Live the Dream (9 page)

Amy groaned. 'It's surely not that time yet, is it?' So far there had not been one day when the shop was late opening.

'Happen not. But it soon will be if you don't get a move on. So shift yourself, lass. And wake your mam up, will you?'

Grumbling and moaning, he lumbered into the kitchen where he checked the gas-ring.'Damn thing, it's allus going out'. Striking a match on the range he lit it again. 'One o' these days I'll chuck the bloody thing in the river and be rid of it once and for all.'

Glancing at the mantelpiece clock, he groaned. 'Jesus! I'm getting nowhere at this rate.'

Making his way to the bottom of the stairs, he called up again, 'MARIE…AMY! What the devil's keeping you?'

Halfway to her parents' room, Amy turned and came back. 'What now?'

'Did you wake your mam up?'

'Not yet, but I will if you'll give me a chance.'

'Look, lass…get her out, will you? I can't be going to work without summat inside me…I'd make my own breakfast, but you know what happened the last time I tried cooking on that blessed gas stove!'

'And how could we ever forget?' Having been woken by the yelling and shouting, Marie emerged fully dressed from her bedroom. 'By! You should be ashamed…a grown man who can't fry an egg without setting fire to the kitchen.' Coming along the landing, she winked at Amy who by now was wide awake.

Relieved to see Marie already out and fighting fit, he called up, 'Come on, lass. I don't want to be late.'

'Stop your mothering. I'm on my way.' Starting down the stairs, Marie noticed how Amy was shivering. 'Aw, lass, you'll catch your death o' cold. You go and get yerself dressed,' she instructed in her best no-nonsense voice, 'while I make a start on the breakfast.' She feverishly rubbed her hands together. 'By! It's bitter cold! I hope your dad's got a good fire going.' Giving Amy a little push, she urged, 'Go on, lass. Get dressed.'

'Thanks, Mam.' Drawing her robe tight about her, Amy felt the cold right through to her bones. 'Don't worry about my breakfast,' she told Marie, I'll do myself a boiled egg and toast when I get down.'

Marie wagged a finger. 'Your breakfast will be on the table soonever you're ready,' she promised. 'Now go on. Be off with you.' Amy didn't argue. It would not have made any difference anyway. 'All right, Mam, thanks. I'll not be long.'

Hurrying back to her bedroom, Amy winced as the bare feet struck against the cold lino. It was November now, and the winter's cold seeped into every corner, yet even in summer the warmth of the sunshine could not seem to find its way in, not even when every window in the house was open.

Grabbing her clothes, she went along to the bathroom, where she quickly cleaned her teeth and washed herself. A few minutes to brush her hair and she was ready for the day ahead.

Humming a tune to herself, she danced down the stairs and burst into the kitchen, where her parents were already seated at the table.

'You look nice, love.' Always ready with compliments for his two women, Dave looked up from his forkful of bacon. Taking note of Amy's pretty blue jumper and the dark flared skirt that fell to just below the knees, he saw how her eyes sparkled and her brown hair shone, and he was curious. 'Off somewhere special, are we?'

'Only as far as the shop.' She sat down, her egg and toast already on the table. 'Why do you ask?'

'No reason.' He winked mischievously. You wouldn't be seeing a fella would you, lass? I mean, in my experience, when a young lady has that particular sparkle in her eye, it's usually because she's found herself a fella.'

'Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you,' Amy answered with a shy little smile, 'but I haven't "found a fella", and nor am I likely to…unless he comes into the shop for a packet of drawing-pins or a pound of cheese.' Strange she thought, how her father's words made her think of the handsome man who visited the cafe on a Tuesday.

'No fella, eh?' Dave sighed. 'Ah, well, it's a terrible shame, that's all I can say…especially when you look pretty as a picture this morning.' Dave had never fooled himself about his darling daughter. Amy was a kind and wonderful young woman with a beautiful way about her that attracted all manner of compliments, but she was not what you might describe as pretty. She was
more
than that, he thought proudly, and he would not have her any other way. That rogue Don Carson had let her down badly, but she was probably well out of it. Don had been a bit too slick for Dave's liking—he'd always suspected there was something not quite trustworthy about him. Shame he'd broken his little girl's heart, though. Her confidence had been badly shaken. It'd take a special fella to make her trust again.

'You may not know it, lass,' he went on, 'but you're a real head-turner—bright and winsome, like a ray of sunshine, that's what you are.' He was inwardly pleased when she flushed with embarrassment.

Having heard and seen the exchange between husband and daughter, Marie chuckled through her toast. 'Tek no notice, lass,' she told Amy. 'Your father's allus had a silken tongue. He's the world's best flatterer…Matter of fact it wouldn't surprise me if he doesn't chat up the girls wherever he goes.'

'Nonsense!' Dave took umbrage at her remarks. 'Why would I do a thing like that?'

She gave Amy a sly little wink. 'One pretty smile from some wayward girl, and he'd be putty in her hands."

Dave would have none of it. 'There's only two girls in my life,' he declared sombrely, 'and they're right here at this table!'

It wasn't long before the conversation turned to more serious matters. 'Anyway, what are you doing up so early?' Chopping off the top of her egg, Amy cut her toast into long thin soldiers. 'You don't have to be at work until eight.'

Taking a deep gulp of his tea, Dave pushed back his chair. 'Mr Hammond is giving us a pep talk this morning and he wants us all in by half-past seven.'

Marie looked up. 'What kind of pep talk?'

'God only knows.' He frowned. 'We shall just have to wait and see.'

'Are you worried about your job, Dad?'

Dave shrugged. 'We've all been worried, Amy,' he imparted quietly. 'Work seems to be slowing down of late, and I'm told that two of the wagons were parked up for the best part of last week. On top of that, half the factory floor is completely empty.' He looked from one to the other. 'Some of the lads who've been there since Hammonds started up say they've never seen it like that before.'

'Oh, Dave, I hope he's not setting some of you off. I know how much you like your job.' Marie knew that when work ran short, the rule was always last in first out.

'I'm sure it won't come to that, lass.' Seeing their worried faces he assured them, 'It'll be summat and nowt, you'll see. And besides, the brush production side of it has never been busier. While the two wagons have been parked up, the brush delivery vans have been on the go as usual. Look, don't worry. I'm sure there'll be an explanation for the slow-down on the other side.'

Marie nodded. 'Happen you're right, love.'

But she was uneasy all the same.

Dave left in plenty of time. I'll see you both later,' he said and, with a twinkle in his eye, he told Amy, 'This fella you've got in your sights, don't keep him all to yourself, lass. Me and your mam would like a glimpse of him some time or another.' And with that, he went away whistling.

However, when he got out of earshot, the whistling stopped. 'I hope Hammond's not about to finish some of the workforce,' he muttered. 'I don't want to lose my job. I can't go back working in the shop, not now our Amy's given up her own job to help her mam. And, oh, I did hate being cooped up.'

Striding along in the cold morning air, he felt like a free man. There was something about being outside, even when he was driving along in his wagon—something so natural and satisfying, he would be greatly sad to lose it.

'Morning, Dave.' The big man was a loader at Hammonds. I'm not looking forward to this 'ere meeting, I can tell you.'

'Morning, Bert.' Dave greeted him with a friendly nod, though his voice carried a worried tone. 'Do you reckon we're in for the chop then?'

'Oh, aye.' The big man's expression said it all. 'I reckon some of us are bound to be finished. What with the building half empty and two wagons stood off, we must be losing orders. I can't see Hammond keeping a full workforce on, however good a man he is. Can you?'

As they turned the corner of Montague Street, they saw the tram about to pull out. Setting off at a run, they leaped onto the platform and hurried to sit down.

'I think you might well be right,' Dave said, squashing himself next to the big man who was taking up two-thirds of the slatted seat. 'And if he is getting shut of some of us, I'll surely be one of 'em,' he contemplated. 'Last in first out, isn't that what they say?'

'Mmm.' Preoccupied with his own predicament and the missus with a new babby on the way, Bert didn't answer straight off. Instead he stared absent-mindedly out the window, his mind turning over what Dave had said. 'It doesn't allus work out that way,' he replied presently. 'Sometimes they get rid of the older ones first. And that'll be me included.'

They spent the rest of the journey in silence. There was much to think about, and the more they thought, the more anxious they became.

While Luke straightened his tie at the hall mirror, Sylvia looked on.

'Why are you going so early this morning?' Drawing near, she looked proudly at his reflection in the mirror. Immaculate in a dark blue suit, with white shirt and dark tie, he looked every inch the employer gentleman. 'You look especially smart today.'

She reminded herself that he looked smart every day when he was going to his work. But on a Tuesday, he didn't go to his work. She knew that because she had given Georgina the slip when they were out shopping and gone to his factory once, and he hadn't been there. 'He never comes in of a Tuesday, miss,' some helpful, misguided lad had told her.

So, in spite of her enquiries and much to her consternation, she still did not know where he went on Tuesdays. She had asked him many times, but he always fobbed her off. 'Work doesn't present itself,' he told her. 'I need to put time aside to go looking for it.' Which, even Sylvia knew, was no lie.

'I have to be at work for seven fifteen,' he answered her question.

'Why?' She hated it when he left in the mornings.

Used to her inquisitions, Luke answered her again. 'Because I've called the men together for a special meeting.' Leaning sideways he gave her a sound kiss. 'It wouldn't go down well if I was late, would it now?'

'And what about me?'

'What do you mean?'

'I don't want you to leave me, that's all.'

Concern showed on his face. 'What's wrong? Is there something you're not telling me?' He had tried hard to read the signs but her moods were so unpredictable, it was impossible to know.

'No there isn't!' She began to grow agitated. 'I know what you're thinking, though,' she snapped sulkily. 'Go on then. Why don't you ask me if I'm about to go crazy?' She was painfully aware of the times when she lost control, and afterwards, filled with shame and fear, she knew little about what had taken place. During that dark period when her mind went into some kind of chaos, she was totally helpless.

Lately, because of something her sister said, she had convinced herself it was the price she had to pay for taking a lover outside her marriage. Sometimes Georgina said things like that—things that made Sylvia feel bad, and which she found hard to forget. Georgina had always had a spiteful streak. Sometimes they were such friends—like sisters ought to be—and then Georgina would be mean. When they were little, Mummy had said Georgina was just jealous, when Sylvia told tales of her, and to take no notice. But now Sylvia found it hard to cope with her sister's unkindness, which, as ever, could strike out of the blue.

Now as she goaded him, the fear was etched in her face. 'Go on, Luke! Ask me if I'm about to lose control!'

Turning, he took her gently by the shoulders, his voice soft with compassion. 'And are you,' he asked, 'about to lose control?' There were times when she took him by surprise. One minute she would be perfectly normal, and the next she would be like a raving lunatic, hitting out at anything and anybody; smashing whatever she could lay her hands on.

It was at times like that, when he feared she might harm herself.

'Stop fussing.' Pushing him away, she suddenly smiled. 'I'm fine,' she lied. 'In fact, I've never felt better.'

'So, what did you mean just now when you said, "What about me?"'

'Like I said…I don't want to be left alone, that's all.' A little flurry of fear turned her insides over.

Astonished, he asked, 'Do you really think I would leave you alone?'

Just then the rear door opened and Edna popped her head round. 'Seven o'clock, Mr Hammond,' she said with a homely grin. 'And here I am, as promised.'

Sylvia's face lit up. 'Edna, it's you!'

'Well, it isn't anybody else, you can be sure o' that,' came the chirpy reply. 'Now then, who wants a brew?'

'Not for me, thanks.' Concerned about the time, Luke told her, 'I'd best be off or I'll be late.'

'Well, it won't be because I let you down,' she declared. 'I were out of my bed a full hour afore time on account o' you.' She wagged a finger as she told him mischievously, 'O' course, I'll be wanting overtime money, you understand?'

He tutted. 'Oh, I'm not sure I can promise anything like that,' he teased. He and Edna understood each other very well.

Having already removed her coat and slung it over her arm, she pretended to put it back on. 'I'm sorry, sir.' Her voice was firm but her smile was growing. 'If you aren't going to treat me right, I shall take leave of you.'

Sylvia chuckled. 'Behave yourselves! Stop teasing her,' she chided Luke. And turning to Edna, she told her firmly, 'And you're just as bad. "Overtime money", indeed. We've always looked after you and always will.'

Looking mortified, Edna curtsied. 'Sorry, ma'am,' she stuttered contritely. 'Please don't sack me. I won't do it again.'

With a little laugh, Sylvia asked, 'Didn't you say something about "making a brew"?'