Lately though, the days seemed to get longer and heavier. And the burden of living was almost too much to bear.
PHIL SAUNDERS WAS looking for trouble, but that was nothing new. ‘Who’s for a pint down the pub?’ Stripping off his overalls he scanned the room, his hard stare alighting on his work-mates who had yet to respond. ‘What? None of you fancies a pint? I don’t believe it!’
‘Looks like you’re on your own, matey.’ That was Jimmy Clayton, a stick-thin man in his late forties, with a straightforward, no-nonsense manner.
‘Oh, really?’ Incensed, Phil Saunders squared his broad shoulders. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means what it says.’ The other man made a wide gesture with outstretched arms. ‘Look around. Do you see anybody rushing to join you?’
‘Oh, so now you speak for everybody else, do you? Anyway, what makes you think I give a sod whether any of you come or not? Matter o’ fact, it’s just as well, ’cos I’m a bit particular about my drinking partners.’
‘There you go then.’
Clayton’s attitude was riling Saunders, who took a step closer. ‘Seems to me like you’re itching for trouble, mate.’
‘You’re wrong. I don’t want trouble. The thing is, I’ve had to work alongside you all week. I’ve put up with your foul temper and constant complaining, because I’ve got no choice. But the last thing I need is to go drinking like we’re “mates”, because we’re not mates and we never will be.’
Saunders continued to goad him. ‘The truth is, you wouldn’t dare come down the pub in case you might have to dip into your wages; the little wife wouldn’t like that, would she, eh?’ He gave a sneering laugh. ‘I bet she waits at the door every Friday with her greedy little mitts held out, waiting for the wages you’ve sweated for.’ He sniggered. ‘I bet she even gives you pocket money.’
For what seemed an age the smaller man looked Saunders in the eye, his jaw working up and down and his fists clenched together.
‘Want to punch me, do you?’ Saunders stuck his face out. ‘Go on then, matey, you try it. We all know who would come off worse, don’t we, eh?’
‘Leave it, Phil.’ That was Arnie Reynolds, a big bumbling lump of a man. ‘There’s no need to rile him. If Jimmy doesn’t want to come for a drink, that’s his choice, and whatever his reason, it’s not for you or any of us to question.’
Taking a deep noisy breath through his nose, Saunders let it out through his mouth, together with a torrent of words. ‘You’re all the bloody same. Can’t stand on your own two feet. Lily-livered, the lot of you.’
‘Hey! That’s enough o’ that.’ Stuart McArthy was a Scot with an attitude, though unlike Saunders he was not a bully. ‘I for one happen to have a real thirst on me, so why don’t we stop the gabbing an’ make our way to the pub.’
He had a word of advice for Jimmy. ‘He’s right though, Jimmy lad. A man needs to show the little woman who’s boss. Otherwise she’ll run rings round you.’
Saunders laughed out loud. ‘That might be good advice for a real man, but y’see, our Jimmy wouldn’t know how to be a real man. He’s a coward through and through – ain’t that right, Jimmy Boy?’ A man in his prime, Phil Saunders considered himself to be a cut above the rest. ‘You won’t catch me pandering to no bloody female! Never in a million years. Anyway, what’s so different about your woman that you treat her so special, eh?’
‘She’s my wife … the mother of my children, and if that isn’t enough, I happen to love and respect her.’ Like every man jack there, Jimmy was well aware of the way Saunders treated his wife, Judy. ‘You might want to think about that,’ he added.
‘I think you’d best explain yourself!’ Saunders said dangerously.
‘I don’t have to explain anything. You asked me why I treat my wife so special and I’m telling you.’ Leaning forward, Jimmy lowered his voice. ‘I don’t treat my wife like a piece of rubbish. Nor do I take my temper out on her.’
With an animal-like growl, Saunders got him by the throat. ‘You bastard! What the hell are you insinuating, eh?’ He locked his fingers tighter, until Jimmy’s face felt like it was boiling. ‘Are you saying I don’t love my Judy … or that I don’t respect her? Is that what you’re saying?’ He squeezed his hands tighter. ‘I’ve a good mind to finish you here and now!’
Jimmy truly thought he would never see another day. He couldn’t breathe. His eyeballs felt as though they would pop right out of his head, and his tongue was clamped so hard between his teeth, he could feel the pain right through to his chest.
When in that moment, the other two men leaped forward and tore Saunders away, Jimmy fell to the ground, coughing and spluttering; thankful that he might live to tell the tale.
‘I thought you said you were off to the pub,’ intent on cooling the situation, McArthy asked of Saunders. ‘So, are you coming, or do I go without you?’
‘I said so, didn’t I?’ Glancing at Jimmy who was now up on his feet and smoothing down his hair, Saunders’ smile was pure evil. ‘It’s good to see there’s at least one man in the place besides me who knows how to spend his own hard-earned money.’
Jimmy did not rise to the bait a second time, although he managed to croak, ‘You’re a lucky man, Saunders, if you can afford to chuck your money about. As for me, I’ve got better things to do with mine. I’ve a family waiting for me, with a clutch of kids that need my every penny.’ He addressed the other two men. ‘See you.’
Saunders’ goading voice followed him. ‘Get going then, you pansy – unless you want me to help you through the door!’
‘See you tomorrow.’ The others had no axe to grind with Jimmy. If they had to choose out of him and Saunders, Jimmy was the better man.
‘What about you then, Bill?’ Saunders addressed the man next to him. Tall and willowy, Anderson was a reliable workmate who grafted tirelessly, though he kept his distance and never got caught up in heated arguments. ‘Gonna join us for a drink, are you?’
‘Nope.’ A man of few words, his conversations were short and to the point.
‘Why’s that?’ Saunders was still heated from his set-to with Jimmy.
‘Got my own reasons, and before you ask, I don’t discuss my business with anybody.’
Saunders gave a cynical laugh. ‘You’re a miserable bugger!’ But he said no more. He suspected Bill Anderson of having hidden depths; and that if he and the other man ever did have an affray, it might not be Anderson who came off worse. So, with that in mind, Saunders stayed true to form, by picking only on those weaker than himself.
Aware that Bill was growing impatient with Saunders, Arnie Reynolds moved towards the door. ‘Cheerio then, Bill, see you tomorrow.’ Turning to the others he called out, ‘Stuart!
