The Price of Love (2 page)

His eyes were closed but he had regained consciousness and was moaning slightly. His mother bent over him to try and comfort him but one of the ambulance men laid a restraining hand on her arm.

‘Better not touch him,’ he warned. ‘Let the doctor have a look and put a dressing on his burns first; we don’t want him getting any germs in them now, do we?’

Mr Carter put a protective arm around his wife’s shoulders and drew her away so that the men could carry the stretcher inside the hospital.

It was then that Clarence Carter noticed Lucy, Sam and Robert.

‘Robert Tanner,’ he exclaimed sharply, ‘what happened? Were you and Sam Collins fooling around or something? Did one of you push Percy into the fire?’

‘No, Mr Carter, we most certainly didn’t,’ Robert hastened to assure him. He felt angry that Percy’s father should think that they would contemplate doing such a stupid thing but he was careful not to let his feelings show.

Mr Carter owned the garage where both he and Sam were apprentices and Robert knew how important it was that Mr Carter didn’t get the wrong idea about what had happened. ‘In fact, Mr Carter, Sam—’

‘Sam was the one who pulled Percy off the bonfire, Mr Carter, and his hands have been badly burned. He needs to have them looked at right away,’ Lucy interrupted indignantly.

Mr Carter stared at her, frowning, almost as if he didn’t believe what she was saying.

‘Well, you’d better get someone to see to him then,’ he said briskly.

‘Yes, Mr Carter,’ Robert said obediently.

‘Perhaps we could come and find out how Percy is after we’ve done that?’

‘Don’t worry about Percy; we’ll be staying at his bedside until we know how he is.’

‘Should we come back a bit later on?’

‘I’ve already said that there’s no need. I’ll tell you tomorrow if there is anything that I feel you should know,’ Mr Carter told Robert dismissively.

‘And make sure you’re not late in the morning after all the shenanigans that have gone on tonight. Even if it is Saturday and you finish at twelve, I still expect you to do a full morning’s work, remember. And that goes for you too,’ he added, looking at Sam.

‘It all depends on how badly his hands are burned, whether or not he will be fit to come to work,’ Lucy muttered, putting her arm around Sam’s shoulders and propelling him towards the desk where she could see a uniformed nurse.

Robert hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should apologise for Lucy’s manner. Mr Carter was their boss so it was important that they stayed in his good books.

He was still trying to decide what to do when Mr Carter said sharply, ‘Well, run along, then, Robert Tanner, there’s nothing more you can do now. Make sure that Sam Collins gets home safely after he’s had his hands attended to and, as I’ve already said, I expect you both to be at work on time tomorrow morning. I’ll be speaking to you then about this matter.’

Before Robert could answer Mr Carter had turned on his heel and hurried away.

For several minutes after the ambulance had pulled away there was an uneasy atmosphere in Priory Terrace. Normally it was a very quiet, respectable street in the middle-class district of Anfield. The women didn’t congregate, apart from an exchange of greeting if they met as they went in and out of their houses, or when they were cleaning their front doorsteps or windows. There was no gathering in groups on the doorstep to exchange gossip as there was in other parts of Liverpool.

The younger children were allowed to play out in the evenings but they were always called in for bed long before it got dark and they never played rowdy games or swung from ropes tied around the lamp posts.

Mostly the girls enjoyed skipping while the boys played marbles or played with their whipping tops. Hopscotch was forbidden because marking the pavement was unsightly, and if they played rounders or cricket, they had to do so without any screaming or shouting and to take great care that no windows were broken.

The men kept their front gardens neat and grew vegetables in their back gardens but if they wanted to chat to each other it was usually over a quiet bevvy in the local pub.

Then the arrival of a fire engine on the scene brought them all to their senses. As if awakening from a trance, everybody began to insist that the children, who were still outside and were mesmerised by the roaring fire as it flared up into the night sky, lighting up the entire street and casting weird shadows as well as throwing out an incredible heat, went indoors for greater safety.

‘Come on, if you get this smoke on your chest, you’ll be coughing your lungs up all night,’ one mother scolded.

‘You can watch from the window,’ another consoled her youngster who seemed to be reluctant to leave the bonfire.

One or two of the older men moved over to the bonfire and kicked at it with their feet as if to dismantle it but the pyre had a life of its own and flared up at them, sending out spurts of flame that licked at their boots or caught at their flapping trouser legs, filling the air with the smell of singed cloth.

As they retreated backwards there was a gigantic explosion. A rainbow of colours hit the night sky as the fire reached the large box of fireworks which Robert Tanner had been in charge of and caused the entire contents to ignite.

The noise of exploding bangers was like a series of guns going off and it struck fear into the hearts of many of the men who were there and who not long before had been in the army and under fire while serving in France.

By now the firemen were in action and were ordering people to take shelter as they unwound their hoses and connected up to the nearest hydrant.

A couple of the men had gone into their garden sheds and were now armed with shovels and spades. They began attacking the burning mass, beating down the flames, hacking at the structure. The bonfire was so sturdily built that their onslaught proved to be completely ineffective and, rather officiously, the firemen ordered them to get out of the way before anyone else was hurt.

As the firemen turned their massive hoses on to the bonfire in no time at all they had doused the flames and the centre of the massive pile of flaming wood disintegrated until it was no longer a danger. Only the glowing heart remained, still hissing and spitting as the water reached it.

One man, more resourceful than the others, brought out a bucket of garden soil and tipped it over the remains of the glowing heart.

‘That should keep it doused down; it should be safe enough now,’ he commented with such satisfaction in his voice that the firemen and other bystanders laughed.

‘No point in blaming the bonnie for what happened, whacker,’ one of the firemen observed. ‘The lads were probably doing a bit of pushing and shoving, you know what they’re like.’

‘I don’t think so. We were all watching to make sure there was no rough stuff.’

‘Then the stupid young bugger must have tripped, or else he was trying to warm his hands and got too damn close.’

‘Bad luck that it was young Percy Carter; you know what his old man is like and a lot of us depend on him for our living,’ someone muttered.

‘Don’t know what the young idiot was doing here, anyway, since he doesn’t live in this street, for a start.’

‘Got his eye on young Lucy Collins, hasn’t he? That’s why he was lurking around.’

‘Wasting his time, then; she’s given her heart to Robert Tanner; they’ve been sweet on each other since their schooldays.’

‘Young Sam Collins is the one I’m worried about,’ another remarked. ‘Did you get a chance to see how bad his hands were before he went off in the ambulance, Bill?’ he asked looking over at Sam’s father.

‘Brave young devil, and no mistake,’ someone commented admiringly. ‘He didn’t hesitate for a second. No, he went straight in there, regardless of all the heat or the danger to himself.’

‘It was in his interest to do so, wasn’t it? Don’t forget Carter is his boss.’

‘Get some good Brownie points for rescuing his son,’ another commented with a cynical guffaw.

‘He’d probably have been made foreman next week if he’d finished his apprenticeship,’ someone else laughed.

‘Doubt it. More likely to get blamed for what’s happened. It’s to be hoped that Percy isn’t too badly hurt or there will be hell to pay. Mark my words, if he is, then his dad will most certainly blame it all on those two young lads.’

‘Talk sense, whacker. Why should Carter do that when they were the ones who helped him?’

‘They’ll have a job to convince him of that. Sure as eggs he’ll hold them responsible.’

‘Well, that’s a load of nonsense and I’ll be one of the first to stand up and tell him so if I hear him say anything like that,’ a mild-looking man defended.

‘You and whose army, John Edwards? You can’t even say boo to that nagging wife of yours so I don’t see you facing Mr Carter and telling him he’s a lying bastard.’

‘No, I wouldn’t put it to him quite like that,’ John Edwards admitted, ignoring the comment about his wife. ‘There are other ways of telling a man he’s wrong.’

‘Instead of standing around here in the cold arguing the toss about it all, why don’t we all go for a jar down at the boozer?’ someone suggested.

There was a universal murmur of agreement and, putting up their coat collars and turning their backs on the sodden remains of the bonfire, they began to wend their way down the road to the nearest pub.

A few looked guiltily towards their homes, knowing that they were leaving their wives to console the children who were both dismayed by what had happened to the bonfire and fireworks they had been looking forward to and also excited by all the things that had gone on there that night. For most of them the most thrilling moment had been the arrival of the fire engine and when the box of fireworks had exploded with such an almighty bang.

The minute Lucy Collins arrived at Carter’s Cars on Saturday morning she went straight to her seat at the switchboard at the far end of the general office.

A tall, slim girl with neatly styled dark brown hair, she had an air of efficiency about her and she wanted to ask Mr Carter how Percy was the moment he arrived. She also wanted to tell him that Sam would not be coming in to work that morning.

There had been a heated discussion at breakfast about whether he should do so or not.

‘There’s no point in you coming in to work, not with your hands all bound up like that,’ she’d told him firmly as she finished her bowl of porridge and reached for her hat and coat. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Carter knows what happened last night and all about your hands, so I’ll let him know how bad they are.’

‘No, he might think I was pulling a fast one,’ Sam argued. ‘You heard what he said to me and Robert about making sure we were at work on time this morning.’

‘Yes, but he didn’t know how badly burned your hands were, now did he?’

‘Well, he won’t know now, not unless I go in to work and he can see for himself.’ Sam scowled.

‘Yes he will, I’ve already said that I’ll tell him the minute he arrives.’

‘After the way you spoke to him last night you might find you haven’t even got a job when you get there,’ Sam pointed out gloomily.

‘Don’t talk daft. Of course I’ll have a job. There are only two of us on the telephone switchboard and if one of us is off, then the other is unable to handle all the calls and he knows that perfectly well.’

‘Well, I’m coming to work whatever you say, so help me put my coat on,’ Sam stated firmly.

‘I’ll help you, luv,’ his mother said. She had let them argue it out but she had a worried frown on her face as she tried to slide one of his bandaged hands into the armhole of his coat and found it was impossible to do so.

‘You know, I think our Lucy’s right, Sam; it would be better if you stayed at home. You don’t want to get the cold into those sore hands or you’ll be in real trouble.’

‘Get the cold in them?’ Sam laughed. ‘I’d have a job to do that the way they’re bandaged up. Look, if you can’t get my hands into the sleeves, then help me put the coat around my shoulders and just fasten a button or something to keep it on.’

‘And let you go out of the house looking like a scarecrow?’ Margaret Collins scolded.

‘Either that or I’ll go to work without putting on a coat at all,’ Sam mumbled.

‘You’ll do no such thing. Heavens above, you’d catch pneumonia. It’s cold and damp out there. Look at the way our Lucy is wrapped up. Underneath her coat she’s got on a cardigan as well as a jumper and she’s even put on a thick scarf.’

‘I’m going into work whether you two like it or not. When I’ve seen Mr Carter, if he says it’s all right for me to have some time off, then I’ll come home again.’

‘You know he won’t say that,’ Lucy protested. ‘He always says that no matter what’s wrong with you, if you concentrate on what you should be doing, then you’ll soon forget about it. He even says that when it means you’ll end up passing a heavy cold or the influenza to everyone else you’re working alongside.’

‘Well, if you’re going, then you’d better get a move on or else both of you will be late,’ their mother told them. ‘Your dad left well over half an hour ago.’

Lucy and Sam exchanged smiles. They both knew that their father, Bill Collins, who was in charge of the Stores at Carter’s Cars, was a stickler for punctuality.

As they reached the front door Sam turned round to say goodbye to his mother and as he did so he accidentally caught one of his hands against the door frame and let out a sharp yelp of pain. The colour drained from his face and for a moment he leaned against the wall as if he was feeling faint.

‘That settles it,’ his mother said firmly, her mouth set in a tight line. ‘Our Lucy is right; you’re not fit to go in to work. Come on, Sam, come back inside and settle down in front of the fire. Take the morning off and by Monday you’ll have had a good rest and your hands will be feeling much better.’

Lucy could see that Mr Carter was not in a good mood when he arrived half an hour after she did. A short, squarely built man, he strode through the general office to his own private office without acknowledging anyone.

Normally he raised his trilby and nodded left and right to the row of clerks busily entering details into ledgers or making out invoices, but this morning he even ignored their chorus of ‘Good morning, Mr Carter’ that greeted him as usual.