Darkest Before Dawn (10 page)

‘Yes, I'll come,' Evie said readily. She had never actually been into Cavendish Court and thought it would be interesting to see what Percy's house was like, particularly since her friend Annie lived only a few doors away. ‘Right then, I'll wait for you when school's out.' By now, they had reached the boys' gates, and as Percy turned to go inside Evie thrust one of the small red apples into his hand. ‘See you later, wack,' she said in imitation of the way she had heard the big boys talk.

Percy turned and waved, then set off at a gallop to catch up with Gareth and Evie broke into a trot so that she could link arms with Annie. The bell rang and lines began to form. Another school day was beginning.

Harry arrived at work early, as he always did, and settled at once into the routine of the day. The men arrived in ones and twos, all feeling cheerful, for today was Friday, pay day, and tomorrow was Saturday, when they only worked until noon. Most of them, Harry knew, would go to one or other of the football matches, according to which team they supported, the Reds or the Blues, but a few would have various different ploys. Harry himself meant to take Martha up to Aintree. The
Mary Jane
was coming into the city today, and Jimmy and Hetty had agreed to moor up by the race course so that Harry and Martha could join them for the rest of the trip down to the wharf. Harry liked to see the old boat and make sure that everything aboard her was in apple-pie order, and he knew how eager Martha was to return to the old craft – as eager as he was himself.

Harry began to hand out the tasks which each man was to perform and soon the day's work was in full swing. He had noted Baldwin's absence and was annoyed, though the man had told him the previous day that one of his sons had been injured falling downstairs. He had not seemed particularly worried, but Harry supposed it was possible that the child had taken a turn for the worse and that Baldwin was at his bedside.

He said as much to Taffy, a cheerful little Welshman who had worked down the mines and was as strong as an ox, but Taffy shook his head. ‘Nah, he don't give a fig for those kids,' he remarked. ‘Likelier he had a skinful last night an' woke wi' a sore head . . . no, that ain't likely, come to think, 'cos today's pay day, so yesterday he'd be down to two brass farthings, same as the rest of us.'

Harry was about to chide the other man for being so cynical when a footfall sounded behind him and Reg Baldwin came slouching in. Harry's eyebrows shot up. ‘You're late, Baldwin,' he said bluntly. ‘Any reason?'

The man peered at him. ‘Me old woman stayed with her sister last night so there were no one to make me breakfast an' I overslept,' he said hoarsely. ‘The kid's not so good; the one I telled you about yesterday.'

‘Right,' Harry said crisply. ‘Go up to the first floor an' stack the crates with Benny, as the hoist takes them up.' He did not believe a word Baldwin had said, having seen the way the man's eyes shifted uneasily from his own, and noticed the other men's covert grins. As Baldwin turned away to mount the wooden stair which led to the first floor, Harry added quietly: ‘And don't forget what I told you, Baldwin. There's a time and a place for everything and warehouse rules aren't made for fun but for safety, all right?' The other man did not answer, and Harry sighed and turned away to get on with his own work.

Fridays were always busy and today was no exception. The man working the hoist was constantly on call to fetch some goods down and take others up. Usually, Harry blew a whistle at noon so that they might eat their carry-out, accompanied by the tea which the lad brewed up in the office, but today it was half-past twelve before he even noticed the time. He apologised for this oversight and gave the men an extra ten minutes, but then it was back to work again as the lorries, carts and vans came and went and Harry himself kept the paperwork up to the minute. It was almost four o'clock and time for another break when he realised he had not seen Baldwin for some time. Sighing, he climbed to the first floor, then up to the second. He walked quietly round a huge stack of tea chests and there was Baldwin, standing close to a tiny window, a cigarette halfway to his lips. Harry's patience snapped. All the men knew smoking was forbidden, all of them knew it was dangerous, yet here was Baldwin calmly puffing away as though he believed himself to be the invisible man. He reached forward and snatched the cigarette from Baldwin's fingers, throwing it to the ground and grinding it beneath his heel. ‘Get your cards, Baldwin,' he said harshly. ‘You're sacked.'

Baldwin's eyebrows shot skyward. ‘For doin' what, Mr Todd, sir?' he said and his very tone was an insult. ‘I just been shiftin' a load o' sugar sacks . . . what's wrong wi' that? Ain't I entitled to take a breath? It's break time, after all.'

‘Break time is when I blow the whistle, and you were smoking which is strictly forbidden,' Harry said, keeping his temper with difficulty. ‘There's no point in arguing; you're out. I'll get your cards myself.'

Baldwin's jaw jutted obstinately. ‘Mr Hughes hired me and I reckon Mr Hughes is the only feller that can fire me,' he drawled. ‘Anyway, it ain't right 'cos you've gorra give me a week's notice. A'course, you wouldn't know that, bein' as you're just a bleedin' bargee what's never hired or fired a feller in his whole life.'

Harry knew a moment of horrid doubt. His own contract with the company stated that two weeks' notice must be given on either side, so Baldwin might be in the right of it; perhaps he ought to have given the man a week's notice. Yet he did not fancy having to work for another whole week with a man who constantly flouted both his authority and the company's rules. Instead, he compromised. ‘You will be paid for the full week, which is up to noon on Saturday,' he said firmly. ‘But you will leave tonight when everyone else does, and you need not come in tomorrow morning. Is that clear? And don't come to me for a reference, Baldwin, because I could not in all conscience say that you were a hard worker who had the company's best interests at heart.'

To Harry's astonishment, Baldwin's jaw dropped open. ‘You're sacking me without a reference?' he said incredulously. ‘But I'm well known in these parts as a bloody good worker. Oh, I dare say you can sack me now that Mr Hughes has left, I dare say you can do that, but I've gorra family to feed. You've gorrer give me a decent reference, else how are we all to live? Why, I heard you tell old Reddo that you didn't mean to get rid of any staff, only not replace fellers when they retired.'

Harry had turned away but now he swung back. ‘I said there's no point in arguing, Baldwin,' he said calmly. ‘Come to the office for your cards at six o'clock.' And with that, he hurried back down to the ground floor, where he picked up his inventory and continued with his work, only remembering to blow the whistle for the ten-minute break when he was reminded by the young lad who ran errands and made the tea.

Promptly at six o'clock he went to the office, found Reg Baldwin's documents in the filing cabinet, and began to fill in the necessary form whilst deciding what he should say if Baldwin started on about his rights. The truth was, he had none since he had deliberately flouted company rules, but Harry was not a man who enjoyed friction of any sort and he meant to tell Baldwin that he might, after all, give him a reference. He would not lie, but he might manage to get round the reason for the dismissal without actually saying that Baldwin had been caught smoking in the warehouse.

At half-past six, Harry slammed the papers into his top drawer, locked it and reached for his cap and coat. Normally an even-tempered man, he was simmering with annoyance. Just who did Baldwin think he was? So far as Harry was concerned, the other man could now whistle for a reference. Harry certainly did not intend to take the man's cards round to whichever hovel he inhabited, nor did he intend to hand them over should Baldwin turn up the next day. He would send him to Mr Bister. It was a nuisance, because Mr Bister would have left the building by now, but Harry decided that as soon as his boss arrived the next day he would explain what had happened and give him the necessary documentation to hand to Baldwin when, or if, he came searching.

Harry was almost home when he suddenly remembered that the following day was Saturday and Mr Bister might not come in at all. He sighed. Saturday mornings were sometimes extremely busy but he knew they would manage somehow; perhaps they would manage even better without Reg Baldwin, constantly skiving off work, constantly grumbling, constantly trying to make trouble.

He reached home and greeted Martha with a smacking kiss, sniffing the air appreciatively. ‘That's mutton stew, or I'm a Dutchman, with those lovely herby dumplings,' he said, taking off his cap and coat and hanging them on the back of the kitchen door. ‘You're a clever little woman, Martha Todd, because I've had an awful day and I'm hungry as a hunter.'

‘Ma knows it's your favourite, Pa,' Seraphina said. She was bustling about the kitchen laying the table whilst Martha lifted the lid off a large pan and checked on the pudding boiling within. ‘She's made a jam roly-poly as well, because of tomorrow.'

‘Tomorrow?' Harry said blankly. ‘What about tomorrow? It's going to be every bit as bad as today's been, because today I sacked a man for the first time in my life. It was Reg Baldwin, the one I told you sneaks away in corners for a smoke. I've warned him over and over, but today I caught him red-handed, amongst the tea chests of all things, having a crafty drag. I had no option but to sack him, only then I realised tomorrow was Saturday, and I'd be a man short. Still, I've never shirked hard work . . .'

‘Pa!'

‘Daddy, have you forgotten . . . ?'

‘Oh, Harry, but it's your day off!'

Seraphina, Angela and Martha all spoke at the same time. Harry groaned and sank into a chair. ‘Oh, Martha, love, it went clear out of my head. Believe me, I've been looking forward to seeing the old
Mary Jane
– and Hetty and Jim – as much as any of you. Oh, my goodness, whatever shall I do? I don't know Mr Bister's private address so I can't go round there and explain the situation.' He paused, thinking. ‘Tell you what, I'll go to the warehouse, same as I always do, and make sure everything's set fair. When the men arrive, I'll explain that it's my day off and see if Wilmott – he's my deputy – thinks he can manage with a man short. With luck, Mr Bister will come in early so I can get away, but he doesn't always put in an appearance on Saturdays.'

‘But suppose you can't, Pa? Get away, I mean,' Angela said plaintively. ‘It's taken me ages to persuade Hilda to work a Saturday for me and I just know if I try to change it I'll get into awful trouble.'

‘If I can't get away, then you girls will have to go without me,' Harry said, rather sadly. He turned to his wife. ‘I know you'll agree with me, my love, that we can't let Jim and Hetty down. But I'll try and join you at the wharf, even if I can't make it to Aintree.'

Martha smiled at him tremulously, and put her arms round him. ‘It's not your fault, Harry, it's the fault of that awful Baldwin fellow. And his son, Percy, will be here any minute now because Evie's asked him back to tea. I'm awful sorry. I'd have made some excuse if I'd realised . . .'

‘There's nowt wrong with the lad coming to tea. In fact, it's probably a good thing since Reg Baldwin has just been paid and will probably drink the lot and go home just longing to hit someone, or something,' Harry said gloomily. ‘He's a bad 'un is Reg Baldwin; I pity his kids and his wife, particularly now. Well, if you don't mind, my love, we won't break it to him that his father's lost his job . . . or perhaps we should, what do you think?'

‘Forewarned is forearmed,' Martha said, after only the briefest pause. ‘If he knows his dad's liable to be in a bad temper, then he can get into his bed and lie low, well before closing time. Ah, I hear their feet on the stairs; I'll start dishing up at once.'

Chapter Four

Saturday morning dawned cloudy and Harry thought rain was on its way. Martha was always first up since she liked to make sure that her family had a good hot meal inside them to start the day. So when Harry entered the kitchen, it was to the good smells of bacon frying and porridge bubbling in the pot. He crossed the room and gave his wife a quick hug, and then, being Harry, his first thought was for the young lad who had shared their mutton stew the previous evening. ‘Morning, my love. You know, the more I think of it, the more certain I am that we did right to tell young Percy his dad was out of work,' he said, taking his place at the table. ‘I don't imagine he'll get another job as a warehouseman, but surely he'll get something? And then there's the dole . . . I
know
I did the right thing. Baldwin knew it's absolutely forbidden to smoke in the warehouse; there's notices everywhere. One spark near the tea chests and it could have been curtains for all of us.'

Martha chuckled, putting a plate of porridge down in front of him. ‘You don't want to keep worrying yourself over what's already happened,' she said bluntly. ‘From what you've said – and from the way we know he behaves – that Baldwin's a real bad lot. Well, for instance, think about Percy's eye. His father must have punched him with the sort of force a man uses in a desperate fight with another man. And he put the younger boy in hospital, so losing his job is no more than he deserves.'

Harry began spooning porridge. ‘I know you're right and I know sacking him was right too, but those poor kids and that poor woman,' he said miserably. ‘In the whole of my life, love, I've never been in a position to stop a man earning a living, and I feel sure if I'd been a better man, more experienced like, I'd have found a way to make him see what a fool he was being without actually sacking him.'