Where the Wind Blows

By Pamela Hall-Hamilton

Ben Walters moves from extreme poverty to wealth beyond his dreams which he pays the horrific price for when he is set up in a corrupt syndicate that he doesn’t have a clue about.
However, Ben is sharp-witted himself and through some ingenious ideas becomes a man of influential authority. He changes his identity to George Morley and

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pen House LLC
• Release date: Feb 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781951961053

Pamela Hall-Hamilton

Born in Leicester England, I have been writing since 1980. I have a diploma for Creative Writing with the Stratford Career Institute of Toronto. I wrote Where the Wind Blows over twenty years ago, however, I never published it. I worked at that time and went through life not expecting too much waiting for things to come my way. I had the fears that most of us have with money with health, with life itself. And then I came across this phenomenal idea that thoughts are things. I learned that thoughts are energy. They are potent because the energy they retain is the most powerful energy in the Universe and this energy is within our control. I am the sort of person that loves to share and so I started the website www.wherethewindblows.ca At that time I became the co-author of Your Invincible Power series of motivational books which I wrote with my son, W.T. Hamilton.

Book preview

Prologue

PART ONE

1848: Ben Walters

Chapter One

Ben Walters

‘Listen to Phelma and Stan wheeze and cough; it never seems to stop. And then there’s old Jerome …’ Ben’s large brow furrowed as he complained.

Ben Walters and his friend, Robbie Banfry, glanced away when Jerome coughed up matter tinged with soot and spat it out into a nearby tin before he sunk his stale bread into a tin mug of water. It was a habit of Jerome’s that they had become accustomed to. Ben and Robbie sat amongst the men, women, and children who crowded into a corner of the clammy factory room for the short lunch break

From his grimy pants pocket, nineteen-year old Ben pulled a piece of extraordinarily clean calico, and from this he pulled a piece of stale bread and pushed it into his mouth with a small lump of cheese to follow. Ben then tugged on the collar of his shirt, ‘There ain’t no air in this place. It ain’t no wonder our workers have the consumption. I only wish that some of `em would come to the meetings. We could get something done about them damn windows if we stuck together. Look, there’s only two that can open, and they’re barely cracked at the best of times.’

Robbie’s glance swept up to the window and back to his scanty meal. Being six years Ben’s senior, he was more resigned to accept things the way they were since he had a wife and four children to support. Ben shook his head in scorn while he stuffed the last piece of bread into his mouth.

Conversation among the workers was rare. They had neither the time nor the patience to listen to young Ben’s grumblings. Soon the factory bell shrieked out and Ben watched the workers move wearily through the baneful haze of forty gas lights and back to black oily machines for another six hours of drudgery. With reluctance he followed while he wiped his neck with the piece of calico, preventing another trickle of perspiration from melting into the collar of his shirt.

That evening as Ben and Robbie made their way home along North Gate Street, Ben thrust his hands deep into his pockets: his large body slumped. He scowled down at Robbie, ‘They work like animals with this disease in `em, and they’re still meek and dutiful. It don’t make sense to me. Why don’t they fight for their rights? That’s what these movements are for!’

‘They ain’t got the fight for it like you ‘ave, Ben.’ Robbie shrugged.

‘So, they’d rather work like slaves and wither away until they die, and for what! Sometimes I feel like yelling at them `cause they’re the ones to blame; they let it happen.’

‘`Cause there’s always the next man to take our place, and that’s what we’re scared of, Ben.’

‘Well I can tell you this much—I ain’t spending the rest of me days working like this until it wears me away, or in any other place like it!’

Robbie smiled at this. He had heard Ben’s ranting on many occasions. He was always pushing the Movement down everyone’s throat, but most didn’t believe the cause could do anything for them. He wondered how Ben, in the end, was going to live any different than he was, when none amongst them had any choice.

The late October wind swirled the rubble around their feet, then hurled the refuse against the bulk of dilapidated buildings sagging along the roadside. They parted where the roads crossed. Robbie headed for Sanvey Gate, while Ben’s route took him south onto Highcross Street, and the rooming house where he stayed.

Today, however, would not be a routine day where Ben would wash his face, eat a mediocre meal along with the ten other men who shared the house. Nor would it be a day where he would go to the pub or a meeting, have a couple of beers, complain some more with his friends, and then retire his young body in readiness for another monotonous day.

For as he approached the rooming house, to his astonishment a stranger was waiting for him and asked, ‘Are you Mr. Ben Walters?’

‘Yes, that’s me.’

The man pushed a letter into his hand. ‘The solicitor of Emery Associates, a Mr. Scowcroft, would like for you to see him as soon as possible. His office is on Friar Lane.’

The man walked away taking sharp strides, leaving Ben staring at the letter in his hand.

Ben entered the house and mounted the narrow stairway with rapid movement. Reaching the top, turned left on the landing and unlocked the door of his small room. Inside, he lifted an empty wash basin off a chair and placed it on top of an old worn wooden dresser that had been squeezed between the wall, the solitary chair, and the narrow bed.

He sat on the chair and rubbed his thumb and his index finger down through his straggling moustache, and stared at the official looking letter. Although he could not read, he sensed its importance.

Ben was bewildered. No one he knew had ever received an official letter. It didn’t happen to people like him. The question now was, should he get his friend, Elsie Stark, to read it to him and be prepared for the solicitor, or should he wait and let the solicitor handle it?

He thought about this for a moment before he decided to pay Elsie a visit. He had known her since childhood but unlike him she had been ambitious enough to have learned her letters. Yes, he decided, Elsie would keep her mouth shut about the contents, if needed. Leaving the room, he ran down the stairway and outside. As he passed the tap in the yard, he splashed some water over his face before he hurried back the way he had come moments before.

Ben was soon to reach Watling Street where Elsie lived in two small gloomy rooms of a terraced house. Elsie stumbled over the words, some being much too complicated for her to read but from what she could make out, Ben had been left a hefty sum of money. His father’s brother had lived in London. Elsie pressed her hand tightly over her mouth, then took a breath and said in disbelief, He’s left you one hundred and fifty-pounds. Ben stared at her before he finally said, ‘Did you read it right, Elsie, me duck?’

‘Yes, I did … well, the words I can make sense of, Ben. That must be why the solicitor wants to see yer? Blimey … you’re rich!’

He stood motionless. His brown eyes blinked at her in bleary incomprehension. She continued, ‘Did you know you had a rich uncle?’ ‘I know me dad’s younger brother lives in London,’ he replied, taking a moment to think he finished with, ‘He ain’t much older than me. He must be only twenty-eight, now. But, he ain’t rich.’

‘Well, did he like you? I mean enough ter leave you money, if he had some?’

‘Me and him always got along,’ Ben paused, still in shock. ‘I think it’s a mistake, Elsie, `cause he never had that kind of dough.’

‘Then you’ll just have to go to this solicitor and see, won’t yer?’ She smiled. ‘And don’t worry, I’ll keep it to meself.’

‘You’re an angel, Elsie.’

Bound by factory hours Ben had to wait another two frustratingly long days until Saturday, when he finished work at three o’clock. Ben arrived just before closing at Emery Associates. By this time, he was convinced that Elsie had wrongly read the letter. As a result, he found himself overwhelmed when the solicitor confirmed its contents, ‘Mr. Walters, this is not a mistake. An associate with this firm witnessed the signing of the document in London, and then directed it to us. I can assure you, it is legal and binding. Your uncle left a letter, along with the one thousand, one hundred and fifty pounds in his will.’

Ben’s jaw dropped open. ‘What …? How much did you say?’

‘One thousand, one hundred and fifty pounds,’ Mr. Scowcroft repeated. ‘Would you like me to read the letter to you?’

Ben‘s mind couldn’t take it in, he stammered, "Yes sir. Please.’ A tumultuous heartbeat pummeled his ribs as Mr. Scowcroft read:

To my nephew, Ben,

You know that you’ve always been more like a little brother to me. Anyway, in the event that some terrible tragedy takes me before I have the chance to grow old, I want you to have whatever I have left-the lot. If there is a lot! I hope there is, me old pal, or else there ain’t no use you reading this now, is there?

Ben wanted to laugh. It was so comical listening to Mr. Scowcroft trying to depict, in his posh voice, the words that Uncle Willie had written, a joker was Uncle Willie. Ben began to smile while Mr. Scowcroft read on:

If any other nephew or niece out of the twenty-nine asks, tell them I didn’t give them any money`cause I didn’t like any of them. You, me boy, are the only one I ever cared about.

If you’re a mind to make more money, which you should, then any solicitor of Emery Associates will direct you on how you should go about it.

That is it, me old flower.

I hope that you never have to read this!

Your old pal,

Willie.

Ben knew Willie so well that he could almost hear him laughing when writing the letter. The family didn’t have a good word for him. They said, he was bad blood. It hadn’t always been like that, Ben remembered. His father had tried and given up on him. There had been many visits to London, either to lend Willie money or to visit him in prison. Ben had accompanied his father on most of these visits. He recalled they had had a terrible row, something to do with money, he believed. That was five years ago. The last time anyone in the family had seen him, Ben had liked Willie and had found him amusing, but his name had become foul on his father’s tongue and was no longer spoken.

Ben now asked, ‘How did he die?’

‘I believe he was attacked in a dark alley in London. There were knives used, so I was told.’

Ben bowed his head as a pang of sympathy hit him. Willie was always into some bad deed, but Ben was sure that he hadn’t deserved what he had gotten.

Mr. Scowcroft broke into his thoughts, ‘Mr. Walters, what were you thinking of doing with the money?’

Ben stared blankly at this tall lean man. His black and silver hair lay smoothed back on a bony face which reminded Ben of Jed Reap, the undertaker. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t think it was real.’

‘If you need advice, I can tell you how to invest this money. Just as your uncle said, you can make more … a great deal more if you invest it wisely.’

Ben stared down at his feet; his brow furrowed in thought. ‘You know. I had always fancied owning something like a shop.’ He glanced back up. His face composed. Sounding faintly amused, he added, ‘Or me own factory.’

‘If you were to invest your inheritance, any one of those ideas could very well materialize sooner than you think.’

‘I don’t know much about this sort of thing, you know - investing money and the likes, Mr. Scowcroft.’

‘I can invest it for you. There are many ways to invest this money and you will be surprised how quickly your money will grow. We pay any interest that you accumulate four times a year; but you do need a bank. Have you one?’

‘No sir, I’ve never needed one. Why would I now?’

Mr. Scowcroft’s thin pale lips lifted into a smile. ‘This is already a large amount, and should grow appreciably. We pay out the dividends into your bank account.’

‘How do I go about getting a bank, Mr. Scowcroft?’

‘I can set up an account with the National Provincial Bank. It is on Granby Street. Would that be agreeable to you?’

‘He thought for a moment and then asked, ‘Could I lose it all?’

Scowcroft shook his head, ‘Presently, there are some very stable ways to invest. Our investments in the past have been quite steadfast. They are in industry. That is where the money is these days. It is almost guaranteed. Mr. Walters.’ Scowcroft let this information sink in for a moment, and continued, ‘I’m sure you will be a very wealthy man in a few years.’ He leaned back in the green leather chair, a palpable smirk on his lips.

The barrister’s advice seemed to be sound, yet Ben hesitated. ‘Is it possible that I could take one hundred and fifty pounds … just in case I lose the other? At least I can say that I had money at one time in me life then; can’t I?’

‘Why certainly. Although I believe that you’ll be saying that quite soon anyway!’ Ben’s face beamed with excitement, as Mr. Scowcroft added, ‘There is one more thing, that I would like to speak with you about, Mr. Walters.’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘I realise that you cannot read, but can you write your name?’

‘No, Mr. Scowcroft, there has never been a need.’

Ben could see that his answer wasn’t unexpected by the way the solicitor’s head nodded back and forth. Scowcroft then added, ‘I can get you to mark these papers with an x, but it would be more legally acceptable if you were to have a signature on them.’ He paused and then continued, "It is such a large amount. I wouldn’t want any legal glitch to keep you from your money.’

‘Yes, yes, I understand. Can I put me x on for now, and could it wait for a few days, Mr. Scowcroft? I’ll promise you I’ll write my signature by the end of next week.’

‘By all means. I will place the money in the safe until then. Please print your x here, and when you return I will pay you one hundred and fifty pounds as you have requested.’

Ben marked the document, vigorously shook Mr. Scowcroft’s hand, and strode excitedly from the offices of Emery Associates.

It was four o’clock and Ben’s destination was Elsie Stark’s. Neither the frosty chill that hung around nor the ominous gray clouds could dampen the keen expectancy of what Ben could envision for his future. While he walked, his mind raced. A thousand different ideas were dancing in his head. He thought he would burst out into some kind of idiotic laughter.

Elsie opened the door to him with her baby daughter on her hip. Her small son stood clinging to her skirt. ‘Come in, Ben.’

Bending down to young Ernie, Ben lifted him up into his large arms and then followed Elsie into a small kitchen.

‘You weren’t quite right about the money, Elsie,’ he blurted.

‘I weren’t?’ Her voice was full of disappointment for him. ‘That’s a shame; ain’t it?’

‘No … not really … I don’t know how to tell you this … I’m having a hard time believing it meself, but…’

He sat down on a worn wooden chair. Quite perfunctory, he rubbed his finger and thumb down his moustache, which prompted Elsie to ask, ‘What? Ben … what yer trying to tell me? It wasn’t more than we thought, were it?’

‘Only a little … one thousand, one hundred and fifty pounds; that’s all!’

Her indrawn breath was distinct. A moment’s silence was to follow, and then, ‘You what?’ Her mouth gaped open, and her green eyes seemed to widen in her small face. She placed Freda down to the floor on a blanket and questioned, ‘It can’t be, can it?’

‘I ain’t having you on, me duck.’

‘Oh, Ben … I’ll make us a cup of tea while you tell me all what the solicitor man said. She filled a kettle with water from a tin bucket, standing by the back door, while Ben went into the account of the meeting. He then stated, ‘I have to learn how to read and write; not just to do me signature, but I want to learn me letters proper, Elsie. I need to be able to know what I’m doing now that I have this much money.’

‘Well, you ain’t about to do that in one week.’

‘I know, so I’ll learn me signature first, and then the rest. Will you help me, Elsie?’

As she spooned some tea leaves into a tea-pot she mumbled, ‘I’m no teacher. I should have done more learning meself … but having the children and our Joe to take care of. Well … I just didn’t have the time.’ Now she glanced his way. ‘Listen to me going on. What I mean to say is … I’d like to introduce you to a missionary man by the name of Thomas Davis. He taught me and he teaches a small group two nights a week at the Bible Society in Hill Street.’

‘All right, Elsie. When can we go?’

‘When Joe comes home, which should be within the next hour. Mr. Davis should be there today.’ She shot a fond smile his way and went on. ‘You know I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with this much eagerness to learn your letters since I’ve known you, Ben. What are you gonna do with all that money?’

Ernie struggled to get down as Ben lowered him to the floor he ruffled his head saying, ‘I was thinking about that on the way here. I want to buy something - something that I can work at so I don’t have to work in the factory no more!’

‘What will that be?’

‘I don’t really know. I suppose that I’ve got to think on it some more!’

‘You probably want it kept quiet; aye?’

‘I think it’s best, for the time being. Another thing I want to ask you, Elsie, could I leave the money here, somewhere? Is there a good place I can hide it, me duck?’

‘I still have that old trunk in me bedroom, the one I got when me gran died. I can lock it, and no one will go into it `cause there’s only clothes of me granny’s and a few odd bits of stuff inside. Now’t anyone would be interested in!’

‘That will do just fine. Elsie, you’re an angel!’

‘That’s twice you’ve paid me that compliment, in a few days. I’ll be sprouting wings soon at this rate!’

Ben now laughed—a deep throaty laugh.

Within a week, Ben was able to write a legible signature. The following Saturday, for the first time in his life, he signed his name to a number of legal documents. He then left the offices of Emery Associates with one hundred and fifty pounds that he pushed deep into the pocket of his coat.

Moments later, on Ben’s departure, another gentleman entered Scowcroft’s office and asked, ‘Is it done, Frederick?’

‘Yes, Cecil. Here are the documents,’ Scowcroft replied with a cynical smile which curled the corners of his mouth.

Cecil Giles glanced over the signatures and asked, ‘You know what to do?

‘Yes, of course. I’ll get on to it immediately.’

When Ben entered Elsie’s house again on Watling Street that afternoon, he pushed twenty-five separate pound notes across the table to her.

‘No, Ben, I can’t take that kind of money from you. I wouldn’t feel right.’

‘Don’t be silly. It ain’t just for you. It’s for Joe and the young uns too.’

‘Well, how would I ever explain that to Joe?’

‘Joe will keep it to himself, won’t he, Elsie? You can tell him.’

‘All right. You know there ain’t many more private than he is, Ben. Even so, we can’t take that much money from you. He’ll say the same thing.’

‘I’m not about to stand and argue. Take it!’ Ben left it on the table and then continued, ‘Can I put this in the trunk?’

‘Of course.’ She moved across the small room to a cabinet, its green paint crudely peeling. She opened a drawer and removed a key which she handed to him saying, ‘You keep it, Ben. It will be best that way.’

‘It don’t matter much to me, Elsie.’

‘I would prefer you to have it, and then I won’t worry about it going lost or some awful thing like that!’ Ben made no further comment and took the key from her while she continued, ‘Go and put it in while I make us all a bite to eat. . . the kids must be getting an hunger on them by now.’

He went into the bedroom and over to the trunk that was placed in a corner of the room, opened it, and never having seen so much money before, he stared at the rolled up notes in his hand. He then pushed the roll of notes down amid a few pieces of clothing.

Closing the lid he drew in a sharp audible breath before he returned to the kitchen.

The very first purchase that Ben made with his new found wealth was a suit. Not an extravagant suit, but a nice dark brown, second hand, woolen one. He had never owned a suit and he watched Elsie as she contemplated his tall, stocky build in it. His face was favourable, in a rugged sense, with dark features, jet black hair, and side whiskers that joined his moustache.

‘My you look well groomed today. You’ll have every young girl from here to Timbuktu after you, looking nice and posh as you do!’

‘I’m gonna rent a shop, I’ve decided,’ Ben told Elsie and Joe upon one of his now frequent Saturday visits.

‘A shop.’ Elsie repeated. ‘What kind of a shop?’

‘I don’t really know yet.’ Ben bent down to the floor and picked up Freda from a blanket where she lay kicking. Leaning back into the hard wooden chair, Freda comfortably on his chest, he finished, ‘I would have to look around and see what there is I suppose.’

‘It sounds like a good idea to me,’ Joe said, while he playfully messed up his son’s hair. The two-year-old giggled.

‘If I do, would you both like to help me run it? I want to get a shop big enough.’

They both stared at him, then Joe said, ‘I’ve never worked in a shop before. Even so, I wouldn’t say no to it.’

‘I have … I worked at me Aunty Alma’s shop.’ Elsie intervened, ‘Remember the shop, Ben? It was in Abbey Lane. You came in the odd Saturday, when I was thirteen, before I started in the sewing. Anyway, I am good at adding me aunty always complimented me on that.’

‘Yes, I do remember … a sweet shop. You used to give me a sweet once in a while?’ Faintly amused upon reflection, he continued, ‘It won’t be for a time. I want to see how that money does first.’

It was later, after Ben had left, that Elsie said to Joe, ‘I must admit I’m secretly wishing that Ben’s idea could come true for us all.’

‘I feel the same way, Luv. But don’t get your hopes up too much and you won’t be too disappointed if it don’t come off.’

Dressed in his suit, Ben stood on the pavement and stared at the impressive, red brick building of the National Provincial Bank. In some way he had the sensation of importance about him when he entered the bank for the first time. It was validated when a clerk informed him that his money had now accumulated to one thousand, three hundred pounds, with interest.

‘I would like to take the three hundred pounds out,’ Ben proudly said. The young clerk replied, ‘It being a large amount, sir, I will have to inform the assistant bank manager. Just one moment.’

Ben watched the young man exit to the back of the bank and return with a thin, almost scrawny looking individual. The man had a parting down the center of light brown hair. He wore small round spectacles that seem to balance on the end of his nose.

The man introduced himself, saying, ‘I am Mr. Greeves, the assistant manager. The bank wishes you to sign a paper for the removal of the money. I would appreciate your stepping into my office, sir. This will only take a moment.’ Ben was surprised at his dignified speech which seem to stand in contrast with his dowdy suit.

He followed Greeves into a small dismal office where, with some hesitation, the assistant manager pushed a paper across the desk towards him, saying, ‘Mr. Walters, if you were to leave the money in the bank it would be to your advantage, sir.’

Ben felt the man’s smile was false, unsure of why this would trouble him.

‘I need the money right now. Mr. Greeves, thank you.’

Ben signed his signature proudly, and when he looked back up, Greeves beckoned in a shaky voice, ‘If you were to leave the money, sir, it would accumulate to an even greater amount.’

‘I am sure it would, but I need this money right away.’

‘I don’t really think that you understand, sir.’ Wavering his speech nervously, Greeves eyelids flinched rapidly when he continued, ‘The more money you leave in the bank … Mr. Walters, the more it will make for you.’

Their eyes met. Ben held his steadily and he could see the man’s smile quiver. This time his voice sharp, he said, ‘I understood that the first time, but I need the money for a business venture, Mr. Greeves!’ Greeves looked away from him, and when he looked back Ben thought he saw weariness set like clay into the man’s eyes as if he had failed to win a battle of some kind.

Without hesitation Ben took the money, grateful to leave the bank and this strange individual.

He headed for Elsie’s house where he added his new wealth to the money in the trunk saying, ‘I don’t really trust these banks. If they lose the other, at least I’ll have this much left.’ He felt that somehow he was out foxing the bank and Greeves!

Thomas Davis was surprised with Ben’s enthusiasm and voiced this saying, ‘You have done well to keep up your reading and writing, Ben, unlike most of the people who come here. I’m sorry to say, most discontinue the lessons. I do find it heart-warming to see someone with your eagerness.’

‘That’s good of you to say so, but to be honest, Mr. Davis, these classes make me feel good about meself. I can’t see why other people don’t stick to it.’

The twenty-eight-year-old missionary had taken an instant liking to Ben and he replied, ‘The trouble lies with the people being too tired. They don’t have the ambition or drive that you do, Ben. There is a need for health and education to be in place, you see, before our people can go forward.’ Ben listened ardently to everything that this short, dark-complexioned man had to say, while Thomas went on, ‘Most of the failings of the poor arise from the want of education. I’m afraid we will not see a great change within this nation until this is firmly incorporated. Only then, my dear fellow, will our poor people ultimately upsurge from where they find themselves today!’ Thomas gave Ben a warm smile. He knew from Ben’s many conversations on this subject that he could relate to the importance of his statement.

Ben shook his head enthusiastically and replied, ‘Yes, I agree, Mr. Davis, but I can tell you that our people can’t see the sense in it, or any other good advice that anyone may give ‘em. I know… I’ve tried… Lord knows I’ve tried!’

‘I can understand your point Ben, but they are exhausted. What would really help our people is industrial schools, where an hour a day would be sufficient for the people. It would give them a time away from the physical exertion of work, which in turn would encourage a favourable perspective for their future, especially the children.’

‘I bet the industrial owners won’t go for that, aye, Mr. Davis?’

‘No,’ Thomas smiled, ‘I’m afraid I’ve been unsuccessful in my influence to initiate my views with them!’

The naked trees along Leicester’s roadside now gave birth to a smooth, lime green foliage with the sweet spring showers of April. Ben had become restless needing to make the final change in his life. This brought him back to the bank.

Greeves, however, had prepared himself for Ben’s return and given precise orders to the clerk. Therefore, on the point of entry, before Ben could state his needs, Greeves appeared saying, ‘Mr. Walters, I would be pleased to help you. Would you come into my office, sir?’

There was something that struck Ben really strange about Greeves. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the little man reminded him of a hound trying to sniff out something. What? He had no idea. Already feeling some irritation at the sight of Greeves, Ben had it on the tip of his tongue to say, ‘I don’t have the stomach for you today, man.’ He didn’t say this however, instead he followed obediently. They entered the small stark office again, and Greeves asked, ‘How may I help you today, sir.’

‘I would like to take the interest out of my account.’

‘Now let me see, you now have one thousand, three hundred pounds, again. If you were to leave this amount in, Mr. Walters, you would gain more than three hundred pounds in interest the next time you check your account.’ Greeves spoke very slowly to him, as if he was a small child. Ben’s muscles clenched along his jaw line, his eyes scorched with controlled rage while Greeves went on, ‘And if you were to leave that in you would accumulate even more.’

Ben’s tone—barbed with scalding contempt interrupted, ‘Do you think of me as some imbecile, Mr. Greeves? Someone that can’t understand what you’re saying! As simple as you put it! Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you! Some of us ordinary folk who don’t have the education that you have,’ Ben pushed his index finger hard to his own head and tapping it, he carried on, ‘do have a brain and don’t need everything repeated to them. So let me say this one time, Mr. Greeves,’ Ben now mocked the man’s slow speech. ‘I do understand that the money is bringing interest and could bring me much more, but I need me money now. Furthermore, I don’t want to be questioned every time I come in this bank, or else I shall take me money elsewhere.’ Now his voice raised, ‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT! MR. GREEVES!’

Greeves’ pale face mustered a hint of red as he pushed the paper across his desk and his spindly fingers shook noticeably when he dipped the pen into the inkwell and handed it to Ben.

The red gold of a late afternoon sun was fading rapidly when Ben left the bank in search of a shop to rent. As he traipsed up Wharf Street, he recited to himself, ‘Red sky at night, shepherds delight.’ He felt that today was his lucky day!

He was right. He found a shop for rent along Wharf Street. The owner wanted to retire, but also wanted to make sure the business would still be successful under new ownership. The proprietor, Mr. Harrow, explained, ‘I must make myself very clear to you Mr. Walters. My wife has passed on recently, and I only have one son who has long ago made his home in Canada. This is the reason why I’ve decided to rent the shop out. You must understand that my wife and I have dealt with certain patronage for years. Therefore, I do not wish the shop to fail our loyal customers.’

Ben judged Mr. Harrow to be a man in his late sixties, although his tall, lean figure, and a full head of hair could very well deceive. Mr. Harrow with a tight, straight torso, continued, ‘My shop means a lot to these people, it being a part of their daily lives. They have been faithful to me and I to them, therefore I have promised that I would not deliver the business into just anyone’s hands. To this, I insist that whoever takes on this affair must be trusted to run it the way it always has been. This must be a part of the contract.’

Ben shook his head vigorously in agreement and replied, ‘I can assure you, Mr. Harrow, that it was a nice-deep-rooted family business that I was searching for, one exactly as you have described. I can say in all honesty that your business would be carried out just the way you would want it to be, sir.’

Mr. Harrow now questioned Ben on his knowledge of shop keeping, and Ben answered, ‘Sir, I have a very good friend who will be working along with me by the name of Mrs. Stark. She has run her aunt’s shop for a number of years. I have a good business sense, also.’

He had no idea if he had or not, but he knew if he was to make Mr. Harrow believe in him, he would have to shade the truth a little.

It worked, and for the first time he felt that somehow uncle Willie’s spirit was there to influence him. He could almost hear Willie laugh. He would now prove to Mr. Harrow and the world that he could make a go of it. ‘Yes, he would show them all!’

The shop had living quarters— at the back was a kitchen, a drawing room, and on top of the shop were three bedrooms. The three of them discussed the possibility of living in the flat together for a time, until they could see what future the shop had in store for them.

Ben had never seen the need to speak of his new circumstance to Robbie Banfry and when he finally told Robbie that he was leaving the factory to be a shop assistant, in amazement Robbie retorted, ‘Shops don’t pay that much. Do they?’

‘No, but friends of mine own it, and they’re going to give me the same wages that I’m getting now.’

He meant to mislead him, not wishing Robbie or anyone to know any differently.

‘No wonder you’ve stopped your grumbling these last few weeks. You’ve come up smelling of roses, aye?’

‘I wouldn’t go that far, but I’ll be happy to get out of this job. I’m sure shop work will be far more pleasant than factory work has been.’

‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right there.’

They parted for the last time at the crossroads, Ben saying, ‘Pop around to see me when you have time. I might just give you a bargain.’ He laughed and then walked away not mindful of Robbie’s sour face, or how their conversation would be used against Ben in later months.

Ben had furnished the parlor with an armchair, a comfortable sofa, and a nice carpet. Elsie looked around her surroundings with a warm smile and remarked to Ben, ‘Doesn’t it look posh. I’ve never had a carpet, or sofa if it comes to that!’

‘Well, none of us could afford a carpet could we, or a sofa? But that’s changed now, me duck, so enjoy it, Ben replied watching her plunk down in the armchair.

‘Oh, Ben, I feel spoilt.’

‘Good, that’s what I intended you to feel.’ Ben grinned back at her.

A week later, Elsie came home with two boys and a barrow loaded with a brass bed- frame and mattress. She addressed both her husband and Ben, ‘It’s for Ernie and Freda to sleep in. I bought it from Mr. Hugh’s shop. You know the one at the corner of Russell Square and Woodbury Street?’

She pulled off her hat while directing the boys up the steep stairway to a modest third bedroom. It was a small bed, but she was delighted and now said, ‘They can have a room of their own. Who would ever have thought, after living in that little hovel of a