For Many a Long Day (9 page)

‘All right. I’ll come.’

Ellie wasn’t at all happy about the decision she’d made, but when she’d thought how little pleasure there’d been for Daisy in recent years she just couldn’t say no. Had things been the other way round, she knew Daisy would never have said no to her.

Cycling home that evening she made up her mind that whatever happened and however uneasy she might be with the tennis itself and the meeting of the members of the Tennis Club, she’d stick it out for a couple of weeks at least. Knowing Daisy, she’d have made friends by then and it wouldn’t matter at all if Ellie didn’t go again herself.

The Royal Ulster Constabulary Tennis Club had originally been set up to provide recreation for policemen and their wives, but at some point it was recognised that policemen and their wives might well wish to make friends beyond their immediate colleagues. For some years, however, the membership of the club, had been dominated by young men. Despite the great popularity of the RUC
Annual Tennis Club Dance with the young women of Armagh, there were so few women in the club that Harry and Stanley had never yet managed a set of mixed doubles.

‘It’s really very handy,’ said Harry, as they prepared to close the shop on Wednesday afternoon. ‘It’s only about ten minutes walk, but I expect you’ll both want to bring your bicycles for going home. Stanley and I will go on ahead when we’ve had our lunch and we’ll be waiting for you when you get there.’

Thomas Street and Dobbin Street were familiar enough to both Ellie and Daisy, but when they turned right as instructed between the back of Hillock’s large hardware business and the new fire station, they found themselves in quite unfamiliar territory. After a few moments they identified the overgrown ruins of an old building, a Franciscan Friary according to Joe, the third and quietest of their male colleagues.

A short distance beyond the remaining walls stood a pair of handsome houses. That told them they were now in the grounds of the Archbishop’s Palace and somewhere nearby on the left was the path they were looking for. It led to what had once been an old, walled garden, the pleasure and delight of Lady Anne, sister of one of the former Archbishops.

They got off their bicycles and stood peering
beyond the ruins at the luxuriant growth of grasses and wildflowers densely shaded by mature trees.

‘Look, there’s Harry!’ Daisy cried.

They both laughed as Harry came towards them, his arms held high above his sides, the seeding grasses clinging to his shirt and trousers.

‘How in the name of goodness did ye expect us to find that wee path?’

‘It’s easy once you know where it is,’ he grinned, brushing at balls of robin-run-the-hedge firmly lodged on his clothes. ‘You can leave your bikes behind this tree. No one will see them. And there’s plenty of policemen about anyway. I’ll go first and collect up the rest of this stuff,’ he said laughing, as he pulled a length of clinging green vegetation from his shirt and led the way back through the thick grass.

Ellie was sorry it wasn’t very far. The day was hot, the sky brilliant but under the trees in the cool, dappled shade, pencils of light were picking out the remaining pink blooms on some tall wildflowers just beginning to seed. Clusters of white fibres spun and shimmered on the light breeze, floating over the sea of grasses, broken only by some elderflower bushes, whose faint perfume floated across to them from broad, creamy blooms.

The path curved and ahead of them rose high walls. From niches and crevices where the mortar had been eroded, ivy-leaved toadflax and Herb
Robert hung in delicate fronds against the pale grey stone. To Ellie’s amazement she found the broken top of the wall supported large branching wallflowers brilliantly in bloom. They
were
called wallflowers but this was hardly the season for them to be in flower.

Painted dark green and fitted closely into the wall was a metal door. Harry pushed it open and waited for them to go through.

‘Good gracious,’ Ellie burst out, amazed at the contrast it revealed.

After the richness and wildness of the approach, an immaculate and verdant green court, freshly marked and showing very little wear after a summer’s use occupied only the centre of a much larger, perfectly kept enclosure. Sunlight spilt into the open space and caught the bright stripes of a small pavilion outside which a collection of young people sat or lay, some watching the four men playing from the base line, the resonance of ball on racquet beating a strong rhythm on the warm air.

‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’ whispered Daisy.

‘Yes, it is,’ Ellie agreed, gazing round.

She didn’t say it, for Harry was leading them over to the pavilion where Stanley was already talking to some other young men, but what Ellie was thinking was how much she would have loved to have seen this place when it was a garden. She gazed round the inside of the lovely old walls, thought of the shelter
they’d give in winter and the support they’d provide in summer. Roses and clematis and all sorts of other climbing plants she didn’t even know the names of, plants that Lady Anne’s skill and money would have been able to provide.

It was no surprise to Harry or Stanley that Ellie and Daisy made a good hand of playing tennis. They learnt quickly. Within a couple of weeks they were perfectly at home on the court. Ellie was the steadier of the two, often winning points by moving up to the net and cutting off a strong return. Daisy found serving difficult, but once started she had a fierce return and could drive from the back line as strongly as either of the two young men.

At first they played every Wednesday afternoon, but then they decided they could have a game after work on Mondays and Fridays as well. Daisy was thoroughly enjoying herself and after the first uneasy week, Ellie never seriously considered giving it up once her friend was settled.

‘Well we’ve done well getting new lady members,’ said Harry, early one Thursday morning in the middle of August. ‘It seems we’re short of men now.’

‘Have we chased them all away?’ demanded Daisy.

She glanced round the empty shop, finished pouring bags of small change into the compartments of the till and closed it firmly.

Ellie was puzzled. Even though they seldom saw the same players every time they went to the club, she certainly hadn’t noticed any lack of men. All those young men they’d met on that first afternoon still turned up regularly. When they did meet someone new, it was simply a member who’d been away or not free on the evenings when they themselves played.

‘Postings,’ said Harry, with a wry look as Stanley walked over to join them at the back of the shop. ‘All this trouble in Belfast. They need more police. They haven’t gone yet, but they know they’ll be going. The word is they’ll be needed by the end of the month. It doesn’t matter all that much for this season, it’s only got five or six weeks to go, but if they’re posted, then we’ll not get them back and we’ll be short next year.’

‘Ach dear, that’s a pity. D’you know who’s goin’?’

Harry listed the names and Ellie too felt sad. They were all young men they’d partnered at some time or other and had got to know. One of them had fallen for Daisy and had asked her out, but she’d said no, much to Ellie’s surprise.

‘What about your brothers, Ellie?’

‘Sorry, no good. Bob’s in Belfast himself for the next year and Johnny’s in Cookstown. Anyway, they’re both going strong. From what I hear I doubt if their lady friends would let them join anything.’

‘I might try Sammy,’ said Daisy abruptly. ‘He’s
mad about motor-racing though he can’t afford it, I’m sure he could well afford to play tennis. He’s a bit like I was, all work and no play.’

‘Is that your older brother, Daisy?’ Stanley asked.

‘Ach no. Our Bill’s only left school. Sammy’s m’cousin from Richhill, but he has a motorbike so he can go where he likes. I’ll ask
him
.’

Ellie smiled to herself. Another young man mad about motorbikes.

She thought back to her one brief experience of riding pillion behind George and wondered what it was that so appealed to them. For herself, all she remembered was the chill of the wind on her bare arms and her heart in her mouth as they leant over on every bend. It was an experience she’d much rather forget.

August of 1932 began with an unwelcome continuation of the warm and very wet conditions of July. Then came a sudden change. In the middle of the month, between one day and the next, the weather settled. To the great delight of the four young people from Freeburns High Class Drapery, day after day now turned out fine and warm. It was such an encouragement to come to work on a Club day and know that their pleasure was unlikely to be spoilt either by the continuous rain which made it pointless even to go to the court or by the kind of sudden downpour that drove them to shelter in the pavilion in the middle of a game knowing the grass would become dangerous and unplayable after it passed.

As she cycled slowly home one Friday evening after a particularly happy couple of hours on the court, the sky already paling to gold in the west, Ellie admitted to herself that she would miss the club badly over the winter months. Although it
barely affected her or Daisy, who both left early to cycle home, she’d heard Harry and Stanley complain their final set had to be played in the gathering dusk. Earlier in the week, Harry made them laugh when he told them how his partner the previous evening proposed dipping the tennis balls in the whitener used for marking the court, so they could see them well enough to finish their set.

‘That wou’d do the racquets a lot of good, wou’den it?’ Daisy had commented sharply, ever the most practical of the four.

It was she who had found proper tennis shoes for herself and Ellie at half price in a shoe shop in Thomas Street and insisted they bought them. Then she started them saving up for next year’s subscription and racquets of their own. Being the quicker of the two at figures, she’d counted up the weeks till the club reopened at the end of April, added the cost of the racquets and provided two clean jam pots with lids to keep in the cupboard in the staff-room along with the tea and sugar. Each payday, she had ensured that the relevant coins were added to each of them. She’d left a double payment in her jar before she took her holiday and warned Ellie that she’d have to do the same before she went off at the beginning of October.

It wasn’t a huge sum, but it did mean that what she put in her Post Office book each week was smaller than before. She’d felt uneasy and wondered
if she should tell George, but she knew perfectly well what Daisy would say if she mentioned it. She’d told George about joining the Tennis Club, but he’d made no comment, just said that there wasn’t anything to do in the camp in the evenings except get cleaned up or play cards. Then, to her surprise, just as she’d finally made up her mind to tell him that she wasn’t able to save as much as usual, he mentioned the subject of saving up himself.

He said he was a bit disappointed with the way things were working out from a money point of view. The pay was great, just as he’d told her, but they had to pay for their food, which wasn’t cheap, and their share of the cook’s wages as well. Also, they had to pay for their own board and lodging whenever they had a weekend off. Besides that, they’d had to fork out for special work clothes and safety equipment as well as laundry every fortnight. Added to all of that, his uncle hadn’t mentioned they were laid off in the winter months, receiving only a small retainer and cheap board if they needed it in a hostel in Peterborough until the work started again when the ice melted. Some of the lads went down to the States to look for winter work but apparently it was hard to get.

She might not be as quick at mental arithmetic as Daisy was, but what he was saying could only mean one thing. It was going to take much longer than he’d thought to save up enough money to get them
started. Unless something came to help, a different job or a legacy, or something totally unexpected. It might take years.

‘Hello, Ellie, how are you? You’re surely not working as late as this?’

Ellie leant her bicycle against the entrance to the shoeing shed as a familiar voice hailed her from the bench inside the forge. She said hello to her father and smiled down at Charlie Running as he moved promptly along the bench to leave room for her.

‘No, Charlie. Pleasure tonight,’ she replied, dropping gratefully down beside him. ‘Daisy and I’ve joined the RUC Tennis Club and we go a couple of nights a week.’

‘My goodness, it’s great to be young,’ declared Charlie, looking across at Robert, a distinct twinkle in his eye.

‘It’ll be a day or two before ye draw yer pension yet, Charlie,’ Robert replied tartly.

Ellie laughed. That was one up to her father. She leant back comfortably against the well-polished piece of wall behind the bench and looked from one to the other. She’d never quite been able to work out the friendship between Charlie and her father. Charlie was ten years younger, a senior clerk with Armagh Council, a man passionate about books and learning. Yet he sought out her father regularly and never took offence at the uncharacteristically sharp comments his presence always produced.

‘What about your holiday, Ellie? Are ye going up to see Aunt Annie and the family? I thought you’d have been away before this. Would your man not spare you till the sale was well over?’

‘No, to be fair he would have let me go before Daisy went,’ Ellie began, knowing Charlie rarely had a good word to say about Freeburn or any of the other employers in Armagh. ‘But Ruth won’t get any holiday till October,’ she went on. ‘She started a new job in May so she’s not due any time off till then. She’ll get a few days the week I’m there and I’ll amuse myself, or help Auntie, for the rest of it.’

‘I’m not sure Belfast is the best place to be going just at the moment,’ said Charlie slowly. ‘I think there’s going to be trouble there before very long. What do you think, Robert?’

Robert glanced across at him and hammered vigorously at a piece of metal before plunging it into the water tank.

‘You’re better up with these things than I am, Charlie. Is it the Socialists or the Communists stirrin’ up trouble this time?’

‘Man dear, d’ye not see the difference between troublemakers and the organisers of downtrodden labour?’ Charlie asked vigorously. ‘Have ye no idea of the poverty in that city? One and a quarter million in this little piece of Ireland and one hundred thousand of them unemployed and most of those in Belfast. And how many of those do you think get
even a pittance by way of benefit? Less than half. Thirty-seven percent of working class families are living in absolute poverty. Nearly half those who die between 15 and 25 are dying of TB …’

Robert drew the dripping metal out of the tank, plunged it into the fire, leant on the bellows and pumped them gently till the fire glowed red and gold. Charlie paused, but did not stop. As soon as the roar of the fire quietened he returned to his bitter charge.

‘There’s people starving, Robert, as surely as they starved in the Famine. Catholics and Protestants alike. Their only hope of survival is a change in the rate of Outdoor Relief.’

‘Sure haven’t they the Workhouse if they’re bate?’ Robert asked sheepishly, pausing with his hand on the metal bar, its further end now glowing like gold in the heart of the fire.

‘Aye, there’s the Workhouse, if you’d wish that on any decent soul, but have you not heard of the means test? Sure you have to be destitute altogether for them to let you in and what man wouldn’t try to keep his family out? How can you feed a wife and children on a few shillings a week?’

Robert drew the bar from the fire and hammered the glowing tip so vigorously that bright sparks traced minute arcs of light into the now dark corners of the shadowy forge before they disappeared entirely.

Ellie glanced quickly from one face to the other. Her father’s was streaked with soot and sweat and lined with fatigue, Charlie’s clean and rounded, but so pale it might have been the face of someone shut up where they never even glimpsed the summer sun. In his eyes was a look of such pain as she’d never seen before.

She’d read in the local paper about disturbances in Belfast and there’d been some talk at the Club among the young men being posted there, but it hadn’t been clear to her either from what she read or heard exactly what the causes of the disturbances were. Everyone knew about the unemployment, how bad things were in the shipyards and in the mills, but her only contact with the city was the tall brick house on the Lisburn Road where her aunt and uncle lived and the area round Royal Avenue where she and her cousin, Ruth, went to gaze at the latest fashion in the shop windows.

The hammering had stopped, the metal thrust back in the fire. Before either man could speak again, they heard a rustle and a shadow fell across the door.

‘There’s not a drop of water in the house an’ I’m parched.’

Ellen Scott stood in the doorway, an empty pail in her hand. She looked at none of them, neither her husband standing by the hearth, nor her daughter seated on the bench, nor one of their closest
neighbours sitting beside her. In a thin, wavering voice she told them she wasn’t fit to carry buckets from the well.

Charlie and Ellie rose at the same moment, both speaking at the same time.

‘No, Ellie, I’ll go,’ Charlie said firmly, laying a hand on her arm. ‘You go back to the house with your mother and I’ll bring the water to you.’

He strode off up the path and disappeared round the gable into the orchard.

‘Isn’t great to have someone to help you,’ Ellen said, as she stumbled back towards the house. ‘Kate Running doesn’t know she’s alive, has a man to fetch and carry for her,’ she began.

Ellie had heard it all before. There was no point whatever making any reply, so she counted to ten and said nothing.

The third week in August brought the arrival of the new assistant Charlie Freeburn had ‘had his eye on’. She turned out to be the fourteen-year-old sister of young John Sleator of Abbey Street and the youngest aunt of the most recent addition to the line of John Sleators, the robust baby born in May and mercifully known as ‘wee Johnny’.

A pretty, likeable, dark-haired girl, Susie had been sent to the local Grammar School but apart from a talent for playing games she’d shown none of the ability that had produced a series of successful
business men from the male side of the family.

Not of sufficient social standing to be sent to finishing school to be groomed for a good marriage, but too lively and energetic to sit around at home fulfilling the dubious role of her mother’s little helper, or even acting part-time nursemaid to the newest Sleator, Susie had jumped at the chance of working in Uncle Charlie’s shop.

Technically, of course, Charlie Freeburn, was
not
her uncle. He was her older brother’s father-in-law, a point which he made to her very tactfully before she took up her appointment. At the same interview, Charlie told her that though she must at all times be polite to Miss Walker, it was to Miss Scott she was directly responsible. Miss Walker no longer supervised the female staff. Purchasing stock in Belfast and Manchester and ensuring the inventories and accounts were up to date was now her sole responsibility. Whatever problems Miss Sleator might have were to be referred to Miss Scott, who was now Senior Assistant.

Ellie had given no thought at all to the change in status which Charlie Freeburn had hinted at some months earlier when she’d approached him about Daisy’s problems but a significant change in his behaviour made her suddenly sharply aware of it.

While he had always been courteous towards her and had often asked to ‘have a word’ about stock, or customers, he would now ask her to come to his
office
when it was convenient
. His questions were not very different from the ones he’d put to her before, but now there were many more of them and much more detailed. Sometimes indeed she had to admit she hadn’t got an answer, but he appeared to be quite satisfied when she told him she would think about it and come back to see him when she’d found out what he wanted to know.

He never forgot anything he’d asked her, even though she never saw him make a note of what he’d said, but nor did Ellie forget what he had asked. She would set her mind to the problem, consider it patiently until she was satisfied she had an answer, then she’d knock on his door, ask him if it was convenient to have a word and give him her conclusions.

There was another significant change too, though it was some time before she realised it. The stock being bought in by Miss Walker was of a kind and quality which she herself had recommended to her boss.

As for Susie, Ellie found the girl a delight. It was true you had to tell her everything at least five times, but when she grasped something new she was so pleased with herself, one couldn’t help smiling and sharing in her pleasure. Daisy was amazed at how slow Susie could be, but instead of being irritated by her slowness, Daisy showed a quite surprising patience with her. She’d go to great lengths to find ways to help her remember how many inches there
were in a yard and a quarter or how to use the ready-reckoner without having to ask for help in front of a customer.

It seemed to Ellie that Daisy was happier than she’d ever seen her, helped by a new measure of confidence which grew out of encouraging Susie. Then it came to her there was something else as well. There was no longer Miss Walker looming over her all day, giving expression to a disapproval poor Daisy could never hope to modify because the cause of it was the very nature of the person she was. Of her own growing confidence, however, she was quite unaware.

The very last opening of the dark-green gate into the RUC court was planned for Wednesday 7th September at 2.00 p.m. If rain were to interrupt or even prevent play the Club would still be meeting thanks to a marquee provided by the Committee from funds raised at the Annual Dance in the City Hall. All members were urged to attend for as much of the event as possible.

If the weather was fine there would be a knock-out tournament, names to be drawn for mixed doubles at two o’clock and at six o’clock. Tea would be served from five thirty onwards and play would go on as long as the light lasted, or until the winning couple had been found. Dancing would follow in the marquee.