Honour of the Line (11 page)

Eventually common sense prevailed as I put others before my cowardly self and it was my little sister Daisy, Mum, Dad and Grandad who I couldn’t do it to. Mum and Dad had saved my bacon so why should I wreck their lives? Deep down inside I knew whatever problems I brought to their door they would always stand by me, unlike Angela’s Dad, who seemed to think mostly of his own ego. He sounded a really shit example of a soldier to me and I bet he was a skin back fusilier.

Somehow I dried the tears, went home and changed and then went to have tea with Grandad. It started thundering and lightning and the heavens just opened up. His sister from up the road came rushing round in a panic, she was absolutely petrified of thunder. Grandad turned the lights out, turned the wireless off and lit three candles, which gave us enough light to play rummy. We could make a pot of tea with water that we had boiled on the kitchen range. People of that time were scared silly of electricity during thunderstorms. That evening turned out to be one of the most special of my life up until that time. I knew for sure that Grandad would never let me down, although shamefully I had let him down on so many occasions and I really didn’t like myself.

Today hadn’t answered too many questions, but two were answered with a big yes. Firstly I would never contemplate suicide again and secondly I must get my football back to where it was. I owed Grandad that much and decided I would never again let him down.

Thursday was a weird day for me. I felt as though I was being unfaithful to Angela, although I wasn’t really doing that much wrong. Surely talking to her sister wasn’t a major crime? Who the hell was I kidding? If Jill had wanted to snog me no way could I have imagined me forcing her away, but that situation couldn’t possibly happen ….. could it?

Straight from school I rushed home to get smartened up a bit, had a quick game of catch with Daisy, who was getting quite good at it by now, I really wished she were able to play football as well. Mum asked if I was going for a job as a paper-boy or delivery boy as I was making more of an effort to look smart than usual. I stopped off at Grandad’s and left a note on the table right next to the teapot so as he couldn’t possibly miss it, explaining that I would be late and could he keep my tea warm on a saucepan.

Standing in the car park opposite Woollies staff entrance I didn’t have a clue what I was doing there and thought Jill could have said whatever she needed to in front of Angela but she obviously had her reasons for secrecy. Staff began leaving in dribs and drabs until Jill finally came out looking a million dollars. My nerves were jangling as she approached but her smile dispelled all of my fears. Jill threw her arms around me and gave me the biggest smacker on the cheek, which was wonderful but the warmth of her cuddle stayed with me a long time. It was spitting lightly with fine rain as she held my hand and we trotted to her car. My ego took a massive boost as we passed my schools Head Boy, Ray Streeter, who always fancied himself with the girls. He looked mystified as I ran past him with this stunning looker, who was obviously quite a bit older than me.

We got into Jill’s car and as she drove off she tooted to a couple of the girls she worked with, which really surprised me as I thought she would be a little more secretive. Jill did most of the talking, mainly about inconsequential things such as music, my school, her work, the weather and such like. Angela never got a mention until we pulled up in a secluded car park on the west side of town. It was still daylight but I could imagine courting couples spending romantic times in the back seats of their cars. Only one thing of real consequence passed Jill’s lips and that was when she asked me not to take up football for a living, in fact, she almost begged. I pointed out I was now virtually duty bound to at least go and view the options and I could see the hurt in her eyes. Sadly I had no idea why this was so important to her. We nattered for ages and I began to feel, not for the first time, I was getting major feelings for this gorgeous young woman who was way out of my reach. I gave Jill my word that our meeting would never pass my lips and I assured her the Head Boy would remain quiet as he would certainly feel quite put out at seeing me with Jill. It would certainly dampen his ego.

Jill dropped me off near the gasworks and I went to Grandad’s for tea. He had waited for me and we shared a pie his sister had put in the oven for us. I wished that all families had our spirit and felt so privileged that my family had chosen me, not just Mum and Dad, but every single member no matter how distant. Baby McFirley-Simms would hopefully, somehow, get the same love, comfort, warmth and support that I had been fortunate enough to find.

On the day after Easter Monday I was due to travel to the Midlands. This was to be the first step towards my football career and it was all arranged that I would stay in my potential digs and return home on the Friday. Never before could I remember leaving Mum, Dad, Daisy and Grandad and I was very nervous and quite upset inside. Mum worried about her little soldier, Grandad was so proud as he had helped me achieve the level I was at, and Dad just thought that it might possibly make me a man. In his eyes it was the next best alternative to joining the army.

Dad was at work so I waved Mum and Daisy cheerio as I made my way to the station with my suitcase, which seemed to weigh a ton. It felt like it was full of house bricks. The trouble was Mum thought I was going for six months and packed everything from toothbrush to kitchen sink. She worried so much about me.

At the station I didn’t need to buy a ticket as the club had paid for me in advance. I had a travel warrant and it made me feel very posh indeed. I walked up the stairs to the platform and almost had a heart attack as, unbeknown to me, Angela’s mother was taking Angela to see her Aunty in Lancashire and all the time everybody thought that her family were just bluffing. Surely her parents couldn’t really disown her and send her all those miles away! Angela came straight over to me and gave me a cuddle and a peck on the cheek and then introduced me to her Mum, who seemed a really warm person. I assumed Angela and Jill took after their mother. Although it may seem surprising to people nowadays, young girls of that time who found themselves pregnant did whatever their parents decided, which although would seem very difficult to take was quite a bit better than their parents or Grandparents would have had to endure had they been in the same position. Had this happened in the generation before, it surely would have meant that Angela would have ended up at somewhere like St Jude’s, at the very best, but more likely an institution, as unmarried mothers brought shame on their families. Angela and I just acted as though we were school friends and her mother became quite chatty. When the train pulled in I held the door open and helped Angela into the carriage, which her mother seemed to think was a real gentlemanly gesture. Sadly as the train pulled away I looked to my right and could see the wreckage of St Jude’s which was now a flattened pile of rubble. It had, in its time, been a refuge of one sort or another for many unfortunate souls but had long passed its glory days and with a real lump in my throat I tried desperately to compose myself.

After we had been going a while Angela’s Mum asked which station I was going to and where was I travelling with my wealth of luggage. Proudly I said I was travelling across London to St Pancras and then to the Midlands to see about becoming a professional footballer, which seemed to really impress her. Euston was their starting point for the journey to Lancashire, it sounded miles as they had to change at Preston. I could imagine all of the smoking chimneys of industrial north west England.

“Why don’t you travel to Euston with us and then walk to St Pancras, it only takes ten or so minutes and then you can help Angela on and off the underground?” These words which were coming from her Mother’s mouth were like the sweetest music to my ears. Calculating I had over an hour to play with I agreed and inwardly couldn’t believe my luck. Angela and I passed small talk about school, London, and so forth and all seemed very relaxed. On arrival in London Angela had to go to the ladies which left me alone with her Mother, who mentioned that my Grandad and Dad seemed really nice people when they came into the pub. She then proceeded to wish that Angela had met somebody like me, she was surprised how well the two of us got along. Undoubtedly her opinion wouldn’t be quite the same had she known that I was the father of her future Grandchild. Holding hands, Angela and I followed her Mother to the tube and she seemed fine with us having contact. I felt certain she saw me as Angela’s bodyguard for the day.

Underground trains were notoriously bumpy and I wasn’t particularly comfortable with the young girl who was carrying my baby being flung about. Indeed I was so concerned I totally forgot about my aching back, caused by me acting like Charles Atlas, trying to hold hands with Angela whilst carrying my ten ton suitcase. Sometimes male pride could be very foolish.

On arrival at Euston we went to the buffet for a cup of tea. I had to keep one eye on the time but was really enjoying this unexpected surprise. The destination board showed their train would depart from platform 2 and I was green with envy as the longest train journey of my life had been to Crewe when we went to get Daisy. Their train journey would take them way beyond Crewe and the train would eventually end up in Glasgow. We all walked to the entrance to platform 2 and said our goodbyes and, slightly embarrassed, I gave Angela a massive hug, it seemed to last a lifetime, followed by a peck on the cheek. I watched them descend the platform ramp and was really pleased when both of them warmly waved cheerio. Talk about deceit, poor Angela’s Mum didn’t have the foggiest but inwardly I so wished she did and could still be able to think of me as a nice decent bloke. Keep on dreaming Billy Boy. From Euston to St Pancras is only a short walk down the Euston Road, except for those who have had a suitcase packed by my Mum. The straight road seemed never-ending but fortunately it was mainly flat until I got to the station and had to climb some awful steps which nearly killed me. They seemed to go on forever and ever and ever. Nobody offered any assistance with the exception of one city looking gent in a dark suit with a bowler hat. He told me it would build my muscles up. Upper class twat was my summing up of him.

Once inside the magnificent station building, which must surely be London’s finest, I found that my train was departing from Platform 2 with its final destination being Sheffield Midland. Unfortunately I would not be travelling the entirety of that distance. Despite my mammoth luggage I still decided to go to the front of the train to see what kind of loco would be hauling me and got a really nice surprise when I saw this very modern, gleaming green diesel on the front of the carriages. Modern diesels looked so streamlined and fast, I just couldn’t wait for the departure to begin. My friends were all envious as none of them had been on a long train ride, the furthest they ever got from home was perhaps one day a year visiting the South Coast. But here I was still a schoolboy, travelling all this way on my own, having just shared a warm cuddle with the mother-to-be of my child, albeit in the presence of her Mother. All seemed fine but somehow life is never quite that simple.

My journey began as the train pulled away from St Pancras with me sitting alone at a table for four, it all seemed so swish compared to the cattle wagons of suburbia, to which I was accustomed. Our first stop was Luton and soon after we passed the brickwork chimneys as the train approached Bedford. Things felt even posher when a waiter dressed in a white jacket came along and asked if anybody required morning tea or coffee and two lads on the opposite table said ‘yes please’. These lads must have been regular travellers. The waiter then gave them a pre-packed slice of Swiss roll and a china cup and saucer with two sugar lumps. Unbelievably they ate the Swiss roll and sugar lumps and then proceeded to throw the cups and saucers out of the windows, which I thought was hilarious. When the second waiter came round to fill the cups and collect the money they just denied all knowledge. It made me wish I had thought of it first but it gave me ideas for the return journey. Somehow this all seemed a million miles away from home as the miles just rolled by and I started to feel very homesick. Towns that we passed were full of terraced houses and massive coal trains trundled past in the opposite direction and there was a scattering of mines in the distance. This was totally another world and I was starting to get frightened.

The train started to slow as it approached my destination. From the window I could see the floodlights of the football ground and had visions of me running out there in two or three years time to be greeted by hoards of flat-capped smoking supporters wearing scarves, rosettes and clapping their hands in excitement. I could also imagine mid-week games with those bright floodlights shining, I had never played under floodlights as, at that time, it was only professional clubs which had the luxury of them. I checked all of my details which I had been sent by the club. I was going to be met at the station and had an emergency number to phone should any problems arise, so needless to say, I had plenty of loose change at the ready. Mobile phones were still 30 years away. Indeed, very few families in the Arches possessed a phone and our household was no exception.

Walking down the platform I really didn’t have a clue what to expect, would the world’s press be there with the manager, if not, who would meet me? As I walked through the booking hall I saw a rather dumpy lady, probably in her fifties, she was holding up a sign with Billy McFirley written on it. I was immediately taken aback, surely there couldn’t be two people with the same name? The lady saw my interest and came over and introduced herself as Gwyneth Williams. She was very warm and friendly and as Welsh as they come. She explained that she had been sent by the club to meet me and take me back to her house where I would be lodging. A taxi was waiting there for us. She then told me she had been boarding young players for 18 years and her husband was an assistant groundsman for the club. He had previously been a miner in South Wales but they had decided to relocate 18 years ago as so many miners were getting industrial diseases which, at the best, affected their health and more often than not, at the worst, killed them, so they wanted to try their luck at something else. She told me her husband was known by everybody as Taff, although his real name was Gareth and she was known by everybody at the club as Aunty Gwyn. It took me all of about a minute to decide I really liked Aunty Gwyn. She explained that she had a youth player staying with her. He was Peter from Northern Ireland. There were normally two lodgers but the other, a Scots lad, had returned North of the border when he failed to make the grade, but was given a chance by a Scottish second division team. She also mentioned that any lads who didn’t make it were usually found other clubs at perhaps a slightly lower standard and to my ears that made the club sound very loyal and caring.