Annie's Promise (27 page)

‘We’re screwing on pick-ups beneath the strings, Mum,’ Sarah said, ‘and wiring them into amplifiers. All groups need them.’

Annie shuddered. ‘Not in our house they don’t – your father would flip and I’d die.’

‘Oh Mum, it’s not for the house, it’s for our gigs.’

‘Your what?’

Sarah flicked her hair back from her face. ‘Our gigs, we’re going to try and earn some money, get around, let people hear us, it’s the only way to improve you know, to work for something, otherwise we just mess about – just like Da said the birds did if they didn’t have competition.’

Annie looked at Davy, shaking her head, that child would take the ground right from under Georgie’s feet with that particular argument as she well knew. ‘So, whose idea was this?’

Davy grinned. ‘Guess.’

Annie shook her head. ‘You should stand up to her Davy, don’t let her push you around – and there’s the small matter of your work.’

Davy laughed. ‘She’s all right, she just knows what she wants and it’s a good idea isn’t it, Aunt Annie? It’ll get us
out of earshot of you and me parents and that way we can buy ourselves better guitars.’

That evening Annie talked Georgie into employing the kids, telling him that he was always going on about being in the pit at their ages, so they could do a bit of slave labour ‘at mill’ instead.

‘But homework must be done. You’re fifteen and working towards those exams,’ she warned.

As summer came the sales were still increasing and the inspector found only that the outside needed redecorating and they felt like sticking out their tongues and blowing raspberries as he left.

In May the graph in Annie’s office showed just a steady rise since December, no dips as there had been the year before. They were selling to France now and had stabilised the size ratios at last, accommodating slimmer French figures, whilst judging Holland and Germany on the British shape. Georgie’s mail order division was expanding, bringing in further orders for the wholesalers.

‘You were right, it’s a good shop window, my love,’ Georgie said as they worked out the bonus for the workers, the increase in salary for them which this year would be larger, though their overheads were rising along with their sales.

‘It’s not enough just to divide the profits, we need to do something together this year, to celebrate, all of us – everyone in the firm. We’re so busy we never have time to talk, even at the meetings we just discuss business,’ Annie said one evening as she dished out new potatoes from Bet’s allotment since they had been too late with their own this year, again.

Sarah watched the butter melt on the potatoes, darkening the mint. She remembered how her mother used to scrape parsley off her food at Sarah Beeston’s, not knowing that it was to be eaten. Parents were embarrassing.

Georgie reached for the salad cream. ‘Good idea – how about a trip to the sea.’

‘No, not the sea – if it rains we’ll have Bernie grizzling
and everyone sitting on the coach steaming up the windows wishing they hadn’t come.’ Annie cut into her tomato. ‘Bet’s had a really good year with these. I like the small ones.’ Sarah looked up. ‘How about Spanish City at Whitley Bay? There’s lots to do.’

Georgie nodded. ‘Not a bad idea. I haven’t been for years and they’re bringing their families aren’t they Annie? The kids would love a fair.’

Annie nodded. ‘Oh yes, I’ve been through the books, we can afford it and never mind the kids,
we’d
love it.’

Sarah smiled. ‘Can the Easter packers come too?’

‘If you want to but I’d have thought it was a bit square for you. We’ll probably be wearing Kiss Me Quick hats and eating candy floss – can The Founders’ image take it?’

Sarah just nodded and smiled. Some of the best American rock ’n’ roll music was played there, or so Geoff had said but there was no need to tell them about that.

In June Gracie, Bet and Annie took Friday off and cooked chickens, sausages and sausage rolls, wrapping them in greaseproof paper and stacking them in the fridge until the morning. When Sarah came in from school she sliced and buttered seven loaves of bread, then helped Annie boil eggs for fifteen minutes. They filled containers with squash but when they arrived at the coach the next day they saw Georgie and Tom loading bottles of beer into the luggage hold.

‘Too hot for squash, or tea,’ Georgie grinned, nodding as Bet handed him the thermos flasks which the women had brought.

‘Well, you just keep your eye on Bernie,’ Annie warned, laughing as Tom rolled his eyes. ‘And yourselves.’

They sang all the old favourites as they travelled –
Knees up Mother Brown
,
The White Cliffs of Dover.
Davy and Sarah sat staring out of the window, mortified by their parents who were standing up at the front conducting.

The coach driver took them via the scenic route as he had promised and they stopped for half an hour on moorland where the heather was lush and the gorse spiked dark green
and yellow. There were peewits, and hawks, and the sound of insects as Annie lay down and looked up at the sky, hearing the laughter, the voices of people she employed, children the creche looked after. She heard Sarah giggling as Geoff pounced on Davy, then her, rolling her over and over down the slope, her flared jeans picking up dirt but what did it matter, they were going to the fair, weren’t they?

She smiled up at Bet. ‘It’s a good day isn’t it, Bet?’

‘Aye, bonny lass, and you’ve done a good thing, all of you, for Wassingham. Your Sarah Beeston would be proud of you, and your da.’

When the coach finally pulled up at the fairground they could hear the music. Annie caught Sarah’s eye, grinning at her, then at Davy. ‘Well, well,’ she said. ‘Just as well your da’s had a few beers and the sun’s shone on me. This could lead to a severe sense of humour failure.’

The rock ’n’ roll was pounding as they all arranged to meet in an hour’s time for the picnic. Annie shrugged off thanks as she handed out spending money to each family.

‘It’s yours, it’s part of the profits and you deserve it,’ she said. ‘We’ve all worked hard, just don’t fall off, we want you coming back in one piece.’

She felt Georgie stiffen at her side and wondered why there were so many sayings that involved the body and why she was so stupid. She turned, touching his arm as he smiled at Meg and her husband Geoff, waiting until they had gone, then said, ‘I’m sorry.’

He looked at her. ‘Don’t be – it’s just that every so often it still gets to me. I still wish it had never happened. I wish I could grab you and run off as they’re doing.’ He nodded at Sarah, Davy and the other two boys, racing one another to the dodgems.

Annie held his hand, slotting her fingers between his, holding him tightly. ‘There aren’t many people of our age running anywhere right now,’ she said, but she understood, and from his kiss she knew he realised that she did.

‘She’s a little devil though, isn’t she? Just listen to all this,’ Georgie said, but he was laughing. ‘Davy’s just told me he wants to do textile design so that’ll please her majesty – I’ll bet any money you like they’ll be going to the same college, so they’ll keep one another company and we can easily get to Newcastle to see them, make sure she’s not getting out of hand.’

‘
Getting
out of hand, I just hope she’s not already there,’ Annie said walking towards the music, seeing the candy floss stall and feeling the relief spreading through her at the thought that Davy and Sarah would stay together, and close to home.

‘We must do this more often,’ she murmured, ‘it brings us luck.’ Because she had feared they would disappear to London and it seemed so far away, especially in today’s world.

Sarah and Davy ran with Geoff and Paul through the crowds, feeling the heat on their faces, hearing the music blasting out from the huge speakers, almost drowning the chugging of the generators, smelling the diesel, candy floss, hot dogs. They stood on the steps, watching the cars crash and thump, the drivers grimace and jerk, waiting until the music slowed, then running for a car. Sarah and Davy in the yellow one, Geoff and Paul in the green, chasing one another as the power came on, screaming, screeching, groaning, jolting.

They ran off to the Big Wheel and flew through the air, and Sarah felt the wind rush through her, like it did when she tumbled over the bar at the allotment and she gripped Davy’s arm. ‘Isn’t life wonderful, just so wonderful and you’re right, we should go to your da’s college. It’ll get us away from here, give us a change. This is what London will be like – the two of us and music like this, and people who understand op art, and like it too. Oh Davy, I can’t wait.’ She turned and looked out across the flashing lights to the sea.

On the coach back Sarah and Davy conducted the singers in
Hound Dog
and
Living Doll
, then organised them into groups using their voices to create rhythms, singing Platters songs, and Coasters numbers while Rob sat next to Annie and talked about Ban the Bomb marches and the escalation in the United States military aid to Vietnam until his father reached over and said, ‘Shut up and sing.’

Annie saw Davy turn towards them, he had heard and the love in his face was for Tom. She smiled gently. Everything was going to be all right. It wasn’t until the next morning that Sarah told her about London, about Davy’s need to go to his father’s college, about their need for a change.

Annie merely straightened her daughter’s collar, gave her a kiss and said that of course she understood, they would all understand. She walked to the allotment and wouldn’t allow the ache to take hold, she just hoed and dug and watered, and thought of the places she had been, and how Sarah Beeston had let her go with never a murmur – how Georgie had travelled far further and his mother had allowed him – how Tom and Gracie had spent three years in London.

By the time the evening came her back ached and her hands were blistered but she was comforted, because London wasn’t so far away, Sarah would be practically an adult and she must learn to let go, it was as simple as that and this is what she told Georgie as they made love. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s what I’ve been thinking. I’m quite looking forward to life on our own while we watch her grow. It’ll be a new stage for them and us.’

His lips were as soft as his voice and she held him close to her because she knew that he was right.

Throughout the summer the kids worked as packers again, standing alongside the machinists who had voted to take turns in the packing room to ring the changes during the day.

In the autumn the kids bought second-hand amplifiers and fixed them to plywood, taking them to the Youth Club for the Christmas gig which was the only one they had secured.

They had new guitars for Christmas, ones with good solid wide bodies and black inlaid trim. They had cutaway necks for easier manoeuvrability on the lower frets of the finger board, or so the man in the shop had told Gracie and Annie.

They sat round the table, fingering them, playing desultory chords, talking of the geometric patterns of op art, the visual effect they created, and Annie asked Tom if they could be incorporated into the soft furnishings they were considering for the summer if they found they could afford new printers.

He shook his head. ‘Too adventurous.’

‘Oh Da,’ groaned Davy.

‘Oh Da nothing, just think what it would be like to live with. Interesting to create, a problem to sell, just you remember that, both of you, when you’re down there in that big city.’

‘And just remember too,’ said Annie, pouring the last of the beer, ‘that nobody’s going anywhere unless these exams are passed, so rehearsals are restricted until July.’

The kids didn’t groan, just nodded because they had their guitars, they had their amplifiers and after their ‘O’ levels they would have two years to penetrate the clubs of Newcastle before they left for London, then they’d have everything.

In the spring of 1963 Annie took on a cutter because there was too much work for just one. They took on two machinists, a bookkeeper and a clerk and at last her office was tidy, Georgie’s and Tom’s too.

‘I feel like a real boss now,’ Georgie said that night. ‘I really must get myself a cigar.’

‘Over my dead body,’ Annie replied.

In the summer there was no maintenance for the inspector to throw at them, just profits, and so the bonus was higher, but not too high because they’d decided at the monthly meeting to invest in new printers, pad mangles, and a boiler so that they could respond to the upholstery requests which were pouring in.

‘Next year,’ Annie said, ‘our turnover should be so much higher that the bonus, and the salary increases, should be
much bigger. Hang in with us, everyone, we’ve nearly cracked it.’

At the end of June, Don rang and she told him of their expansion, of their increased bonus for the workers, the escalating graph, the lack of repairs on the inspector’s list.

‘So the consortium can go and take a jump,’ she said and he was pleased for them, really pleased, she could tell from his voice.

‘Come over,’ she said. ‘We haven’t seen you for ages.’

‘Can’t, we’re going to the Canary Isles tomorrow.’

Sarah said, ‘Tweet, tweet,’ when Annie told her and Annie asked Georgie that night whether London knew quite what was going to hit it.

In July, they reorganised the factory, reshuffling, making room for the two flat-bed printers, one Buser printer, two pad mangles, a step and repeat machine and the boiler. They could now print eight colours, not just two. It took a month to set up and start producing and they took on three extra print workers and a machinist called Pat who was a newcomer to Wassingham but who needed a break, Brenda said. They also took on a van and driver for distribution.

‘Should we try our own retail outlets?’ Bet asked.

No, they said, they couldn’t cope. Not yet.

‘Should we try wallpaper?’

No, they said, not yet, next year perhaps because they must recoup their outlay first and then they would reconsider. Now they should start building up their reserves because the new machinery had taken their capital, though there was no loan involved and that in itself was a victory. ‘It’s going to be good, just up and up from now on,’ Annie told everyone.