Lenard’s Dilemma
One evening, me dad and his brothers – Jim, John and Jessie – were talking about the old granny and granddad. They had discovered that their sister Emily had run away with a man called Blacksmith Joe. Emily had been like a right arm for her parents, staying at home longer than most daughters would to look after the cooking and shopping and other duties. Now she looked to be going travelling and it left a gap the brothers would need to fill, for their sister would want to live her own life with her new man.
“They will dearly miss her,” said Jim. “We’ll have to chat with Blacksmith Joe. Perhaps he’ll stay with me mam and dad.”
“I bet you he don’t,” scoffed John. “How can a man earn his living by staying in the lane?”
“We’ll all have to take our turns to stop with the old pair and let Emily travel off for a bit,” Jessie said. “They two ain’t getting any younger.”
“Me dad ain’t too good most of the time with his gout and legs. He can’t fetch water or wood like he used to,” added John.
“What’s it to be, then?” asked me dad.
“We got no choice, have we?” answered Jim. “They looked after us, now it’s our turn to do the same for they two. It’ll be hard on our Lenard, mind, knowing how me mum treats Vie and the young ‘uns.”
“There is that to think of,” answered me dad. “My Vie will answer back – she can’t keep her gab shut, though me mum do ask for it.”
“You’ll just have to pull your wagon up the lane a-ways out of her reach,” suggested John. “Besides, there’s Tom and our Kizzie to think on. That poor bugger ain’t gonna get any better with that bad complaint he got.”
“Well, we’ll just have to make the best of it then,” said me dad. “I shan’t leave ’em in the lurch, that’s for sure. I’ll do my share.”
Oh dear, I thought. I just knew when he told me mam that sparks would fly. She would live a dog’s life up at the Prince Lane, and I knew taking me and our Alfie up there would be the last thing she should want, but this too is part of our culture. The old and infirm would never be put in a home or neglected. It’s up to the family to care for each other, no matter what – and although me mam believed this too, she wouldn’t take it lying down.
♦
If only the old granny had been different, for the thought of seeing more of me granddad and Tom was pleasing to us all.
That night, when they all went back to their wagons, me dad told me mam what the brothers had all decided.
“Now, don’t fret, my Vie, but me and the rest been talking.” Dad explained the situation with Emily and the blacksmith and how Tom’s TB was growing worse. Mam gestured for him to get to the point. “Well, it’s like this,” he said. “Me and the others have decided to take turns spending more time with the old pair.”
“Well, Lenard, you’ll do it on your own then. I shan’t put my children through too much of your old mother!”
“My Vie, what choice have I got, eh?” he argued, but me mam stayed firm.
“Let me tell you, Lenard,” she said. “If you look over that hedge you’ll see the road – and the man’s long dead that made it. You can use it. Go back and stop with that old cow of a mother whenever you likes!”
“Let’s drop it for now,” me dad ordered. “There’s time enough when the hops is over.”
“Hops or no hops, I ain’t living me life up that lane!”
“I loves you, my Vie, and you knows it, but there’s things that must be done in this life!”
“Then you do it on your own!”
And so it went on for half the night, ending up with them at loggerheads with each other.
♦
The next morning was Saturday, and so all the grown-ups dressed up like ham bones and got in their carts and trolleys, ready to go to town for the shopping.
“Now, Maggie, you knows what I told you,” warned me mam as she launched into the familiar list. “Keep the fire on, peel the tatters and mind the rest. No fighting, stay close to the wagon and no running off till I gets back. Did you hear me, Maggie?”
“Yes, Mam,” I chirped. “Mind the rest of ’em, no fighting and stay by the wagon.”
“Mind you do, or you’ll get nothing when I gets back. You’re a big gal now, so you do as you’re told.”
I will, I thought. If that little mush Alfie leaves me alone.
There were a few grown-up gals left behind on the field to keep an eye on us. They’d been tricked into it with a promise of being let out to the pictures that evening. Alfie and Robert fetched wood from the heap and filled the cans with water, before heating up some soapy water to wash down the wheels of our wagon. Then they went off with the boys across the field while I looked after my brother Jessie and baby Emily. Some of the big gals joined us and we chatted around the fire while waiting for the grown-ups to come back.
I left our Emily sleeping in the big pram near the fire while Little Jess curled up on me lap. He was missing me mam terribly.
“When’s they coming back, then?” he asked over and over.
“Be a good boy and I’ll make you a drink, eh?”
“Don’t want no drink. I want me mam.”
“Well you can’t have her so shut up,” I said, before soothing him. “She won’t be long now.”
Jessie was a mummy’s boy. How he loved me mam! He hated it when she was out of his sight and I bet that, out of all of us left on the field, it was Little Jess that she worried over.
It was late afternoon afore the traps and trolleys started to roll through the gate and we were all excited to find out what the grown-ups had brought back for us. I hung on to Jess for dear life as the horses came up, trying to stop him from running beneath their feet as he caught sight of his mam. It was kushtie when they gave us each a pig’s trotter and our fair share of sticky lardy cake, and, just when we thought that was all, me mam brought out a bag of tangy yellow sherbet each, as payment for our help picking the hops. We felt very lucky indeed!
As they fussed over us I thought that it looked as though me mam and dad had made up, but I had to wonder what it had cost him or what promises he had made to her.
That evening he got ready to go to the pub with his brothers and the other men. “How do I look, my Vie?”
“Same as you looked just now,” she answered.
Me dad shook his head. “You ain’t right in the head!”
“I can’t be, for I ended up with you,” she laughed. “But you mind what I said, now: no chopping* out our horses or me wagon. I know what you’s like with the lush down your neck.”
≡ Selling; dealing.
“I’ll mind. Don’t you worry so.”
“I mean it, Lenard. Chop and deal as much as you like, but leave me wagon and horses alone. And no fighting, you’ll get locked up.”
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.
“Yes,” said me mam, “behave yourself! I knows what you and they brothers of yours is like when let loose.” With that, me dad said his goodbyes to us all and left with his brothers for the evening.
♦
The next day was Sunday and we had a fat roast chicken as a treat for our dinner. Me mam loved to make a roast each Sunday and she was good at it! The big black pot was pushed into the hot embers of the fire to heat up the fat and the tatters, onions and stuffed chicken were all put inside it, roasting nice and slow.
Me dad was off across the field, checking on the horses and gathering wood, so Mam made us pancakes for tea and to take out on the garden the next day. We were all enjoying her cooking till the awful smell drifting over on the wind hit us.
Sheep’s panch.
The panch is the gut of the sheep, cleaned with a scrubbing brush before being boiled over a fire. It stunk like a fox as it cooked and we could never stand it! We always begged our mam to never buy the panches for we couldn’t force ourselves to eat it. It was a popular meal for most Travellers, though rarely on a Sunday.
In the evening the men went off rabbiting. Most families would be having rabbit stew out on the garden tomorrow, so we started getting everything ready for it. The stew would be very welcome in the cold garden, left to cook slowly on the fire so all the flavours were strong and warm. We liked to prepare our meals a day ahead, otherwise working on the fields we risked not having much. I helped me mam make some swimmers – dumplings with extra pepper – so that they were ready for when me dad got back with the rabbits.
It was his job to gut and skin the rabbits, though me mam was a fair hand at it. We saved the skin to be stretched and dried to sell at the rag stores later on. We never wasted anything if we could help it, always making sure there was some way to make a living. Though we knew we were secure in the hop gardens for a few more weeks at least, we had no guarantees after that and a long winter would soon be approaching. Who knew what surprises were in store?
♦
As the weeks went by and the hop season drew slowly towards its end, we began to make our preparations for leaving the hop gardens.
The women had ordered their wares from the china shops of Ledbury and were paying the money over week by week.
Me mam had bought a china punch bowl and we all thought she deserved it, for she had worked hard this year in the gardens.
It wasn’t long before the men were due to pick up the fine suits of clothes they had ordered weeks before: jackets with fancy belts and pleats in the back, new trilby hats and a few caps and neckerchiefs. It would all be packed away till the first horse fair, when the men would dress up and show off in their finery as they chopped and dealt.
We were now picking in the last part of the garden, with only a few days before we would all have to say farewell to our friends and family and spread out once more down all roads. It was a sad time because we had grown fond of the other Travellers and town-pickers we had come to know. At least we knew that their children would think of us fondly, with memories of our fry-ups and stews. They would never forget their introductions to the hop-dogs, even if we never met them again.
♦
As each family set out, they would pick a bunch of the best hops to tie to the front of their wagon. This was a good luck charm which we all hoped would bring us success for the next hop season and we would let them hang until they fell apart. We would then drop them in a hedge so that any seed could take life. This way, our hops could grow over a wide area of the country, marking the paths we travelled.
As we readied to leave, our parents said their fond farewells to the townspeople they had come to know. Some of the mothers of the children we had helped look after were very grateful, calling our family kind-hearted and the like. It was nice to know we had touched their hearts, for not many house-dwellers got to spend weeks with us, getting to know our ways, and we are often painted in a bad light with folk.
The farmer was pleased with our work and booked us for the following year, shaking our hands in farewell. Me dad’s brothers, heading to the Prince Lane, had pulled out a day before us, except for John and his wife Ellen, who planned to travel back with us for a while. We planned to stop around Keynsham for the winter, making up wooden flowers and pegs to hawk before Christmas, when we could start making holly wreaths. After that, we would head to the old granny and granddad, to give the rest of the family a chance to travel awhile.
The horses were fresh and eager to be off and as we headed back on to the road we could see trails of smoke from the Queenie stoves billowing out of other wagons, marking the paths of the Travellers ahead of us.