chandler’s all he’d had to do was collect his loaded bike, do the deliveries on the list he was given, and then return the bike to the shop.
In his new job there were a hundred and one tasks to be done.
Although the jobs were all simple – like sweeping up flour that had been spilled on the floor, washing out the huge mixing bowls, or helping to bring in bags of flour and sugar from the storeroom out in the yard – the two men who worked in the bakehouse behind the shop often asked him to do different things at the same time.
He enjoyed the work, though. The job he liked best was clearing up the bowls after the baker who made all the cakes and pies had finished with them – especially those that had been used for cakes! Before he plunged them into water he surreptitiously ran his finger around the sides, licking up any traces of the sweet mixture. He’d never be hungry as long as he could do that, he thought gleefully. Sometimes, when it was fruit cakes or buns that were being baked, there would be the odd currant or sultana left in the bowl as well.
After an enormous batch of baking there would be the trays to clean. These would often have tiny bits of cooked cake or pastry stuck to them and he wished he could scrape them into a bag and take them home for Vee. As he worked he picked bits off to eat, and even when they were slightly over-cooked he thoroughly enjoyed them.
On Saturday, when Mr Chamberlain handed him his first wage packet, Eddy thought he would explode with happiness.
‘These are for you,’ his boss told him, handing him a brown paper bag bursting with doughnuts, iced cakes and jam tarts. ‘Do you want a couple of loaves to take home with you as well?’
Eddy could hardly believe his ears. He already had a feast that would fill them for days.
‘They’re yesterday’s, mind, so they might be a bit stale, but your mam can always toast them, or use them to make a bread pudding.’
When he reached their own shop in Scotland Road he was about to hurry past and go down Penrhyn Street, and in through the back jigger, when his dad stepped out into the roadway and confronted him.
Grabbing him by the ear he hauled him into the shop and slammed the door shut.
‘What’s all this then? Been thieving have you?’
‘No, Dad, of course I haven’t! I … I earned it!’
‘Oh, yes? Then you’ll have some wages as well, if I know anything about it, so hand them over.’
Eddy looked at him defiantly. Giving his first real wage packet to his mother unopened had been something he was looking forward to doing, and now it was all going to be spoiled.
He saw his father ball his fist and knew that at any moment he would be hit across the top of his head if he didn’t do as he’d been asked.
‘Give me your bloody wages or I’ll thump your skull. Understand?’
The familiar threat made him so angry that he resolved to stand his ground. He wasn’t a kid any more. He had a proper job now, so he shouldn’t be threatened or beaten, he told himself.
‘What makes you think I’ve got any wages?’ he asked boldly.
‘You better bloody have, seeing as you’ve been working all week at Sunbury’s!’
For a fleeting moment Eddy thought Vera must have let on about his job, but when his dad spoke again he felt guilty for ever doubting her.
‘Word gets round, you know. That fellow Chamberlain who’s in charge there drinks in the same pubs as me, and I heard him say he’d taken on a weedy little runt because he felt sorry for him, so I knew it must be you.’
Before Eddy could speak, his father had clenched his fist and had swiped his knuckles across the top of his head. The pain made Eddy cry out, and he darted towards the door that led into their living room.
Annie, hearing all the commotion was already opening the door as he reached it.
‘What on earth is going on?’ she asked in alarm.
Eddy stumbled past her and dropped his big bag of cakes and the two loaves of bread onto the living-room
In his new job there were a hundred and one tasks to be done.
Although the jobs were all simple – like sweeping up flour that had been spilled on the floor, washing out the huge mixing bowls, or helping to bring in bags of flour and sugar from the storeroom out in the yard – the two men who worked in the bakehouse behind the shop often asked him to do different things at the same time.
He enjoyed the work, though. The job he liked best was clearing up the bowls after the baker who made all the cakes and pies had finished with them – especially those that had been used for cakes! Before he plunged them into water he surreptitiously ran his finger around the sides, licking up any traces of the sweet mixture. He’d never be hungry as long as he could do that, he thought gleefully. Sometimes, when it was fruit cakes or buns that were being baked, there would be the odd currant or sultana left in the bowl as well.
After an enormous batch of baking there would be the trays to clean. These would often have tiny bits of cooked cake or pastry stuck to them and he wished he could scrape them into a bag and take them home for Vee. As he worked he picked bits off to eat, and even when they were slightly over-cooked he thoroughly enjoyed them.
On Saturday, when Mr Chamberlain handed him his first wage packet, Eddy thought he would explode with happiness.
‘These are for you,’ his boss told him, handing him a brown paper bag bursting with doughnuts, iced cakes and jam tarts. ‘Do you want a couple of loaves to take home with you as well?’
Eddy could hardly believe his ears. He already had a feast that would fill them for days.
‘They’re yesterday’s, mind, so they might be a bit stale, but your mam can always toast them, or use them to make a bread pudding.’
When he reached their own shop in Scotland Road he was about to hurry past and go down Penrhyn Street, and in through the back jigger, when his dad stepped out into the roadway and confronted him.
Grabbing him by the ear he hauled him into the shop and slammed the door shut.
‘What’s all this then? Been thieving have you?’
‘No, Dad, of course I haven’t! I … I earned it!’
‘Oh, yes? Then you’ll have some wages as well, if I know anything about it, so hand them over.’
Eddy looked at him defiantly. Giving his first real wage packet to his mother unopened had been something he was looking forward to doing, and now it was all going to be spoiled.
He saw his father ball his fist and knew that at any moment he would be hit across the top of his head if he didn’t do as he’d been asked.
‘Give me your bloody wages or I’ll thump your skull. Understand?’
The familiar threat made him so angry that he resolved to stand his ground. He wasn’t a kid any more. He had a proper job now, so he shouldn’t be threatened or beaten, he told himself.
‘What makes you think I’ve got any wages?’ he asked boldly.
‘You better bloody have, seeing as you’ve been working all week at Sunbury’s!’
For a fleeting moment Eddy thought Vera must have let on about his job, but when his dad spoke again he felt guilty for ever doubting her.
‘Word gets round, you know. That fellow Chamberlain who’s in charge there drinks in the same pubs as me, and I heard him say he’d taken on a weedy little runt because he felt sorry for him, so I knew it must be you.’
Before Eddy could speak, his father had clenched his fist and had swiped his knuckles across the top of his head. The pain made Eddy cry out, and he darted towards the door that led into their living room.
Annie, hearing all the commotion was already opening the door as he reached it.
‘What on earth is going on?’ she asked in alarm.
Eddy stumbled past her and dropped his big bag of cakes and the two loaves of bread onto the living-room
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