Live the Dream (20 page)

Since meeting Amy and realising Dave was her father, Jack had been amazed at how alike they were; not in looks but in mannerism—both homely creatures with no pretence about them, and bright, ready smiles. He didn't want to let Dave know that he had met his daughter. That was up to Amy, but only if and when she wanted to.

At the brush production line, the men were eager too.

'He can examine 'em all he likes,' an old work-hand told Jack, 'but he'll not find a single misshapen base or one loose bristle. Matter o' fact, I'll go so far as to say, me and the men have taken more care with this little lot than we've ever taken…and that's not to say we've not
allus
been vigilant in turning out the best brushes in Lancashire.'

'I already know that, Will,' Jack assured him, 'and so, I'm sure, does Mr Hammond. But you know how important this contract is—a new outlet, at top prices, and the promise of even more business to follow.'

'Aye, we know that, Jack, and we'll not let him down, 'cos if we do, it'll be like letting ourselves down.'

'You're right!' Jack agreed, 'especially as Mr Hammond is pulling out all the stops—new machinery, new wagons and even a new boiler system. He intends taking us up and up. No matter how good we've already proven our merchandise to be, we're on trial with every new customer. One shoddy piece of merchandise and it's back to square one.'

One of the newly started young men stepped forward. 'He'll not find any shoddy workmanship here.' Unlike the other men, he did not appreciate the fact that Jack had come straight to Hammonds when not much more than a bairn. From the start, he had been a quick learner and dedicated to his work. He knew the business inside out, and was fast becoming Luke Hammond's right-hand man.

All this envious young upstart could see was that Jack was not much older than himself, yet he wore the foreman's brown overall. 'Like Will 'ere says, these brushes must be the best in the whole of Lancashire. Tek a look and see for yourself.'

And because he knew Luke Hammond would do the very same, Jack did exactly that.

A few moments later he told the men he was well satisfied. 'But it's not me who needs to be satisfied,' he reminded them, 'it's the big man, and I'm sure he will be.' That said, he thanked them and set off towards the office.

'Cocky bugger!' The young man's envy was written all over his face. 'It's not right, somebody in his twenties telling you men what to do '

He would have gone on, but was interrupted. 'You don't know what yer talking about, son!' A big ruddy-faced man spoke for all of them. Jack deserves the foreman's overall; he's earned it. What's more, he deserves a bit more respect from the likes of you. He knows more about these machines and this business than you'll ever know! We might be older and wiser than him in many ways, but he's been here longer than many of us and Mr Hammond knows his value.'

The other men nodded in full agreement, but it was young Roy who spoke for them, 'Aye, and it wouldn't surprise any of us, if Jack weren't running things round here one day.'

Unaware of these exchanges, Jack collected the paperwork from his office. Coming back down the stairs, he saw the supervisor enter through the main doors. He was a thin, sour-faced man who, because of his habitual lateness and lack of enthusiasm, was already under warning from Luke Hammond. He gave Jack the sign that Mr Hammond had turned into the outer gates.

Intending to have a word with him about not being around when he'd searched for him earlier, Jack merely acknowledged him for now and made his way to the main doors, where Luke was already in sight.

'Morning, Mr Hammond.'

'Morning, Jack. The men briefed, are they?'

'They are, sir. They're well aware of how important this new order is and, if you don't mind me saying so, I think you'll find they've done you proud.'

Luke smiled. 'It sounds as though you've already inspected the order.'

'I have, and I think it's a fine batch of brushes.'

Luke nodded appreciatively. 'Good! Right, let's have a look, shall we?'

With Jack following, he walked along the line of brush machines, talking to each of the twelve operators as he went.

His first stop was the broom-heads, where he dipped at random into the stacks, to check both quality and bristle quantity. Next the scrubbing brushes and miscellaneous, then the small hand brushes, and finally the large yard broom-heads.

With each one he turned the brush over, checking for bristle quality, possible missed holes, and that the bristle bunches were driven deep into the holes. When that was done he turned the broom-head sideways to check the straightness of the cut, and that none was misshapen.

Finally he thanked the work hands and returned to the office with Jack, where he told Jack that he needed a word with the supervisor.

'I'm not happy with him,' Luke said. 'He's turned out to be shifty and lazy, and he's never on time. The men see it all and it isn't good. He's already had too many chances and doesn't seem to take a blind bit of notice.'

In a matter of minutes, Jack tracked down the thin, sour- faced individual.

Luke outlined the man's lack of enthusiasm for his work, and his inability to take instruction, either from Luke or Jack. 'The men are aware of what's going on,' Luke continued, 'and it's not acceptable. You'll be paid a week's wages and leave straight away. There's no reason for you to serve out your notice, especially not when you haven't the slightest interest in what you're doing.'

The man swore and cursed and made many a threat, and even as Jack escorted him to the main doors, he was struggling, making it necessary for Jack to manhandle him roughly out of the building.

'You'd best keep an eye out for that one,' Luke told Jack. 'He can be a nasty piece of work.'

He also asked Jack to search out a new supervisor.

'I think we should look in the ranks of men we've already got,' Jack suggested and, trusting him to make the best choice, Luke told him to use his own judgement.

After Luke had gone, Jack had a brief idea that he might train Roy as supervisor, but his better instinct told him that Roy was not yet ready, and that one of the older, more experienced men would serve the firm better.

Later, during tea-break, he told Roy how he had been half tempted to train him up.

Roy replied exactly as Jack might have expected. 'I'm not ready. And besides, like you say, it wouldn't go down well with the other men.'

'That was my thinking,' Jack admitted. His first concern was always the company, and both men knew that. 'Your time will come, though,' he promised Roy, and Roy's confidence swelled a mile.

'I'll wait until you get your own firm,' he told Jack with a wink. 'I've a feeling it won't be too long afore we see you as yer own boss.'

'That's a long way down the road yet,' Jack answered. Though, in his heart it was all he wanted: to be his own boss, with his own business, and—the idea shot fully formed into his head—the lovely Amy to come home to every night.

That was his dream and he would settle for nothing else.

At six p.m. a whistle signalled the end of another working day. Roy lingered to wait for Jack, and they walked part-way home together.

'I'm seeing Daisy tomorrow,' Roy revealed with a confident little grin. 'I think she really likes me.'

'If that's true, try not to mess it up this time,' was Jack's friendly advice. 'She's a decent lass.'

'I know that now,' Roy said. 'She's better than I deserve, and I'll try never to let her down again.'

'Oh no, that won't do!' Jack cautioned him. 'If you want to keep her, you'll need to do more than "try".'

For a while, the two of them walked along, their heavy boots clattering against the flagstones and their minds filled with private thoughts.

'What about Amy?' Roy asked presently. 'It looked to me as though you were making a good impression there.' He grinned mischievously. 'Fond of her, are yer?'

'More

than fond,' Jack replied, his voice dropping to a whisper. 'To tell you the truth, I reckon I'm falling in love.'

Roy whistled. 'Bloody hell, Jack. Steady on!'

Reluctant to discuss Amy any further, Jack skilfully changed the subject. 'So? You really want to make a go of it with Daisy then?'

"Yes, I'm hoping so. What's wrong with that, eh?'

'So you're determined to mend your ways, are you?'

Taking offence at Jack's comment, Roy brought himself and Jack to a halt. 'What's the matter with you? What are you getting at?' Though he already had an idea of what Jack was referring to.

'You've some shady friends, that's all,' he said.

'What about 'em?'

'D'you intend to carry on seeing them?'

'Not all of 'em, no. I'll admit I've met some devious devils,' he confessed, 'and I know they got me in more trouble than I could handle, but they're long gone. I don't hear from them, and I don't want to.'

'But what about the one who lives down your street?' Jack persisted.

'mean Don Carson?'

Jack nodded. 'Will you go on seeing him?' Roy almost always confided in him, so he knew Roy still paid him a visit now and then. He also knew that the fella was a close pal of Arnold Stratton, the man who had been gaoled for badly beating Luke Hammond's wife.

'I know what yer thinking: that I might get Daisy involved in summat bad, and that Don Carson is every bit as evil as Stratton. Well, he's not all bad. He's a rough diamond, sure enough, with an eye for dodgy deals and fast women, but he's tried to go straight so many times. Trouble is, he's easily tempted. One time he was even going to settle down and get married. I don't know what went wrong, but I reckon Don just couldn't manage the responsibility. But he's been a good friend to me, helped me when I was down, and I'll not snub him now.'

The irony of mentioning Don's former fiancee to Jack in this way did not escape Roy, but it wasn't Amy he was defending.

Always wary, Jack warned, 'I know it's none of my business, Roy, but if you're as serious about Daisy as you claim, then you need to think long and hard about this: the truth is, the company you keep might well turn out to be the company
Daisy
will keep. Don't forget that.'

Given food for thought, Roy remained silent until he and Jack parted company at the bottom of Penny Street. 'Are you seeing Amy tonight?' he asked of Jack.

'I'd like to,'Jack answered, 'but she and Daisy are doing "girlie" things—and don't ask me what that might be, 'cos I don't know.'

Roy suggested it might be something to do with Daisy telling him she was having her hair trimmed. 'I told her I liked it the way it was,' he said, 'but it didn't seem to matter what I thought.'

Jack laughed. 'Never interfere with a woman and her hair,' he advised. 'It's one of those mysterious things men are supposed to know nothing about.'

'See you in the morning then?'

'You will.'

'Good night then.'

'Good night,' Jack called after him. 'And don't be late!'

While Jack's journey home to the top end of Penny Street was a mere ten minutes or so, it took twice that long for Roy to get to Johnson Street.

By the time he closed the door to his bedsit, it was already going on for seven o'clock.

A sparsely furnished part of a large Victorian house, his living accommodation consisted of one long, wide room, the bottom of which was curtained off as a bedroom.

In the bedroom part was a narrow bed, a sturdy if unattractive chest of drawers, which also served as a dressing table, and a chair that, with well-worn, dipped seat and sagging upholstery, had seen better days.

The rest of the room was furnished with a grubby old sofa, a small table with drop-down leaves and barley-twist legs and, standing proud on top of a tall slim cupboard, a handsome wireless.

There was also a horsehair-stuffed armchair, from which a multitude of black bristles protruded, and a green rug covering a greater part of the linoleum floor.

To one side of the room was a makeshift kitchen, consisting of a gas stove and a cupboard. There was a small wooden pantry containing a packet of tea, a half-used bag of sugar, a small uncut loaf and a pat of butter. The hinged drop-down lid served as a worktop. The bathroom, which was situated out on the landing, was shared with four other tenants.

The flat wasn't much, but it was his home and, sparse though it was, Roy considered it to be far more welcoming than the one he had shared with his parents. But that was a long time ago. He had always intended to better himself, but as yet he had not encountered the fortune he believed was waiting for him round every corner.

After washing and shaving, he devoured a cheese sandwich with a mug of tea, then he sat on the chair with his feet up on the table and, eyes closed, listened to the evening music on the wireless.

He was tired yet excited. He thought of Daisy and he couldn't sit still, so he put on his coat and departed the building.

Don Carson lived on the same street, just a few doors away. Roy visited him often, but had not seen him since he met Daisy again. Tonight he could hardly wait to tell him about his new girlfriend.

After Roy's three knocks on the front door of Don Carson's humble abode, Don answered the door.

Unshaven and wearing only his vest and trousers, he looked as if he'd just got out of bed. 'Oh, it's you!' Running his hand through his tousled hair, he stepped back to let Roy shove past. 'You'd best come inside,' he invited wearily.

Having followed Don along the passage and into the back parlour, Roy threw himself into a chair. 'What's up with you?' He observed how tired the older man looked, and how he was neither shaved nor properly dressed. 'I've never seen yer look such a mess!'

'Well, thanks, that's all I need!' Taking a long, noisy sigh, Don explained, 'I've been out all day, looking for work, but soonever I mention I've been in gaol, they don't want to know.'

'Why don't yer lie to 'em?'

'What's the use o' doing that?' the other man asked. 'They'd find out sooner or later.'

'Work for
yersel'
then.'

The other man sat down, his sharp eyes trained on Roy. 'Oh, yeah, doing what?'