The next day, Billy made a point of finding Robin at the mid-morning break.
‘I’m looking for a part-time job, Robin,’ he said. ‘Any chance of me helping you and your dad with tea deliveries at weekends?’
‘Funny you should say that, Hoppy. My dad just made a big delivery to the new American Red Cross canteen they’ve opened in St Anne’s Square for American servicemen from Burtonwood, and the manager was asking him if he knew of two likely lads for an evening job shining shoes in the men’s barber shop.’
‘Sounds interesting. What’s the deal?’
‘Hours four thirty to seven o’clock. No pay - tips only. But they should be pretty good as the Yanks are very well paid. Our troops are always saying they’re over-sexed, over-paid and over here.’
‘They’re just jealous. I don’t know about over-sexed and all that, but as for being over-paid, I read somewhere that a Yankee private is paid five times as much as one of ours, and that an American sergeant gets more than a British captain.’
‘Do you fancy giving it a try then, Hoppy? Or do you
think cleaning boots is stooping too low?’
‘No, I don’t mind cleaning boots as long as I don’t have to lick ’em. What about homework?’
‘We get at least two private study periods a day. So we should be able to do homework then.’
‘You seem to have thought of everything, Robin. We’ll go down together and apply for the job.’
The two boys presented themselves to the GI barber shop after school and got the job on a trial basis.
‘A smart khaki uniform complete with GI hat goes with the job,’ the head barber said. ‘The Yanks like their employees to look smart - and that goes for even the shoe-shine boys.’
‘In uniform at last,’ said Robin. ‘And look at these swish shoulder flashes saying “American Red Cross” with the Red Cross emblem underneath.’
‘People are going to think we’re a coupla surgeons, Robin.’
‘In a way we are. Foot specialists.’
The next night, the two of them turned up for their first stint of duty. The music being played through the PA system was Bing Crosby’s ‘Shoe Shine Boy’.
‘Why, they’re playing our song, Robin,’ said Billy.
‘That’s OK, Hoppy, as long as it’s not “Lazy Bones”.’
It wasn’t long before they got their first customers - two GIs in the Army Air Force.
‘Hi, there,’ one of them said, sitting in the raised chair. ‘I’m Tex and this is my buddy Rick. How’s about a shoe- shine, boys?’
‘Sure thing,’ said Robin, adopting the American idiom. ‘I’m Robin and this here is my pal, Hoppy. We’re both students.’
‘Stoodents, eh? Working your way through college.
That’s what we Americans like to see. Get-up-’n’-go. I hated school myself. Didn’t seem to get the hang of it nohow. Now, every time I pass my old high school, I nearly matriculate. You hear what I’m saying?’
They placed their feet on the shoe-stand. Billy and Robin took one look at their boots and their spirits plummeted, for both soldiers had size 1 Os richly encrusted in thick mud. The two apprentice shoe-shiners took in a deep breath and began scraping off the mud.
‘We just flew down from doing manoeuvres in the Scottish hills,’ said Rick. ‘Boy, that Scotland is some place, I tell ya. What kinda language do they talk up there? All that “och aye” and “hoots mon” stuff. Sure beats me - just Double Dutch.’
‘It sure is good to get back to Lancasheer where we talk the same lingo, eh, Hoppy,’ said Tex.
‘We’re two great nations divided by a common language.’
‘Say, that’s pretty cute,’ replied Tex. ‘Whadda you two guys studying?’
‘Oh, the usual stuff,’ said Robin. ‘Maths, languages, English literature, Shakespeare - that kind of thing.’
‘Oh, Shakespeare, you mean all that “Hey nonny, nonny” crap?’ said Rick.
‘That’s right,’ said Billy, now beginning to apply brown shoe polish to Rick’s footwear. ‘We’re studying The Tempest and Julius Caesar .’
‘Ah tell ya,’ said Tex. ‘Last month in London, Ah was shacked up with this real classy broad. She took me to the theatre to see this Shakespeare guy. Hamlet , Macbeth and then King Lear. Boy, did those guys have problems! By the end of each play, everyone was mincemeat. Worse than A1 Capone’s St Valentine’s massacre. Ah tell ya. Y’know what I’m saying?’
‘I reckon this Shakespeare guy is over-rated,’ said Rick. ‘Ya see one of his plays, you’ve seen ’em all. Say, I once knew one of these high-brow dames in New York - crazy about opera, she was. She took me to the Met to see an opera called The Valkyrie by a guy called Wagner.’
‘Oh, yeah. What was that about, Rick?’ asked Tex.
‘Don’t rightly know, Tex. But there was this big fat guy wailing something in German and some huge, big-assed broad, as big as a house, with a kinda kettle on her head screaming the same thing over and over again. Sounded like “I-will-I-won’t-I-will-I-won’t”.’
‘A guy told me that them operas last a real long time.’
‘Long? Well, I tell ya, Tex. The show started at seven o’clock. Three hours later, I looked at my watch. It was seven-fifteen. You unnerstand what I’m saying?’
‘Yeah. So I guess we’ll just stick to the good old movies - Bogie and Edward G. Whatcha got planned for tonight, Rick?’ asked Tex.
‘Ah got myself a whole pack o’ rubbers and I’m gonna get myself laid until I’ve used up the whole pack. Either of you two guys got any sisters?’
‘Sorry,’ said Robin. ‘Can’t help you there, fellas.’
‘I’ve got two,’ said Billy. ‘But they’re both married.’
‘Hell, that don’t matter none,’ said Rick. ‘I’d be willing to keep ’em both happy and satisfied if their husbands are away. Come to think of it - even if their husbands ain’t away.’
‘Sorry, can’t help you there, Rick.’
The shoe-shining operation was in the final stages and both boys began cracking their polishing cloths and buffing the shoe leather for all they were worth.
‘Well, Hoppy,’ said Rick. ‘You’ve made a darned fine job o’ my boots. Why, you can see your face in ’em. How much is that, now?’
‘That’ll be threepence, Rick,’ said Billy.
‘Here,’ said Rick, tossing over a half-crown. ‘Keep the change, son. You’ve earned it.’
‘Gee, thanks, Rick,’ said Billy.
‘I never could figure out this funny money o’ yours,’ said Tex. ‘But the same goes for you, Robin. Keep the change and put it towards your studying.’
‘Gosh, thanks a million, Tex,’ said Robin.
The two soldiers got down from the stand.
‘Be seeing you, guys,’ said Rick. ‘And remember, Hoppy, if them sisters o’ yours ever need any special comforting, you let me know, you hear?’
When they’d gone, Billy turned to Robin and said:
‘I think I’m gonna like this job. If we keep up this rate of earning, we’ll be rich by seven o’clock.’
‘Yeah,’ said Robin, ‘and I like the way these GIs talk to us as if we’re adults. It makes me feel all grown-up.’
The music over the PA changed to Irving Berlin’s ‘My British Buddy’. The next two soldiers were already waiting.
‘I’m Ev and this here ugly-looking guy with the cigar is Bob. Maybe you could fix him up with a new face. If not, we’ll settle for a shoe-shine.’
‘I’m Hoppy and this is Robin. Shoe-shines a-coming up right away - sir!’
Without preamble, the cigar-smoking Bob handed Billy a photograph, as if giving him a visiting card.
‘Is this your family?’ asked Billy in amazement.
‘Yep, it certainly is, young sir,’ Bob replied. ‘That there’s my wife, Lee, and that’s young Robert junior, aged ten. The old guy is my pop. Ain’t they a swelllooking family?’
‘They sure are, Bob,’ replied Billy, getting down to the mud-removing business.
‘You said your name’s Hoppy. Any relation to Hopalong Cassidy?’ asked Ev.
‘’Fraid not,’ said Billy. ‘But I’m a distant relation of Buffalo Bill.’
‘You don’t say,’ said Ev. ‘How’s about that? You hear that. Bob? This guy’s related to William F. Cody. Good job you ain’t doing the barbering around here, Hoppy, or you’d be taking a few scalps, I guess.’
‘I heard what you were saying just now to Tex and Rick about us having a different language and all,’ said Bob, ‘and I reckon you’ve certainly got something there. I just came back from my hotel and when I asked the desk clerk to give me an early call, she asked me what time I wanted to be knocked up. I tell ya, don’t know about knocked up , you could’ve knocked me down with a feather.’
‘Here in Lancashire,’ said Billy, ‘we have a man who goes round the streets very early in the morning with a long pole just knocking people up. He’s called a knocker- upper.’
‘You don’t say! Now that’s what I call a real man’s job. And this guy’s got a very long pole, you say. I reckon he needs one with a job like that.’
‘You know,’ said Ev, ‘we’ve been given a little booklet explaining things about you Limeys, Hoppy; Lemme read a little bit from it: “If British civilians look dowdy and badly dressed, it is not because they do not like good clothes . . . All clothing is rationed . . . Don’t make fun of British speech. You sound just as funny to them.” Do we sound funny to you, Hoppy?’
‘Not funny, but different,’ answered Billy tactfully. ‘We pronounce words differently. For example, you say ske- dule and we say she-dule.’
‘So instead of saying, “It’s our scheme to be scholars
in school”, you guys would say, “It’s our sheme to be sholars at shook” ’
Billy and Robin laughed.
‘It just goes to show,’ said Billy, ‘how crazy our pronunciation is. But apart from that, we also use words differently. Look, I’ll say a word and you tell me what you understand by it. Ready? Bum.’
‘Hobo,’ said Ev.
‘For us, that means backside or arse,’ said Robin.
‘For “arse”,’ said Bob, ‘we say “butt” or “fanny”.’
‘For the English,’ said Billy, ‘ “fanny” is on the other side of the body. Try this - petrol.’
‘Gas,’ said Ev.
‘That’s indigestion or idle chatter for us,’ said Robin.
‘What about “sidewalk”?’ said Bob.
‘To us,’ said Robin, ‘that’s the pavement.’
‘And for us,’ said Ev, ‘pavement’s the middle of the road. That could lead to really disastrous consequences given the wrong instructions.’
‘Try this sentence,’ said Billy. ‘ “I’m mad about my flat.” What does that mean to you?’
‘That means,’ said Bob, ‘I’m darned angry ’cos my automobile has a puncture.’
‘For us,’ said Billy, ‘it means that I’m really excited about my apartment. So you see what I mean about two languages. You just used the word “Limey”, Ev. What does that mean?’
‘Why, that’s a word we use to mean someone British. Comes from the time when the British used to drink lime juice to fight against scurvy on board their ships. We Yanks just called ’em Limeys, I guess.’
‘And that word “Yank”, that’s a funny word as well,’ said Robin. ‘What’s it mean? Anyone know?’
‘There’s an argument about that word, Robin,’ said
Bob. ‘Some say it means “Janke”, or Dutch for “Johnny”, from the time when the Dutch ruled over New York. It was called New Amsterdam then. Others claim that “Yankees” is the Red Indian way of saying “English”. No one really knows.’
‘Say, what is this?’ said Ev. ‘Some kinda college or a shoe-shine stand? I’m learning fast. But what gets me is the way you Limeys have everything the wrong way round. You pile all your food on to a fork with your knife. We just need a fork.’
‘I must admit you’ve got me there,’ said Billy.
‘Yeah,’ said Bob. ‘And you go into a shop to buy something and everybody keeps saying thank you the whole time. I bought a candy bar in a store yesterday and had to say thank you four times before they’d let me outa the joint. And whenever I ask for directions, the guy always says, “You can’t miss it.” ’
‘Say, Hoppy,’ said Ev, ‘why do you British like bathtubs? Who wants to sit in his own dirty water? We Americans always like to take a shower. Don’t you think it’s more hygienic?’
‘Well, we British like to make sure we’re clean before we take a bath - then we just like to sit there and soak all our cares away.’
At this point the GI boots were being given their finishing touches with the polishing cloth.
‘That’s what I call a shoe-shine,’ said Ev, handing over a half-crown to Robin. ‘I learned a lot from you two guys tonight. Thanks a lot. One last question, though. Exactly what is the name of this country of yours? Is it England? Britain? Great Britain? Or just plain United Kingdom?’
‘None of those,’ said Billy. ‘It’s just plain United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.’
‘How about that!’ exclaimed Ev.
‘That really is a great shine, and it’s been most interesting talking to you, Hoppy, and to you, Robin,’ said Bob, tossing a half-crown in payment for his threepenny shoe-shine. ‘Keep the change, Hoppy. Worth every cent. Here’s a coupla Hershey bars and a packet of rubbers.’
And he stuffed the items into Billy’s top pocket before he could protest.
‘Thanks for the Hershey bars, Bob. Don’t know about the rubbers, though.’
‘You mean you’re still a virgin, or you don’t use ’em?’
‘Both, Bob.’
‘It’s about time you tried, boy. All you need is a pair of nylons and you’re away.’
‘Never wear ’em, Bob.’
‘Huh, funny guy, eh? Tell you what I’m gonna do for you, Hoppy. Next time I see you, I’m gonna let you have a pair of nylons so’s you can get yourself a piece o’ tail.’
‘Gee, thanks, Bob. You’re a pal,’ said Billy.
At seven o’clock, the barber shop closed up, and the two boys did a final count of the night’s take.
‘Thirty-seven shillings and sixpence,’ announced Billy. ‘I’m as rich as Rockefeller, and this is only one night!’
‘Thirty-five for me,’ said Robin. ‘I’m off to order my Rolls Royce tomorrow morning.’
The boys parted company in a happy, jubilant mood.
Billy arrived home at 7.30.
‘Well, Mam, how much do you think I made?’ he asked triumphantly.
‘I don’t know. Five shillings?’
‘Nearly right,’ he said, pouring out all his takings on to the dining-room table.
‘I hope you haven’t been out pinching money,’ she said. ‘How much is there?’
‘All honestly earned by the sweat of my brow. Over thirty-seven shillings for one night’s work. By the end of the week I should have about eight or nine quid. And here’s a coupla American candy bars for you.’
He said nothing about the rubbers tucked away in his back pocket.
‘Eeeh,’ she said. ‘That’s a lot more than your dad’s earning in the market.’
‘We’re in the money! We’re in the money!’ he sang, dancing round the table. ‘First thing, I pay you something towards my keep after all these years. Next thing I buy will be a pair of really good dancing shoes - those with the shiny patent leather - and I’m really going to learn how to dance. You’ll see.’
At the end of the week, his total earnings came to over ten pounds, and Billy felt that he had at last found his niche.
‘You know, Mam,’ he said, ‘I like the idea of having money in my pocket. It makes a big difference to life. Without money, you’re nothing. What’s more, the people I work with treat me as an adult instead of a child as they do at school. I wouldn’t mind leaving and getting a full-time job.’
‘Look, Billy,’ she said, ‘I’ve said it till I’m blue in the face. You’re not leaving school - not before you’re sixteen. And you’re wrong. Money isn’t everything. “The greatest wealth is being content with a little.” Your health and strength are much more important. And don’t you forget it.’