'I tell yer, Soapy, I reckon we should 'ave a word wiv Will Tanner first,' he said through a mouthful of food. 'Yer know what the ole man's bin like lately. P'raps if Tanner talks to 'im, 'e might cough up.'

Soapy pulled a face and wiped the hot b.u.t.ter from his full moustache with the back of one dirty hand. 'I dunno,' he said thoughtfully. 'Since that turn-out wiv Will's missus, 'e ain't bin the best o' pals wiv Galloway. Still, it might be the right way ter go about it at that. One fing's fer sure, the ole man's gotta know 'ow we feel. Tommy 'Atcher pays 'is men better wages than Galloway, an' even Charlie Morgan's carmen get bonuses.'

Sharkey snorted. 'I should reckon so too! The stench o' those skins is enough ter make a bloke ill. They 'ave ter swill their carts out every night before they go 'ome.'

'Well, that's as may be,' Soapy argued. 'What I'm sayin' is, we should put in fer a rise now. We should go in fer 'alf a crown a week.'

Sharkey took a large bite of his teacake and washed it down with a gulp of tea. 'Ten years I've worked fer Galloway,' he said, burping loudly, 'I'm the oldest servin' carman 'e's got since ole Bill Wimbush retired, and I ain't never known ole Galloway ter cough up wiv a rise unless we asked fer it. Tommy 'Atcher's carmen get a rise wivout askin'. If I could get a job there, I'd go termorrer. They wouldn't 'ave me there, though. Not since I clouted ole Spanner at the docks.'

Soapy had often heard the story about Sammy Spanner, Hatcher's shop steward, and queue-jumping at the docks, and each time it was different. 'Well, we gotta do somefink. It's a b.l.o.o.d.y pittance Galloway pays us,' he moaned. 'We should get one of us ter be a shop steward an' then we'd get fings sorted out.'

Sharkey grunted. 'An' who we gonna get? There's only eight regular carmen an' I ain't gonna do it fer one.'

'Me neivver,' Soapy replied. 'Yer can't expect those two new blokes ter do it. What about Sid Bristow? 'E seems ter get on wiv Galloway all right.'

Sharkey Morris shook his head. 'Sid's got a nice little job wiv the sack people, an' I fink 'e earns a bit on the side. I don't reckon fer one minute 'e's gonna be interested.'

'What about Lofty Russell?' Soapy persisted. ''E seems a sensible sort o' bloke. I 'eard 'im goin' on about the Boer War the ovver day. 'E seemed ter know what 'e was talkin' about.'

Once again Sharkey shook his head. ''E's got eight kids. Yer can't expect somebody wiv eight Gawd-ferbids ter stick 'is neck out.'

'Well, that only leaves the Blackwell bruvvers. I wonder if they'd be interested,' Soapy Symonds said hopefully.

This time Sharkey was silent for a few moments. 'Fred won't, 'e's too quiet. Scratcher might though,' he said, thoughtfully stroking his chin. ''E don't seem ter let fings get on top of 'im. Remember when that 'orse bit 'is bruvver Fred an' 'e punched it in the chops? I was sure that nag was gonna drop when I saw its front legs splay out an' its eyes go all funny.'

Soapy looked pleased. 'Right then,' he said cheerfully, 'when I get back ternight I'm gonna see if I can catch Scratcher. I'll put it to 'im an' see what 'appens.'

Jack Oxford was busy cutting chaff. Occasionally he stroked his still tender stubbled face. It was now two weeks since he had been led into Will Tanner's house and subjected to the turpentine cure. It had been a painful experience but it had worked. The first application had stung his face but hard rubbing with a house flannel produced results. When he looked into the mirror which Nellie held up to his face, he saw that the bright yellow colour had become dull and there were patches of his own natural colour showing through. Jack had subjected himself to another course of treatment before he was satisfied that the yellow colouring was gone. The problem was that the skin of his face had become very tender and he had had to stop shaving for the past week. Now, as he pressed down the hay into the cutting machine, the yard man was feeling the need to take a nap, but the thought of being attacked by insects and catching straw blight again deterred him from settling down in the hay.

As he finished the remaining bale and turned off the machine, Jack heard his name being called. He peered out of the round loft window.

'Get yerself down 'ere, Jack,' William called up to him. 'I've gotta go out an' there's n.o.body in the office.'

When William left the firm the yard man made himself comfortable in the office chair and stared at the phone. He had been instructed in what to do should the contraption ring but he felt a little nervous. He had never used a telephone and never learned to read and write. He would have to memorise any messages that came through and that was the main reason he was nervous. He knew that his memory wasn't too good, and if the message was a long one he would be in trouble.

The place was quiet, bright sunlight was shining down into the yard, and Jack started to relax a little. Maybe the phone wouldn't ring, he hoped. Maybe he could settle down for a little nap before Tanner got back. He eased himself back in the comfortable chair and placed his feet up on the open roll-top desk.

The loud ringing in the yard man's ears made him jump and his feet slipped from the desk top. For a few moments he sat rigid in his chair, staring at the telephone, then he stood up and backed away. The thing he had dreaded was happening. Jack bit on his bottom lip. Should he let it ring? No, he would have to answer it, he decided. It might be the boss ringing in with a message, and if he did not answer the phone he would be in trouble. He approached the instrument as though the thing might bite him, and with a shaking hand reached out and picked up the earpiece.

The voice at the other end spoke in a cultured tone. 'Johnson's Tanneries here. I'd like to speak to George Galloway, please.'

Jack looked around him in panic. ''E, er, I'm er, Oxford,' he stuttered.

'He's in Oxford, you say?'

'No. I'm Oxford. I'm, er, I'm mindin' the phone 'case it rings, yer see. Who are yer?'

'Well, now the phone has rung, will you kindly go and get Mr Galloway, if you please?' the voice requested in a sarcastic tone.

Jack scratched his head and put his mouth closer to the mouthpiece. 'Mr Tanner's 'ere but 'e's 'ad ter go out an' 'e asked me ter mind the telephone,' he shouted.

There was a crackling sound as the caller puffed in exasperation then the measured tone sounded loudly in Jack's ear. 'Look, whoever you are, I don't want to speak to Mr Tanner, and I can't very well if he's had to go out, now can I? I would like to speak to Mr George Galloway. Will you go away and get him please, if that is all right with you?'

Jack was gaining in confidence now that he realised the telephone was not going to bite him. 'I jus' told yer, mate, 'e's gorn out,' he said boldly.

'No you did not,' the voice said, sounding angry. 'You said Mr Tanner went out. Now is Galloway there or isn't he?'

'Mr Galloway's not 'ere, but I can take a message,' Jack said helpfully.

'Ah. Now we're getting somewhere,' the voice continued more calmly. 'This is Mr Forbes of Johnson's Tanneries. Now have you a pencil handy?'

'What d'yer wanna pencil for?' Jack asked, frowning.

'Oh my G.o.d!' the voice exclaimed. 'I don't need a pencil, you do! Now listen, the message is this: Mr Galloway is to ring me. I need to get his signature on the contract before next Thursday. Is that understood?'

Jack Oxford nodded.

'Well, is it?' the caller demanded in a loud voice.

'I'll tell 'im soon as 'e comes in,' Jack said, thankful that the message was not too difficult.

There was a loud click as the phone was slammed down, and for a while Jack stood listening to the burring noise.

'You gorn?' he shouted into the mouthpiece, and hearing no reply carefully replaced the earpiece on its hook.

The carts were beginning to return to the yard and William still had not returned. In the meantime, Jack had been reciting the message to himself over and over again. By the time the yard foreman walked into the office, he was sure that he had got it right.

'Any phone calls?' William asked.

'Yeah,' Jack replied, going over the message once more in his head.

'Well?'

'Mr Forbes rung the phone from Johnson's Tanneries,' Jack began. ''E said fer Mr Galloway ter give 'im a ring on Thursday. It's about the contract what's gotta be signed.'

William scribbled the message down on a slip of paper and placed it on Galloway's desk, then he marched out to confront the carmen who were standing in a group looking very serious about something.

On Sat.u.r.day morning Sara Knight arrived at the Tanners' front door at eight o'clock sharp. She was wearing a long grey dress that had a patch in the bodice and hung loosely over her narrow shoulders. Her lace-up boots were polished and she carried a small parcel under her arm. Her long brown hair had been painstakingly brushed. It shone in the early morning light as she waited for her knock to be answered. Sara had been up since dawn. Already that morning she had cleaned the house and heated the porridge for her two younger brothers. The baby's rusk had been powdered into a small dish and when she heard the sound of the milkman's cart on the cobbles, Sara had hurried down to him carrying a jug. She had also cut some cheese sandwiches and wrapped them up in brown paper. The last thing she did before leaving was gently to take the baby from her cot and place her beside her sleeping mother. The tot had stirred then settled down. Sara had picked up the parcel and hurried down into the empty street, her stomach churning with excitement. When she reached the Tanners' house, she had to take a deep breath before she reached for the knocker.

When Carrie answered the door, she smiled happily at her friend. 'Cor, don't you look nice?' she said kindly. 'Me mum said she'll be leavin' in a few minutes. Mrs Axford is gonna sit wiv yer mum too, so it'll be all right.'

When the two children hurried into the yard, they saw William backing t.i.tch between the shafts. They stood to one side, watching as he hooked up the cob's harness chains, and when he was satisfied all was ready William strode up and took Sara's hand.

'Wanna give t.i.tch 'is t.i.tbit?' he smiled, handing her a k.n.o.b of sugar.

As she timidly complied the horse bent its head and sucked up the sugar lump into its mouth, leaving Sara's hand wet. She wiped it down her dress and giggled happily.

'C'mon then up we go,' William said, hoisting the two girls into the back of the open cart and then leading the horse out into the street. The two friends stood at the front of the cart and waited while he relocked the front gates, then he took the reins in his hand and flicked them over the horse's back. As the cart picked up speed, William sprang up on to the shafts and into the high d.i.c.ky seat. The girls held on tightly, smiling excitedly at each other as the cart rattled over the cobblestones and turned into the quiet Jamaica Road. Soon they were pa.s.sing over Tower Bridge and could see the ships and barges moored beneath them. Above, the blue sky was streaked with cloud and a light breeze carried the smell of the river mud up on to the bridge. Sara's eyes were wide with excitement and Carrie felt so happy that her friend had been able to come after all. At the far side of the bridge William pulled the cart up beside a water trough and let the horse drink its fill.

As they continued their journey along through the wide Mile End Road towards Bow, he chatted to the girls and pointed out the places of interest they pa.s.sed. When they drew level with Bow Church, the two friends settled down in the well of the cart on the two sacks of chaff William had put there for them, and chatted together happily.

The day had remained fine and warm. Now, with the sun dipping below the high wharves, the tired horse pulled a full load of hay bales past the white stone Tower of London and on to the bridge. William sat slumped in the seat, his hands loose on the slack reins, allowing t.i.tch to travel at his own pace. Above him the two girls lay in the well between the bales, staring up at the evening sky.

Sara sighed happily and thought of all the things she would be able to talk about when she got back home. It had been a very long journey. It must have been miles and miles, she recalled. They had left the houses and factories behind them and then taken a road that had trees and open fields on either side. They had stopped at a little pub with flowers growing around the door and sat at a table in a lovely garden, and then Carrie's dad had brought them out gla.s.ses of fizzy lemonade. Carrie had opened the brown paper parcel and shared her cheese sandwiches, and then they had left for the farm. It had cows and pigs and geese, whose feathers were all muddy.

They had held hands as the nice lady at the farm took them to the barn to see the calves. The lady had given them each a gla.s.s of milk and biscuits, and before they left Carrie's dad had climbed on top of the load and made a s.p.a.ce for them to lie in. They had climbed up the rickety ladder, each clasping a little bunch of wild flowers they had picked, and then nestled down in the hay to share the last cheese sandwich as the cart pulled out of the farm and drove down the b.u.mpy lane to the main road. There was so much to tell, so much to remember, she thought. As the hay wagon pa.s.sed the brewery and turned into Tooley Street, Sara felt it had been the happiest day of her life.

On Monday morning, after the last of the vans had left the yard, George Galloway put his head out of the office door and called out to his yard foreman. William walked into the office knowing a row was brewing. George had driven his trap in early that morning and had stood in the office doorway to watch the carts leaving with a stern look on his face.

'Close the door an' sit down, Will,' he said, sitting himself at his desk and swivelling round in the chair to face the younger man. 'Now what's all this about the carmen 'avin' a grouse?'

William had noticed George talking to Sid Bristow earlier and was sure the carman had informed him of the grievance. He took a deep breath. 'The men wanna see yer about a rise,' he began. 'They've got themselves a spokesman an' they wanna join the union.'

'Oh, they do, do they?' George replied. 'An' whose union do they wanna join then? Not that Ben Tillett's mob, I'ope. 'E's bin causin' ructions in the docks.'

'I dunno,' William answered, looking hard at the firm owner. 'They reckon they've got a genuine reason ter complain. Tommy 'Atcher's put 'is carmen's wages up an' word's got around. The men thought they should've got a rise last year an' now they reckon they're fallin' be'ind ovver firms' carmen.'

George slipped his thumbs into the pockets of his waistcoat and leaned back in his chair. 'Who's their spokesman?' he asked.

'Scratcher Blackwell,' William replied. ''E asked me ter let yer know the way the men feel, an' 'e wants ter see yer ternight when 'e gets finished.'

'Oh, 'e does, does 'e? Well, you can tell Scratcher I'm not 'avin' a union in 'ere. What's more, I'm not gonna be bullied inter givin' rises, jus' because Tommy 'Atcher's decided ter give in ter 'is men.'

William stood up quickly. 'Maybe it'd be better if yer told 'im yerself, George,' he said, a note of anger in his voice. 'I'm paid ter look after the 'orses an' keep the carts on the road. I give out the work an' do a lot of ovver jobs around 'ere. I'm not paid ter be runnin' from pillar ter post wiv messages an' threats.'

George stared at his foreman for a moment or two, then his face broke into a smile. 'Sit down, Will,' he said with a wave of his hand. 'All right, I'll see Scratcher ternight, but I'm not gonna be intimidated. I ain't 'avin' the union people comin' in 'ere tryin' ter tell me 'ow ter run my business. Yer know me of old, I don't bow ter threats. Tell me somefink, Will, d'yer fink I should give 'em a rise?'

William shrugged his shoulders. 'That's fer you ter decide, George,' he replied, looking up quickly. 'One fing yer gotta remember though - those carmen of ours could get better wages workin' fer 'Atcher or Morgan. If yer wanna keep yer men, yer'll 'ave ter fink about that.'

Galloway nodded. 'All right, I'll give it some thought. By the way, 'ow's your Nellie? Does she still bear me a grudge?'

William was taken aback by the sudden enquiry. It was the first time George had said anything concerning Nellie's involvement with the women's protest. 'Nellie thought she was right ter do what she did,' he said quickly. 'She reckoned it was wrong ter send that idiot Oxford out there wiv an 'osepipe. An' I tell yer somefink else, George - I fink yer was in the wrong too. If she 'adn't cut that pipe, those women would 'ave got soaked. But as for bearin' yer a grudge, my Nellie ain't one for that. I should reckon she's fergot all about it.'

George nodded his head slowly. 'Well, that's nice ter know,' he said, a smile playing around his lips. 'Me an' you are old friends, Will. Yer do a good job 'ere an' I wouldn't wanna lose yer. Now, what about those two lame 'orses? 'Ow are they?'

William had sensed a veiled threat in his employer's remark. He knew that their old friendship would not count for much if George wanted to get rid of him.

'I've got 'em in the small stable,' he answered. 'They've both bin sweatin'. It may jus' be a cold fever. I won't know fer a day or two.'

'Yer don't fink it's the colic, do yer?'

William shook his head. 'I don't fink so. They're not rollin' in the stalls an' there's no sign o' blood in the dung. I'm keepin' me eye on 'em an' I'm gonna look in ternight. If there's any turn fer the worse, I'll get the vet in.'

Galloway nodded, content to leave the animals' welfare to his capable foreman. The trouble brewing with the carmen worried him though, and as soon as William had left the office he made a phone call.

When Sharkey drove back into the yard that evening, he saw that the trap was still there and took his time unhitching his horse. Soon Soapy drove in, closely followed by Scratcher Blackwell, who looked a little anxious as he led his pair of horses to the stable.

'Yer gonna see the ole man ain't yer, Scratch?' Soapy asked.

'I'm waitin' 'til everybody's in,' Scratcher replied quickly.

'Don't take any ole lip, mate. We're all be'ind yer,' Sharkey called out loudly as he led his horse to the water trough.

Scratcher winced, hoping that Sharkey's comment had not reached the office. He had had second thoughts about volunteering to be the spokesman and Sharkey's words worried him. It was a small firm by comparison with Tommy Hatcher's business and Scratcher knew only too well Galloway's reputation for dealing briskly with troublemakers. The information he had gathered from the union office in Tooley Street did not encourage him very much either. Picketing the yard and stopping Galloway trading would not do him any good if he was out of work, he thought. There was Betty and the two kids to think of. How was she going to manage if he put himself out of work?

The anxious carman suddenly found that he had no more time for worrying when William walked up to him. 'The ole man wants ter see yer in the office,' the yard foreman said, taking him by the arm. 'Mind 'ow yer go, Scratcher. Take a tip an' don't get too stroppy. Yer know 'ow cantankerous 'e can be.'

Scratcher nodded and hurried across the yard, William's warning adding to his feeling of dread.

'C'mon in, Blackwell. Sit down,' Galloway said without looking up.

Scratcher sat down and clasped his hands together, eyeing the firm owner warily. He had gone over in his mind the argument he was going to use, but now as he sat uncomfortably he felt more than a little worried.

Suddenly George Galloway swivelled his chair round and leaned back, his fingers playing with the silver watch chain hanging across his chest. 'Yer wanna see me?' he said.

'Well, Guv'nor, the men asked me ter come an' see yer,' he began quickly. 'It's about a rise. They reckon ...'

'What about you? What der you reckon?' Galloway cut in.

'Well, I, er, I reckon we're ent.i.tled ter get a few bob extra a week. Most o' the ovver cartage firms 'ave give their carmen a rise,' Scratcher said spiritedly.

'An' yer've put yerself up as the spokesman?' Galloway said, still fingering his watch chain.

The worried carman looked down at his hands, then his eyes went up to meet Galloway's. 'The men asked me ter do the talkin'. They wanna get unionised. They reckon we should go the way most o' the ovver cartage firms 'ave gone.'

Galloway took his cue from the man's obvious discomfiture and leaned forward, his eyes boring into Scratcher's. 'Yer keep on about what they want an' what they said-I fink yer've bin primin' 'em up. I reckon yer've bin listenin' ter those troublemakers at the union an' yer fink yer can put a bit o' pressure on.'

Scratcher shook his head. 'I'm jus' a spokesman,' he answered.

Galloway took out his watch and glanced at it. The phonecall he had made to the union office had rea.s.sured him. 'Let me tell yer what I'm prepared ter do, Blackwell,' he said quietly. 'I'm puttin' the men's wages up by 'alf a crown a week. As fer joinin' the union . . . there's gonna be no union in this yard, yer can tell the men that from me. Oh, an' anuvver fing. I don't care fer troublemakers. Yer can finish the week out. Yer leave Friday.'

Scratcher stood up, his face flushed with shock. 'Yer mean I'm sacked?' he gasped.

'That's right. That's exactly what I mean,' Galloway said derisively, swivelling round to face his desk.

The shocked carman walked out of the office and crossed the yard to his waiting workmates. 'Yer've got 'alf a crown a week,' he said in a flat voice. 'An' I'm out the door.'

''E can't do that!' Sharkey shouted.

'Well, 'e 'as,' Scratcher replied.

'What we gonna do about it?' Soapy asked, looking around for support.

The rest of the men were silent. Lofty Russell looked down at his feet. 'What can we do? If we try anyfing the ole b.a.s.t.a.r.d'll sack the lot of us,' he moaned.

The men shuffled about uncomfortably, shaking their heads. Scratcher's brother Fred suddenly rounded on Soapy. 'You was the one who wanted 'im ter go an' see Galloway,' he said, glaring. 'You was the one who said the men was gonna back 'im. Well, c'mon then. Let's see yer back 'im now.'

Soapy averted his eyes. 'I'll back 'im if the rest will,' he said unconvincingly.