made up for her aching legs. What she hadn’t decided was where to stash her new earnings so that they would be safely hidden from any prying eyes. Whatever I do, she thought, I must be careful not to let on at home that I have even one extra penny.
She wouldn’t even tell Fay, she decided; it wasn’t fair to burden her young sister with her secrets. At least, not yet. She would give no sign to anyone about her new job. Elsie wondered how she would explain her absence every evening. Thinking on it, she thought she could get away with saying that she was working nights at the factory. The place often operated around the clock at busy times of the year and the factory had been much busier than usual of late. Word had it that it was in case there was a war. Anyway, Elsie knew her lackadaisical parents were unlikely to check. The others would just have to do more of the housework now – as the eldest, she’d more than done her bit.
‘It’s gonna get busier than this before Christmas is over,’ Mr Harehill told her as he prepared to lock up for the night. ‘And I’ll expect you to work a full shift over the holidays.’
She readily agreed. The young man she had followed, who had spoken up for her at just the right moment, the one that the landlord had called Stan, seemed to have disappeared by the time she was ready to go home. She felt strangely disappointed that she hadn’t been able to thank him for the part he’d played in securing her the job, though she was sure she would be seeing a lot more of him now they were both working at the Butcher’s Arms.
Stan had intended to see Elsie safely home after her first successful night in the pub. Apart from anything, he fancied her and thought he might be in with a chance, as he’d been so helpful and actually found her the job. But instead, when the noisy crowd of young lads and men who had invaded the pub were preparing to leave, he grabbed his jacket and slipped out with them. He was keen to latch on to the newly enlisted soldier. The lad said he’d come to say goodbye to his family as he was off to war the next day and Stan, who’d been thinking of joining up himself, desperately wanted to grab the opportunity to find out more.
‘Which way are you walking?’ he asked. When the lad told him, Stan suggested they walk together since he was going that way too. In truth, his home was in the opposite direction, but he had endless questions to ask and the lad seemed only too eager to answer them. They walked for quite some time, but Stan was too busy chatting to pay any attention to where they were going. So engrossed was he in the stories the young soldier had to tell about his recent experiences, they’d reached the lad’s house without Stan realizing how far out of his way he had gone. He didn’t want to admit how long it would take him to walk home, so he waved goodbye and waited for the lad to let himself into the house before turning around and walking home. But he didn’t mind the walk, even though it turned out to be several miles. It enabled him to clear his head, mull things over and consider again the decision he had made almost as soon as he had first met the young soldier.
By the time he was back in Weatherfield, Stan was certain he knew exactly what he was going to do. He too was going to volunteer to fight in the Spanish Civil War. This wasn’t the first time he had heard about it, but it was the first time he had met someone who had actually enlisted. The previous year a mate had persuaded him to go to a summer camp run by the Labour League of Youth. He knew it was something his dad would have approved of if he’d still been alive as he’d been a keen supporter of the Labour Party. So, Stan hadn’t taken much persuading. And he’d been pleased with his decision. All the lads he met there were working class like him and they turned out to be a great bunch. Mostly, it had been a good laugh, but things had turned serious when they got to talking about the latest war in Europe. It seemed that in Spain the democratically elected Republicans were being threatened by Francisco Franco and his gang of fascists. With Adolf Hitler supporting Franco, the Republicans needed as much help as they could get to stop the fascists taking over. The International Brigade was recruiting soldiers from all over the world and although the English government was against young Brits signing up, many of the lads at the camp were determined to go. The stories Stan had heard there were enough to convince him it was the right thing to do. Besides, it sounded exciting, a chance to make his mark on the world. What’s more, he reckoned he could make far more money fighting for a good cause than he could ever earn collecting dead glasses in a crummy bar in Weatherfield.
Stan had always considered himself a bit of a warrior and a chancer, though in fact his biggest adventure to date had been a day trip to Glossop. But fighting in a foreign country, even for a cause he didn’t fully understand, sounded thrilling. From the first moment, he was enchanted by the notion of going to Spain. He was already imagining the stories he would be able to tell when he eventually came home a hero, and the thought of impressing Elsie wasn’t far from his mind either. It didn’t trouble him in the slightest that he wasn’t sure how to get down to London, where the soldier had said he would find the recruiting office for volunteers.
Elsie saw Stan again sooner than she’d expected. Early the next morning as she came out of the front door ready to go to work, she was surprised to find him leaning against the wall, one foot flat against the brickwork. The window beside him was so grimy it was impossible to see in or out. Casting an anxious glance over her shoulder, Elsie was relieved to see that she was the first one up and out of the house as usual. If for once her father had been up and about, he would have had a mouthful to say about a lad sniffing around at that hour of the morning.
‘What are you doing here so early?’ she said. ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’ She treated him to one of her teasing smiles. ‘Nice of you to want to walk me to work, but it’s only just down the road, you know. By the time you’ve said, “How do you do?” we’ll be there.’
Stan grinned. ‘I know.’ He lifted his cap to flick the straying lock of hair underneath it, then jammed it back down again. ‘I wanted to see you.’
‘You’ll be seeing me soon enough at the pub tonight. Can’t it wait?’
‘No, it can’t. But don’t fret. It won’t take a minute. Shall we just nip down the side so no one can see us?’
At this Elsie giggled. ‘Why? What are you planning on doing? Isn’t it a bit early in the morning for that?’ She was surprised to see him blush.
‘It’s nothing like that. I want to tell you summat, and it’s a secret.’
‘Well, that’s all very flattering. Thank you very much. But I daren’t be late for clocking on or they’ll be docking me wages. They use any excuse they can get, you must know that.’
‘Aye, I do. They’re all the piggin’ same, the bosses.’
They scurried to the end of the James’s house next door at number 20, and Elsie leaned up against the wall in what she thought was a provocative pose. But he didn’t seem to notice.
‘Well?’ she said. ‘I’m waiting.’ She was aware of the minutes ticking by. ‘Spit it out.’
‘Can you keep a secret?’ Stan looked suddenly agitated and Elsie felt a tingle down her spine. What was this about?
‘Of course I can,’ she said. ‘What kind of secret is it anyway?’
He hesitated before blurting out, ‘I’m going off to war.’
Elsie was puzzled. ‘But there is no war. Not yet, at any road. And there may not—’
‘Not that war,’ he cut in. ‘The civil war in Spain.’
‘Oh.’ Not wanting to admit she wasn’t sure of the difference, she nodded as if she knew all about it and then said, ‘Why?’
‘Because we have to stop the bloody fascists from taking over the country.’
‘I see,’ she said, though she wasn’t sure she did. ‘But why do you have to go? Spain’s a heck of a long way. Haven’t they got enough men in their own army?’
‘No. Not now that