Annie's Promise (23 page)

‘Our what?’

‘Exactly. We’ll need to set one up. Jones wants to come up too so it would be worth it. Did you have a good day at the sea, did it work?’ His voice was anxious.

Annie shook her head to clear it. There was so much to think about. ‘Yes, it worked,’ she said. ‘And yes, we’ll get a showroom, somehow. When’s he coming exactly?’

‘Within the next three weeks. He’s going to confirm.’

Annie nodded. ‘Fine, we’ll sort it out.’ She didn’t know how but they would. It was their entry into the export market, but who had tried to mess up Georgie’s life?

On the Monday of the following week, Jurgen Schmidt rang to say that he would be in Wassingham in two weeks’ time, on 14 April. Annie had located an old haberdashery off Armore Terrace, just round the corner from Briggs’ Warehouse.

‘We don’t want him coming to the machine shop,’ she told Bill, the estate agent. ‘There are too many designs, too many samples, too much hassle.’ She sat back in the chair. ‘OK, break it to me gently. Has the lease tripled on this, just because we’re after it?’ She was grinning but tension was pulling at her neck.

Bill shook his head. ‘Don’t go paranoid on me, Annie, that was just business. No, this is fine. Really cheap. It’s been hanging around for ages and I’ve more news for you. There
was
a Mr Jones, my wife took the call. He was from Whitley Bay apparently and he hasn’t been back. A rather nice elderly couple are buying it so you can relax.’

Annie told Tom and Georgie in the afternoon as they sat round her desk at the office. They looked at one another and Tom said, ‘Maybe I’ll buy him a cigar.’

‘What d’you mean?’ Annie asked, checking the small print of the lease, signing where their solicitor had marked with a cross, passing it across to Tom.

‘Nothing, nothing at all,’ Georgie replied, reading over Tom’s shoulder, adding his signature when they had finished, passing it on to Brenda to sign as witness.

That evening, Georgie lifted the hen and the eggs were hatched, there was a squeaker covered with down. ‘A right little beauty,’ he breathed, leaning to one side so that Annie could see, and then Sarah.

There were bits of white shell in the nesting bowl.

‘It must prick them,’ Sarah said, trying to pick them out.

‘Leave it, lass, they’ll sort it out.’

‘How’ll it feed – should we put out some food?’ Sarah whispered.

‘No, it’ll put its beak in her mouth and her mam will throw up into it.’

Sarah snatched away her hand, stepping back, looking up at Annie and Georgie. ‘That’s disgusting.’

‘Mm, the things we mothers do for you,’ Annie said, ‘Now, get back to homework please and only then can you come with us to give Tiger a toss.’

While Sarah worked in the front room Annie and Georgie went through the designs for Schmidt at the kitchen table, hearing the kettle simmering on the range and the shouts of children in the back alley. ‘I’ll make up the samples myself,’ Annie said. ‘The girls have too much work on and Brenda’s on holiday next week. Can you help Gracie and me check through the work, and we’ll need to pack too, though Sarah and Davy can do some at the weekend. It boosts their pocket money.’

‘Shall we put the other stock forward as well?’ Georgie was looking at one. ‘I don’t like this.’ He passed it to Annie.

She looked. ‘Yes, you’re right. It’s a young style and the fabric’s wrong. We need a really fresh design on it – cotton can be so versatile but this is dreary. We’d better talk to Tom about it.’

Georgie leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. ‘We need to design our own fabric as soon as we can – it would give us so much more flexibility and our own voice. It would boost the mail order division an’ all.’

Annie laughed. ‘Wouldn’t hurt mine either, or are we in competition?’

Georgie reached across, took her hand, kissed it. ‘Never in competition, my darling, but now that you mention it, there is a race planned for the eighth of April. Just to get the “new boys” used to the procedures.’

Annie shook her head. ‘Tiger knows all about the procedures – he just has to flap his wings and tuck his legs up.’ Georgie grinned. ‘No, the human “new boys”. The committee’s arranged a practice run. I’m taking the time clock round tonight for it to be checked. The trouble is the eighth is the Saturday before Jurgen’s visit.’ He looked down. ‘It was set up before we knew about Schmidt and I didn’t quite know how to tell you then and I don’t now.’

Annie leaned back in her chair. ‘I’m not surprised you didn’t – that’s when all the hard work needs to be done. We’ve got to decorate and fit out the shop.’

‘I won’t go of course. I’ll just do the best I can in the youngster races.’ Georgie was leafing through the designs again.

Annie was laughing now. ‘Don’t be so daft. Of course you can go. Take Sarah and Davy too, have a day out. Is Frank going to be convoyer?’

Georgie looked up, his face in a grin. ‘Yes, it’s his first time. He’s nervous.’

‘Then how could you not go and hold his hand, my love, but tell the committee from me that if they ever coincide with Schmidt again I shall personally murder the lot of them. You’d better be the one to tell Tom and duck while you do it.’

Georgie nodded at her. ‘I’ve told him and he’s OK. He wants time off in the winter to see Sunderland play.’

Annie crunched up a sheet of spare paper and threw it at him. ‘Fine, just fine. So Gracie and I need a few days off too eh, and incidentally, what did you mean about a cigar today?’

Georgie told her that he had suspected Don had been ‘Mr Jones’, just for a moment that was all, and now she really was angry and wouldn’t go with them to toss Tiger but stayed in the house, not turning the light on as darkness fell,
because she knew her brother would never hurt anyone like that. But her anger was directed at herself because she too had thought it for a brief moment and she was shocked at herself.

Another bird hatched the next night and by the next weekend their Union Rings were fitted and each evening they checked to see how the nestlings were ‘making up’.

Annie showed Sarah how to pinch the youngster’s crop. ‘This is Button’s nestling, so you must look after the bairn, grandmother,’ Annie said gently, watching as Sarah pinched the crop lightly, hoping that it would appear to be full. It was.

She showed her how to lift it, belly upwards, to check that the breastbone was straight and the skin wasn’t blue, it was red. It was fine.

‘Put it back in the nestbowl now,’ Annie instructed, noticing how carefully Sarah did this – she was a gentle child as well as a handful.

She looked at Sarah’s nestling again. It wasn’t standing up in the bowl, it was crouching. Good. ‘Now put your finger near it. Don’t touch it, just near.’

Sarah looked at her. ‘Why?’

‘I want to make sure it rocks back, and doesn’t stand up. If it’s feeding properly its crop will be full of soaked grain, and it’ll be too heavy to scramble to its feet.’

‘Did Da say that?’

‘Yes, don’t worry, he showed me last night.’

‘I was still up, he could have shown me too.’

Annie nodded, surprised at the anger in her daughter’s voice. ‘I know, we were so busy talking we forgot. I’m sorry, darling.’

‘You always forget me when you’re together.’

Sarah turned away, put her finger forward and the nestling rocked backwards. She grinned at Annie, who felt her tension ease, not only because the bird was ‘making up’ and would not have to be destroyed but because the anger was gone
from Sarah. Though the child was quite right, they did forget and it was unforgivable.

The next week was busy. Sarah had to be reminded to do Miss Simpson’s work and the exams were getting nearer but Gracie put her foot down with Davy too, and sent Paul home to do his work, so that made it easier.

They had a new order in from Edinburgh too, and were organising the next mail shot. Late into the night she and Georgie planned the showroom with Tom and Gracie and wished they’d their own fabrics to hang at the windows, and wallpaper to match.

‘One step at a time,’ Tom said. ‘We haven’t the capital yet. Let’s see how the export order goes, if it goes at all.’

Georgie checked with Annie that he’d ordered enough fabric for the apron and gloves mail shot, and she said he had. He checked with her that there was a car available to collect Herr Schmidt. There was, Tom’s.

They talked then about a converted car for him. ‘You need one,’ Annie said. ‘For business and for pleasure.’ For your dignity too, she thought and your daughter, because she had decided that he must take Sarah, not her, out with him on training tosses and races – she must never feel forgotten as Annie had done as a child.

She discussed it with Tom when Georgie was talking to the newspaper about the mail shot, coaxing them into a feature. Ringing another, telling them about the possibility of an export order, arranging to ring them the following week if it was confirmed.

‘Yes, he should have one,’ Tom said, sitting on the corner of her desk, smiling as she flicked a piece of gum into her mouth. ‘What’s it worth not to tell the kids that Auntie Annie is chewing like a Yank?’ he asked.

‘Anything you care to name, my lad. But if I don’t chew I shall smoke right now. It’s the Schmidt thing. I want it Tom. I want it because then we’ll be that much nearer the textiles. It’s what you and Georgie want. It means we’ve
done what we said we’d do. But I want that car more and I can’t have it without the order.’

She ran Georgie and the children to the station on Saturday morning. They had been to the club the night before and a member of the committee had set the clock by Greenwich Mean Time, it had then been sealed and handed back to Georgie. Annie had smiled at the tension of those who stood around her, but she had felt it too and was glad she’d held Tiger this morning, stroked him, wished him well, told him to beat those wings hard for Georgie and Sarah, duck the hawks, for God’s sake, duck the hawks.

‘Did you remove his hopper after supper last night?’ she asked now.

Georgie nodded. ‘Just as Frank said.’

‘Is the forecast good? You won’t let him out if it’s too windy?’

Georgie shook his head, he was laughing. Why was he laughing?

‘Fifty miles seems such a long way. He’s still so young.’

‘Oh, Mum, no he’s not. He’ll be past it in a few years, stop fussing. You always fuss, doesn’t she, Da? Fuss, fuss, fuss, no one can get a word in edgeways.’

Was she fussing? It was only a bird for heaven’s sake. Of course she wasn’t fussing but Sarah was right, no one else had squeezed a word in.

Annie said nothing more, pulling up at the station, seeing Frank unloading the panniers from his truck, seeing the committee taking the panniers into the station, on to the train.

‘It’ll be so strange for him. He hasn’t been on a train before,’ she said.

‘Oh Mum,’ Sarah said, pulling at Georgie’s hand. ‘Come on Da, Davy, let’s go. We’ll miss the train.’

Georgie was looking at her. ‘Will you be all right? I feel bad about leaving you.’

Annie looked down at Sarah’s face, at the way she held Georgie’s arm, pulling him, the eagerness with which she was talking to Davy. ‘Well don’t. You and Sarah should
share a day out more often – this must be the first of many, Georgie, she needs you, really she does.’

She waved to them, watching Sarah talk to Georgie and hold his hand. Yes, they must get a converted car for Georgie, even if the export order came to nothing, because then he wouldn’t need her to drive him everywhere and he and Sarah could spend days together as father and daughter should.

They decorated the showroom a light green with white woodwork, leaving the windows open all day and all night.

‘No one will break in, there’s nothing to steal,’ Tom said, locking the door. ‘And there’s enough of a wind to clear the smell of the paint out.’ He looked at the clouds scudding across the sky. ‘They won’t have let them fly today, will they? Your lad won’t be home until tomorrow you know.’

Annie did know, she’d been monitoring the weather all day. ‘Will Gracie mind about Davy? Do you?’

‘No, I’m off to a debate with Rob tonight anyway – bit late now but we’ll catch the end of it. See you bright and early tomorrow then?’

Annie caught his sleeve. ‘Do you take Davy to these debates?’

‘No, he’s always with Sarah.’

‘Not always, Tom, and he needs you, it isn’t just Rob who does.’

They worked all Sunday and the weather was better, so Tiger would be flying. Annie hung the curtains, ironed and hung the slips, the aprons, the smocks that they thought they’d try out on Schmidt. They hung the bras and pants and pictures on the wall. They had arranged for the phone to be reconnected.

‘It’ll be worth it,’ Annie told Bet. ‘We can keep this up and running for the other buyers who might want to come. Jones is visiting in May.’

‘It’s getting big isn’t it, Annie. What would your da have thought?’

Annie paused, then continued to put the iron in the box. ‘I doubt that he’d be pleased. He wanted us both to leave Wassingham, didn’t he, Bet, to make it big elsewhere and certainly not in trade.’

‘But he’d have been glad you’re happy and you are, aren’t you?’ Bet took the iron.

‘I’ve never been happier in my life and I think he’d have been pleased about that.’

Annie closed up the ironing board and walked to the car boot with it.

‘He loved you, he just couldn’t show it and a father should, you know.’

Annie did know and on Monday after Schmidt had been she rang a car dealer in Newcastle about car conversions. ‘I’ll send you the details,’ he promised.

It had been a good day, Schmidt had left leaving a large order for two sets of underwear and he would have ordered the aprons too if the fabric designs had been more appealing. As importantly, Tiger had survived the hawks and won his race. Sarah sat and told her all about it while Georgie and she listened, directing their questions at her, not one another.

‘And so we learn,’ she groaned that night. ‘But who said it would be so difficult being a parent – running a business is so much easier.’

Throughout April and May they taught the young birds how to trap and toss and in June Georgie had his car, paid for by a loan which Annie had arranged, because it was unfair that they should draw more from the profits than Tom or the workers.