Chapter Sixty-Two

Willie set up his plumb-line for his seventh layer of bricks and he was beginning to have quite a pride in his achievements, if it was slightly dampened by the thought that he would soon have to transfer to demolition. It was nice to construct, but not very pleasant to destroy.

He thought about London and about his job there, if he could get one as a builder. It was such a large city and such a huge step away from Glasgow and more so from Rouken Glen.

He imagined there should be quite a considerable amount of work for demolition when he heard on the wireless and read in the newspapers about the bombings that London had endured. Many buildings were totally flattened from the news that came over the radio and there was talk of television coming soon, where people would be able to see as well as hear what was going on all around the world. He sighed when he considered the prospects but his day-dreaming was soon shattered.

“Come on Come on. Don’t just stand about dreamin’ all day, lookin’ at a few bricks. Get on wi’ the job and let’s get it done and done prop’ly.”

Old Mr. Bangs spat on the ground in confirmation of his authority and Willie picked up his trowel to tap the first brick with professional precision as the foreman walked away. He took another brick in his hand and threw it into the air, catching it again as it fell and positioning it correctly on the wall.

“Blair ... Blair You there?”

“Yes, Mr. Bangs?”

“Can you drive, Blair?” the foremen shouted as an afterthought as he returned to where Willie was working.

“Yes, Mr. Bangs. I can drive.”

Bangs was thinking Willie knew he was, as he scratched his balding head in a certain way when he was doing that. Willie had got to recognise the look in the eye as well, when a thought was trailing through the mind of his foremen.

“Right ... At 4.30 today. I want you to take a load of bricks to an address in Clarkston. You live near there, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mr. Bangs I live in Rouken Glen only a few miles on from Clarkston.”

“Well don’t go before 4.30 do you understand? There won’t be anyone at the house until then. Load the bricks up in the lorry at 4.0 an’ you can go straight home after the delivery, O.K?”

“Yes, Mr. Bangs” ... Willie thought he must have sounded like a broken gramophone record Yes, Mr. Bangs. Yes, Mr. Bangs and he wondered if he would ever be able to say, ‘No, Mr. Bangs ‘

The day passed without incident and Willie had lost count of the number of bricks he had laid. He loaded the allocated bricks onto the truck at the instructed time and reported to the Works Office for his delivery note. Charlie Bangs was sitting at an old wooden desk, which had three wooden legs and bricks for the fourth. Papers surrounded him and it looked untidy as he struggled with an abacus to add some figures from the papers lying in front of him.

“Well?” He glanced up as he spoke and covered the abacus with an old towel.

“I’ve done it, Mr. Bangs ...The bricks, Mr. Bangs, the bricks for Clarkston. I’ve loaded them onto the truck.”

“Oh the bricks ... Yes, yes, of course. Did you see the right pile at the end of the yard? I marked then clearly for Clarkston. Did you see that?”

Willie nodded and smiled ... Anyone with any sense at all could tell that Clarkston was spelt with a ‘K’ well couldn’t they?

“Yes, Mr. Bangs. Can I have the address now please?”

Bangs scattered some papers around the desk with his fat little hand.

“She’ll be the death o’ me, that one will,” he muttered under his breath.

“Pardon, Mr. Bangs?”

“It’s nothing lad ... ah! Here it is ...It’s er ... It’s ... I haven’t got my reading glasses Lad. Can you see that O.K? Willie accepted the excuse, meagre though it seemed and read the delivery address allowed.

“52 Graham Road, Clarkston is that it, Mr. Bangs?”

“Yes of course it is Blair. That’s what it says there ... doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Mr. Bangs.”

“And it’s best you take the load living so near there yourself Laddie.”

“Is there a delivery note, Mr. Bangs and should I collect any money?”

Bangs flustered and puffed his cheeks.

“Money ... what the hell’s that got to do with you, Blair. I’LL SAY WHEN THERE’S ANY MONEY TO BE COLLECTED ... Do you understand?

“Yes, yes, Mr. Bangs. I’m sorry, I just thought ...”

“Well then DON’T THINK, Blair. You’re not paid to think. Leave that to people who can do it prop’ly ... Now GIT and just ask for Mrs. Parsons.”

Willie jumped into the truck and started the engine He looked round to make sure that he was clear to drive off and observed a great crack in the driving mirror, which gave him two dimensions of the road behind. He grinned and pushed the first gear into action which clanked loudly and he started again, before the truck moved and he drove slowly towards the Site entrance. As he braked sharply, a dog raced across his vision and the bricks slid down the body of the truck and he glanced through the rear view window to check that everything was alright. No harm had been done and he watched the dog cock it’s leg as he drove off noisily and a cloud of dust powdered the animal and made him sneeze.

“Graham Road ...Graham Road,” he kept repeating to himself until he eventually arrived, after only driving for half-an-hour. It was a quiet residential area and number 52 was a detached brick house opposite a park. He drew up alongside the front wall of the house and parked the truck.

“Ah! that’s what the bricks are for, I suppose,” he muttered as he saw that the wall of the garage at the side of the house was dilapidated. One wall was totally down and bricks and debris were strewn all over the path. “Somebody’s car must be bashed about a bit,” he sniggered as he looked closer at the damaged wall. The remaining bricks were badly broken and beyond repair. New bricks were required and here he was ...an answer to someone’s prayer. He jumped down from the driving cab and slammed the door of the truck behind him as he made towards the front door of the house and rang the bell. There was no answer. He looked around the side of the house for a possible entrance at the back, but the side passageway was locked. He dusted his trousers from sheer habit because they never looked any better after this ritual but it gave him a sense of personal satisfaction. After a short time, he rang the bell again but with the same response and as he stepped a few paces away from the house to observe the windows, someone tapped him on the shoulder and he jumped round with surprise as he hadn’t seen anyone on or near the drive.

“What do you want young man?”

A stout little lady was standing behind him with a head scarf over her head, surrounded by a bundle of heavily laden carrier bags.

“Mrs. Parsons?” he enquired as soon as his breath returned. The lady removed her scarf and blew into the air.

“Carson,” she corrected, “MISS Carson,” she emphasised without apology and her eye twitched.

Willie gasped as he stood before the stout lady, cap in hand and looking like as though he had seen a ghost. It was ... It was indeed, Miss Carson of happy memory and she had apparently been unable to recognise her former pupil of disrepute from St. Bonaventure’s

“I’ve brought you a consignment of bricks Miss Carson” he said and it sounded strange to be using her name again after so long.

“Bricks ... Bricks... What ARE you talking about?” she barked. “Oh never mind ... I suppose my friend knows all about that. She’ll be along in a minute. She’s just gone to the newsagent to collect a paper.” Her head bobbed in the direction of the shops a little way along the road. “Would you mind very much giving me a hand with this shopping? It seems to get heavier every week. I can’t understand why.”

“Of course ... Of course, Miss Carson ...”

Willie lifted the bags as she produced her latch key and opened the door and he sheepishly followed her inside.

“Well and what can I do for you,” she asked again, obviously forgetting for the moment that he had told her about the bricks he had delivered and then she remembered. “Oh yes, the bricks ...They must be for the garage, yes?” She gazed into Willie’s face but still without recognition and her eye twitched twice.

“Yes, I think so Miss Carson. I was told to deliver them to number 52 Graham Road.”

“What a clever young man you are,” she patronised sarcastically, “You’ve got the correct address. Now where are the bricks?”

Willie was puzzled by her attitude until he remembered that she was a teacher and that she was used to talking to little boys, but his charitable reaction was rewarded as Miss Carson observed the look on his face.

“I am sorry, young man. I am being rude. I’ve had a busy day, but that’s no excuse for bad manners. Please unload the bricks and then come and have a cup of tea.” She dusted her forehead with a scented hankie and Willie was filled with nostalgia. “The bricks are G.P’s doing, I have no doubt. She will be here in a moment.”

Willie unloaded the bricks as near to the garage as possible before he returned to the house for his tea.

“Well, Well ... it can’t be. It is ... I’m sure it is .It’s Willie Blair, isn’t it?” A voice came from out of the blue and Willie spun round. His pulse raced and he coloured from head to knee.

“Yes Miss Golding-Potts. I’m Willie Blair.”

Miss Golding-Potts threw a newspaper she had been reading onto a small table and strode across the room to meet her visitor and the floor boards creaked.

“Sit down Willie. I saw you unloading those bricks out there. Thought you were a handsome young thing, but I didn’t recognise you until you came into the room. How are you? Not married yet I hope,” she giggled.

“N... N...No, Miss Golding-Potts,” he stuttered and she grinned again.

“Call me Trottie. Everybody does. I acquired the name when I used to teach at St. Bon’s.

Willie blushed to the roots again He wondered how much more Trottie knew about St. Bon’s and of what the boys thought about Miss Trottie. His colour deepened when he remembered her sandshoes and matching coloured knickers. He looked around for a place to sit mindful of the state of his working trousers, but it was Trottie who apologised.

“Sorry Willie please sit down ... Sit down anywhere or better still come and sit down here, beside ME,” she beamed, “And tell me all about yourself ... Gracious, Beattie, Beattie ... Are you there?”

Miss Carson came back into the room carrying a tray with the tea things and Trottie took control of the situation, pouring the tea and offering the biscuits around as Willie folded his cap and thrust it into his hip pocket as he sat down.

“You MUST remember Willie Blair, don’t you Beattie?”

Miss Carson studied Willie’s face closely with another of the familiar twitches of the eye.

“Well well, I don’t believe it....Of course, Willie Blair. My, my, haven’t you grown?”

She studied Willie from head to toe with utter astonishment as she used the hankie again to mop her brow.

“Are you a builder?” asked Trottie as she took a cigarette from a silver case and offered one to Willie.

“No thanks. I don’t smoke and no, I’m only an apprentice bricklayer, as yet.”

“So modest,” she proclaimed and looked to Miss Carson with pride in her eyes. “Don’t you think so Beattie and look at those muscles ... Oh” Gawd, I bet you drive the girls wild, Willie Blair.”

Beattie Carson pulled a face and glared at her friend.

“Trottie You’ll make Willie blush, you will.” she said, but she wasn’t averse to looking at the muscles herself with a single eyeglass that she produced from a pocket in her tweed skirt. “I’m sure you’re very good at your job, Willie,” she said as Trottie lit her cigarette.

“I shouldn’t, you know I really shouldn’t,” she complained, holding the cigarette between her forefinger and thumb as she pursed her lips and screwed her eyes up with the smoke that trailed across her face. “I used to be such a keep-fit fanatic too,” she sighed “I used to be a lot of things ...”

Her voice took on a despairing note and her eyes saddened for a second, but Miss Carson was too absorbed in Willie’s muscles and fine tan to notice. She was beginning to recall incidents that happened at the school and her pulse quickened as her twitch performed a merry dance.

“Oh dear,” she said as she used her handkerchief again, “This is quite exciting, isn’t it, Trottie?”

Trottie smiled and blew some more smoke into the air.

“It certainly is when you call me Trottie, my Dear. It’s usually G.P. or something even more disgusting,” she laughed, but Beattie Carson ignored the remark as she kept her eyes on Willie.

“It took me some time to recognise you, Willie. You’re quite a well, a man now, aren’t you so tall and ... “Miss Carson was running out of adjectives but her imagination had been enlivened at the sight of her ex-pupil who was definitely no longer anything like a boy...

“He is a man now, Beattie. They all grow up in time, you know. It’s only we old fogies that remain the same size year in and year out if we’re lucky ...”

Trottie looked down at her waist line as she spoke and threw her head back as if to ignore what she saw there whilst Willie drank his tea in the midst of all the adulation that surrounded him as the two ladies admired him more than he would ever realise although each in a different way.

Trottie observed his muscular tanned arms through the smoke that she blew carelessly into the air before shooing it away with her hefty fist and his bronzed, handsome face with that well cut and chiselled chin. She recognised his eyes immediately, of course and his hair was the same too but more ... well, more like a man. She indulged her fantasy as she crossed her sturdy legs and stubbed her fag in a pink and green china ashtray. He’s gorgeous absolutely gorgeous, she thought as she closed her eyes. I wonder how many young maidens he has de-flowered since he got his first pair of long breeks in the first year at St. Bon’s, she went on ruminating and choked on her tea, astonishing herself at the untamed thoughts that paraded in her mind But it was fun. What the hell, she thought I don’t indulge every day and she continued to allow her imagination to run riot and revelled in the momentary diversion from sharing a house with the virginal Beattie Carson lovely though she was, poor dear. I bet he looks lovely in shorts ... she concluded and lit another cigarette in utter and total debauchery whilst Willie sat quietly drinking his tea unaware of the interest that he had aroused. Even Beattie Carson was not unmindful of this masculine presence before her. Such a beautiful man, she thought. What an Adonis. Face like an angel. He should have been a priest. He’d look dewy in a kilt She coughed and tried to dismiss the thoughts that would not leave her mind, but with great effort. Thoughts that demanded great discipline from a lady bachelor, she concluded ... or thought she had.

He looks so scrumpish .Oh dear, I’m getting carried way and it’s not good for a lady of my advanced years is it ... she asked herself and coughed again to clear her throat as if this action would also clear her mind, but an uncontrollable smile crept over her face and her thoughts defied her intelligence. “I wonder if he’s still into lady’s brogues?” she giggled audibly and coughed again into her scented hankie. “Pardon me,” she said, “Something caught in my throat,” she explained untruthfully and Willie continued to drink his tea as his two lady admirers plied him with chocolate biscuits until eventually he managed to speak.

“Will the bricks be alright where I’ve left them?”

Miss Carson looked dreamily at him and her eye twitched.

“Bricks?” she asked, “What bricks?”

“The bricks that Banger sent us,” drawled Trottie, still gazing at Willie threw the blue smoke of her fag and Willie spluttered on his tea, apologising as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He had never heard Charlie Bangs called by that name before, but Trottie smiled seductively.

“He’s a good old sport is Banger. He must be your foreman, yes? Will he let you do the garage repairs for us, do you think? We’ll pay of course.”

“Yes ... He ... Mr. Bangs is my boss at the Site where I work. I’d have to ask him and he’ll let you know, but as I’ve already said, I’m only an apprentice.”

“Oh! Lovely I’m sure your excellent at your job, Willie,” added Beattie Carson, “Phone him now G.P and get it all arranged, will you?”

“He will have gone home by now, I would imagine,” said Willie, “And I should be getting off myself, if you don’t mind. Thanks for the tea. You are both very kind.”

He left the house and got into the truck and the two ladies peered at him from the lace-curtained window of their lounge, with their heads together. They looked quaint, framed in the window as Willie found difficulty with the gears. It had to happen like that when he wanted to make his exit so quickly, but he glanced back at the window and waved a final good-bye to see Trottie wiping her mouth carefully with a tissue and Beattie twitching with a sweatier face than she had had for a very long time. Willie smiled as the truck started to move slowly at first away from the house before he gathered speed when he changed up on the old, cranky gears and pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator pedal with his dusty, size eleven, steel-capped boot.

“Don’t think your brogues would fit me now, Miss Carson,” .he giggled.

***

Trottie was delighted to have met Willie again. Their meeting brought back so many happy memories of her days at St. Bonaventure’s and it had been so unexpected. Completely out of the blue and almost like a miracle. Life had been pleasant for Trottie in those days before her romance had turned sour and had it not been for the kindness and understanding of Beatrice Romana Carson, she would certainly have suffered a very severe and acute nervous breakdown. Beattie had invited Trottie to share her home with her for as long as she needed and although the offer was the perfect solution for Trottie at that time, her nerves had already become so frayed that she had taken to smoking and drinking as an anticipated relief. She had abandoned her career as a gymnastic instructress and her new position as a local librarian did not totally satisfy the demands of her character, nevertheless, she did her best and her gratitude to Beattie was always with her. She occasionally lashed out when her drinking bouts took over, but Beattie had enough tolerance and patience for both of them and they became very good friends.

Trottie lit up another cigarette and poured herself a neat Schmirnoff.

“Want a drink, Beattie?” she asked but her friend was still thinking of the vision that had just left her house and she heard nothing. “Wasn’t that kind of Banger to let us have those bricks Beattie? I know he said he would, but I thought he was joking.”

Trottie looked at Beattie as she spoke, but she got no response. She was well aware that dear Miss Carson, ex-Headmistress of St. Bon’s never had a visit from an ex-pupil and so she should have understood her deep appreciation of the event that had just transformed her routine and mundane life, now since she had retired, but Miss Golding-Potts, spinster of the Parish of St. James the Less or was it James the Great she wasn’t sure ... was a little more practical, if even adventurous and mischievous about her destiny. She decided to take a walk in the park and went upstairs to get her coat, but when she returned downstairs, Beattie was still languishing in the lounge. She slung her coat across her shoulders and lit another fag.

“Want anything when I’m out, Dear?” She called as she was leaving.

Beattie Carson sighed.

“Yes Banger is very kind Dear ...” she said softly and stared blankly ahead.

Trottie stood very close to her friend and with very determined emphasis, she said, “I’m going to knickers to buy Harrods, Dear.”

“Yes, dear ...” Beattie replied, “Thank him for the bricks dear.”

Trottie blew a puff of smoke into the air and left the house, closing the door quietly behind her.

***

The foreman watched Willie as he cleared the runway to get his barrow moving.

“You know them bricks you took to Clarkston last week, Blair?”

“Yes, Mr. Bangs,” Willie answered, eager to say Banger and to watch his superior’s reaction, but he resisted.

“Well I want you to go there again this morning actually and make a start at re-building a garage wall. It shouldn’t take you long well I don’t know so much about that really the way you work ...” Willie raised his head and stared at the sky as Mr. Bangs went on with his remarks ...”Well, you’re coming along quite nicely actually, Blair and it will be good practice for you.” Banger spoke condescendingly.

“How long should it take me?” Willie asked, already with the knowledge of having seen the work required and Banger stared at him. He grunted and closed one eye.

“No more than two days, I should say...Mind you if I was doin’ it, I could knock it out in half -an-hour that little lot.”

I could knock it down in less, thought Willie, but he said nothing about the competence of Mr. Charles Bangs.

“Will I go now?”

“Yes and take what tools you’ll need from the store and no sittin’ aroon, drinkin’ tea or anything like that when ye get there, mind.”

Willie proceeded to the stores, giving Bangs a salute as he passed him and the latter smiled proudly. Well, he took Willie’s sign to be a salute .You see, he thought, it was easy to train these young lads all you had to do was be firm and show them who’s boss.

When Willie arrived at 52 Graham Road, he didn’t need to contact anyone in the house. The garage was at the front of the building and he had all the tools he required. The bricks were on site and there was an outside water tap nearby to mix his cement. He took off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, but the sun got hotter as he worked and he eventually removed his shirt. He had been working for nearly an hour when he was interrupted.

“Come and have a cup of coffee, Willie. You’ve been working long enough at that.”

He looked around to see Trottie standing beside him. He was on his knees and her shape shadowed the sun and took the heat from his shoulders.

“I didn’t think anyone was at home, so I just got on I hope that’s O.K?” he replied mopping his brow as he stood up. Trottie smiled at him.

“Changed days when you were just a wee nipper, eh? I could have cuffed you round the ear then, but I wouldn’t like to try it now,” she quipped as she led the way into the house.

“I’ll just put the kettle on. Sit down somewhere ...anywhere,” she said and sauntered off into the kitchen.

“Excuse me Miss.”

Trottie guessed what he was about to say and with forethought, she indicated that it was the first right at the top of the stairs. He raced up, two at a time and returned a few moments later. Trottie had already set the tea tray on the table and Willie could see Banger’s face staring at him in that moment.

‘Don’t sit aroon, drinkin tea aw day “... he heard the voice again and the face sneered as he dusted his trousers and sat down, sticking his cap as usual in his hip pocket.

“Do you ever see any of the other boys now-a-days, Willie? I mean, the lads who were at school in your time?”

Willie sipped slowly from his cup.

“One or two occasionally,” he said, “But my best friend, Wattie er James Watts has been conscripted into the army. I had a letter from him this morning actually and he’s somewhere in the Middle East, from what I can understand.”

Willie was feeling more confident as the conversation progressed and he wanted to ask Trottie about Mr. Finnecan, but he thought it best not to under the circumstances of his leaving the school and anyway, she didn’t offer any information about him, or any of the other teachers from St. Bon’s except Miss Carson, of course.

“Don’t think I can remember Watts,” she said, “He wasn’t that young lad who was found in the Clyde one dreadful morning, was he? Something to do with a wicked step father or something like that” Willie lowered his head and remembered bitterly.

“No that was Craig Danniels. He was a good friend of mine too.”

“Oh! Yes, of course it was Craig Danniels. I remember clearly now when you mention his name. Beattie That’s Miss Carson and I have been together here for the past two years. She is a very good friend and has helped me over a somewhat difficult patch and I shall always be grateful to her.” Trottie looked sad; almost as if she felt a compulsion to tell her young listener of her misfortune, even against her inner judgement. She shrugged her shoulders and put her cup back on the tray. “She’ll be back in about an hour, I should think. Do you want a drink? I mean something stronger than tea?” ... she enquired as she nodded towards the whisky decanter.

“No thanks, Miss.”

She looked imploringly at Willie and then at the whisky. Its amber depth tantalised her as it gleamed in the sun.

“No” she concluded, “Nor will I” and she smacked her hands on her knees as she rose and the chair creaked.

“You’re a steadying influence on me Willie Blair. Do you know that?” Willie stood up and looked at Trottie. He wanted to remember her as he once knew her the bouncing, carefree, lovable, dependable Trottie who was in complete control of her life, but he knew he was looking at a different woman and it grieved him. She put her hand on his arm and her grip tightened.

“Call me Trottie, please ...you handsome creature, you.” Willie blushed as she wiped a tiny tear from the corner of her eye “Will you have lunch with us?” she asked, “Beattie will be home soon.”

“I can get something at the cafe Trottie, thanks”

She sniffed and threw her head back, making her hair bounce across her broad shoulders.

“You will have lunch, HERE,” she proclaimed and he left the house to continue his work on the garage.

***

Beattie arrived home just after twelve noon, laden down again with her shopping and Willie rushed to help her as she searched in her handbag for her key, but before she could find it, Trottie opened the door. She took the shopping indoors and Beattie lingered a little at the front entrance to admire the progress in the garage construction.

“My, my... You’ll soon have that job finished,” she said shyly as Willie picked up his cap which had fallen as he had gone to help her with the shopping and shoved it into his back pocket.

“I only have the door to hang and I should get that done this afternoon. I hope then, everything will be O.K.”

Beattie wished he hadn’t been so efficient, nor so fast with the repairs and she puzzled in her mind if there wasn’t some more work she could find somewhere for him to do.

“Hi there ... How are things then?”

Willie recognised the voice and waited for the criticism of his work which he was sure was to follow, but Bangs smiled and said nothing to him. Nothing at all ... In fact he ignored him and turned his attentions to Miss Carson and smiled.

“Ah! Mr. Bangs Yes, everything is fine ... Just fine. Young Willie here has done a magnificent job and we are just going to stop a little while to have lunch. He’s a splendid young apprentice. You must be proud of him.”

Bangs sucked his teeth.

“Yea ... He’s alright got a lot more to learn, but he’s alright, I suppose.”

He left his smile with Miss Carson and turned to Willie with a frown as he tossed half-a-crown into the air and caught it again in the palm of his hand. “Get yerself something to eat at the cafe, and then clear orf ...”

“Thank you Mr.Bangs.” Willie put his tools away and stuck his trowel into a bucket of water and as he made his way to the cafe, Bangs followed Beattie into the house.

“Are you there, G.P,” she called out to Trottie, removing her kid gloves as she spoke and tucking them into the pockets of her Astrakhan coat.

“I’m here dear. Lunch will be ready in five minutes.”

“Thank gawd,” muttered Bangs, “I’m starvin’” he rubbed his hands together and sucked his teeth for the second time. “Could eat a scabby ‘orse, I could,” he grinned and raised his eyebrows in expectation just as Trottie appeared in the doorway of the lounge. She looked around the room before she crossed the floor and glanced out of the window in the direction of the garage.

“Where’s Willie?” she enquired angrily as she saw Banger sitting complacently on the settee.

“Ye mean, the lad? Oh! I sent ‘im orf to the cafe for ‘is break,” Bangs sniffed in assurance of his authority, “Now I’m sure you’ll have enough for three, eh?” He rose from where he was sitting and winked at Trottie but she ignored him and he did not like it. He put his arms around her and pinched her bottom, but she slapped his hand and tightened her lips in anger.

“Don’t do that...” she snapped, “I thought Mr. Blair would be having lunch with us. Didn’t you Beattie?”

Banger shot his head forward and twisted his neck to release his tie which was beginning to cause him discomfort. He wasn’t used to such fineries.

“Mr. Blair ...Mr. Blair, indeed. What the hell is this? He’s only a bloody apprentice. He’s ten-a-penny that one. What’s he been fillin’ your pretty ‘eads wiff, girls?”

Trottie ignored his remark with a look of disgust. “I can hire or fire that lad, just as I please,” he went on.

Trottie stared at him and her eyes were wild. She had allowed old Banger certain liberties, because he had been kind to Beattie and herself in doing jobs and supplying materials at a reduced rate, but this was too much. She restrained herself for Willie’s sake as she did not want him to lose his job and Beattie looked afraid as she watched the reaction.

“You’re a very important person, Mr, Bangs,” Trottie patronized, “but that young man has worked extremely hard on our garage and although I am grateful to you for everything I do feel he deserves more than a little praise.”

Bangs was astounded.

“Call me Banger, Darlin’ not Bangs, that does make me feel important, but he’s only an apprentice, I tell you. Any one of my lads could ‘ave done that there job ... an’ better too, I shouldn’t wonder. I’ll inspect his work after I’ve had dinner wiff you and I’ll give you me verdik then, O.K. It was just that he lived nearest to where you is ... or he would never ‘ave got the job in the first place. That one’s a skiver, take it from me. He’s got big baby blue eyes an’ a set of even white molars, but he’s no better than any of the others at the Site. He acts better... that’s all.”

Trottie could stand it no more and as she stormed out of the room, Beattie’s eyes widened with disbelief and her twitching started again as Banger’s face fell. He could not believe his ears.

“I say arseholes to you Mr.Bangs. ...Arseholes, Sir.”

Bangs opened his mouth wide as if to say something but no words came and Beattie Carson tried to cover her ears with her scented handkerchief as Trottie threw her coat across her shoulders and left the house, slamming the door hard behind her. Willie had only just collected his lunch on a tray from the counter of the cafe when she arrived and she moved swiftly towards the counter and addressed the woman who had just served him.

“I’ll pay for that,” she barked and passed the woman a one pound note. “Keep the change.” Willie stood holding his tray in confusion as Trottie pointed to a vacant table nearby. “Let’s sit here,” she said, guiding Willie with her as she threw back her head and laughed aloud.

“Thank you for paying for my lunch, Trottie. You didn’t have to do that. Mr. Bangs gave me ...” She cut him short.

“I know what Mr. Bangs gave you Willie but you don’t know what I gave him do you?”

Willie looked confused.

“Are you alright .... Trottie?” he asked and she stared at him mischievously as she hunched her broad shoulders.

“I’m fine, Willie. I’m really, really fine.”

She picked up a fat sausage from Willie’s plate and dabbed it on a paper serviette to remove the grease, then she made a face at it.

“May I?” she presumed, as she stuck the hotdog in her mouth and bit a lump off the end.

“Be my guest, Trottie,” he said.