Armstrong.
They were walking on now, cutting through the side streets towards the market and the office, and they didn’t exchange a word. When they reached the office door they cast a glance at each other out of habit as if to say, Now for it once again, but when the door didn’t move under Rory’s push he shook it, then, looking at John George, said, That’s funny.’
‘Use your key. Aw, here’s mine.’
John George pushed the key into the lock and they went into the office and looked about them. The door to the far room was closed but on the front of the first desk was pinned a notice and they both bent down and read it. There was no heading, it just said, ‘Been called away, my father has died. Lock up takings. My daughter will collect on Monday.’ There was no signature.
They straightened up and looked at each other; then Rory jerked his head as he said, ‘Well, this’s one blessin’ in disguise, for I’ve had the worst morning in years. He’d have gone through the roof.’
‘Funny that,’ John George smiled weakly; ‘my takings are up the day, over four pounds. About fifteen of them paid something off the back and there wasn’t one closed door.’
‘That’s a record.’
‘Aye.’ John George now went towards the inner office, saying, ‘I hope he hasn’t forgot to leave the key for the box.’
Standing behind Mr Kean’s desk and, having opened the top drawer on the right-hand side, John George put his hand into the back of it and withdrew a key; then going to an iron box safe that was screwed down on to a bench table in the corner of the room he unlocked it. He now took out the money from his bag, put the sovereigns into piles of five and placed them in a neat row on the top shelf with the smaller change in front of them, and after placing his book to the side of the compartment he stepped back and let Rory put his takings on the bottom shelf.
As John George locked the door he remarked, ‘One day he’ll get a proper safe.’
‘It would be a waste of money, it’s never in there long enough for anybody to get at it.’
‘It’ll lie in there over the week-end, and has done afore.’
‘Well, that’s his look-out. Come on.’
John George now replaced the key in the back of the drawer; then they both left, locking the outer door behind them.
As they walked together towards Laygate, Rory said stiffly, ‘What you going to do about this other business, have you got anything in mind?’
‘Aye. Aye, I have. I’m going to ask her the day. I’m going to ask her to just walk out and come to our place. She can stay hidden up there until we can get married in the registry office.’
‘Registry office?’
‘Aye, registry office. It’s just as bindin’ as any place else.’
‘It isn’t the same.’
‘Well, it’ll have to do for us.’
‘Aw, man.’ Rory shook his head slowly. ‘You let people walk over you; you’re so bloomin’ soft.’
‘I’m as God made me, we can’t help being what we are.’
‘You can help being a bloody fool, you’re not a bairn.’
‘Well, what do you expect me to do, leave her?’
‘You needn’t shout unless you want the whole street to know.’
They walked on in silence until simultaneously they both stopped at the place where their roads divided.
‘See you Monday then.’ Rory’s tone was kindly now and John George, looking at him, said, ‘Aye, see you Monday. And thanks Rory. I’ll pay you back, I promise I’ll pay you back.’
‘I’m not afraid of that, you always have.’
‘Aw . . . I wish, I wish I was like you, Rory. You’re right, I’m too soft to clag holes with, no gumption. I can never say no.’
It was on the tip of Rory’s tongue to come back with the retort, ‘And neither can your lass apparently.’ Janie had said no, and she’d kept both feet on the ground when she said it an’ all. But what he said and generously was, ‘People like you for what you are. You’re a good bloke.’ He made a small movement with his fist. ‘I’ll tell you something. You’re better liked than me, especially up in our house. It’s John George this, an’ John George that.’
‘Aw, go on, man, stop pulling me leg. But it’s nice of you to say it nevertheless, and as I said—’ he patted his pocket—I won’t forget this.’
‘That’s all right, man. So long, and good luck.’
‘So long . . . so long, Rory. And thanks. Thanks again.’
They went their ways, neither dreaming he would never see the other again.
When Rory went into the cellar that same evening he had eight pounds in his pocket.
The Pittie brothers were already at the table, but the two men partnering them were unknown to Rory until he realized that one of them was the third Pittie brother. He was a man almost a head taller than the other two. His nose was flattened and looked boneless. This was the one who was good with his fists, so he had heard, but by the look of him he wasn’t all that good for his face looked like a battered pluck. The fourth man looked not much bigger than little Joe and he had a foxy look, but he was well put on. His suit, made of some kind of tweed, looked quite fancy, as did his pearl-buttoned waistcoat. During the course of conversation later in the evening he discovered that he was from across the water in North Shields and was manager of a blacking factory.
Rory kicked his heels for almost an hour before he got set-in at the table, for after the game they spent quite some time drinking beer and eating meat sandwiches. Although he always stood his share in buying the beer he drank little of it and tonight less than usual, for he wanted to keep his wits about him. Some part of him was worried at the presence of the third Pittie brother, it was creating a small niggling fear at the back of his mind.
The big Pittie was dealer. He shuffled the cards in a slow ponderous way until Rory wanted to say, ‘Get on with it’; then of a sudden he spoke. ‘You aimin’ to buy old Kilpatrick’s yard I hear?’
Rory was startled, and he must have shown it for the big fellow jerked his chin upwards as he said, ‘Oh, you can’t keep nowt secret on the waterfront; there’s more than scum comes in on the tide . . . Your young ’un works at Baker’s, don’t he?’
‘Aye. Yes, he works at Baker’s.’
‘What does he expect to do at Kilpatrick’s, build a bloody battleship?’
The three brothers now let out a combined bellow and the thin man in the fancy waistcoat laughed with them, although it was evident he didn’t know what all this was about.
Rory’s lower jaw moved from one side to the other before he said, ‘He’s going to build scullers and small keel-like boats.’
‘Keel-like boats. Huh!’ It was the youngest of the Pittie’s speaking now. ‘Where’s he gona put them?’
‘Where they belong, on the river.’
‘By God! he’ll be lucky, you can hardly get a plank atween the boats now. And what’s he gona do with the keel-like boats when he gets them on the water, eh?’
‘Same as you, work them, or sell them.’
As the three pairs of eyes became fixed on him he told himself to go steady, these fellows meant business, they weren’t here the night only for the game. He kept his gaze steady on them as he said, ‘Well now, since you know what I have in mind, are we going to play?’
The big fellow returned to his shuffling. Then he dealt. When Rory picked up his cards he thought, Bad start, good finish.
And so it would seem. He lost the first game, won the next two, lost the next one, then won three in a row. By one o’clock in the morning he had a small pile of sovereigns and a larger pile of silver to his hand. Between then and two o’clock the pile went down a little before starting again to increase steadily.
At the end of a game when the man in the fancy waistcoat had no money in front of him he said he must be going. He had, he said, lost enough for one night and what was more he’d have to find somebody to scull him across the river. And at this time of the morning whoever he found would certainly make him stump up, and what
