Reasons to Leave (Reasons #1) (40 page)

The next morning saw Walt up an hour earlier than usual, riding his bike on the narrow towpath that bordered the canal. He was dressed in his best shirt and his hair was slicked back. His first stop was the cotton mills. There were still three running in Oswaldtwistle, and he hoped one of them would have a position for him. However, he received the same negative answer from all three.

He visited a brass foundry the next morning – which was a Wednesday – and spoke with Mr Gordon, the assistant manager. Despite his senior position, Mr Gordon was dressed for work in dark coloured overalls and boots. He was a large man, although his face was friendly.

“I’m looking for a job – maybe a trade or cadet position,” began Walt. “I’m smart, resourceful and dedicated.”

Mr Gordon looked him over. “Are those references that you have there?”

Walt handed them over. “Yes. They relate to my time working at Walmsley’s Butcher Shop over the last year or so.”

Walt stood to attention as Mr Gordon skimmed the documents. He rubbed his chin for a second as if in thought, and then spoke decisively. “We might have something for you, Walter. Things have picked up recently, and Mr Norton has talked about putting on an apprentice. Come back on Thursday at eight in the morning. Mr Norton and I will interview you then.”

Walt was on the doorstep of the foundry at seven thirty on Thursday morning with two references and his last school report card in his hand. He was also holding his most recently completed crystal radio set.

Five minutes later Mr Gordon called him in. “You’re early.”

“I don’t mind waiting, Mr Gordon.”

“That’s okay,” Mr Gordon replied. “Mr Norton is here already.”

Walt walked through the front office. It looked functional and business-like, containing only a row of filing cabinets and two desks, each supporting a typewriter and a pile of neatly stacked folders. Mr Gordon showed him into a small office. A middle-aged man with bags under his eyes stood from behind the desk and extended his hand.

“James Norton.”

“Wally Johnson. Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“Take a seat, Wally. What do you have there?”

“I have my last school report card, two references from recent employers, and a crystal radio set that I recently finished making. I thought you might like to see what I do with my hands.”

James extended a well manicured hand, so Wally handed over the radio. James held it up, examining it closely from all angles. He moved some papers on his desk to the side, placing the radio on the newly vacated space. Extending the aerial, he flicked the switch. The sound of the BBC announcer filled the room. “You’ve been listening to
News of the World
.”

Mr Norton flicked the switch off. “Very nice, Wally. What do you do with these?”

“I sell them, sir. This is my seventh one. We have one at home, and the others have gone to friends and family. I usually make ten shillings from each one.”

“Hmm. Do you mind if I buy this one? I could do with a radio here in the office.”

“Of course, sir. You can have it”, replied Walt.

“No, no. I’ll pay for it. And there’s no need to show me your references. Your previous boss, Sam, is an old buddy of Mr Gordon here, so we asked him a few questions. He told me that you’d been an excellent employee, and the circumstances under which you left.

“We’d like to offer you a one-month trial as an apprentice. If things work out during the trial period, we’ll keep you on. You’ll work in each of our departments for a year at a time – the brass foundry, brass finishing section, moulding shop, and fitting and turning. What do you think?”

Walt couldn’t prevent a smile from crossing his face. “That sounds excellent, sir. I’d be delighted to accept. I can start the week after next if that’s alright.”

“That sounds fine. Do you have any questions for us?”

“Just one, sir. What will I wear?”

“We’ll provide you with a uniform. You can get measured and pick it up next week. Any other questions?”

“No, sir.”

Mr Norton smiled. “Would you like to know what you’ll be paid?”

“I am interested in that, Mr Norton.”

“Your pay will be fifteen shillings a week.”

“That’s grand, sir.”

“Thanks, Wally. That will be all. I’m looking forward to you joining us. See you soon.”

Walt turned and headed for the door, carrying his references. He felt dazed at the speed at which things had progressed. Mr Norton interrupted him. “One last thing before you go, Wally.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Here’s your ten shillings for the radio. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Wally left the office, smiling at two girls seated at their typewriters. He pulled up his bike, hopped on and started pedalling at full speed for the butcher shop, his mind racing.

A piercing whistle interrupted his thoughts. “You, there! On the bike. Come here.” Walt turned to see a solid-looking constable beckoning to him. His face was stern beneath his hat, and he was pulling a notebook out of his pocket.

“What’s your name, son?”

“Walter Johnson, sir.”

With his tongue sticking out, the bobby carefully traced out the letters in his book. “You’re riding at a breakneck speed, boy. I don’t know if you noticed, but you nearly knocked Mrs Brown over back there. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ride dangerously. I always ride fast, although this morning I’m excited because I’ve just got a new job. I’m on my way to work now, and I don’t want to be late,” responded Walt breathlessly.

“Hmm. Well you shouldn’t ride so fast in the village, young man. I’ve seen you racing around before, and now I’ve got your name in my notebook. Make sure you ride more carefully in future, because I don’t want to have to pull you up again.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I’ll be more careful, sir. Can I go now?” asked Walt.

The bobby sighed. “Yes, Johnson. On your way.”

Wally threw his leg over the bike, and took off. To the casual observer, his rate of progress didn’t appear to be significantly slower than the speed at which he was travelling prior to being pulled up.

Already fit, Walt’s new role saw him further develop his wiry strength. Now seventeen, his initial work in the foundry required him to regularly carry fifty pound blocks of brass – one in each arm. Long days in this hot environment, coupled with his weekend cycling and camping trips, saw Walt continue to maintain his high level of fitness. However, the extra strength he gained did not result in any additional body mass – he remained tall and skinny.

His strength was put to good use shortly thereafter, when the family moved from the countryside into a terrace house within the village of Oswaldtwistle proper. Between them, Walt and his father completed the majority of the move.

As they struggled up the stairs bearing a large chest of drawers, Ted commented. “You’re getting stronger, lad; maybe as strong as me.”

A grunt was Walt’s only reply, but he was, nevertheless, pleased with the compliment.

Walt’s mother, Hannah, met them at the top of the stairs. Hannah was a tall, good-looking woman, whose shapely figure was not entirely disguised by the formless white dress and black apron she was wearing. Her sleeves were rolled up and a lock of black hair had escaped and hung over her eye. “Just put it down over there. Walt, quick, come here to the window. Look at that pretty girl.”

“Oh, Mum,” Walt protested, but slouched across to the window. He looked in the direction his mother was indicating.

It was
the
girl. The one he’d seen window-shopping at Kenyon’s Gift Shop. She was walking down the street towards them, talking to a friend. Her short brown hair framed a smiling face that Wally thought looked stunningly beautiful. The two girls stopped at the front door of the terrace next door to Wally’s. They chatted for another few seconds, before the girl pulled a key out of her bag, unlocked the door and let herself in. The friend continued walking down the street.

Walt’s mind raced. Could
the
girl really be his neighbour? His mother’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “What do you think of that, son?”

“Huh? Oh yes. That’s a girl.”

At lunchtime on the Friday of his fourth week at Lang Bridge’s, Walt washed his hands in preparation for the midday meal. As he dried his hands, Mr Norton entered the tea room and called out to him. “Wally, come here for a moment.”

Walt halted in mid-stride, turned and followed Mr Norton to the office. He smiled to himself at the sight of the crystal radio set he’d made sitting on the shelf. Standing to attention, he waited for Mr Norton to initiate the conversation.

“Your one month trial is up today, Wally. How have you found it?”

“Good, sir. I’m working with a capital bunch of blokes – they’ve made me welcome – and I’m learning all the time. Things couldn’t be better.”

Mr Norton pulled a letter out of a file, signed it with a flourish and handed it to Walt. “I’ve spoken to Mr Gordon, and he’s happy with your progress. Congratulations, Wally, you’re now a full-time employee.”

“Thank you, Mr Norton. You won’t regret it. I’m going to keep working hard and learning.”

“You’re welcome, Wally,” smiled Mr Norton. “Just one more question. Are you still making those radios? I mentioned this one to my old mum and she asked if you would make her one.”

Wally smiled. “That won’t be a problem, sir. I’ll have one for you on Monday.”

Whistling, Walt strode off to his bicycle and headed homeward. As he rushed through town the policeman on the corner gave a warning blast on his whistle. “Watch your speed, Mr Johnson!”

Wally laughed and gave a wave. Nothing could detract from his mood this afternoon. As he rode up the hill towards his street, he noticed three girls walking ahead, arms linked. Although he was a hundred yards away and could only see the backs of their heads, he knew his neighbour was one of them. He accelerated to catch her before she reached her house; although as he drew near, he slowed down in order to examine her more closely, and to give her a chance to examine him.

He rang his bell as he rode past. Thirty yards later he pulled up at his front door, aware that the eyes of the girls were probably on him. He took his time dismounting, before unlocking the front door and walking inside.

His mother greeted him. “Hello, dear. You’re looking pleased with yourself. Did you have a good day?”

“You could say that,” replied Wally.

A short while later, as Walt was applying the finishing touches to the radio for Mr Norton’s mother, Hannah came into the sitting room, drying her hands on her apron. “Walt, can you dash out to the bakery and get a loaf of bread? There’s a dear.”

“Yes, Mum. I’ll just finish fixing this wire and then I’ll take off. I won’t be a second.”

Leaving the unfinished radio on the kitchen table, he put down his screwdriver, picked up the sixpence offered by his mum (“make sure you bring the change home”) and walked to the front door.

As he stepped onto the pavement, he was aware of movement to his left. He looked across, aware of a sudden strong beating of his heart, and a dry sensation in his mouth. His neighbour’s door was opening. The door was painted a shade of bright yellow, contrasting sharply with the dull grey bricks of the terrace house. He could see nothing more than a dimly lit corridor through the half-opened door. He waited expectantly.