Across the Bridge Read online

  “Aye when she’s speaking about going out and things but not the song.”

  “What else is in this place?”

  “My grandpa, I think, but maybe he’s dead and my Uncle Dugald. He makes fiddles from bits of wood and my daddy has…” Ian stopped mid-sentence realising that he was about to say something he shouldn’t. He had seen the wood hidden under the jacket so he decided that it was best left unfinished and quickly changed the subject. ”I think I’ve got other uncles too and an Aunty. My daddy says there’s otters and seals and you can sometimes see them playing in the water.”

  “It sounds great,” decided Tommy, “Maybe we can go there some time and skim stones.”

  “But we need money for the train and my mammy won’t let me go. What about yours?”

  “No, I suppose not,” conceded Tommy, “Have you ever been on a train?”

  “No, but I’ve seen one at the shipyard. It was awful big. I was frightened.”

  By now they were back at Jason Street and philosophy and world travel gave way to thoughts of supper and they went their separate ways.

  Next day, like always, Donald Black was up at six and with a packet of sandwiches in his pocket he set off on the two mile walk to the docks, across the bridge and turn right into the “island”. Maybe if they got this ship finished on time the bonus would be good and he might buy one of these new Sunbeam bicycles. Mary of course got up with Donald to make him tea and toast and then slip back to bed for an hour or so before she had to get the boys up for school. Johnny, as usual, was not as bright-eyed as his father and she had to push him out too before getting back to bed. Later as the two young ones clattered up the street in their “tackety” boots, Mary resolved to go and see the doctor. Best not put it off any longer.

  The school was a red roofed building, brick on the front and harled on the sides and looked like most of the houses, just bigger. It had two big doors with steps leading up. The boys went in the right and the girls in the left. The girls always got to go first but everybody had to line up, class by class when the headmaster rang the bell. Sometimes they had to stand like this for five, ten or even fifteen minutes while Mr. Arnold made announcements and read great tracts from the bible. With a couple of minutes to go before the bell Ian was hunting around for Tommy to continue the chat from the night before, fending off the inevitable “What happened to your neck?” from the other kids.

  The bell started clanging and Ian went quickly into the line of Primary One. Tommy, a year older, would be in the next line but Ian dared not turn round. Old Arnold got “crabbit” when anybody turned round or spoke. “All eyes to the front and pay attention!” All the kids shuffled into place and Mr. Arnold cleared his throat to begin his spiel.

  “This morning…” his voice boomed out across the playground, “This morning it is my sad duty to tell you that one of our school company has passed away.”

  “Good!” thought Ian, “That’s old Mrs. Craddock in Primary 3. Now we won’t get her.”

  “This morning at around three o’clock the Good Lord called his young son Tommy McCafferty…………..”

  Ian never heard the rest. For a few moments his mind and body froze and then he vomited down the neck of the boy in front. There must be a mistake. It couldn’t be Tommy. But he knew that Mr. Arnold didn’t lie and he didn’t make mistakes.

  Slowly the boy raised his hand in the air.

  “Yes, boy!” roared Arnold, annoyed at this impudent interruption. ”What’s the matter?”

  Trembling but sure of his ground the boy asked, ”Why did Tommy die Mr. Arnold?”

  “The family and the doctor are not sure. It seems he took stomach pains last night and died in delirium a few hours later.” Each word pounded in the little lad’s skull as he remembered the funny raspberries.

  “Please, Mr. Arnold.”

  “What now, boy?”

  “Tommy ate some berries. I don’t think they were raspberries.”

  “All right! Everybody to your classes! You lad! Come with me!”

  With the boys away to school Mary cleared up from breakfast, put on a jacket and headed for the doctor’s. She arrived to find a bigger queue than normal. As she walked in the doctor’s head popped round the surgery door.

  “Mrs. Black. Come right in.”

  Every head turned to glower at this queue jumper. Who did she think she was? Just because her husband was foreman!

  Dr. Castleton ignored the communal hostile gaze and beckoned Mary into the surgery, not sure why she was getting such special treatment. Inside were Ian, Mr. Arnold and Mrs. McCafferty. Before she could ask “What’s happening?” Mr. Arnold barked.

  “Continue lad!”

  “We went to Thorny Nook and then we went to skim stones…”

  “Never mind that! What about the berries?”

  “We went to look for raspberries at Thorny Nook. We couldn’t find any then we saw some that were funny.”

  “Describe them!”

  “What?”

  “What were they like?”

  “They were red but not the same shape as rasps and they were growing round a bush.” Ian now knew for sure that they were not raspberries.

  “Did you eat any?” the doctor asked.

  “I tasted one but I spat it out because it tasted like medicine.”

  “It sounds like honeysuckle,” said the doctor quietly.

  “Yes,” whispered Arnold, “deadly nightshade,” not quite so abrasive as his usual tone.

  “Mrs. Black,” the doctor said, “I would like Ian to take us to these berries, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Yes. OK,” agreed Mary. “But why? Is Ian all right?”

  “It’s little Tommy McCafferty,” replied Doctor Castleton, “He died last night.”

  Mary felt the room swirl and she collapsed in a heap on the floor.

  When she came round Mrs. McCafferty was administering sips of water, herself still numb from the shock and the anguish and a full night without any sleep. After a few minutes the two women rose and walked out supporting each other as they walked home. Meanwhile the doctor, the headmaster and young Ian had gone off to the Nook in the doctor’s horse and trap. When they arrived there Ian confirmed their suspicions. Tommy had eaten four little clusters of honeysuckle berries. One cluster would have been enough to cause heart palpitations. With four the young body had no defence.

  Dr. Castleton would have to inform the police sergeant before making out the death certificate but first he dropped the headmaster off at the school. Arnold agreed that the doctor should take Ian home and this he did before calling in to inform and console the McCafferties.

  By now Ian’s mind had settled firmly on his own guilt. It was he who had seen the berries and shouted to Tommy. Now he couldn’t even say sorry.

  Joe McCafferty was a steam engine fitter from lower Belfast. He was Catholic. His wife Jenny was from a Protestant family. Walney Island at that time could boast only a Baptist church so convenience won out and that is where Tommy was taken for the burial service. It was brief and functional. Some of Joe’s fellow workers came from the shipyard in workaday clothes, the womenfolk a little smarter all except poor Jenny who was still trying to get a grasp of what had happened and what was now taking place. There were no children there except Tommy’s four older brothers and two sisters and Ian who had pleaded with his mother to let him go, aware despite his tender age, that this would be his last chance to say goodbye to Tommy.

  Once everyone had filed in the service started with a hymn.

  There is a city bright.

  Closed are its gates to sin.

  Nought that defileth, nought that defileth,

  Shall ever enter in.

  As the fourth and last verse came to an end and the mourners sat down the Minister stepped forward beside the small casket.

  “There is a city bright,” he repeated. “And the Good Lord in his infinite wisdom and greatness has called his young son, Thomas, to be at his side and to
live with him in that wonderful city.”

  “Oh, no!” thought Ian, “Tommy said he hates cities.”

  But the Good Lord was like Mr. Arnold. He didn’t make mistakes. Tommy would be all right. Surely there would be at least a river where he could skim stones. Lost in his remorse, Ian suddenly realised that the service had come to an end and the men were starting to take away the small coffin.

  He looked across towards his friend.

  “Goodbye Tommy,” he whispered, ”I’m sorry.”

  That was when Ian Black first started to question the existence of God. Little did he know how many times and how deeply he would have cause to repeat that question in the years that lay ahead.

  3.RUN LAD RUN.

  Barrow-in-Furness, September 1912

  A gloom hung over the family for the rest of August. Mary went back to the doctor who examined her but could not find anything wrong. A good “pick-me-up” was called for, Sanatogen and rosehip syrup. She took them dutifully but still had some bad mornings.

  Donald decided that something was needed to cheer everyone up and he heard the lads at work talking about Ulverston Charter Festival. Ulverston is a country town, home of the Quakers who sailed to America, and is about ten miles west of Barrow, a very old town with a charter issued by King Edward 1 in the year 1280 to hold a jousting festival in the week around September 11. Times change and in 1912 it was a fair where local merchants sold their wares, sportsmen and a few women showed off their athletic skills and the fairground came to town. It was at this fair that the sport of pole vaulting was invented, some say as an adaptation from the jousting poles. Young and old came from all around and for a week all work and troubles were forgotten.

  Barrow people couldn’t have a week to enjoy the fun but many travelled up by train on Saturday. The Furness Line was a goods line that linked across to Carnforth and over the industrial belt of the north but it had a beautiful old passenger train that looked like Stephenson’s Rocket, four coaches, a van at the back, coal tender and an engine where driver and stoker stood without a roof. Belching out soot and steam it stood in Barrow station ready to go.

  Ian was a bit frightened of the monster but having everyone else there gave him some courage. They were all dressed in their best clothes for a special day. With an air of authority Donald purchased three and three half return tickets and they all climbed aboard. Twenty minutes later they stepped off and into Ulverston. All the town was decorated and there was a feeling of fun in the air. When they arrived at the fairground Ian and his brother Donnie feasted their eyes on all the myriad of temptations while older brother Johnnie feasted his eyes on all the young ladies. Bobby in the meantime had spied the sports programme and was checking out the running prizes.

  “Look at this!” he shouted. “Ten pounds and a silver cup just for running.”

  “Why don’t you give it a try?” encouraged his mother.

  “Yes, Bobby. You can run. Have a go. You’ve got nothing to lose.” prompted Johnny.

  “Aye son,” said his father ”you’re the fastest lad in your school but you don’t have running shoes.”

  “I don’t need them,” countered Bobby,” I can run in my bare feet. I like the feeling and it makes me run faster.”

  So that was it decided. Bobby entered for the 100 yards and the 200 yards and then off they went to sample the delights of the festival.

  They came to “Gypsy Lee” the fortune-teller. Mary wanted to have her fortune told but Donald grumped that it was a waste of money. The truth was he was a little afraid to tempt fate. These last few years life had been good and if it continued like this fine but if the future was black he didn’t want to know. Highland women have many strange superstitions but it’s the men who, deep down, are really superstitious. So Mary bowed to her husband’s grumpiness and went to try the hall of mirrors. They all went in and screeched with laughter at each other’s distorted images. Mary shrunk to a squat dwarf size while Ian grew taller than his father. Donald’s body bulged outward and with it his moustache so that he looked like a comic version of the strongman poster and Bobby developed legs twice the length of his body. Young Donnie who was running back and fore between the mirrors announced that if Bobby could keep these legs he was guaranteed to win the races.

  They came tumbling out the other end of the tent laughing and chattering, the boys pushing and jostling. Johnny bumped into a girl who was eating an enormous candyfloss. She jumped back and the sticky sugary mass squashed against her face. A couple of moments passed before Johnny recognised her as a friend from Barrow. Between laughter and apologies he excused himself from the rest of the family and led her by the arm to find some water to wash her face. Mother, father and the younger boys continued to enjoy the fair, throwing balls, hoopla rings and pennies in various attempts to win a goldfish or coconut.

  Two goldfish and a coconut later they went to the field for the races. Quite a crowd was gathering so they decided to move down the track a bit, better placed to cheer on Bobby who kicked off his shoes and handed them to Donnie. Then he headed over to the starting line.

  “Competitors take their places for the 100 yard flat race.” The voice boomed from a megaphone. The owner of the voice was on stilts and dressed in a light blue candy-stripe suit. He wore a top hat of the same colours and had a moustache longer than Donald’s in the mirror.

  “Come along now. Take your places. The first race today is 100 yards with a prize of ten pounds and the Charter Silver Cup.”

  As Bobby moved forward to take his place on the starting line both Donald and Mary noted that most of the runners wore modern spiked running shoes and they all looked older and more experienced. Bobby himself began to have doubts as he saw the other competitors converging on the line, more than thirty of them jockeying for a good position to start the race. But our young lad hung back from the front, instinct telling him that he would more than likely go down in the first few yards among all these big lads.

  The megaphone sounded. “On your marks! Get set! Go!”

  A mass of bodies thundered down the track. Bobby put his head down and ran. He just ran and ran, skipping between runners as the bunch opened out. He didn’t see his family cheering as he passed. His eye caught an empty space in the outside lane and his legs thrashed out. Only a few in front and he pushed his body forward passing one then the other until his shoulder clipped the finishing tape. It took him a few seconds to realise that he had won.

  But his winning didn’t go down well and some of the other runners didn’t hide their displeasure. Young upstart taking first place against more experienced men. He noticed them huddled in a whispering cluster. Nobody said, “well done lad”.

  “Next race is the 200 yards and will start in thirty minutes,” called the man on stilts. Time to catch some breath and have a drink of water.

  Johnny came back with his young lady friend. Her father worked at the Vickers’s yard and knew the Black family so she had gone to ask his permission to stay along with Johnny for the rest of the evening. Permission granted they now had two more voices to cheer Bobby on. Once again they took up position half way down the track and Bobby went to the starting line. The half-hour had passed quickly.

  All the runners took their places, only about twenty this time, but Bobby hung back like before. This time he felt sure they would close around him and block him in just for spite. They still looked substantially displeased by his presence.

  “On your marks. Get set. Go!” bellowed the candy-stripe man on stilts.

  Off they went striding, pushing, squeezing to get the best position in the inside lane. Within the first fifty yards they began to form a tight line and Bobby moved out to a side lane then started to sprint forward. He began to pass them one by one so that as he was passing his family there were only four runners in front of him. Number four was a big lumbering lad who was beginning to puff and looked unlikely to keep up the pace. Bobby moved into line with him ready to nudge another bit nearer the leader but as h
is right foot went down the big lad stepped sideways with his left foot. The metal spikes jabbed in and hurt.

  “Bastard!” cried Bobby as he felt the pain.

  Mary, only a few feet away, saw clearly what had happened.

  “Run lad! Run!” she shouted, “Run Bobby! You can do it.”

  He heard his Mother’s voice among the crowd and his reaction was instant. Head down he thrashed his legs out like in the first race and within five strides the pain was gone. Three in the inside lane and the outer lanes were empty. He took a wide berth, put his head down and flew, thumping past the others pace by pace, oblivious to everything except the wind in his ears.

  Again his shoulder broke the tape and a cheer erupted from the crowd.

  With the race finished the pain came back to his foot but with adrenaline still running high in his veins he hobbled across to the other runners, picking out the lad who had spiked his foot.

  “You did that on purpose,” he challenged and caught the big lad by the collar.

  But his father moved in quickly, “Let it go son!” he cautioned, “You won. If you fight him now you’ll be disqualified.”

  Big lads sometimes need to be put in their place but nobody argued with Donald Black, least of all his sons. Bobby let go the collar reluctantly and stepped back. One of the race officials came over with a medicine bag and they set about cleaning the wounds. Then they went back to the fair until it was time to collect the prizes, Bobby with his arm round Donald for support. By the time the races had all finished his foot had swollen quite a bit and walking was difficult but he managed to step up proudly onto the rostrum. Two cups and twenty pounds, he felt like a millionaire.

  With this “millionaire” feeling and a very sore foot he suggested taking a horse and trap back to the station. Everyone agreed and so they left the fair in style arriving at the station with an hour to spare before the train. The Station Hotel boasted an excellent dinner for four shillings so Bobby invited them to dinner. In they went and were shown to a table by a waiter in suit and bowtie. Silverware and white napkins on the table they had dinner in grand style.