me,’ said Mrs Brown, ‘he did take her some, then. Wasn’t that nice of him?’
‘I think he bowled her over.’
‘What was she like?’ asked Mrs Brown.
‘Just right for Will,’ said Susie.
‘Well, dearie me,’ said Mrs Brown, ‘d’you think Will might start askin’ her out?’
‘Well, Mum, while we don’t want to keep on about the pushcart, the fact is Will owes her something for puttin’ her in it,’ said Susie, ‘and he knows it. The daffs were only part-payment.’
Monday morning saw Mr Brown at the Bermondsey scrap metal yard. The double wooden gates were in good order, and so was the brick wall surrounding the yard. The rest was a mess. That included the large lock-up wooden shed. Sammy had said it’ll be a tidying-up job for the first week, Jim. The shed’s close to falling down, so there’ll be a couple of men to help it on its way. They’ll knock it down and prepare the site for a new shed that’ll arrive in sections on Tuesday. You’ll have a mountain of timber from the old shed to get rid of.
Granted, Sammy, Mr Brown had said. It could be burned in the yard, but that would be wasteful. Sammy said the natives of Bermondsey didn’t like wastefulness, it would upset them. Right, said Mr Brown, I’ll put a notice up on the gates, inviting them to come and help themselves to firewood. That’ll get rid of it unwastefully. Sammy, who liked a bit of imaginative wordage, said you sound like one of my family already, Jim. Sort out what stock there is with Eddie Mason, your assistant, and let me have written details when they’re ready. If any prospective customers look in, let them have a ten per cent discount on all standing stock to encourage them to clear us out. At present , the standing stock makes the place look like a junk yard. I’ll pop in and see how you’re doing from time to time.
Mr Brown knew Sammy was being typically himself. It didn’t matter how much he was involved with all the big happenings, he still kept himself interested in everything else.
The large old shed was coming down. The men had the tarred roof off and had smashed it up. Now the boarded walls were being hammered, split and torn out. Huge heaps of timber were building up for the benefit of the poverty-stricken people of the immediate neighbourhood, who were always in need of fuel for their fires. Mr Brown had put the notice up on the outside of the gates, inviting people to come and collect free firewood at four in the afternoon. That would allow mums to send their kids as soon as they came home from school, and the kids would arrive with eager arms, large sacks, empty prams and home-made pushcarts. And it would keep everyone away until all the dismantling work had been done.
It was towards midday when the two men began to attack the floorboards, using long crowbars to lever the planks free from joists, which were set in a thick layer of gravel. At noon, Mr Brown sent his assistant, Eddie Mason, off to the pub for a beer and a sandwich. At about fifteen minutes past twelve, there was a sudden halt on the part of the workmen. Mr Brown, busy sorting out what there was in the way of brass, copper, lead and iron among the heaps of scrap, turned at the sudden silence. One workman, looking as if his face was drained of blood, said in a hoarse voice, ‘Guv’nor, I think you’d better come an’ take a look, an’ then fetch the police.’
Mr Brown crossed the yard and looked at what the men had uncovered. An old soldier of the trenches, he’d seen death and he’d seen bodies that had lain unburied for days, but he too suffered a draining of blood at what he saw now.
Uniformed police and CID men had been and eventually gone, and the decomposing body of a girl had been taken away. Mr Brown felt sick. Some of the repercussions were going to land in Sammy’s lap. The police had said nothing was to be touched for the time being, everything was to be left just as it was. Meanwhile, they had the job of trying
‘I think he bowled her over.’
‘What was she like?’ asked Mrs Brown.
‘Just right for Will,’ said Susie.
‘Well, dearie me,’ said Mrs Brown, ‘d’you think Will might start askin’ her out?’
‘Well, Mum, while we don’t want to keep on about the pushcart, the fact is Will owes her something for puttin’ her in it,’ said Susie, ‘and he knows it. The daffs were only part-payment.’
Monday morning saw Mr Brown at the Bermondsey scrap metal yard. The double wooden gates were in good order, and so was the brick wall surrounding the yard. The rest was a mess. That included the large lock-up wooden shed. Sammy had said it’ll be a tidying-up job for the first week, Jim. The shed’s close to falling down, so there’ll be a couple of men to help it on its way. They’ll knock it down and prepare the site for a new shed that’ll arrive in sections on Tuesday. You’ll have a mountain of timber from the old shed to get rid of.
Granted, Sammy, Mr Brown had said. It could be burned in the yard, but that would be wasteful. Sammy said the natives of Bermondsey didn’t like wastefulness, it would upset them. Right, said Mr Brown, I’ll put a notice up on the gates, inviting them to come and help themselves to firewood. That’ll get rid of it unwastefully. Sammy, who liked a bit of imaginative wordage, said you sound like one of my family already, Jim. Sort out what stock there is with Eddie Mason, your assistant, and let me have written details when they’re ready. If any prospective customers look in, let them have a ten per cent discount on all standing stock to encourage them to clear us out. At present , the standing stock makes the place look like a junk yard. I’ll pop in and see how you’re doing from time to time.
Mr Brown knew Sammy was being typically himself. It didn’t matter how much he was involved with all the big happenings, he still kept himself interested in everything else.
The large old shed was coming down. The men had the tarred roof off and had smashed it up. Now the boarded walls were being hammered, split and torn out. Huge heaps of timber were building up for the benefit of the poverty-stricken people of the immediate neighbourhood, who were always in need of fuel for their fires. Mr Brown had put the notice up on the outside of the gates, inviting people to come and collect free firewood at four in the afternoon. That would allow mums to send their kids as soon as they came home from school, and the kids would arrive with eager arms, large sacks, empty prams and home-made pushcarts. And it would keep everyone away until all the dismantling work had been done.
It was towards midday when the two men began to attack the floorboards, using long crowbars to lever the planks free from joists, which were set in a thick layer of gravel. At noon, Mr Brown sent his assistant, Eddie Mason, off to the pub for a beer and a sandwich. At about fifteen minutes past twelve, there was a sudden halt on the part of the workmen. Mr Brown, busy sorting out what there was in the way of brass, copper, lead and iron among the heaps of scrap, turned at the sudden silence. One workman, looking as if his face was drained of blood, said in a hoarse voice, ‘Guv’nor, I think you’d better come an’ take a look, an’ then fetch the police.’
Mr Brown crossed the yard and looked at what the men had uncovered. An old soldier of the trenches, he’d seen death and he’d seen bodies that had lain unburied for days, but he too suffered a draining of blood at what he saw now.
Uniformed police and CID men had been and eventually gone, and the decomposing body of a girl had been taken away. Mr Brown felt sick. Some of the repercussions were going to land in Sammy’s lap. The police had said nothing was to be touched for the time being, everything was to be left just as it was. Meanwhile, they had the job of trying
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