Authors: Rita Bradshaw
The Rainbow Years (22 page)
The bottle was completely empty by the time Charles fell asleep, one arm draped over the side of the chair and the other still clutching the glass in which a few drops of brandy remained.
It had not occurred to him in all his musings of the last hour or two that he had been wrong when he had stated Amy knew all there was to know about him. But the empty bottle at the side of him, and all the other ones stacked in one corner, were sufficient proof that she did not.
Chapter 10
‘Hey, man, isn’t that your Perce? Honouring us with his presence, is he?’
Bruce glanced across the yard towards the gates of the iron and steel works. Aye, it was Perce all right and got up like a dog’s dinner in that suit he’d seen him in before. Had he come to offer another chance of some quick money, no questions asked?
Perce was smiling when Bruce reached him and he clapped his younger brother on the back. As men streamed past them, one or two called out a greeting to Perce who responded with a wave of his hand, his eyes on Bruce. ‘How goes it?’ he said as though they’d last spoken just that morning instead of weeks ago. ‘You still on short time?’
Bruce stared at him. Perce knew the answer to that or he wouldn’t be here at this time of the day. Only those on short time left at one o’clock. Twenty-five hours a week and there had been talk it might be down to twenty before long.They’d be eating bread and dripping for dinner at this rate once Amy’s money stopped. He nodded. ‘Aye, it don’t get any better.’
Perce shrugged. ‘Talk is it won’t, man. The backbone of the country’s just about broken but you don’t have to work here. I told you I’d see you all right if you came to work for me and it wouldn’t be peanuts either. You’d be earning real money.’
Bruce shook his head. ‘And risk having my collar felt by the long arm of the law? I don’t think so.’
‘If you want to get on in life you have to take the odd risk.’
‘Aye, well, it seems to me you’re taking enough for the both of us so let’s just leave it like that, shall we?’
‘There’s more and more being laid off, you know that. The shipyards are as bad as the mines now and the government doesn’t give a damn. If you go on the dole they don’t recognise the first week and then there’s three days lying on, that’s if you can get a brass farthing out of them at the end of it.’
‘I don’t intend to go on the dole.’
‘There’s plenty who said that who are now standing cap in hand.’
Bruce shrugged. He had come to realise over the last year or two that he and Perce would never see eye to eye on a lot of things. He would have liked it different but he wasn’t a bairn and he had to face facts. From being close as boys they had grown into two very different individuals.
There was silence for a moment and then Perce said,‘Fancy a beer?’
‘Aye, all right.’ His throat was as dry as sandpaper and he’d sweated like a pig all morning, besides which he missed going for a pint with Perce now and again like they’d once done.
The pub Perce chose was one of the less salubrious in the vicinity. Neither of them spoke until they were at the bar. Perce ordered two pints. After handing one to Bruce he gestured to a table in the corner by the window. ‘Let’s sit down.’
They sat facing each other amid the wreaths of smoke made by the pipes of several old men at the bar. A couple of mangy-looking fox terriers slept at the feet of one individual. After a moment or two Perce said, ‘A little bird’s told me Amy is getting wed to that ponce from the south.’
Bruce’s antennae pricked up. He didn’t like Perce’s tone. ‘She’s marrying Charles Callendar, aye,’ he said.
‘And you’re happy about that?’
Bruce’s brow wrinkled. ‘It’s nowt to do with me, man, who she marries.’
He was aware Perce was staring at him very intently as though trying to work something out. After a moment or two, his brother said, ‘You’re really not bothered?’
‘About Callendar? Of course not. Mind, if it’d been some wrong ’un she’d got herself mixed up with that would have been different. But she’s done well for herself with him. She won’t want for nowt, that’s for sure.’
Perce settled back in his seat and took a long pull at his beer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I’d got it wrong then. I always thought you were sweet on our little cousin.’
‘Me?’ Bruce’s eyes narrowed.‘The boot’s on the other foot, isn’t it?’
Perce looked at him. ‘Been talking to you, has she?’
‘She didn’t need to. I’ve got eyes, haven’t I?’
Perce said nothing to this. After some seconds he lifted his glass and drained the contents. ‘Want another?’ he offered. ‘I’m having one.’ Bruce reached into his pocket. ‘Don’t be daft, man,’ Perce said as he rose to his feet. ‘I can buy me own brother a drink or two, can’t I?’
Once they had two fresh pints in front of them, Perce said, ‘In the family way, is she?’
Bruce choked on a mouthful of beer. ‘
What?
’
What?
’
‘Well, it’s all a bit quick, isn’t it? Come on, she talks to you, she always has done.’
And you have never liked that. Bruce stared at him. Why hadn’t he clicked on to that before? Perce was jealous of how well he and Amy got on. Bruce put his glass on the table. ‘If you don’t know by now that Amy’s not that sort, you’ll never know,’ he said coldly.
‘Oh, you.’ It was said with contempt. ‘Never have been able to see the nose in front of your face, you haven’t. She played us off against each other for years, can’t you see that? And all right,’ he raised a hand as Bruce went to speak, ‘I know now you didn’t think of her in that way but I didn’t then. She’s laughed up her sleeve at me, kept me dangling on a bit of string and used you to keep me fired up.’
Bruce couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was truly astounded. ‘You’re barmy,’ he said at last.
‘Aye, barmy I might be, but you tell me why she’s getting wed in such haste then if her belly’s not full? It’s the oldest trick in the book to catch a lad. But he’s no lad, this Callendar, is he? He’s rolling in it and that’s why she’s given him what she wouldn’t give me.’ Perce’s face had gone red and the veins either side of his nose had swelled but he wasn’t shouting. In fact his voice was low. Bruce genuinely didn’t know what to say to convince his brother he was wrong on all counts.
‘Well, she’s caught her toe, she’s took the wrong fella for a ride. She’s not wed yet, is she, and she’ll find that walk to get up the aisle is longer than she thinks. I’m not going to be made a monkey of. She made me feel like the lowest thing on two legs and all the time she was whoring for Callendar. I expected you to see it. I thought you’d be as riled up as me.’ Perce paused for breath and looked at his brother. Bruce’s expression disconcerted him. It dawned on him that he’d said too much.
He swilled the second pint of beer down his throat, slapped the glass down on the table and rose to his feet. ‘I’m off,’ he said shortly.
‘What did you mean, she’ll find the walk up the aisle longer than she thinks?’ Bruce had risen too, barring Perce’s way. ‘What are you planning?’
‘Nowt.’
‘It didn’t sound like nowt to me.’
‘Get out of my way, Bruce.’
‘You hurt a hair of her head and you’ll pay for it, brother or no brother. Do you hear me?’
‘Oh aye, I hear you.’ Perce’s eyes bored into Bruce’s. ‘And I’m shivering in me boots. Now get out of my way, I shan’t ask again.’
He
was
barmy. He’d obviously been brooding about all of this so long it had addled his brain. But he was all wind and water; he wouldn’t do anything to hurt Amy, not Perce.Would he? The last year or two he’d turned into a dodgy kettle of fish, that was for sure, but this was something different.
was
barmy. He’d obviously been brooding about all of this so long it had addled his brain. But he was all wind and water; he wouldn’t do anything to hurt Amy, not Perce.Would he? The last year or two he’d turned into a dodgy kettle of fish, that was for sure, but this was something different.
Bruce stood aside and watched Perce walk out of the pub. He felt so churned up inside he didn’t know what to do with himself.
On leaving the pub he caught a glimpse of Perce turning the corner into Wreath Quay Road, and without really knowing why he began to walk that way too. When he saw his brother turn left into Hay Street, Bruce found himself running the last few yards to the head of the road. To the right was a grid of terraced streets but Perce was walking on the left-hand side which consisted of warehouses and a goods yard and sheds.
With no very clear idea of what he was going to do beyond trying to reason with Perce again now that he might have cooled down a little, Bruce walked on. Before Perce reached the goods yard he turned off into one of the warehouses and didn’t come out.
Still with no plan of action, Bruce made his way to the spot where Perce had disappeared. Apart from a group of snotty-nosed bairns playing some game or other, the eldest of them in charge of a squalling baby in a dilapidated perambulator, there was no one about. As he reached the warehouse he heard voices within.There were two doors but only one was ajar and it was to this he was drawn, treading as lightly as his hobnailed boots would allow. He recognised Perce’s voice straightaway and it was clear he was still agitated because he was letting off steam to someone.
‘. . . try to pull the wool over my eyes. He’s sweet on her, I’d bet me last farthing on it whatever he says now, but he hasn’t the gumption to admit it.’
‘Aye, well, let’s hope you’re right ’cos it’d be a shame if you paid out that tidy sum to have him worked over for nowt.’
‘Well, this other one will get more than being worked over, trust me. And this time I’ll tell ’em to make sure it’s not in a back lane where they can get interrupted. His own mother won’t recognise Charles Callendar by the time he’s dumped in the river.’
‘All right, Perce, all right, calm down, man. Look, we’ve business to do the day so let’s get on with it. I want this latest lot cleared out of here by tomorrow morning, I’ve got a buyer in mind.’
‘Aye, aye, but first I need a drink. I’ve got a bottle of that whisky you like upstairs in the flat. How about we wet our whistle before we get started, Stan?’
‘Sure you haven’t had enough already?’
‘Aye, I’m sure.’
This last from Perce was a growl and it appeared Stan wasn’t going to argue. Bruce looked about him for somewhere to hide but it seemed that Perce’s flat could be reached from within the warehouse because in the next moments their voices became more distant and then faded away altogether.
The numb feeling that had overtaken Bruce when he had first heard his brother speaking lasted until he was safely back on the main road. Then he found he was shaking so much he had to lean against the wall of a house.
Perce seriously intended to do Charles Callendar harm; more than that, it had been his brother who had been behind the beating he had received that time in the back lane, and the police had said then that if the assailants hadn’t been interrupted they could have done for him.
Bruce ran his hand over his face which was damp with perspiration in spite of the cold spring day and bitter north wind. He turned to face the wall, his hands above his shoulders and pressed against the bricks as he stared at the ground. It was unbelievable, but he had just heard it with his own ears. He stood there for some time, all the warmth and sentiment of childhood memories turning to ashes. His brother had done that to him, his own brother, the same brother who had fought off more than one bully at school for him and got his nose bloodied in the process.
He had to stop Perce. He straightened. He owed him no loyalty, not now, this was too serious. But how to go about it?
He turned abruptly, beginning to walk towards North Bridge Street and the Wearmouth Bridge, his mind racing as a possible solution presented itself. If he followed this through, it was better to do it in the main town away from Monkwearmouth.
The wind bit harder as he crossed the bridge and he stood for a few minutes looking down into the river where tugboats, colliers, salvage ships and other big craft jostled with the smaller vessels. Some six years before, when work on this bridge had begun around the old one in an effort to keep the traffic moving, he and his father and Perce had come to stand and watch. He had been eleven years old then and Perce nearly thirteen, and he remembered it as a good day. They had brought sandwiches and some of his mam’s homemade lemonade and had eaten their lunch in the sunshine, marvelling at the construction taking place. One of the Italian ice-cream sellers had passed them pushing his cart, and Perce had treated them all to a cornet from the money he’d had in his pocket from his paper round.
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