CHAPTER 4
New Soles for Old Boots
It was not the sound of his mother's voice calling him to breakfast which woke Davey the following day but the sound of light hammering accompanied with a foul smell. He sounded reveille upon his bugle and made his way down stairs.
Hugh laughed, AEh lad, don't do that when you're mother's around, she'll give yer a thick ear. Old Nick's probably noted it down in his book already.@
AWhere is she?@ Davey asked and answered his own question with another, Adown the washhouse?@
"Aye lad,@ Hugh was working away on a pair of boots, Atry that for size," he pretended to throw one of them at Davey but passed it to him.
"That's brilliant Dad," said Davey as he examined the thick sole.
"Sit yerself down and watch, you might need to know how to do this yourself one day."
Davey sat alongside his father, on the table Hugh had set up a cobbler's last, its three queer shaped metal feet held the other boot ready for work.
"Ugh, what is that smell?" Davey grimaced.
Hugh pointed at the stove upon which simmered away an evil brew, ACow gum, it's made from animal bones, your mum couldn't stand the pong, that's why she's gone down the wash-house...I can't smell a thing," he wheezed,"look at this your granddad got us," he held up a thick piece of rubber, "Straight off the wheels of the 39 bus he said, if he ever gets caught they'll throw away the key! Here's what you do."
He drew around the sole onto the rubber with a piece of chalk, then took a sharp knife and sliced the rubber away in strips until he had formed the desired shape.
"You've got to make sure you get the treads going the right way," said Hugh showing him. Davey nodded, clearly impressed.
"Then all you do is...pass us that glue, careful now it's 'ot."
Davey passed the red-hot paste.
"You spread this lot on like so," he said using an old knife to spread the gum, "then knock in a few of these," he placed the rubber onto the boot then hammered tacks into it, "Now, do us a favour, go in the livin' room, I've got a poker in the fire, should be >ot enough by now.@
Davey returned with the poker.
ARight, you take this heel-bore,@ Hugh took a lump of thick wax and pushed it into place where the uppers met the sole, Athis'll seal them, pass us the poker.@ He applied the hot iron to the wax, working it into place. There y'are, ship-shape and Bristol fashion! try 'em on."
They went outside into the backyard, it was a beautifully crisp day, the sun shone through an unclouded sky.
"I feel a foot taller," Davey joked, "thanks Dad. I can't wait to try them out."
"Well get your breakfast down yer then off you go.@
"I thought we were going to..."
Hugh interrupted, "You get out in God's good air lad, come on I'll do you a fry up."
As he chased sizzling sausages with a fork Hugh said, "Best if you go down on the old railway line, no-one'll see you down there," he placed the heaped plate on the table, "Come on, get it down, yer mum'll be back soon and she might have other ideas."
Davey ate with urgency; he shovelled sausages, fried bread and dripping, black pudding and onions into his mouth as fast as he could and swilled each mouthful down with a swig of milk.
"Best if you go out the back way lad," said Hugh quickly, "I'll keep a weather-eye out here."
Davey was about to close the back door behind himself when something reminded him of the helmet, he reached behind the outhouse and pulled it out. With it tucked under his arm he walked down the alleyway, checked the coast was clear, then crossed over Dombey street. A very narrow alleyway led onto the recreation ground, its pot-holed terrain was strewn with bricks from numerous brick-fights, every conceivable form of refuse including old prams, motorcycles, and furniture littered the area. On the far side of the recreation ground was the cutting, by squatting down and sliding down a muddy slope on the soles of his boots Davey reached the old railway lines, they stretched parallel into the distance until they appeared to join together.
Realising he was free and the rest of the world was working, he put on the helmet, gave a shout of "Donner und blitzen!" then trotted off towards the point where the lines met.
The sun warmed the wooden sleepers and released strong smells of pine and creosote, Davey breathed the delightful odours deeply, a butterfly fluttered upwards released by the warming sun, everything was made so much nicer knowing that he should be stuck in the old tin can. He felt so filled with energy that he decided to run, he couldn't understand how it was that he was able to run so quickly without even tiring. Normally because running on the stones between the sleepers was such hard going he would run on the sleepers themselves, two sleepers twice, then one step of a single sleeper but today he was leaping three sleepers with each bound. He put it down to his new boots and the elation of missing school. The rhythm carried him quickly past the recreation ground to where houses crowded above threatening to topple onto the lines below.
"HALT or I'll shoot!" shouted a voice. He looked up, from the back-yard of one of the houses a tough with a thick shock of red-hair was pointing an air-pistol at him.
"Sixpence to pass!" shouted the tough.
Davey turned out his pockets, "I haven't got a penny."
"Give us yer 'elmet then," growled the tough taking careful aim.
"Go on yer ginger-nut!" shouted Davey, turning and running away.
The tough swung the pistol after him and fired, the barrel shot out sending the soft lead slug speeding towards its target, all Davey felt was a faint tap as it hit the helmet.
"Me an' me mates'll 'ave yer!" yelled the ginger-headed thug jumping down from the wall and shouting at a mangy dog which occupied a rickety kennel.
Davey sped on, he snapped a sapling and used it either as a rifle or to batter nettles and thistles from his path. The houses thinned out and gave way to rough bushes and spindly trees which clung weakly to the steep-sides of the cutting, ahead loomed the dark entrance to a tunnel. He'd been there before with his father but Hugh's chest had given in on him and they had had to turn back. He slowed as he reached its mouth, above the rails the tunnel mouth was black with the smoke from countless trains which once upon a time had clattered through its length. At the far end he could see the tiny outlet of light which beckoned like a beacon but inside the tunnel it was cold, damp and dark.
Lime-laden water dripped down forming stalactites, it was so quiet he could hear them dropping "plink, plink, plink" to the ground below spreading their rocky outgrowths over the stones. Normally it took some time as he stumbled towards the tunnel exit before his eyes adjusted to the weak light but today, to his surprise, he found that he could see perfectly in the darkness. Underfoot the stones scrunched and echoed, he saw a rat scurrying for cover and heard the pitter-patter of its feet. A shiver of fear trembled down his spine but he plucked a hand-grenade from his belt, dodged into a workman's safety hole, pulled the pin and threw it. He followed the explosion with a few shots and shouts of "Otto von Bismarck!" which cleared the place of any more lurking enemies.
As he emerged into the daylight the sight of the great beeches and elms were worth the few minutes in the tunnel, they overhung the line in great masses; squirrels chased and played in the branches gathering their stores of nuts for winter, birds chattered and trilled to each other in the leafy canopy. The railway line no longer lay in a cutting but sliced through a thick wood, trees encroached so close to it that if it were ever to be used again they would need felling before any carriage could pass; rabbits darted across the rails, heard or saw the intruder and ran for cover into deep undergrowth flashing white scuds to warn of the danger.
No houses had been built this far out from the city, the woods rampaged; sycamore spinners had sprouted amongst the stones and forced upwards as saplings, tentacles of dog-rose had ensnarled the metal rails fastening them in ever tightening grips, whole sections of line had been displaced by the roots of mighty trees.
A mile further on and the line cr
ossed a small stream, a sandstone bridge spanned above, supporting the weight of the line with a beautiful arch. The spiky green coats of sweet horse-chestnuts littered the ground, by carefully running the sole of his boot over them the spikes were forced to release their contents. Peeling back the woody covering with his thumbnail, Davey munched chestnut after chestnut. The taste was slightly bitter at first but after some chewing a wonderful sweet, milky taste was liberated. After the first one he was unable to stop but kept on rolling, opening and eating. Soon he had cleared most of them but looking down over the walls which straddled the bridge he saw that the ground was thick with the juicy nuts, without hesitation he slid down the steep bank to where the stream gurgled and babbled. The arch towered above, into the keystone was carved the date "1865". He yelled "Oi!" and the sound echoed and bounced back under the arch as if shouted by a hundred invisible voices.
The sound was answered by a fierce bark.
He barely had time to rush into thick rhododendron bushes before the owners of the animal appeared. "Came from up 'ere Jake," said a scruffy, mean-faced youth.
"Naw, it were from over there," answered a thick-necked, ginger-haired thug, "I reckon it's that kid in the 'elmet." He held his dog on a thick string, it was a mangy looking brute.
A third youth who wore round steel-rimmed spectacles held a dead rabbit by the back legs, it looked like a recent victim of the dog.
"I reckon the dog's got it wrong," he said.
"Look Yatesy, yer four-eyed git, you trying to say my dog's stupid or sommat? Why's 'e pulling us up 'ere if there's nowt 'ere?" said the thug angrily.
Yatesy replied, "P'raps it were a fox."
"Then what's it doing wearing boots," said Jake.
"They look like tyre tracks," said the scruffy youth.
"I don't see any wagons 'ere now, do you Fleabag," said Jake, "you two are a right pair of idiots."
The dog had scented Davey, it barked furiously, "Stay 'ere, e's got wind of sommat, e'll find out soon enough." Jake removed the noose from around its neck.
The animal growled its way towards the bush which concealed Davey suddenly as it began to nose its way in it turned tail and ran off with its tail between its legs, yelping in terror.
"What's up with that stupid mutt?" shouted its master.
"Maybe it's the White Lady," replied Fleabag.
"You and your white flippin' lady," said Jake. "Come on," he put two fingers in his mouth and blasted out an ear-piercing whistle, "LURCH!" he shouted, "let's get 'im back."
Davey made his way deeper and deeper into the rhododendrons, the vegetation crawled above and around him like a great octopus, the flowers had died off and many leaves were turning brown in preparation for the coming winter, in some places it was impassable and he had to double back upon himself before finding another way forwards. A rustling in the undergrowth frightened him and sent him hurrying into a thin path which was completely surrounded with foliage. Thorns and brambles barred the length of the path, carefully he took hold of them between thumb and forefinger and prised them out of the way. At the end of the path the sun shone down like a curtain of light. When Davey emerged through the curtain his eyes swept across a large grassy field, it was dotted great horse-chestnut trees which were already losing some of their leaves, but it was the sight of the rambling old mansion house which protruded into the field from the surrounding woods which brought a gasp of astonishment from his open mouth.
The sandstone walls stood strong and proud, autumn shades of ivy clung to them covering the windows and snarling up wrought iron columns to balconies and onto the roof. Slates were badly wanting and great holes gaped beneath huge decorative chimneystacks which teetered precariously but the house was still magnificent.
A barking in the distance alerted him to the possibility of the dog trailing him, to throw it off the scent he decided to climb up off the ground and travel to a different spot. Overhead the rhododendron bushes intertwined so completely they meshed together forming natural platforms, he shinned up the gnarled and twisted trunks of the great plants and began clambering around passing from one mattress of leaves to another. Squirrels were disturbed by his passage and leapt up into the branches of trees from where they chattered angrily back at him.
The thick woody stems of the plants provided good handholds but as he grasped them they oozed sticky sap causing every loose bit of bark to stick to his hands, however he managed to cover as much distance as was possible before he neared the field and the bushes began to thin out. Through the thinning leaves he glimpsed a dull yellow colour through which ran a band of purple written on the purple bank were the words "North West Railways". Davey realised he was looking at part of an old railway carriage. Carefully he moved nearer and his thoughts were confirmed, it was not just part but was the whole carriage, it lay half on its side disintegrating away like a great whale thrown onto a remote beach, it was strangled with vegetation; thick rhododendrons twisted in and out of its windows, crawling creepers entangled its wheels and axles, dog-rose strangled everywhere. Clambering forwards he reached a position from where he could see most of the remains quite clearly.
Many of the windows had been shattered by the force of thick boughs and limbs but a few were unbroken, through them the sun shone illuminating the inside of the coach. The interior was totally wrecked; much of it was covered with scrawlings in various colours of paint. ACARNATIC CLICK@ ADOGGO@ and other names littered the walls; a few heavy seat cushions with springs protruding were arranged together to form rough seating. As he saw the words, "FLEABAG the maggot" the sun moved behind a cloud dimming the light so that all he saw in the window was his own reflection. A fierce bark not too far away caused him to look away from the window but when he looked back he almost fell from his perch, without taking his eyes from the scene before him he gripped tight hold of the limb to which he clung.
A man held a knife at the throat of a dark-skinned native. Davey watched spellbound as the man yelled at the native, "Where does your village lie?"
The native had a look of terror on his face, his eyes looked wildly around as if hoping that some way of escape might suddenly appear to him, behind him the thick rough hand of another man gripped him by the hair, forcing his head backwards to reveal his throat.
"Where have you come from?" yelled the knifeman, his words were translated to the native by a third man. Each of the questioners wore a heavy leather jerkin, chain mail sleeves extended beneath, swords hung from leather waistbands.
"Let him feel the point of the knife Vargas!" urged the man who held the captive, he twisted his hand causing a cry of pain. Vargas did more than he was told, slowly the native crumpled to the ground.
"No!" screamed Davey, "what are you doing!" but his cries were not heard by the men.
"The point! not the blade Vargas!" shouted the translator. He turned to one side and ordered, "Bring another prisoner for questioning!"
Two men wearing helmets and carrying long poles on top of which sat vicious axe-heads marched a native towards them. Vargas dragged hold of the native by the hair and the same question was asked, "Where have you come from?"
The prisoner looked down at the body at his feet and spoke rapidly, the translator had to make much use of hand-signs to understand what he was being told, satisfied he turned to a man who stood to one side.
"Commander, the village is little more than a day's march from here, near the banks of a great river."
The commander wore a fine armour breastplate covered with exquisite designs, a stiff ruffed collar covered the chain-mail revealed at his neck, "Would it be possible for you to ask this savage whether there is any gold Carlos?" he asked.
"Show him your tooth Ricardo!" ordered Carlos. The man who held the native bent over their prisoner and revealed a horrible set of teeth, the knife blade jabbed towards a gold tooth and the questioning re-commenced. In an incredulous voice with eyes wide-open Carlos stammered, "There is much gold!"
The shadow of
the cloud passed along the length of the carriage, Davey stared aghast as the images before him dissolved and the empty interior of the coach was revealed.