Chapter 5

The Irish overspill. September 1959.

The houses that Flash had indicated would be given to Irish overspill families, were indeed mostly occupied by families of Irish descent. Some were Catholic with Irish national flags proudly displayed in their front windows, while the Union Jacks on display told that others were Protestant, so on Friday and Saturday nights the people on the estate became used to brawls between the two factions, as they left the only two pubs in the village at closing time.

On his first day at school one Irish boy, by the name of Sean Flynn, was instructed to sit in class next to Danny. Who in turn was told by the teacher that he would be responsible for showing the same boy everything that he would need to know about the timetables and school rules.

During the lesson, the teacher had to leave class for a few moments at which time Sean turned to Danny saying, “Looks as if you are stuck with me, old son, sorry about that.”

Holding out his hand he then added, “My name is Sean by the way.”

Danny shook his hand. “That’s okay mate, my name is Danny.”

Sean’s face burst into a grin as he then asked, “Sure, would that be because you are Irish, Danny being a good Irish name?”

Danny laughed thinking of himself as Irish before saying, “No, my old cock, I am afraid there is no Irish blood in me. I am just a plain Black country boy.”

Sean once more grinned adding just as the teacher returned, “But we can still be mates, eh.”

The teacher called out, “Stop talking, Flynn,” before adding in his usual sarcastic manner, “We have standards in this school, even if you did not have them in your last one.”

The usual creeps who crawled up to the teacher laughed out loud. Danny now felt sorry for the new boy, but this evidently did not seem to bother Sean as he confidently answered the teacher, “Sure, that is right fine of you to guide me in the right direction, Sir, me being just an ignorant Irish boy from the bogs.”

Mr Allcroft’s face took on a look of thunder as he called out, “What did you say, boy?”

Sean proceeded to repeat his sentence but only got halfway through when Mr Allcroft spluttered, “Stop, are you trying to make a fool of me, boy?”

Sean straight faced as a vicar, answered. “No indeed not sir. I wish to learn as much as I can from an educated man such as yourself. Me being the ignorant shite, I beg your pardon sir, I mean the ignorant person that I am.”

He sat looking towards the teacher as if butter would not melt in his mouth.

Two things happened simultaneously- firstly the classroom door opened and in stepped the headmaster Mr Evans, after which the bell for the end of the lesson sounded. Normally this was a signal for the whole class to charge out of class, but on this occasion, no one moved an inch, instead the whole room now looked expectantly towards Mr Allcroft.

Mr Evans now also looked around the class somewhat perplexed, before turning to look at Mr Allcroft, who was standing staring open mouthed as if in a kind of trance. As Mr Evans asked, “Is everything all right, Mr Allcroft?”, as if suddenly realising where he was, he nodded. “Yes Headmaster, or at least I think so.” Suddenly he turned and shouted at the class, “Out all of you, have you not heard the bell?”

Before smiling with a somewhat strange look in his eyes, he then turned to Mr Evans saying, “And what can I do for you, Sir?”

His eyes however continued to follow a certain boy as he slowly left the room.

The same boy who then stopped just the once before calling out, “Good night, sir, I hope you have a safe journey home.”

Mr Evans smiled, “What a pleasant boy, he is one of the Irish overspill children, is he not? It just goes to show they are not all rough, are they, Mr Allcroft?”

Mr Allcroft though again just nodded his head before answering, “If you say so Headmaster, if you say so.”

Once outside the classroom Danny and Sean could not stop laughing as they joined Flash and Tom to walk home. After this even with Flash having his doubts about Sean being Irish, the gang of three now became a gang of four.

Sean was a tall boy for his age with straight light brown hair and although he liked Danny and became one of his best friends, his father for some unknown reason had taken an almost instant dislike to him. On hearing from somewhere that Danny’s grandmother had been Jewish, he afterwards always referred to Danny, as the little Yid.

Three of the four boys were now almost fourteen years of age. Tom though still only thirteen, was so tall that he looked to be the same age.

Flash’s brother, Mazza, now eighteen years of age, rode around the estate on a big blue Triumph 650cc Thunderbird. He also had rented a small workshop situated at the rear of Grange Farm, this being a farm in name only, as its land was now covered with the council houses in which they all lived. Here he began in his spare time to repair and sell motorcycles.

Danny had for some time been fascinated by motorcycles, so much so that much of his spare time was taken up with helping Mazza with cleaning or taking apart these machines.

The other boys although mildly interested, were often off chasing girls or fishing, leaving just Danny to help Mazza.

Sometimes Danny wondered why Mazza chose to take what to him looked like an almost new motorcycle to pieces then to sell it off in parts, so one day he plucked up the courage to ask why this was.

Mazza stopped what he was doing then shaking his head he took Danny to one side. “You do not know why, honestly do you, son?”

Danny swallowed hard thinking he had said something wrong, then shook his head. “No Mazza, I honestly do not know.”

Mazza now smiled then grasped Danny’s head in his hands before kissing the top of his head.

“You are priceless, what is more you are the only one who I would trust completely out of your little gang. And so, I shall tell you, and in telling you to keep your silence about this, I am now going to make you a junior partner in my business.”

He then went on to tell Danny that he soon intended to give up his full-time job as a coal face worker to concentrate on his motorcycle business.

Danny could not believe what he had just heard, his hero whom he worshiped was doing this for him. Mazza proceeded to explain to him that some of the motorcycles that came into the workshop were in fact stolen. These being the ones that were sold for parts, he went on to say that some parts bearing engine or frame numbers that could be traced by the police needed to be sold off for scrap. These parts he delivered to a scrap dealer in Fradley every Sunday morning where from now onwards he wanted Danny to accompany him.

All this to Danny was like a dream come true and although he worried what his Mum or his Gran might say, he was keen to become part of all that this entailed.

Mazza explained to him that he would pay Danny a percentage of any profit they made on bike sales. Whatever this amounted to Danny asked for it to be kept in Mazza’s workshop, and from this he would then take only what he needed to supplement his pocket money but no more. The rest, he explained, he wanted to save for a motorcycle of his own as soon as he was sixteen. And so, this became Danny’s routine. He still hung around with his friends in the evenings but at weekends mostly he spent his time helping Mazza build up both his legal and illegal businesses.

One Saturday morning Tom and Danny called at Sean’s to see if he fancied coming out. They knocked on his door which was answered by his Mum. She was an attractive lady with dark red hair, who in a soft Irish accent, bid them both to come into the kitchen to wait for him.

Danny could see where Sean got his easy-going ways from. Indeed as soon as he came into the room he put his arm around his mother, then after kissing her on the neck he turned to his friends saying, “Sure, have you ever seen a more attractive woman than my Ma?”

Both Tom and Danny laughed as neither of them could ever imagine doing that to their own Mums. Just then the back door was flung open as Sean’s father entered. He was a giant of a man with black spiky hair and what some might call a ruddy complexion. His main feature though was his eyes, they were as black as coal and seemed to pierce right into whoever he stared at. In his hand he held a pigeon that looked to the boys as if its neck had been broken.

His father looked around the room and after tossing the dead bird onto the draining board, in a hard Belfast accent, he shouted out, “And who the fuck are these two idiots? Sat in my kitchen as if they own the fecking place.”

Danny or Tom did not know what, if anything, to say, as Sean tried to explain to his father who they were. Both boys rose to leave as Sean’s mother also tried to pacify her husband by saying, “Come now, Patrick, they are only two young boys who are friends of Sean. Can you not at least be civil to the wee boys?”

With that Patrick Flynn pushed her out of the way, knocking over the tea pot in the process, and, pointing towards the door he shouted, “Out, you pair of Protestant bastards, get out.”

Sean pushed his two friends towards the door. “Let’s go lads and leave my evil old sod of a father.”

Turning once more as he reached the door, he called out, “And keep your hands off my mother or one day I will kill you, old man.”

To say his two friends were shocked is somewhat of an understatement as once outside, both looked towards Sean before Tom asked, “Fuck me, is he always like that”?

Sean shook his head. “No not always, but he lost his job at Fort Dunlop yesterday.”

“What for?” Tom now asked.

Sean shook his head before saying, “Fighting, it is what he usually gets the sack for. I am pissed off with him. To tell you the truth, I wish he would drop dead. My sister and my Mum would have a much better life that is for sure. All he thinks of is drinking, fighting or his precious I.R.A.”

Both lads stared open mouthed on hearing this before Danny said, “The I.R.A. Do you mean the actual Irish Republican Army? Does that still exist? I thought that all ended with Michael Collins back in the 1930’s?”

Sean shook his head, “Believe me it still exists, he goes to meetings in Birmingham with his cronies every week. All of them getting ready for the revolution, the barmy bastards.”

Walking down the street the three lads now met Flash. After ruffling his hair to torment him they asked him what, if anything they could all do, as they were once more bored. Flash thought for a moment then suggested, “Let’s go to the Lime kilns at Ladywood.”

All of them agreed this would be fun but then Danny asked hesitantly, “How long do you think we shall be?”

The other boys all shook their heads before Flash looked at Danny. “Don’t tell me, you have to help our kid with a bike am I right?”

Danny felt foolish but nodded his head. “I promised to be in the workshop at two o clock as an old B.S.A is coming in.”

The other three boys all agreed they would not be back until much later than that, so it was up to him to choose.

After telling them he would have to stay, Danny watched them walk off without him. He felt that he had let them down, but he could not let Mazza down, so somewhat dejectedly he made his way to Mazza’s workshop.

Once there, Mazza asked why he was not out with his friends as he did not need him until later that afternoon, when Danny explained why. Mazza put his arms around him telling him that was why he had chosen him and not the others to be his partner in the business. After shutting the workshop doors, he looked at his friend and suggested, “If you are on your own, you may as well come for a ride in my new car.”

Danny was thrilled at the thought of this, he was now glad he had not gone off with his friends. “A new car, Mazza, I did not even know you had an old one.’

Mazza grinned. ‘Well that just shows you do not know everything that goes on, do you?”

And with that he walked towards a dark blue Vauxhall Velux saloon that had leopard skin seat covers, white wall tyres and long American style fins on the body work; this was parked outside his workshop.

Danny thought it was great, as they roared through the estate then joined the main A38. He asked where they were going. “To a pub in Lichfield, son, that is where we are going and there you will meet Tricia Eastwood the woman that I intend to marry.”

Danny was speechless as he stared open mouthed at his friend. “Someone whom you intend to marry?”

Mazza also grinning nodded his head. “Yes, that is right, except that she does not know this yet. In fact, she is engaged to some other guy, but I intend to change all that.”

Once more Danny was lost for words wondering if this was all a dream and he would soon wake up.

As they travelled along the A38 and descended Shire Oak hill, the three spires of Litchfield Cathedral came into view. Soon after this they pulled into the car park of the ‘Bowling Green pub’, what to Danny seemed to be a large posh pub. Jumping out of the car Mazza called out, “Come on, Danny, what are you waiting for?”

Danny had to remind his friend that at fourteen years old he could not hope to get into a public house. Mazza realising this told him to sit in the pub garden and he would bring him out a drink.

Danny moved to a spot where he could see inside the public house. Here he noticed his friend standing at the bar talking to a very pretty girl, who was shaking her head while serving him, but also smiling as she did so.

Soon Mazza came out carrying a glass of beer which he placed in front of Danny. “Here you are, son, I will not be long, she just needs a little more persuading.” And with a grin he once more entered the Pub.

Danny took a sip of the drink then almost dropped it. It was beer, real beer that was what he was drinking. Just then he caught sight of his friend leading the barmaid outside to look at his car. He could hear him asking if he could just take her for a ride on the night she had off from her boyfriend. Finally he must have succeeded in his persuasion as he whistled for Danny to drink up as they were leaving. This was the first time that he had seen the woman who was to be Mazza’s partner and soul mate for the rest of his life.