Chapter 73: Peter Schormann & Ted Booth

Ashford: Monday, October 20th

‘Good evening, I’m Brian Baines and that was the weather for the next twenty-four hours. It’s six o’clock. And now, “Look North”, giving you the latest news from the Manchester area. Here are the Headlines.’

‘Turn it off,’ Ellen grumbled. ‘I hate this programme – it’s boring.’

‘Come on, then, let’s see if that stew’s ready,’ Mary said. ‘I haven’t had tripe and onions since we were last here. I liked that new UCP shop in Bradlow – lovely and clean.’ She peered out of the window at the rain before she drew the curtains. ‘Looks set in for the night.’

Ellen shivered. ‘Turn the fire up, Ted.’

They closed the door behind them, leaving the men in comfortable silence.

Ted settled back on the settee, watching the flames of the gas-fire turn from blue to red and yellow with satisfaction. ‘Much easier than a real fire – no messing with coal and what-have-you.’

‘Mary, she likes a real fire. But I can see it is good.’ Peter stretched his arms over his head and yawned.

‘The Museum of Science and Technology at Grosvenor Street was opened to the general public today…’

‘Tired?’ Ted looked across at him.

‘A little.’

‘You’re still not on top form?’

‘I will be fine.’ Peter smiled. ‘I am well enough to go for a beer tonight…’

‘Sounds good.’

‘Eric Bainbridge, former Labour M.P. for Littleton, died today aged eighty-nine…’

‘How is business?’

‘So-so.’ Ted joined his fingers behind his neck and stretched his arms back. ‘I’m struggling to compete with the big commercial companies.’

‘Oh? That is hard.’ Peter nodded.

‘Yeah. Got harder o’er the years – ever since ’61 when they invented the new-fangled method of making bread so it doesn’t go stale so quick. You know, the white sliced stuff?’

‘Ugh. I know. Tastes as cotton wool.’

‘Yeah, and filled with chemicals and bigger amounts of yeast, which I don’t like. But it’s cheaper and quicker to make, so it’s cheaper to buy which seems to be what folk want these days. Can’t compete with it, and it’s got harder and harder to make any profit. I know of three other bakeries in the area that have gone bust.

‘Will you?’

‘Not if I can ’elp it. We’re making more cakes these days, which seem to go down well with the customers.’

The silence between them drifted on.

‘This news of Linda’s has upset Ellen.’

‘Yes. But it happens, Ted. Has Linda decided what she will do?’

‘She’ll keep the baby, of course. She’ll manage. We’ll make sure of that.’

‘Good. It is good when a baby is wanted.’

They shifted their attention back to the television

‘The Headlines again.’

Ted sat forward. ‘Think we’ve heard it all.’

The announcer shuffled his papers and looked into the camera. ‘In yet another raid, police have raided a disused corn-mill in the Longsight area of Manchester and evicted squatters who have occupied the building for the last six days.’

Peter held out his arm to prevent Ted from reaching towards the television set. ‘Would you leave it on for another moment?’

‘What is it?’

‘Listen.’ Peter pointed at the screen.

‘It took just five minutes for the police to storm the four-storey building. The first cordon of about 50 police officers had to break through a large boarded-up door to get in. As they attempted entry, they were bombarded by water-filled plastic balls, roof-slates and pieces of wood thrown through windows on the upper floors.’

Ted stared at the television. Peter twisted his head around to watch his brother-in-law’s response to the announcer’s words.

‘The operation involved over 100 policemen and there was little resistance once the police were inside.

‘A spokesman for the Commune, calling himself “Father Paul”, said the squatters were attempting to establish a home for many of Manchester’s homeless people. This is the third mill in the Manchester area to be taken over in the last six months.

‘Negotiations have been going on to allow the Commune to leave peacefully, but the squatters ignored a High Court Order issued a week ago ordering them to get out, and the police were brought in to evict them by force from the old mill.’

‘A mill, Ted.’ Peter breathed. ‘They say about a mill.’

‘What about it?’

‘Where do we know where there is a mill?’

They stared at each other.

‘You and Mary were so sure that Victoria would be in Manchester…’ Ted slowly fingered the faint scar on his cheek. He shook his head. ‘No, it’s too close to here. She wouldn’t…’

‘Still, we should look. Ja?’ Peter’s voice shook. ‘We must go there.’