expense ahead. She should be pleased about what he’d said.
Money wasn’t a big difficulty with Alex’s salary as a director and all the girls working away from home, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, she’d tried to make all her children aware that money was important, especially if you didn’t have any.
When she’d first come to her aunt and uncle after her mother died, she hadn’t had a penny to her name. The Jackson’s farm was small and wasn’t doing well. Things did improve, but she’d never forgotten what it was like to have nothing to call upon however great their need might be.
‘Must go, Ma. Lots to do.’ he said, jumping to his feet.
‘Where to?’ she asked, as she glanced up at the clock, knowing it must be almost lunch time.
‘Dining-room,’ he said, briskly. ‘Revision. Unless we are dining.’
‘That’s tomorrow,’ she said, laughing suddenly. ‘You can have a bowl of soup when your fathercomes in, or when you get hungry, whichever comes soonest. But it will be served right here,’ she said, pointing down at the well-scrubbed surface of the kitchen table. ‘You could have a couple of biscuits to keep you going.’
‘Thanks, Ma. That would be great,’ he said, giving her a quick hug and reaching for the biscuit tin.
CHAPTER FOUR
Alex had long ago given up trying to keep either Saturday or Sunday clear to spend with his family. There were engine men he knew, good, solid Presbyterians, who had not darkened the door of their respective churches for months, so why should he be any different? In fact, the war meant people couldn’t expect to work regular or predictable hours any more. Time off was random, to be cherished when it came.
Fairly, there were those in the mills who were happy to do extra shifts and claim the overtime and his own friend and neighbour, Michael Cook, told him happily he’d never in his life been able to save money until now. With the larger herd, he admitted the hours were long, but he was his own boss, the price of milk was guaranteed and there was a nice cheque from the creamery every month.
The war had brought badly needed jobs to Ulster and life was better for many, especially smallfarmers like Michael. But it was still hard work, paid or unpaid, and people got tired. Not everyone worked with the sky and the fields for company as Michael did. Indeed, he was only too well aware how much sickness there’d been in the mills over this last year, not just in winter, but in summer as well, as the demands went up and energy began to flag.
On this last Sunday in April, a little before noon, the sun high on a perfect spring day, Alex cleaned the oil off his hands in the washroom at Millbrook and prepared to put all such thoughts out of mind. He’d told the four mill managers the previous day that short of disaster, he would not be available on Sunday after his usual morning visit to see what problems maintenance might have revealed. They’d all assured him they’d do their very best to make sure he’d be left undisturbed.
The Austin was hot from sitting in the sun. Amazed to find its interior almost as stuffy as it would be in summer, he opened wide the doors and stood looking round him, waiting for a few moments to let the light breeze blow away the heavy smell of hot leather.
‘Away home man and forget all about us,’ Robert Anderson said, as he rounded the corner of the mill and caught sight of him. ‘Sure isn’t it great wee Jane is able to get home,’ he went on, a broad grin breaking on his sweat-streaked face. ‘SayHappy Birthday from me. What age is she, if it’s not rude to ask a lady’s age?’
‘She’s nineteen today and very nearly finished her training,’ Alex replied, delighted by the enquiry. ‘And what’s more, Robert, Lizzie is coming too, though just for a couple of hours. She found someone only last night willing to change shifts with her.’
‘Ach, that’s just great, man, just great. Your whole family, bar
Money wasn’t a big difficulty with Alex’s salary as a director and all the girls working away from home, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, she’d tried to make all her children aware that money was important, especially if you didn’t have any.
When she’d first come to her aunt and uncle after her mother died, she hadn’t had a penny to her name. The Jackson’s farm was small and wasn’t doing well. Things did improve, but she’d never forgotten what it was like to have nothing to call upon however great their need might be.
‘Must go, Ma. Lots to do.’ he said, jumping to his feet.
‘Where to?’ she asked, as she glanced up at the clock, knowing it must be almost lunch time.
‘Dining-room,’ he said, briskly. ‘Revision. Unless we are dining.’
‘That’s tomorrow,’ she said, laughing suddenly. ‘You can have a bowl of soup when your fathercomes in, or when you get hungry, whichever comes soonest. But it will be served right here,’ she said, pointing down at the well-scrubbed surface of the kitchen table. ‘You could have a couple of biscuits to keep you going.’
‘Thanks, Ma. That would be great,’ he said, giving her a quick hug and reaching for the biscuit tin.
CHAPTER FOUR
Alex had long ago given up trying to keep either Saturday or Sunday clear to spend with his family. There were engine men he knew, good, solid Presbyterians, who had not darkened the door of their respective churches for months, so why should he be any different? In fact, the war meant people couldn’t expect to work regular or predictable hours any more. Time off was random, to be cherished when it came.
Fairly, there were those in the mills who were happy to do extra shifts and claim the overtime and his own friend and neighbour, Michael Cook, told him happily he’d never in his life been able to save money until now. With the larger herd, he admitted the hours were long, but he was his own boss, the price of milk was guaranteed and there was a nice cheque from the creamery every month.
The war had brought badly needed jobs to Ulster and life was better for many, especially smallfarmers like Michael. But it was still hard work, paid or unpaid, and people got tired. Not everyone worked with the sky and the fields for company as Michael did. Indeed, he was only too well aware how much sickness there’d been in the mills over this last year, not just in winter, but in summer as well, as the demands went up and energy began to flag.
On this last Sunday in April, a little before noon, the sun high on a perfect spring day, Alex cleaned the oil off his hands in the washroom at Millbrook and prepared to put all such thoughts out of mind. He’d told the four mill managers the previous day that short of disaster, he would not be available on Sunday after his usual morning visit to see what problems maintenance might have revealed. They’d all assured him they’d do their very best to make sure he’d be left undisturbed.
The Austin was hot from sitting in the sun. Amazed to find its interior almost as stuffy as it would be in summer, he opened wide the doors and stood looking round him, waiting for a few moments to let the light breeze blow away the heavy smell of hot leather.
‘Away home man and forget all about us,’ Robert Anderson said, as he rounded the corner of the mill and caught sight of him. ‘Sure isn’t it great wee Jane is able to get home,’ he went on, a broad grin breaking on his sweat-streaked face. ‘SayHappy Birthday from me. What age is she, if it’s not rude to ask a lady’s age?’
‘She’s nineteen today and very nearly finished her training,’ Alex replied, delighted by the enquiry. ‘And what’s more, Robert, Lizzie is coming too, though just for a couple of hours. She found someone only last night willing to change shifts with her.’
‘Ach, that’s just great, man, just great. Your whole family, bar
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