Loving, Living, Party Going (48 page)

'After twenty year.'

'I got no money.'

'After twenty year together.'

'I'm finished.'

'Don't talk silly.'

'It's you will look silly.'

'Look 'ere' said Mr Gates – he had discovered this in prison, 'don't you be too sure of that. It'd be a pretty thing for a man like you, not too old oh no, to be living with a young wench that bears no relation to yer.' Mr Gates thought what luck she should be back for as he had thought in prison if only she had been home he would be all right. Now she was back. Things did not often happen that way. Indeed he was all right. Craigan was imprisoned by his love for Lily, he was tied down by it. Miss Gates chained him to her father and this he had never seen. So when Mr Gates spoke out Craigan seemed to shrink and now for ever, except for one time later, his old authority was gone. At last he said weakly.

'You go and get Jim.'

'I ain't got no money,' said Mr Gates with confidence. Craigan sat silent for a long time then. At last he thought was no help for it.

' 'Ere's a bob then,' said he. That's what comes of talking he thought in mind, blackmail and all through a word dropped edgeways, many a man 'as lost everything by it. It's a funny kind of world, he said in mind, first you work with a man for twenty years and then he tries to blackmail you. 'And 'e's got me but what do I care,' he said in mind.

As pigeon never fly far from house which provides for them (except when they are taken off then they fly back there), as they might be tied by piece of string to that house, so Mr Craigan's eyes did not leave off from Lily where she went. We are imprisoned by that person whom we love. In the same way as pigeon have an almost irritating knack of homing so our thoughts are coming back. And as the fancier soon forgets to wonder at their sure return so we
forget to notice, as we get used to it, which way our thoughts are turned. And which way our eyes.

For now, wherever Miss Gates went there Mr Craigan followed with his eyes. As her hand fell so his eyes dropped, when she got up his eyes rose up to her from where he sat in chair. He was not watching, it was like these pigeons, that flying in a circle always keep that house in sight, so we are imprisoned, with that kind of liberty tied down.

Uncertainty also gripped Mr Craigan, or rather a certainty. He thought when she wasn't many days older, strong hearty wench as her would soon find another man and they would be married this time, she would see to that, he thought. And then what would he do, would they have him? Where would he live?

That was very much, from his position, what Mr Gates was thinking. He thought if Lily didn't marry Dale and married someone else then he was nowhere. A man can't live on the old age pension, 10/– a week won't feed you and keep a roof over you. If you don't sleep under a roof then they put you in prison. He was too old to get another job, nobody would take him in but this house where he was now, he was too old to tramp. Only thing was, he thought, was to prevent her ever marrying again.

So at this first dinner after he had been let out, he made no mention of her having gone away and she did not speak to him of where he had been. He even tried to compliment her and found one to say which he thought good and which also reminded her he was her father. He said it had always gladdened him she was not cleg handed like her mother had been.

Then he thought and later he said why didn't she eat more, she didn't eat enough, not sufficient to feed a pigeon, he said.

Soon he was only thinking how he could stop Mr Dale from coming here to live when he went to ask him back this evening.

Later, that evening, turned half-past five, he came into yard of Prescott's foundry. In that shop they were casting now and blast in the cupola roared and made air buzz all round him. From being used to this he took no notice but he did move away from where he
had stopped from not watching his step. Because he had halted close to three great coffin shaped lumps of metal sunk in the ground. He thought Alf Igginbotham would be in one of those three, other two did it before no one could remember. With Alf the management had tried to make the men cast with molten metal Alf had suicided in, but of course the men didn't have that, they dug his coffin for him here, like had been done for those other two and poured into it the metal he was in. (The great heat there would have utterly done away with him.) There he was in that lump of metal, thirty ton to a penny, but then likely as not he'd risen in dross to top of the metal, and like dross does when you ain't casting, it'd stuck to the sides of the ladle or gone back to the bottom as they poured the metal out. So Alf had got out of it after all, though in different shape to what he'd gone in he thought and Joe chuckled. An' that's about all that man ever was, or any on 'em – dirt, he said in mind.

One or two men that had done pouring their jobs came out through open doorway of the foundry. As they went past Mr Gates they greeted him, as most ironmoulders know one another by sight in Birmingham. Joe asked them if Jim Dale were working in their shop now and they said he was and would be out directly, he was still pouring they said.

Mr Gates looked up to top of the cupola to that intermittent glare which came from it. He thought of all that heat here, where Alf had thrown himself in. He felt cold. He came in closer to that centre of the roar and buzz. More moulders came out, their work done. One asked him had he come for a job as the foreman would be out directly, they was just going to shut off the fan now. After Joe and this man shouted together in midst of the violent vibration they went on, they left Joe. He watched them. He thought all that now is over for me, coming out at night from the shop – and then at that moment the fan was stopped and that roar and buzz stopped. Mr Gates heard voices now inside the foundry. 'Yes,' he said in mind, 'and look at the way they walk, splay-footed bleeders, we always did walk slower an' more awkward than any other trade. Ah there's no more of that for me and God bless me,' he said aloud now, 'aint I glad to get shut on it.'

Then Mr Dale came out.

' 'Ow do Jim?' said Mr Gates.

'O it's you is it?' Mr Dale said, not stopping.

'Ah, it's I,' said Mr Gates, 'the old man sent me.'

'Well I don't want to 'ave nothing to do with you.'

Mr Dale walked so fast Gates almost trotted to keep up with him.

'Lil's come back Jim.'

Mr Dale stopped. 'Is Lil back?' he said.

'Ah 'er's back and the old man sent me to see if you wouldn't come back to lodge at our 'ouse.'

Mr Dale was silent. Then, 'where 'ave you been then?' he said to gain time.

Gates was afraid Mr Dale meant to come now, yet he was afraid to discourage him lest Craigan hear of it

'I got pinched,' he said.

'What for?'

'For raising me eyebrow at a copper, beetlebrow.'

'What d'you mean,' said Mr Dale ominously, ' 'oo's beetlebrow, me or you?'

'Don't you take no notice of what I say, it's me 'ave got to take back 'ome what you says. Are you comin' or is you not?'

'I'm through with you, not on yer life I'm not coming.'

Mr Gates said nothing, delighted.

' 'Er's made a fool of me,' said Mr Dale, 'I ain't a'coming back and it's all along of you,' he said walking quicker.

' 'Ow's that Jim?' Gates said, hoping to find out so as to use it afterwards if he could.

'Dirty old waster,' Mr Dale said, having no words again. 'I aint a'coming back, no I never would, not for money.' Then he turned round suddenly. 'Get out before I 'its you,' he said, 'clear off quick, I mightn't know what I was doing in two minutes time.'

Gates almost ran away. When he was at a distance and could see Mr Dale still standing there under lamplight, when he saw Mr Dale was kicking the wall up at side of the footway he contemplated shouting – ' 'ave a good cry, cry your 'eart out dovvy wovvy,' but then he thought Mr Dale could run faster than him and could catch him. So he went off. But when he was quite half mile off he turned and let off one great laugh, for a gesture.

Monday night and Mr Craigan with Joe Gates went out to public house.

So they began again as they had been before Mr Craigan had fallen ill, Lily gone off, and Gates locked up. You might think they were very different now to what they had been, but they weren't, they were only quieter. Once Mr Craigan had really lost grip he never tried to get it back again, he grew remote in the memory of his young days. For the moment he had all power necessary, the money to feed them, so, once his grip was gone, he did not trouble to try any other authority over them. Gates was only too thankful anything he had said might be forgotten. Lily asked for herself that anything she had done might be forgotten, now she sat very quiet at home through evenings. She was like anyone getting better after long sickness who has taken ship. She cruised across that well charted ocean towards that land from which birds landed on her decks. She thought Mr Jones leaving her like he had done was more and more right and proper, only she was not now interested in him – she was sure she would never set eyes on him again. That land round which she steamed was every inch of it her own, her case still enchanted her as she kept watch on it. And Mr Craigan's youth, where he had to go looking through the lanes to find Lily in her aunt Ellie as they both of them had once been, enchanted him like noise of bells.

In evenings, all three were so thankful to be back together where they had been that they couldn't find two words to say of what they'd done when they were On their own. Perhaps Mr Craigan was sad, but Gates wasn't, nor his daughter. Mr Gates could never be sad. Even now, as he tapped on the bar with florin Craigan had given him, he yelled and laughed. For bar tender, with histrionic gesture, and from some earlier reason with tears of laughing running down his cheeks, snatched up a spade he had hidden there and made to cleave Mr Gates in two if he should go on tapping on the bar.

'That'll land you where I just come from,' said Mr Gates, delighted.

' 'Ow did you find it in there, Joe?' said bar tender.

'They didn't 'ave no beer in there,' Mr Gates said 'and I said to the superintendent I says I can't understand your not having no beer, water's what lions an' gorillas, rhinocerosses, donkeys, birds, tarts and eagles drinks, but moulders must 'ave beer I said. Two 'alves Reuben, I brought my mate along with me tonight'

Bar tender called out good evening to Mr Craigan who nodded to him. Craigan sat by himself, his eyes on the floor. Bar tender said to Joe how his mate had aged in the last month or two, since he'd been in last, and Joe said ah, old man had been ill, he said.

Mr Connolly came in then.

'An' what about your team, Aaron,' cried Mr Gates, for Aaron was very keen on football.

'I sent me shilling last Saturday Joe, I dain't go.'

'No, you dain't like to go, that was it, not the way they're playing now. Villa supporter! You ain't no more'n a newspaper supporter shoutin' goal at the page.'

'It am a bleeder,' Mr Connolly said, 'I be frighted to go down to the Villa ground, I can't abide to see 'em beaten, not a grand team like they used to be. Why if it ain't Mr Craigan' he cried, 'and 'ow would you be feelin' now mister?' he said to him.

'It passed Aaron' said Mr Craigan.

'What ailed you?'

'It were a chill I reckon Aaron.'

'Well it am a grand sight to see you back,' Mr Connolly said. His cheerfulness was forced.

'Did they give you the sack too?' said Mr Craigan.

'Ah' Gates said, 'they give us all the sack.'

'It weren't Bridges,' said Mr Craigan, 'who was it then?'

'Why, the young chap of course,' said Mr Gates and Craigan said that he'd give something to know what went on in his mind. Then all three were silent till bar tender took it up, asking if it was true, and Mr Gates took that up, with oaths, and answered him.

Door opened and Tupe stood in doorway, holding door open.

'This way sir, come in sir,' cried he.

Who was it but Mr Bridges?

Gates, when he saw Tupe, came from where he was standing by the bar and sat down by Mr Craigan. Mr Connolly stood by the bar.

' 'Ow do Aaron,' Tupe said.

Mr Connolly took no notice of him.

Mr Bridges then took no notice of Connolly, remembering he'd had trouble with him and Jones. Bridges was quiet. He was poorly dressed. Then he saw Mr Craigan. He moved across through crowd of people standing about and said ' 'ow d'you do Craigan?' Mr
Craigan nodded merely, though Gates smiled and said 'you'll 'ave a drink with me sir later in the evening.' Mr Bridges was about answering this when up came Tupe with two glasses.

' 'Ere you are, sir, 'ere we are then,' cried he. 'Well if it ain't Joe.'

'You got someone again as'll pay for you I see,' Mr Craigan said. He hated Tupe so, it made him feel younger. Mr Gates took hint.

'Did 'e sack you as well, strike, what's the world coming to?' said Mr Gates.

Mr Connolly came up to them then and as he passed by Tupe he jogged his arm like accidentally. 'Sorry' said he.

'That's all right mate' Tupe said to him 'accidental is as accidental does.'

'Mate' screamed Mr Gates, 'God strike, did you 'ear that. Why what is 'e but a man what snatches the bread from other people's mouths. And 'e's not content with that, oh no, 'e gets them pinched with provocating them.'

'Now then, now then what's this?' said Mr Bridges.

'Would you still be working for 'em?' said Mr Craigan to Tupe nodding his head back towards factory.

'No.'

Mr Craigan laughed.

Then Craigan looked Bridges in his eyes. Mr Bridges felt like he was being hauled up before someone and when Mr Craigan looked at him he stepped forward like he was the next now. He felt frightened even.

'An' 'ave they sacked you?' Mr Craigan said, his eyes on his eyes.

'Yes,' said Bridges 'ten years at the O.K. gas plant, fifteen years with his father, but 'e 'ad no more use for me more'n a bit of shit on 'is shoe,' he screamed and noticed Craigan was laughing at him. He stopped and drew in breath for long speech he would make now, but Joe Gates was before him.

' 'Tis 'im, 'tis 'im,' cried Mr Gates, crowing. 'To listen to 'im you'd think 'e was the only one in the world, but there's more'n 'im thrown out 'omeless, penniless, ah, more'n 'im by a million.' He jumped up. Then he began screaming. 'Listen to me,' shrieked he, 'listen to me.'

And Joe was about to draw attention of all the world to Mr Bridges, and bar tender was already saying with appeal Joe, Joe
when Craigan got up and butted him in the stomach with his head. Both being so old this looked very silly, Mr Gates more so where he lay trying to get back his wind.

Mr Craigan turned round then and laughed and grinned at Bridges. This one put down his glass of beer and went away out of public house, with Tupe trotting after him. Mr Connolly went and talked in low voice to bar tender; Rest of those in this public house turned round now to each other as if nothing had happened.

Mr Craigan took up glass of beer which Bridges had left half drunk.

'You get this for nowt' he said to Joe who was sitting up now, 'what 'e left won't cost you nothin'. But what d'you want to go and get excited for,' he said 'you'm no better than Tupe and you knows it.'

'It weren't Tupe, it's that Bridges.'

'Well what about 'im?' said Mr Craigan. 'No it was Tupe you was after. Come along back Joe,' Mr Craigan said. When they were outside they looked older still as they walked back slowly.

'To 'ave the coppers come in an' take you for disorderly be'aviour, and when you ain't even tight, it's loony, Joe. But you'm be getting quite a lad as you gets older,' said Mr Craigan, strangely pleased.

And now time is passing now.

Mr Craigan had gone to bed again. He did not get out of bed any more, and gave no reason for it.

Joe Gates was always out again now. He could not drink because he had no money. He stood about in high streets, on the corners.

So Miss Gates was alone when she sat down, with housework done, and sewed. Often she sat upstairs with Mr Craigan. After going to that public house he had altogether sunk again into himself. She did not notice he was there as she sat by his bed. She noticed him only when Mrs Eames' new baby cried next door. Walls between their houses were thin and she would wonder then if baby's crying did not worry grandad. When it was angry, which it always seemed to be at first, it raucously cried out with loud rasping shrieks, only Mr Craigan did not seem to take much notice. Then after three weeks or so it began sometimes to be amused and sound would come through the wall of its strange burbling.

When she sat sewing, always thinking of her mistake, then sometimes this baby would be amused. Sound it made then was like the fluttering of the hands, palms out, which Charleston dancers used to make, or like cymbals, in her heart. Because she was young. Because he was old, thought she, that meant nothing to him.

She never went out, why should I go out, she said in mind, who have done so wrong, so all through her days and nights she heard all the noises Mrs Eames' daughter made. Even when now and again the sun showed out she now listened to hear if it would begin to sneeze like Mr Eames did at the sun. Only what she did not like at first was Mrs Eames making noises to her baby, this was too near to her, but gradually, she had feeling of guilt about it, she came to listening for them too.

Sitting at window-sill of her grandad's window she overlooked Birmingham and the sky over it. This was filled with pigeon flocks. Thousands of pigeon wavered there in the sky, and that baby's raucous cry would come to her now and again. So day after day and slowly her feelings began to waver too and make expeditions away from herself, though like on a string. And disturbed her hands at sewing.