‘I can offer you twenty-five pounds for the lot.’
‘What?’
You see? I watched the colour drain from his face. ‘That’s my wife’s ring,’ he said.
‘You bought it new? Jewellery is always worth less secondhand.’
‘But inflation ...’
‘I’m sorry, sir. I know it must be worth more to you and your wife than I can offer.’
He looked shocked. No, not shocked. Horrified. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked.
‘What?’
‘Mr Elliot? Are you all right?’
‘Aye.’ He looked down at the tinkle of gold. What could I do? It was tat, more or less. ‘Twenty-five pounds?’ he repeated. ‘Make it thirty.’
‘Mr Elliot, I wouldn’t argue about your wife’s ring. I know it must mean a great deal to you, but in purely financial terms, twenty-five is already more than it’s worth.’
‘Aye. Right.’ He stood there looking at it, frowning as if the ring had tricked him. ‘OK then.’
‘You want to go ahead?’
‘Aye.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Aye. I’m sure, just give us the money.’
If he’d asked my opinion I’d have told him that a measly twenty-five pounds wasn’t worth what it was costing him to do this, but like I say, people don’t come here for advice. In fact, advice about that sort of thing is the last thing anyone wants from a pawnbroker. I counted out the notes and handed them over. Before he left I promised to keep the ring safe until the end of the strike.
‘It’s just surety for a loan,’ I told him. But you could tell from his face, the way he felt, it was like I’d just told him he was tat and that his love for his wife was tat, too. Well. Hard times. No one loves a pawnbroker in times like this, but everyone ends up in my shop. I just hope whatever he had to spend the money on was important enough, that’s all.
I don’t know how to describe how I felt. It was like being blinded. Like the last little corner of light had been taken away from me. It was like all the good years, before Sarah was taken from us, like they were all worth nothing as well.
Aye, well, I know it’s stupid. It was just a ring, but I felt so helpless. I walked out of the shop and I knew at once what I was going to do. And I knew it was impossible to do it, and I knew that I was going to try and do it as hard as I could – for Sarah, and for Billy. Tony? I didn’t even dare think about him.
The strike was over in all but name. We all knew it. We had nothing left and the government was still as firm as ever. The strike hadn’t spread the way we’d hoped, the public was sympathetic to us, but that’s all. Sympathy doesn’t win that sort of struggle – you need hard support. There was charity but not much else. Not enough of it, anyhow. A couple of months, maybe even a few more weeks and we’d be called back to work. But it’d be too late by then. The audition would be over by then. And all I needed was one week’s work. One wage packet. It’s all I wanted, you understand – nothing for myself. I just wanted to give Billy his chance, and I knew that no one else was going to do it for me. I had to sort this out by myself.
It was just a blur, the whole thing. Meeting the others on a patch of waste ground. Gary Stewart was there, I remember that. ‘Well, who’s the big man now?’ he said. I said nothing. Well, he was right. Getting on the coach. They treated us like dirt, counted us off one after the other. You, name? You, not seen you before. Come to your senses at last, took your time. Didn’t even let us smoke on the coach. Aye, no one has any respect for a scab, not even the bosses.
I knew news was going to get out. Jackie Elliot’s turned scab. Well, sooner rather than later. I didn’t try to hide my face like some of the others. I just sat there. Let them see, I thought. And I wasn’t going to try and explain it away, either. I knew what I was doing and why I was doing it. I was scared, though, I don’t mind admitting that. As we got close to the pit we could hear the roar. The crowd! Yelling and shouting, the police banging their shields, the men chanting. Our bus was second in. I watched the first one slow down and go into the crowd like it was being swallowed up. The men heaved forward, the coppers linked arms and shoved back. The noise was deafening. It felt louder on that bus than it ever had when I was on the ground. Missiles flying through the air, eggs, stones, bricks, flying over the coppers’ heads, crashing against the wire mesh over the windows. The men pushing forward, trying to shove the police right up against the coach and make it stop like that.
Then we went in. My heart was going like a drum. The coach slowed right down. I tried to keep my face forward, I didn’t look away. Let them see me, I thought.
We inched our way in. There was this sea of faces and noise all around us, it was terrifying. BANG BANG BANG! Rocks against the grid over the windows. Terrifying. Screaming and shouting. Then a group of men got up and managed to rip the grid right off – god knows how. The window was bare. There was a huge cheer. Straight away stones started coming thicker than ever and the glass cracked and crumbled onto us. Those of us on that side got up and went across to the other window. The coach had stopped by this time and the crowd was rocking it from side to side and my heart leaped, but it wasn’t fear. Understand? I thought, Good. Because, if they turned it over and pulled us out and kicked us to bloody death, that way I wouldn’t have to go in. I wouldn’t have to go through with it. I wanted them to get me. I wanted them to know what I was doing.
The police were lashing out, men were going down. The coach inched forward. I turned my head to one side to look out of the window next to me, and what did I see, staring straight back at me? Our Tony. Right there. Our eyes right into one another. The coach moved away in through the gates. I felt like I’d turned to stone. I’d thought I didn’t care who saw me. I’d thought nothing mattered any more, but when Tony watched me riding the coach in through the gates to the pit, I thought I was going to die of shame.
I cried out, ‘Dad, Dad!’ The coach pulled away and through the gates as if my voice had scared it off. Just for a second I wished I’d kept my mouth shut and I looked from side to side to see who else had seen. But then, well. The look on me dad’s face. I never saw me dad look like that at me. He was like, like a kid about to burst into tears. Like he was dying. I just had to get to him, that’s all I knew. I shoved me way through the crowd and ran round the wire to the side, and I wasn’t thinking then about what a traitorous bastard me own dad was, I was thinking – no, I knew – I knew he was in trouble. I was scared for him.
I ran round the fence. I could see the scabs getting off the coach, I was hoping it was a dream but there was me dad with them. I bawled, ‘Dad! What the f*** are you doing! Dad, come back, Dad!’ He heard me, looked over to me. The official tried to shunt them inside out of sight, but Dad pushed him away and took a few steps towards me. The official grabbed him, and Dad swung at him, but it wasn’t much of a punch, it was a sort of lunge, like he was drunk or mad or what. And he was crying. Crying. I never saw me dad in tears before. I screamed ‘Dad! Dad!’ over and over, and he came staggering towards me. It was terrible. That f***ing wire! He came right up to it and leaned against it, and I was trying to put my hands through to touch him. I wanted to put my arms around him. He was leaning against it, tears pouring down his face, barely able to say a word.
‘It’s for wee Billy,’ he said.
‘F*** Billy! You can’t go back, not now!’
‘Look at the state of us, man! What have we got to offer the poor sod?’ He was a right mess, all snot and tears, and I was f***ing crying now and all. What a pair! I couldn’t help it. It was my dad, see?
‘You can’t do this, not now. Not after all this time. Not after everything we’ve been through.’
‘He might be a f***ing genius for all we know,’ he said. He stood back and wiped his nose, a big trail of slime up his arm. I just wanted to take him in my arms and tell him it was all right, everything was gonna be all right. I never knew! I didn’t understand.
‘Please, Dad!’
&n
bsp; ‘I’m sorry, son. I’m sorry.’
‘Dad, please ...’
‘We’re finished, son. What choice have we got? Let’s give the kid a f***ing chance, eh?’
‘He’s just a kid, he’s only twelve years old, for Christ sake! What about me? You can’t do this. We’ll find him some money if it’s that important. We’ll get him some. Just come out, Dad. Please! Do you think he’ll be proud about this, do you?’
Some people ran up behind us. Robert Martin and Colin Simons from the union. ‘What’s he playing at, Tony?’
‘It’s all right, he’s coming back out. Aren’t you, Dad?’
Dad just leaned there, tears and snot streaming down his face, saying, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ over and over.
‘Just get him out of there!’
‘Aye. I will. I will.’
And I did get him out. He was in no state to work, even the bosses could see that. They didn’t want someone having a nervous breakdown all over the coalface. Bad for publicity. They let him out the back way, away from the big crowds. It was in their interest as much as ours. Later on, in the parlour drinking tea, he tried to explain it to me, but he didn’t make all that much sense to me, to be honest. He was never all that good with words, Dad, and just then he could hardly get the words out. I’d have thought he was drunk if I didn’t know him better. But it gave me food for thought all the same. That stuff about Mam. That was true – she’d have let Billy dance. She wouldn’t care who thought what about it, and like he said, she certainly wouldn’t have let me kick his dance teacher out of the house like that.
Well, I was a bit over the top that day, but you couldn’t blame me. Seeing my dad like that made me feel different. You know? You always think your dad can cope, that he’s in charge. Like, your dad always knows what’s what, what to do, how to do it. All right, I’d been pissed off with him lately for being a useless old bloke, I didn’t like the way he was and all that. But he was still Dad, he was still responsible for things. Now it looked like he wasn’t any more. And that meant, somehow, that I had to be. I had to step in to sort that sort of thing out. It makes you think.
But. But. What a bloody time for him to crack up! What a bloody time for Billy to decide he wanted to ballet dancer! Well, I promised I’d help, but it’s one thing to say Billy’s allowed to dance. It’s a whole bloody thing else paying for him. How the f*** were we gonna manage that?
I said, ‘Ballet?’
‘Ballet,’ said Tony.
‘Tony, man.’ I looked across at Jackie. ‘You are f***ing desperate, aren’t you?’
It was in The Bell. The two of them sitting there. Jackie looked like he’d lost about a stone overnight, totally washed out. I think he was having some sort of a nervous breakdown. As for Tony, well. I suppose he knew what he was doing. But he didn’t look all that happy about it, that’s all.
‘You’ve done it before,’ said Jackie.
‘Aye, for boxing or sport, like. But ballet?’
‘Why not ballet? If he’s got the talent.’
‘Has he?’
‘Aye, he has,’ said Tony.
‘Who says so?’
‘Well, I say so.’
‘I went round to see his teacher,’ said Jackie.
‘Mrs Wilkinson.’
‘She says he’s good enough. She says he’s the best she’s had.’
‘Well, she should know, she’s been doing it for long enough.’
‘That’s good enough for me, then.’
‘Will it be good enough for everyone else, though, Jackie, man?’
‘That’s what I want to find out.’
I looked across at Tony. He shrugged. ‘We’ve got to try, man. It’s better than the alternative, like.’
‘You’ll excuse me for saying so, Tony, but you don’t look all that convinced yourself.’
He shrugged again. Jackie glanced across at him.
‘He should have his chance, that’s all,’ Tony said.
I finished off my pint and Tony got up to get me another. I put me hand on his sleeve. ‘All right, Tony, you don’t need to bribe me,’ I said. It was just a joke, but he practically hissed back at me.
‘It’s not a bribe, man, it’s a pint.’
‘Aye, and it’s my round. All right?’ I shook my head at Jackie. ‘I never thought I’d hear you telling me you want your boy to be a ballet dancer, that’s all.’
‘Well, it’s what his mother would have wanted, George, so I have to think for her now she’s not here.’
‘So that’s all there is to it, right?’ said Tony. That’s Tony – angry as ever.
‘Right. OK then.’ I got in another three pints and brought them back to the table. We sat there a while sipping away.
‘Well, it’s not going to be easy, is it?’ I said. ‘People have got no money left for food for their own bairns, let alone – ’
‘Do you think I don’t know that? This isn’t easy for me either, George. But it’s like Dad says. Our mam isn’t here any more, so we have to do what she’d have done. Do you think she’d have just sat down and told him no?’
I knew Sarah. Well. He had a point there. There wasn’t a woman like her for sticking up for her own.
‘Would she f***,’ said Tony. ‘So. We have to be Mam for her. Right, Dad?’
‘Right, son.’
‘So, then.’
Well, maybe. And maybe Sarah would have stood a chance.
‘OK then. We’ll make a go of it.’
‘Good man!’
I nodded, but between you and me, I thought we had about as much chance of selling Maggie Thatcher’s knickers at auction as we did of getting folk to part with good money to send Billy Elliot to ballet school that winter.
Business done, Tony couldn’t get out of there quick enough. He downed his pint, wiped his mouth and got up.
‘See yer then, George. I’m off down the Social. Meeting this afternoon. Keep an eye on Dad, will you?’ He waved his hand over Jackie’s head as if he was asking me to take care of his kid rather than his dad.
I nodded, and he cleared off. Me and Jackie sat there and finished off our pints, then I got another couple in. We settled in to a bit of a session after that. It was on me. I mean, if you can’t buy a friend in trouble a few pints, what use are you? It was good for him. It was either five pints down The Bell or up to the doctor for some pills, and I know which I’d prefer. We got tiddly quick. He told me about trying to sell the wedding ring and, well, I think I understood then why he’d done what he’d done. Because, you know, Jackie and Sarah Elliot, it was a real love affair. They adored each other. He used to say to me, when he’d had a few, that he couldn’t understand how some-one like him had ended up with someone like her, he felt that lucky. Oh, I envied him. I wish I felt like that about my wife. So. He’s had a hard time these past two years. You can understand it. He must have felt so lonely. He must have felt that he had nowhere to turn.
I had something else on me mind I wanted to clear up but it took another two pints before I plucked up courage.
‘Jackie, man,’ I said at last. ‘Your Billy.’
‘Aye?’
‘You know.’
‘Know what?’
‘Well, ballet and all. It’s a bit ... isn’t it?’
‘A bit what?’
‘Well.’
‘Go on.’
‘Do you think he’s ... you know?’
‘What? Out with it then.’
‘Oh, f***’s sake, Jackie, do you want me to say it out loud. I mean! Ballet, it’s not what most boys round here do, is it?’
‘Just because he likes ballet.’
‘Aye, all right, just because he likes ballet. But ... is he?’
‘No, he’s f***ing not.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I just know, right?’
‘How do you know? How can you tell?’
‘I just do, all right?’
Jackie was looking at me, half smiling. I
was relieved actually, because I thought he might be cross. But he knew what I was on about all right. He was just stringing me along.
‘Magazines,’ he said. ‘Under his bed, like.’
‘What sort of magazines?’
‘What sort do you think I mean? Sex magazines. Girlie mags. Fanny mags. You remember that sort of thing, George, don’t you?’
‘All right, all right. Well. Where’s he get them from, then?’
‘From under Tony’s bed, I expect. Quite a good supply.’
Well, I’ll tell you, it was a big relief. At least I wasn’t going to be raising money to send the lad away to go poofing in London. I leaned back and smiled. ‘Well, that must be a relief to you, then.’
‘Listen, man.’ Jackie leaned forward, and I knew I’d said the wrong thing. ‘I don’t care what he is, he’s our Billy, and that’s good enough for me. I don’t care what he does. He can stuff badgers if he likes, he’s still our Billy.’
‘Right, OK, message received. Well, Jackie, I’ll tell you, Sarah’d be proud of you, that’s all I can say.’ And I wished I hadn’t said that as well, because he sat there in front of me and his eyes filled up with tears.
I pretended it wasn’t happening. ‘We’ll go for it, Jackie. But it’s a long shot, man. It’s a long, long shot. You know that, don’t you?’
‘I know, George. But we’ll do it. Somehow.’
I thought, You’ll be lucky, but I clapped him on the back, lifted up me pint and we drank to our success. And poor old Jackie, he just sat there with his pint up in the air and cried, just sat there and cried for all the world to see.
We had a couple of days of putting leaflets through letter boxes, but it was mostly word of mouth. Half the town knew about it by then. Jackie couldn’t have made better publicity than riding into the pit on that coach, but if I’d ever thought there’s no such thing as bad publicity, I thought different by then. It was nothing new, having a meeting to raise money for some poor kid who had a bit of promise and his folks needed some help. But this was different. We’d never sent someone off to the Royal Ballet School before.