Honour of the Line (20 page)

During the next month Daisy did her utmost to wear the pram tyres out, she spent every spare second she had pushing Gwyn around the block and it was lovely to see my little sister so happy as I had often felt that I had perhaps ignored her at times and not been the best of brothers.

Settling down to my new family life was made all the more simple owing to the fact we were still living at my place, although we desperately wanted somewhere of our own, but this wasn’t a remote possibility for a while owing to my tender young age. I had approached the council previously regarding the possibility of a mortgage and because I had worked there from day one they were willing to bend the rules somewhat when I became 18. The Parks Superintendent had put a good word in for me and it was obvious I had done well as he had put me up to full gardener’s money which was a fair bit more than I was earning as a trainee.

Home arrangements were fairly simple. Jill would return to Woollies part-time while Mum looked after Gwyneth. Mum and Jill would share the cooking, washing and housework, I would still help Dad on Sunday’s and I also took on a 6 day week paper round which I did before work. Food bills were to be split 50/50 but Jill and I would live rent free in order to help us get a good start in life. Needless to say we never mentioned the lump sum we already had in the bank courtesy of Jill and Angela’s Dad.

Everything was going great apart from two things. Firstly our privacy, which limited our chances of making baby number two, which we both wanted to happen so quickly so as Gwyneth would have a brother or sister to grow up with and secondly, very worryingly, was Dad’s declining health.

The first problem was easily solved though as we had a supermarket in our town and as Jill drove us to do the shopping, we would tear around Fine Fare and then park up in a lovers lane and make love in the back of her car, which was even better than in our early days and we both felt extremely naughty.

Poor old Dad’s health was deteriorating by the day and although he or Mum never muttered a word it was blatantly obvious that all was not well. On the last Saturday in October 1967 I came home from playing football. Village green football kicked off at 2 o’clock owing to the lack of floodlights so I sat down with a cuppa and listened to the professional teams results on the wireless and I began to wonder just what might have been. Poor Dad sat on the settee and looked totally worn out and it was hardly surprising. He had left school at 14, trained for a job in the city, left and fought for his country, had married Mum, adopted Daisy and myself and worked his bollocks off to support us, not to mention the smoking, boozing and coal dust. To my total amazement Dad still got up to do the Sunday morning overtime of bagging up coal and as usual I went to help him. It took us forever to get there as he had to keep stopping for breath but somehow we managed to get the normal amount of work done. On the way home Dad decided not to pop in for a pint, which was the biggest indication of all that he was really rough. That evening, as we all watched tele, he seemed to want to hold baby Gwyn and cuddle Daisy at every opportunity and a black cloud came over me as I began to fear the worst but somehow I managed to keep my feelings to myself and prayed for a minor miracle.

First thing on Monday morning I went downstairs at 6 o’clock as usual ready for my paper round and Dad had made us a pot of tea and some toast and I was flabbergasted that he was going to go to work. After delivering my papers my main job for the day was to clear out a large brick flowerbed at the entrance to the Arches and replant it with wall flowers ready for the next spring time. Most of the cleaning out was done so I sat on the wall and had my sandwiches and a cup of stewed tea from my vacuum flask. Suddenly I heard the toot toot of a lorry and as I looked up I noticed Dad driving the bright red coal lorry with his mate Roy in the passenger seat riding shotgun. However bad Dad was feeling he never spared me the obligatory abuse as he shouted “you won’t get it done by sitting on your arse drinking tea”. I just smiled and continued eating my sandwiches.

After my break I started setting out the wall flowers for planting and the foreman dropped by in his mini van to check if I needed anything. Just as he left Dad’s mate Roy came tearing up in the coal lorry and in a panicking voice he told me Dad had collapsed and been taken by ambulance to the County Hospital. I jumped in the lorry and Roy drove like a maniac to the hospital without uttering a word and I was extremely scared. As we pulled up outside of the Casualty Department I flung the door open and raced inside through the smell of ether and past the depressing sight of the lattice gate to the lift, it all looked so gloomy. I asked the first nurse I saw if she knew anything about the coal man who had just been admitted. She disappeared and, after what seemed like forever, the ward sister came but her calm manner answered all my questions before they were even asked. She asked if I was his next of kin and shaking like a leaf I told her Mum was and did she want me to get her. The sister said there was no time as Dad was terribly ill and I must prepare myself for the worst. She said if I wanted to see him I should do it now and say anything I needed to as there would be no time for regrets. So with a heavy heart I let her lead me to him and as she pulled the screen aside I was surprised to see Dad looking quite peaceful and when I spoke he just about managed to open his eyes. He somehow muttered to me about going to find baby Stan so Mum could see him and I told him I couldn’t. He asked me why and with a huge lump in my throat I said “because I gave the Honour of the Line”. He seemed to find comfort from my reply and as he gave me the briefest of smiles he slowly closed his eyes for the final time.

The End

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Copyright © Brian Darley, 2013

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ISBN 978-1-78148-197-4 in electronic format

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