worry for their future," Gordon said.
"It does indeed. Luckily, we live in a safe area. So we shouldn't have bombs to worry about."
"We can always hope."

Gordon pointed to the two boys having a race on their bikes. "Sitting here, looking at those two, it does not seem possible that we could be in the same state as Spain, before we know where we are."

"Too flipping true! Anyway let's forget it for a minute. What have you been up to? You were quite enjoying the meetings at our house. What happened? Somebody upset you?"

Gordon hesitated. Should he take Jack into his confidence? He decided on an oblique approach to the subject that was still very much on his mind. "Not really," he replied. "Do you still see the others?"

"At work yes, but apart from that, no. We packed the meetings in a month ago. People were losing interest. Other things on their minds."
"Hardly surprising is it? How's red-headed Beth these days?"
"Oh, she's fine. I had a word with her yesterday at lunchtime. She's looking as good as ever. Very popular is our Beth!"
"Our?"
"Oh yes, we're just one big happy family at the two schools. We're nowhere near as segregationist as the Boys' and Girls' Grammar Schools."

Gordon let it go. Jack had again given him no clue as to whether he had known Beth intimately. Perhaps she was just a colleague, with similar political views. Perhaps there was nothing going on between her and Jack. He generalised his next query.

"What do you know about Free Love? What's that all about?"

Jack laughed out loud.

"Love that's free, I guess. Better than paying for it eh?"

He laughed again.

Gordon looked at his watch. "Hey-up! It's time we were at your house. We said we wouldn't be more than an hour. It's going to be more like two before we arrive back."

Gordon was disappointed that he'd learned very little about Beth. What did it matter? Her affairs should be of no consequence to him. Why was he so curious about what she might be doing with Jack? Unfortunately, he had no reason to think that she would ever want to see him again. As far as she was concerned he might as well have never existed.

Gordon told Jack they'd decided Michael would stay at St. Mary's until the end of the summer term. His progress was more than satisfactory. Gordon and Margaret had agreed that it was sensible for him to stay put. Let him finish the academic year where he was.
Although the bullying had stopped, Michael didn't agree. He wanted to be in the same class at school as Rob.

The brand new Ryelands School was opened in June, 1939.

The Lancaster Guardian commented that Mayor Councillor Mrs Musgrave-Hoyle would open the school on Friday, 23rd June.

It went on to say that the school was situated in a rapidly developing part of the City, that the site was twelve and a half acres and surrounded on three sides by houses. The idea was to provide playing pitches for football, cricket and hockey.

It referred to near where Michael lived as the southern boundary where there were fields and trees, a great asset in the built up area. The Watsons were living on a prime site.

Torrisholme Road had been widened and an avenue of trees made a delightful setting for the school building. The report stated that there would be extensions to follow.

Unbelievably, after the experience of poor old St Anne's and St. Mary's inadequate facilities, there would be a craft room, an assembly hall, cloak rooms and indoor lavatories. The classrooms would have low windows and look out onto the fields. There would be paved terraces for lessons outside. Two playgrounds would be placed away from the classrooms; noisy games and physical education could take place without disturbing children working quietly in class.

There was a playground, sand pit, paddling pool and a 'mountain' for the nursery children to climb. Everything conceivable had been done to make the lives of the pupils happy, in conditions conducive to learning.

Gordon read the newspaper report out to Margaret. "Told you so!" she said. "Told you that this was the place to move to didn't I? The children will love it there."

August, and a week off work, was looming. Gordon made up his mind."This year we're going to have a proper holiday. It might be our last chance for a long time."

"Who says so?"

Gordon frowned at his wife.

"Can't you read? Don't you listen to what you hear on the news? You heard that Hitler on the wireless didn't you? That woke you up a bit didn't it"

Margaret hated being taken to task because of her disinterest in politics and current affairs. "I've been wakened enough this year thank you Mr Clever Dick. You've opened my eyes quite wide enough, thank you!"

"Bitch!" Gordon thought.

Would she never let the Beth business drop! He turned the wireless on and hid behind the Daily Herald.

"I thought you had something to tell me about a holiday," Margaret asked.

He sulked for another minute before replying."I thought we might go to Barrow. I thought the idea might please you. I thought you'd be suited." She was very pleased by his suggestion! But she was not going to show it. He'd have to work a lot harder before she showed any positive response to anything he did. She knew he was making another effort to get round her. Well hard luck! She was completely dedicated to making him squirm for a while yet. And as for letting him have anything in bed, he could forget all that!

Five more minutes passed. She went on darning socks. Eventually, he laid the newspaper aside. "Well?" he asked.

"I suppose we could go. It might be all right," she said, "provided the weather's fine."
"Women!" Gordon muttered under his breath. "No pleasing them!"

Out loud he said, "Perhaps you'll condescend to let me know your decision when you've thought about it. Goodnight! I'm having an early night."

He switched the wireless off.

"Leave it on, please. You think I'm so ignorant! I might learn something you don't know, Mr Clever Clogs."

Gordon switched the wireless back on, turned up the volume, locked up, and went off to bed.
Jack had lent him another of his books. He left the light on and read a chapter of Bernard Shaw's The Intelligent Woman's Guide to Socialism. He wondered if Beth had read it. He wondered what she was doing at that very minute. His mind was wandering from the text. He put a book marker in the volume, placed the book on the floor and pulled the bedclothes up round his chin.

After a few more minutes, lying there thinking about Beth, he pulled on the chord above the bed. The light went out and he tried to go to sleep. "Women!" he thought. "Cause of all the trouble in the world!"

When Margaret came to bed, she left the light off and slid in beside him. He pretended to be asleep. She did not try to find out if he was still awake. As usual, she slept soundly as ever, deep in the sleep of the morally upright.

Someone once said, it's impossible to keep an argument going, if you sleep in the same bed with someone. Margaret was an exception to that rule!

When August came, James Davies was an unhappy man on holiday. He was staying at Sefton Drive. He wished that he was back at home. It had been his wife's and his daughter's idea, to swap houses for the August Bank Holiday. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. It started off all right. His son Tom had driven them with the minimum of inconvenience and speedily to Lancaster.

He was comfortable in the house. He liked being near the woods and he didn't mind having to look after and feed the cats. The trouble with these new estates, and the situation at the top of Sefton Drive in particular, was that you were miles away from the nearest pubs.

James had always been used to walking out of his house to his nearest home-from-home in a matter of minutes. Now, it meant waiting for a bus, hiring a taxi, enduring an exhausting walk or asking Tom to take him and collect him from his old club or from the George Hotel, in Torrisholme.

The daytimes were fine. Tom would drive them to one of their children's homes in Lancaster or Morecambe and collect them later. If he wished, James could stroll from where they were visiting and walk easily into Lancaster town cwntre. When he was in Morecambe, there was nearby Queen Street. In Joyce's pub, he was sure of a welcome. The daughter of his old Welsh friend introduced him to her regulars. He could drink with new friends, until mid-afternoon closing-time.

The evenings were the trouble. His son wanted to go off on his own. James's freedom was restricted. He was a man who had always been able to please himself. He was not used to having his evenings spoiled.

Buses were unreliable, so he walked to Torrisholme and caught a taxi back. The village club had changed. His old cronies had died or moved away. There was no one to make him feel comfortable and at his ease. He did not find it as easy to pick up with new company as he had in the past. Most evenings he was fed up. He wanted the week to go by quickly so that he could be back home.

Beatrice was content. She was able to visit her daughter, Charlotte and her family. They were still living in Lodge Street, Lancaster. Tony and Dick lived in Morecambe. She missed her role at the centre of a big household and wondered if she would ever have all of her offspring under the same roof again. She said to James, "Perhaps Julia's coming-of-age, her twenty-first birthday, will give me the excuse for a party. They could all come home to us in Barrow. Perhaps most of them could be persuaded to come to a special occasion in Dalton Road."

James warned her, "You can't expect some of them to come all the way from London, Wales or Yorkshire. It's too far just for a birthday party. They have their own lives to lead."

Beatrice replied, "It's a good job you managed to buy the little car for Tom to drive us here. At least I'm seeing some of them now."

She did understood and appreciated that they had their own lives to lead. They should put their husbands or wives and children first. But her heart ached. She missed the old times badly. She saw what the future held. It was difficult for her children to make their way to Barrow. Slowly, but inevitably, their visits to her were becoming less and less frequent. It felt like something inside her was missing. After all of the early hardships, the miseries of infant deaths and the relentless hard work, she was not happy in her impending old age. She felt worthless.

Tom and Julia were still living at home. But both were grown-up and very independent. She made their meals, did their washing, and that was about all. They had their own friends, their own activities. Always out in the evenings and at weekends, like James. In fact, she'd seen more of James during this holiday than she ever had in any other week of their long, married life. However, he was so miserable, she wished she was seeing less of him. He was a real pain in the neck.

Meanwhile, Michael was having a lovely time at Barrow. He pointed out all the things which he had seen with his mother on his first visit there.

"Look Dad, we're going over the water!"
"Look Dad, there's that lighthouse I was telling you about. Up there on top of the hill!"
"Look Dad," said Gwyn, as the train pulled into Barrow Station, "there's Aunty Julia. She's waving to me."

Michael pointed to 'Coppernob', still resplendent in his glass case. "Isn't he beautiful, Dad?"

Aunty Julia took them to catch one of the blue Barrow Corporation buses. Tom had the car in Lancaster so they had to go on the bus. Gordon placed their cases under the stairs. "Three singles, two children and two cases to Dalton Road, please," said Dad, when the conductor came to collect the fares.

Brian Howson, his wife, May, and their children, Paul and Gilian, were also on holiday in Barrow. If the weather was fine, they were all going to meet on the beach.

Michael wondered what Paul would be like. He hoped they'd be happy playing together. Michael was learning fast that the unknown could be either a disaster or a delight. You could never tell, until you actually met someone, whether or not you could make friends with them. It was a pity you could not guarantee the positive. It was a shame that everything seemed to be a gamble. He hadn't learned to appreciate the joys of uncertainties. He liked to know where he was. He just hoped that meeting Paul would not be a disaster.

Fortunately, everyone had a marvellous time. During those precious few gloriously sunny days, just before war was declared, the whole nation seemed to be temporarily at ease. It was like taking a deep breath before an enormous task ahead.

When they met the Howsons, Gordon said to Brian, "We're living in Never Never Land! Best make the most of it! "The children loved being with Gordon's friend's family. The sun shone every day. There was a good beach to visit and a place to meet on Walney Island.

Margaret had seen her mother and father, briefly, at Sefton Drive and she would be seeing them again, when they went home, after the holiday. Although she missed them not being there in Barrow, the exchange of houses was a sensible arrangement.She loved being with her little sister Julia, the baby of the family.

Gordon enjoyed being with Julia too, but not in the same way as Margaret. It happened the first night after they had arrived at Dalton Road and settled in. The children went to bed early. They were tired after the long journey and all the excitement. Gordon and Margaret were not late following them. They had James's and Beatrice's room. Michael had Tom's room all to himself. Gwyn was sharing with Aunty Julia whom she adored.

Before she went out with her boy friend, Julia reminded them not to lock up. "That's his car outside now. I'll have to go. Remember, I don't have a key. Dad won't let me have one 'til I'm twenty-one. If you forget, one of you will have to come down to let me in. I might be late. It all depends."

What it depended on, she did not say.

It was well after midnight. Gordon was half-asleep. He was alarmed by a noise downstairs. He was too sleepy to realise it was the front door being slammed. Julia's boy friend had departed in a rage. Both of them had had too much to drink and he'd departed angrily after they'd had an argument.

Gordon's first reaction was to think that he'd locked his sister-in-law out and it was her banging on the front door. But no, he remembered distinctly. He had definitely not turned the key in the lock. Margaret had not stirred. As usual, she was fast asleep. Nothing ever seemed to keep her awake. Perhaps they were being burgled? Gordon decided to investigate.

He never wore pyjamas in summer. He did not possess a dressing-gown. Quietly, he took his raincoat out of the wardrobe, put it on, and crept down the stairs.

There was a chink of light from beneath the living-room door. Someone was tinkling softly on the piano, picking out the tune of 'South of the Border'. Gordon tapped lightly on the door. He thought that Julia might have her boy friend in there with her.

She did not call out to him to enter. Instead, the playing of the piano stopped and she opened the door. When she saw it was Gordon, standing there in his raincoat and his hairy legs and feet jutting out below it, she opened the door wide and invited him in.

She was dressed only in a pink slip. The rest of her clothes were on the carpet next to some cushions which had been piled there. She and her boyfriend had removed them from the easy chairs. Everything was ready for Julia and her boy friend to make love. Instead of lying there with her he had gone off in a huff.

"Hello Gordon," she said. Her voice was slurred. "Would you like to have a liddle drink wiv me?"

Julia bore a striking resemblance to the Margaret he had first known, nearly ten years previously. But she was not so tall. And she was plumper, especially where it mattered. She held out a bottle of gin towards him. "Go on bruvver-in-law! Have a swig!"

Gordon closed the door behind him and took the bottle. It was very quiet in the house. He listened carefully. There was only the sound of a car departing. He leaned back and took a good mouthful of the strong alcohol. Just what he needed! It tasted really good. His raincoat, which he had not buttoned up fell open. He inadvertently showed Julia all he'd got.

She started to giggle as he hastily drew the raincoat back together with one hand. He offered her the bottle back with the other. "Go on!" she said. "Have another one! There's plenty left in the bottle."

Gordon did as he was told. He became aware he was thinking things he should not be thinking. He realised the potential for pleasure in the situation. "What am I getting into now?" he wondered. "If I do what I'm starting to imagine myself doing, it may not even be legal." He wasn't quite sure where the law stood on having affairs with in-laws!

He recalled what his friend Brian had told him what he thought his trouble was. "You're a bloody marvel, you are! There are two Gordons. A bloody maniac pops up as soon as a bit of skirt beckons to you."

Perhaps Brian was right. Ten minutes ago, Gordon the good had been lying in bed, side-by-side with his wife. His mind dwelling on the joys of life with the children at the seaside. He'd been dozing, contemplating how he was enjoying a few days of freedom from work. Lying on the beach. Soaking up the sun. Listening to the splashing of waves and the shrill, happy cries of his and Brian's children! Unbeatable! Apart from what he was not having with Margaret!

And now?

The Gordon of yesteryear: the tripper of the light fantastic, the successful ladies' man was back. He came leaping out of the wings to centre stage! The eternal adolescent made his entrance.

Wow!

"Give me a little cuddle brother-in-law!" she murmured.

So he did! Then he gave her a long one.

Later, back upstairs in bed, he lay awake thinking. His head was still a bit dizzy because of the gin. Thoughts, all mixed up, tumbled through his cranium. He'd certainly enjoyed himself. But it was all wrong what he'd done. His only excuse was, it was months since Margaret had let him do it with her. He was only human wasn't he? He couldn't go the rest of his life without it. It was all right for her: she didn't miss it like he did.

"Anyway, it wasn't my fault," he tried to convince himself. "She more or less demanded I do it. I didn't go looking for it. It was just bad luck that it happened. Or was it good luck? It feels like good luck. I know it was wrong. It didn't feel wrong!. Please God, I didn't want to do it. It was she definitely made me want to do it. Now I've been and done it, where's the harm in it?"

Panic seized him.

"You'll rue how much harm my lad!" he thought. "If Margaret finds out, it will be the end for me. It'll be all over between us."

It was not easy seeking any kind of feasible excuse for his conduct. His half-naked, drunken, beautiful sister-in-law trying to seduce him because she had just had a row with her boy friend had nothing to do with it. He was a mature adult compared with her. He should have settled for having a chat and a few drinks. He should have been been sympathetic and big brotherly towards her. He should have been a comforter not an adulterer!"

"Who are you kidding?" he concluded.

"It would have needed a saint, in a suit of armour, to have resisted her advances. She was like a tigress once she had her claws into me."

He drifted off to sleep.

He awoke early. Alarmed, he realised there was an unfamiliar aroma around him. It was her distinctive perfume which had rubbed off onto him during his embracing of Julia. Margaret was still asleep. He crept into the bathroom and had a bath! He wondered how it would be at breakfast, when he had to see Julia again. He need not have worried. Expert in the art of seduction, Julia was a genius when it came to lying.

"What time did you come in?" Margaret asked her little sister.
"About one o'clock. We tried to be quiet. I hope we did not disturb you."
"Oh no, I slept like a log. Who's 'we', by the way? You and who?"
"Sammy Harrison. We've been going steady for a few months now. We work at the same place. You'd like him."
"Are we going to meet him?" Margaret asked.
"You might do. I suppose I could ask him in, next time he calls for me. Dad's not too keen on him, so I don't have him in when he's here. Except late at night of course!"
"You are a one our Julia!" Margaret laughed.
"She's a one all right," thought Gordon.

Julia laughed too. " I know! Mam says I'm just like our dad. Always out enjoying myself. And too fond of the drink."

The empty bottle of gin lay on the sideboard.

"But you think you've found Mr Right this time?"
"Oh yes," she grinned, never once glancing Gordon's way.
"I had a really smashing time last night. Better than usual. Life's super at the moment. I can't get enough of it!"

Michael and Gwyn had been ever so good, not interrupting the grown-ups' chatter. But now Michael intervened, wanting to know what time they were going to catch a bus to the beach. The sun was brightly shining in a clear blue sky. He wanted to meet the new boy and potential friend Paul Howson.

Gordon cleared the table. He went to the local shop for a newspaper and took the children with him. When they returned, the two sisters were just finishing the washing-up.

"I've persuaded Julia to come with us Gordon. She can show us the way, which bus to catch, and how to find the best part of the beach. That will be nice won't it?"
"Very nice!" Gordon responded, grimacing behind his raised newspaper.
"Hurrah!" shouted Michael. He went over to the piano, lifted the lid and crashed about on the keys. "Leave that piano alone Michael!" Margaret remonstrated.
"Hip! Hip! Hurrah!" Shouted Gwyn. "Aunty Julia's coming with us. Hurrah!"
"Upstairs to the bathroom!" ordered their Mam.
"Quick you two! No arguing! Wash your hands! And hurry up! Julia says there's a bus in five minutes."

Michael was no longer worried about going upstairs on buses. When the bus came, he was the first on board and rushed up the stairs. They all followed him to the upper deck. From there, on their way to Walney Island, they had a good view of the town and the shipyard.

They could see several submarines nearing completion and others starting construction. It was Saturday but Vickers was working to full capacity. There were more jobs going there than people available for them. Barrow was a boom town. It was the same everywhere. You could find a job on war work all over the nation. In just twelve months, unemployment had plummeted from two millions to zero.

Jack's view was, "The bosses always use a war to solve their problems. It's a distraction from the basic ills of Capitalism."

Gordon had been reading more of Bernard Shaw. "You're right there Jack. There are always the Undershafts in the shadows. Pulling the strings. Making their arms profits whenever there's fighting. Still, when it comes we'll have no alternative. We'll have to stop Hitler!"

When the bus emptied, they joined other passengers and headed for the sands. There, hundreds of families were enjoying the beach: lying on towels, sitting on deck chairs, paddling in the sea, building castles, eating ice-creams and generally enjoying all of the simple pleasures of the sea side.

Gordon saw his lot settled and went in search of Brian and his family. They were just arriving, having caught a later bus from the town. Gordon hurried towards them waving, delighted to see Brian. He was his oldest, dearest friend and confidant."Come on," he said, "we've found a nice place, further down the beach. There was still enough room for you when I left only a couple of minutes ago."

They were lucky. No other families had crowded too close to Gordon's so the Howsons were able to spread themselves out comfortably beside them. The children took an immediate liking to each other and were soon playing happily together under the watchful eyes of the five adults.

The three women sat and chatted. Brian and Gordon sat apart from the females, close together, and had their first heart-to-heart talk for a long time. Brian was the only friend Gordon had to whom he could entrust his closest secrets.

On the evening that Joyce had driven Gordon to Snatchems, Brian had been a witness to their departure from outside the Trades Hall. He no longer worked with Gordon. The two families never met. Brian had stopped going to the union meetings with Gordon. There was no point after he had the sack from Williamson's. He'd found a new job and had kept out of any union or political activity there. Not knowing what had happened, he was interested in learning about what exactly had taken place. Gordon told him all about the affair with Joyce. Brian laughed uproariously and the women looked his way.

"Shush!" warned Gordon. "Keep your voice down!" He told Brian about Beth and now, Julia.
"Blooming heck!" Brian said, in a low voice. "You keep looking for trouble don't you!"

Gordon preferred his own version, "Not really! It keeps finding me!"
Brian laughed again. "You're kidding yourself lad! How come it never finds me?"
"Because you're such an ugly sod!"

In retaliation for the insult, Brian kicked some sand over Gordon. Gordon grabbed hold of him and the two of them had a wrestling match, just like they used to have when they were boys.

"Don't be childish, Gordon!" Margaret called. Meaning it!

The two men shook sand off their towels and reclined on them again. "Bloody spoil sport!" thought Gordon.

Brian had one bit of news that delighted Gordon. Brian and his family were going to move into a Corporation House, on Austwick Road, on the Ryelands Estate. They would be only a few hundred yards away from Sefton Drive. It meant that Michael, Rob and Paul would all be in the same class, at the new school, in a few weeks time. John Martin, the third one of Michael's friends, would be the odd one out. He was three years older than the others and his dad had managed to get him a place in the prep school, at Lancaster Grammar.

Michael's social life, for many years to come, would involve all three boys. They would do things together as a quartet, trio or duo. They would remain his friends for all of their lives. John was the one least able to indulge in many of their activities. His health was too poor.
Michael and Paul, Gwyn and Gilian were delighted, when they were told that they were going to be fairly close neighbours, and go to the same school together. All four of them ran down to the sea and splashed in the warm, shallow water. Every time they kicked at an incoming wave and made a splash, they would shout.

"Hurrah!"
"Hurrah!"
"Hurrah"
"Hurrah!"

It really pleased the grown-ups, to see the kids so deliriously happy.

Further along the beach, a Salvation Army band was playing, and there was some community singing.

'Oh God, our help in ages past..'
'Onward Christian soldiers!.... '

There were only a few light clouds in the azure sky. Could those distant cloudlets conceivably be heralding a storm? Were these crowds of happy holiday-makers, these innocents at large, laughing with merriment on the sands, or cavorting in the sea, soaking up the glorious August sun, be only weeks away from a disastrous war? Gordon had a presentiment of impending disasters. The reality around him seemed dreamlike, unreal. Nothing was what it appeared to be. Life was so unpredictable. His life! Everyone's life! The world itself! He recalled what he'd read in one of Jack's books.

'Am I a man dreaming that I'm a butterfly? Am I butterfly dreaming that I'm a man?'

He didn't know what he was, who he was or where he was going. Life was always bitter and sweet at the same time. Something had to change. He had to change!

Half way back to Dalton Road, Gordon was looking out of a window on the top deck of the bus. They were passing a church. Outside the building, on a wooden post, there was a poster with big lettering.

EVERY BIT OF LOVE WE SOW
IN TIME WILL BEAR RICH FRUIT

Julia was with Margaret in the double seat in front of him. She and her sister were laughing together. He looked at the back of her head and stared at the poster again. He devoutly hoped that the words did not apply to Julia and him!

The week passed too quickly for any of their liking. The Watsons went back home on the Saturday morning. The night before their departure, Gordon lay awake, very late, when he heard the front door slam. A minute later, he heard the piano being played. The tune was 'South of the Border'.

He didn't move. He ignored the summons. He stayed in bed.