Everyone
except my old man - that’s why when we were growing up, we
thought a trip to London was exotic and a week in a leaky caravan
in Great Yarmouth was the height of sophistication. ‘We was
poor but we was happy.’ Yeah right. Poor ain’t happy;
it’s cold and hungry, filling up on bread and marg, wearing
your brother’s hand-me-downs and putting cardboard in your
shoes to make them last.
Even when I was still at school, I could see how he could make the
business better, more profitable. My little sister ‘Chelle
had brains; anyone could see it, so I decided she should go to college.
My brother joined the army at sixteen so it was me who was the natural
to go into the business.
He taught me everything, I’ll give him that. I can do any
job; strip paper, skim ruined plaster, or tape and fill, paint,
even repair cornicing and ceiling roses - not that there’s
much call for that in Chigwell. But gradually I outgrew him and
the business outgrew him. He got to be an embarrassment.
At the end of the job with the wipe down emulsion, I spoke to him
again about retiring. He didn’t see why he should. He said
he was made to work, never took more than a week off any year and
carried on with jobs whilst I was necking Cerveza and working on
my tan.
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He
couldn’t climb a ladder, I argued, it wasn’t safe, his
hands shook and he kept bugging the punters with unwanted advice.
We had a right old barney. He said I was ungrateful and crooked.
He was ashamed of me.
I said, ‘What about Chelle? She’s a doctor for God’s
sake and who put her through that?’ He couldn’t answer.
His face ran through a few shades of the Sundown Range of reds and
he put his brush in my hand, magnolia end first and walked off.
I knew I’d gone too far, shouted after him that I was sorry,
I’d see him tomorrow. I even did feel a bit sorry as I was
cleaning up. I decided to give him the gig stripping paper for an
old dear and keep him away from the five bedroom makeover. That
was the best way to handle it.
I was reliving the argument for my Deirdre when the mobile went
off. I could barely make out what Mum was saying, she was crying
so hard, but I was round the house in a flash. He was in a bad way,
lying on the floor, maroon cheeks clashing with blue lips, breathless
and clutching his arm. There was an ambulance on its way.
He seemed even worse for seeing me and I thought he was upset over
the argument. I thought I’d done this to him. He waved me
over and I had to kneel down to hear him.
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