Albert Grimshaw carefully closed the front door so as not to waken his still snoring mother, wrapped his knitted scarf around to cover his mouth and nose then set off towards the tram stop. The thick smog that had descended on the city two days ago was still around, muffling the early morning sounds of people tramping to work. Albert moved from the glow of one gas street lamp to the next, keeping a good look out for ladders in case the lamp trimmer and winder was about his business. After ten minutes he reached the main road, turned right for the tram stop and just before reaching it pushed open the door of Lindsey’s newsagents. His breathing was a little faster now, not from the exertion but because behind the counter was Mavis, the secret love of his life.
Mavis smiled at him, reached under the counter and handed him a brown envelope. Albert thanked her, moved to the end of the counter, took out a pen, filled out the form he had extracted then sealed it in another envelope along with a two shilling postal order then handed it back to Mavis. ‘Did you see how much the payout was last week Mr. Grimshaw? Asked Mavis ‘Hard to miss.’ Replied Albert. It’s plastered all over the busses. Littlewoods Pools pays out £75,000, lets hope it’s my turn this week‘. ’Well good luck’ said Mavis and turned to the next customer.
Five minutes later he was on the lower deck of the tram as it rattled its way towards the city centre. One or two of the women stared at Albert wondering why he was not on the top deck with the other men but the answer was simple, although being in his early thirties his mother did not allow him to smoke. ‘Your father smoked and look what happened to him.’ she would say glaring at some innocent lad lighting up. The fact that her husband was one of the thousands of merchant seamen sent to the bottom of the Atlantic during the war did not matter. He had been a smoker and had left her with a son to look after and so in her eyes was a bad lot.
Albert did not have a happy life. He worked as a comptometer operator for a large insurance company. A dull, undemanding job chosen for him by his mother. He had wanted to go to sea like his father but his mother would not hear of it. She had him where she wanted him, under her thumb. Every Friday he handed over his pay packet and his mother dolled out enough for is tram fare and meagre lunch, made even more meagre by the two shillings he secretly spend on the pools each week. Needless to say his mother did not approve of gambling or smoking or drinking or girls, especially girls and so all of these pleasures of life were denied to Albert.
By next week the smog had gone but the routine was the same until he went into the newsagents. Mavis was excited. ‘Mr Grimshaw, Mr Grimshaw’ she cried ‘A man from Littlewoods was in first thing, wanted to see you urgently. Said to ring this number.’ She thrust a piece of piece of paper into Albert’s hand. He thanked her, changed a sixpence into pennies and crossed the road to a phone box. He put four pennies in the box, dialled the number and pressed button A. After a short conversation he left the phone box and returned to the shop.
’Did you win?’ asked Mavis. Albert did not answer but went over the shop chair, sat down and stared into space. ‘You all right you look quite pale. Can I get you a cup of tea?’ continued Mavis. ‘Err pardon, no, thank you. It’s just that I’ve had a bit of a shock. I’ve won £75,493.15s. and 4 pence.,
Albert sat for some time in the newsagents thinking hard. He was a worried man, how would his mother react when he told her he had been gambling. He suspected that at the very least she would demand he hand over the money to her to save him from becoming a wastrel like his father. Try as he might he could not think of a way to avoid not telling his mother. The person he had talked to on the telephone had told him that it was one of the conditions of playing was that Littlewoods would only hand over the cheque with a photographer present. Such a large win would be splashed all over the local paper. His mother routinely read the paper, especially the Sunday edition searching out wrongdoings to tut over.
After two hours sitting in the shop he accepted and drank a cup of strong sweet tea from Mavis, thanked her, stood up and headed for the tram stop. The three extra spoonfuls of sugar had emboldened him, he would go and confront his mother and tell her that he as moving out. He was going to buy himself a small flat and there was nothing she could do about it.
Had his mother been at home the extra sugar might have done the trick but being a drowned seaman’s widow she had exercised her right to dress in the traditional black clothes and shawl and set up a flower stall at the town market. Albert’s resolve was already slipping away as he got off the tram and headed for the market. Then when he saw his mother what was left of his resolve deserted him. She was talking to a reporter. He knew it was a reporter because he had a card in his hat band with PRESS written on it and a chap with a large camera was hovering behind him.
Then his mother looked up and saw him. ‘ALBERT COME HERE AT ONCE’ she yelled. Albert did not hesitate, he turned and fled across the road pursued at full gallop by his mother. Being a game old bird she began to catch up with Albert who had reached the far side of the road and stopped, trying to decide whether to turn left or right. With a cry of triumph his mother put on a spurt but full length skirts and petticoats were not designed for speed, she tripped and crashed down right in front of an approaching tram. The was a gasp of horror from the watching crowd, an ear piercing screech as the tram driver wound on the brake then the tram rolled over the inert body.
If it had been a bus she would have been squashed flat but as it was a tram the hanging gate was pushed back by the inert body in its path. This caused the body catcher to crash down onto the ground and scoop her up to safety. When the tram came to a stop Albert’s mother rolled out to cheers and applause from the watching crowd. Albert was the first to reach her. He cradled her head in his arms and undid her bonnet. ‘Mum are you all right.’ he cried. His mothers eyes fluttered and opened. She gazed up at him and said. ‘Hello, who are you?’
Short stories Spain by the U3A Marbella Writers Group