The Cobbler's Kids (5 page)

His classmates were a pretty tough bunch who lived in and around Scotland Road. A lot of them had dads who’d been out of work for years, or who worked on the docks and drank all their wages away the moment they got them.

Most of them came to school in patched-up jackets and trousers, some had no socks, and some had newspaper stuffed in their shoes because there were holes in the soles. In summer there were often some kids who were barefoot, or wore canvas plimsoles that were either miles too big, or had the toes cut out because they were too small.

They thought nothing of thieving from the stalls in Paddy’s Market, or from the counters of the sweet shops or the bakers, because they were hungry and had no money. Eddy was often hungry too, but he couldn’t bring himself to become a petty thief. That was why he had found himself a delivery job. It was hard work but it was honest.

Keeping back any coppers he received in tips was also honest as far as he was concerned. It wasn’t all that often that people gave him a tip, anyway. Most of them didn’t have any money to spare themselves. Friday night was best because most of the men had just been paid.

He’d found that out when they’d first moved to Scotland Road and his dad had sent him to take back boots and shoes he’d repaired.

‘Don’t pass them over until they give you the money for the work I’ve done,’ his dad would warn as he handed him the freshly soled boots.

He’d only done so once. That was when the woman who’d answered the door had been old, and slightly deaf, and he hadn’t been able to make her understand a word he was saying. She’d taken the boots from him and then slammed the door in his face. He’d banged on the door for ages, but she’d refused to open it again.

His dad had been livid when he’d eventually gone back to the shop and admitted what had happened. Unfastening his leather belt he’d given him such a thrashing that he hadn’t been able to sit down for days.

He’d kept a tight hold on his deliveries after that and as soon as he was thirteen, and old enough to do so, he’d gone looking for a paid job as a delivery boy. He’d been lucky, the chandler’s on the corner of Lawrence Street had a vacancy and were willing to give him a try.

He’d been afraid to tell his dad in case he expected him to deliver boots as well as do his new job and he knew he couldn’t do both no matter how hard he tried, especially on Friday nights which were busy for both of them.

‘Why don’t I ask Dad if I can deliver the boots and shoes?’ Vera suggested.

‘He probably won’t let you because you’re a girl.’

‘Things have changed. Dad’s not the same man as he was when we lived in Wallasey. He treats me differently now,’ Vera reminded him. ‘I’ll tell him I want to earn some pocket money. Let me do it before you tell him about your new job.’

He’d waited in the passageway behind the shop where he could hear everything that was being said and watched round the half-open door.

At first it seemed hopeless because their dad had laughed, telling her she was too young to do something like that.

‘I’m ten!’ she reminded him, ‘and if I can run errands, and go to Paddy’s Market to buy veggies for Mam, then delivering a couple of pairs of boots and shoes is nothing.’

‘I don’t know about that. It’s not just a matter of handing them over to whoever answers the door, you know. I expect you to get the money for them as well.’

‘I know that. And I know what will happen to me if I come back without it,’ she told him with a cheeky grin.

For a moment, as he saw the scowl on his father’s face, Eddy thought he was going to slap her, but then he’d laughed and ruffled her hair.

‘All right, you can give it a go. Twopence a week, but only if you do it properly. It will teach that lazy little bugger Eddy a lesson if you take over his job. Here you are,’ he held out a pair of boots, ‘you can start right away by delivering these.’

Vera tucked the newly repaired shoes under her arm, and Eddy held his breath, expecting an outburst, as he heard her say, ‘Eddy won’t mind. He’s already got himself a job as a delivery boy at Steven’s Hardware Store.’

Slowly he let it out again as he saw she was out of the door and skipping down the street before it had dawned on their dad exactly what she had said.

Annie Quinn hurried down the jigger between Penrhyn Street and Scotland Road and let herself in through the back door, shutting it quickly behind her as soon as she’d manoeuvred Benny’s pram inside. She hated having to use the back entry. It was so dark and threatening with its high walls on either side, but Michael had forbidden all of them to come in through the shop during the day.

‘It looks bad,’ he told her. ‘The shop is a business and the only people I want to see coming through that door are customers with a pair of boots or shoes in their hands that they want to have repaired.’

‘Surely your own wife, with a pram loaded down with shopping, can walk through,’ she declared in an irritated voice. ‘After all, we do live in the room at the back.’

‘I know. It’s bad enough that people in the shop have to stand and listen to that brat screaming his lungs out all the time without seeing you parade him through the shop, too,’ he snapped back. ‘Anyway, if I let you come in that way then Eddy and Vee will want to do the same when they come home from school, and in next to no time there will be a horde of snotty nosed kids wandering through looking for them.’

‘I very much doubt it! They haven’t managed to make many new friends even though we’ve been living here for almost two years now.’

‘And whose bloody fault is that? You’ve probably discouraged them from doing so because you don’t get on with any of our neighbours.’

Annie didn’t answer. It was quite true that she didn’t like the area. Scotland Road had a bad name and those on either side seemed rough and uncouth to her after the people she had lived next to in Wallasey.

Michael seemed to revel in mixing with them. When they’d lived in Wallasey, before he’d gone into the army, he had stayed home and kept her company in the evenings. Now he spent less and less time with her, prefering to go out most nights to the local pubs, often not returning home until throwing out time.

He made no bones about the fact that he found her dull and boring. There was no longer any ten-derness in his love-making. He was no longer considerate about the way he treated her or spoke to her. He didn’t trouble to keep his temper in check and when he arrived home the worse for drink her heart was in her mouth until he finally fell asleep.

She supposed she was partly to blame because she was always bewailing the fact that he didn’t give her enough money to feed them all properly, let alone buy them decent clothes. She hated seeing Eddy going off to school in patched trousers and darned jumpers, but she simply couldn’t afford to replace them. As it was she’d had to cut down two of her own dresses to make new ones for Vera so that she had something decent to wear.

She struggled constantly to overcome the depression that had enveloped her ever since she’d lost her parents and her darling Charlie. He’d been such a fine-looking boy, and on the brink of manhood. He’d been so proud of the fact that he had an apprenticeship with Cammell Laird’s. He had been taken away so suddenly. What started as a cough and a cold had developed into a high fever within hours. Even though he was a big, strong lad he’d no more been able to fight it than her frail aged parents had.

She had to try to look on the bright side and be thankful that Eddy and Vee had survived, and that they were both still fit and well.

Edmund was growing into a handsome boy with his thick flaxen curls and sensitive face, but she knew Michael resented the fact that, physically, he took after her side of the family.

‘Puny little weed,’ he declared scornfully. ‘At thirteen he should be twice the size he is! He’s got no guts either! Always stuck indoors instead of being out in the street kicking a ball around.’

When Michael had tried to teach Edmund how to box, he’d ducked away the moment he saw his father’s curled fist coming towards him. He hated being hurt. Michael had flicked him hard on the chin, sending him reeling backwards and then laughed uproariously when Eddy had caught his shoulder against the edge of the table and burst into tears with the pain.

From that day on a knot of hatred towards Michael became lodged inside her chest. Silently, she vowed to do her utmost to keep Edmund out of his father’s way.

Michael still doted on Vera. He was forever saying, ‘With that black hair and those blue eyes she takes after me. She should have been a boy!’

Now, turned ten, she was as tall as Edmund and far sturdier than he was. She was afraid of nothing, not even of her father when he was in one of his violent tempers.

It frightened Annie the way Michael had changed since his time in the army. When he recounted his experiences in the trenches in France the stories were of such nightmarish quality that she was sure this was the reason for his change in personality.

She hated the way he had become a tyrant. He acted as if he was still a corporal, and they were the lower ranks. He barked the orders and expected them to obey. Sometimes he even made Edmund and Vera stand to attention for inspection before they sat down to a meal. If they weren’t dressed properly, or if he decided that their hands didn’t look clean, then he would rap them sharply over the knuckles with the back of his knife or poke them viciously in the ribs.

He’d become terribly impatient, as well. He expected them all to obey his commands instantly, and flew into a temper if his meal wasn’t put in front of him the moment he sat down at the table.

Every night Annie was on edge, wondering whether he would come straight through for his meal when he closed the shop at seven o’clock, or whether he would go out to the pub first. She didn’t know which was worse. If he went to the pub straight away then he usually didn’t come back until closing time. No matter what time he turned up, though, he expected to find his meal on the table, freshly cooked and piping hot.

If he ate his meal first, he’d certainly not come back home until chucking out time. In all probability he’d then demand some bread and cheese, and a pickled onion, before he turned in.

Whatever he decided to do the evening would end the same for her; it always did. Unfortunately, he was different from most other men in that he never suffered from brewer’s droop; it was quite the opposite, in fact.

She’d meant it when, after Benjamin was born, she’d said there would be no more babies. It might be against the law, but if she fell for another then she’d have an abortion, even if it killed her. But if it did, she reflected, it would be hard on the children. Vee would be expected to look after Eddy and little Benny, but at least she would stop another poor little soul being born into such a harsh existence. Every time she thought about the future that lay ahead for Benjamin she cried inwardly. What hope was there of him growing up fit and strong when half the time he was hungry?

She had never in her life felt so lethargic and she was sure that was because she could never afford decent food for herself. She had to try and make sure that Eddy and Vee had their bellies full. She hated it when Michael pinched the meat from their plates, or snatched away their butties.

Before the war he’d always been so kind-hearted, so concerned that the children had the very best. She’d seen him cut up his own meat into tiny slivers for them when they were small. He’d always made sure that he shared the top off his egg, or he’d dip a piece of bread into the yolk and hand it to one of them as a little treat.

Although Vee had always been his favourite, and treated like a precious doll, he’d been proud of Charlie, and Edmund when he was younger. He’d enjoyed nothing more than taking the two boys down onto the shore at New Brighton to kick a ball around. Often he would ram some sticks down into the sand and improvise a game of cricket for them.

Eddy had been too small to wield the bat, but he’d run after the ball when Charlie batted and throw it back to his father so that he could bowl it to Charlie again.

Those had been such happy days. Thinking back, she always remembered the sun shining and the entire family smiling.

Even when the war came, and Michael had dashed off to be a soldier, life hadn’t been anywhere near as demanding as it was nowadays. Of course, she reflected, she’d had her own mam and dad to help her. They’d been growing old, but they’d been full of energy and had loved the children so much.

She was glad in some ways that they hadn’t lived to see the change in Mike. They would have been so shocked and worried. She recalled how apprehensive they’d been when they had first met him.

‘It’s a pity that we know nothing at all about his parents,’ her mother had said worriedly. ‘I’m not saying that he isn’t a nice young chap, but having been brought up in an orphanage since babyhood means he hasn’t had the same caring background as you have had, my dear.’

Annie had been so cross with her mother and told her she was bigoted and prejudiced. Now, with hindsight, she wondered if her mother had intuitively seen something in Michael Quinn’s make-up that she had overlooked.

Today he kept his flattery and charm for his customers. Women, especially, thought he was a perfect gentleman, so handsome and charming that they flirted with him outrageously. She would feel her insides curling in embarrassment at the amused, supercilious way he responded to them, yet they never seemed to take the slightest offence.

She often wondered what they would think if they could hear him rant and rave when Benny was crying from hunger, or see the callous way he treated Eddy. Would they still think he was the perfect gentleman if they overheard the way he spoke to her or the names he called her when he was in one of his foul moods, she thought bitterly.

She smiled sadly as she remembered one of her own mother’s favourite sayings when things weren’t going as well as she hoped. ‘What can’t be cured must be endured.’

Well, she reflected, that was all she could do now. Endure what was happening and pray that things would get better. Perhaps when the business picked up a bit more, and they had more money, then life would be easier, she thought hopefully.