Day after day in that summer of 1939, the news bulletins talked about ‘dark clouds gathering over Europe’, but for Billy, in Manchester, there was nothing but blue skies and glorious sunshine. It was warm that August and there was a great chorus of birdsong from the rooftops - even in Honeypot Street. In this idyllic atmosphere, there was only one dark spot on his horizon, and that was the fact that Henry would not be accompanying him to his new school.
‘Y’know, Henery, you must’ve just missed passing by a few lousy marks. I’m really sorry, I am, ’cos we could’ve travelled to school together every day. Now I’ll have to go on me own and I won’t know nobody there.’
‘I know, Billy. And I only wish I’d passed. But I’m not bothered no more ’cos me dad says I can join him in the family business. There’s a lot of money in the rag-and- bone trade.’
Throughout that month, Henry and Billy played together in Honeypot Street. Besides the usual games of kick-can, alleys, garfs, yo-yos and spinning tops, they had found a new challenge. Henry’s dad had presented them with a large bike - the sit-up-and-beg type - commonly
called a bone-shaker. Neither of them could reach the pedals from the saddle, but they had devised a way of riding side-saddle by placing the left foot on the pedal at the same time as sticking the right leg through the triangular gap under the crossbar. They had both become very skilled at propelling the bike by pressing the right foot forward and then back-pedalling with the left; so skilled, in fact, that they were able to attain a high speed up and down the street.
On her way back from Ormeroyd’s corner shop one day, Mam had called out:
‘That’s very dangerous riding that bike side-saddle like that. If you break your legs, don’t come running to me moaning about it.’
Their favourite activity, however, was sailing their model yachts on Queen’s Park lake. This meant a whole day’s outing, with lots of banana sandwiches, a large bottle of sarsaparilla and threepence for an ice-cream.
To get there they had to tramp across Barney’s - stopping, of course, to chew the rag with Mad Jack, who was still in residence in his ramshackle oil-drum cabin. Then along Queen’s Road to Hendham Vale.
‘What a beautiful name!’ remarked Billy to Henry.
From there it was but a short walk to Queen’s Park. The scene which met them at the lake resembled a miniature Henley regatta, with throngs of noisy, excited youngsters all intent on launching and sailing a wide variety of models ranging from motorboats, catamarans, and steamers to square-riggers and three-masters.
Hurriedly removing stockings and plimsolls, which they hung around their necks for safe-keeping, Billy and Henry paddled through the cool, clear water pulling their yachts behind them like Gulliver hauling in the Lilliputian navies.
‘If only it could be like this for the rest of our lives!’ sighed Billy.
‘This must be what paradise is like!’ added Henry. But such happiness could not last forever. It was on one of these joyous days that the letter arrived. Billy returned from Queen’s Park lake to be confronted by his dad waving a piece of paper at him.
‘We’ve had a letter from that there college of yours,’ Dad shouted, almost triumphantly. ‘It’s all off!’
Billy’s heart skipped a beat.
‘How d’you mean, all off?’
‘See for yourself,’ said Dad, handing him the letter. With trembling hand, Billy took it and began to read:
Dear Parent or Guardian,
I write to you as parent of one of our new boys due to begin studies here on Monday 4 September. You will appreciate that, in order to maintain the high standards of the school, we expect our pupils to dress appropriately and to be furnished with all necessary equipment in order to be able to take full advantage of the facilities offered by the school. Overleaf you will find a list of essential requirements which we expect our boys to possess on the first day of term, together with the name and address of the school outfitters.
Yours most sincerely,
Adam McGrath, OD.
Headmaster
Frantically, Billy turned over the page to examine the school’s requirements. When he saw the length of the list, he was filled with dismay. No wonder Dad had said it was
all off - the list was formidable. It included a full school uniform, plus sports equipment - a complete football outfit, cricket gear, gym clothes. The inventory seemed endless. Further, the school outfitter was located in King Street, Manchester, notoriously the most expensive part of town. When he had finished reading, Billy knew it was hopeless.
‘How much would it all cost?’ he asked in despair.
‘How much? How much?’ Dad echoed. Til tell you how much. About twenty-five quid! That’s how much! If we can all do without food and not spend a penny for the next ten weeks, we could just about afford it.’
‘It may as well be twenty-five hundred or twenty-five thousand then,’ said Billy.
‘The best thing you can do,’ said Dad, ‘is to forget these daft ideas of going to this lah-de-dah school. Go back to St Chad’s; leave at fourteen and get a good job like our Sam’s at Dobbin’s, or apprenticeship at the Wall works.’
Throughout this speech, Mam was strangely quiet and offered no comment.
She’s as shattered as I am by this blow, thought Billy.
‘There’s one consolation,’ Billy said at last. ‘At least me and Henery will be going to the same school after the holidays.’
But Mam was more shattered than he thought, for she still said nothing. Instead she wore an odd look - one he’d never seen before - and she was counting her fingers on her chin as if involved in some bizarre mathematical exercise.
That night, Billy went to bed despondent. The dream of going to that posh college had been all very well, but it was time to come down to earth. How could his family ever afford such huge sums of money for uniform and sports equipment?
No, it was back to St Chad’s for him. And in three years’ time he could leave school and start bringing in some money, instead of taking it out. Perhaps a job like Sam’s. It might be good fun riding up and down in a lift, announcing things. And then it would be nice to see Miss Eager again. She would be disappointed, of course, after all her hard work. But that was too bad. After all, that was what life was all about, wasn’t it? He could still beat Joey Flewitt in class and it would be great to be going to school with Henry again. Now, whose class would he be in at St Chad’s? Why, Mr Kinsella’s! Only the most popular teacher in the school, that’s all. That was good, wasn’t it?
But if it was so good, why was he weeping as he went to sleep that night?