Only Time Will Tell (The Clifton Chronicles, #1)(6)

‘What have you learnt at school this week,’ the old man asked, ‘that you didn’t know a week ago?’

‘Mr Holcombe told me there are other countries beyond the sea that are part of the British Empire, and they are all reigned over by the King.’

‘He’s quite right,’ said Old Jack. ‘Can you name any of those countries?’

‘Australia. Canada. India.’ He hesitated. ‘And America.’

‘No, not America,’ said Old Jack. ‘That used to be the case, but it isn’t any more, thanks to a weak Prime Minister and a sick King.’

‘Who was the King, and who was the Prime Minister?’ demanded Harry angrily.

‘King George III was on the throne in 1776,’ said Old Jack, ‘but to be fair, he was a sick man, while Lord North, his Prime Minister, simply ignored what was taking place in the colonies, and, sadly, in the end our own kith and kin took up arms against us.’

‘But we must have beaten them?’ said Harry.

‘No, we didn’t,’ said Old Jack. ‘Not only did they have right on their side – not that that’s a prerequisite for victory—’

‘What does prerequisite mean?’

‘Required as a pre-condition,’ said Old Jack, who then continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. ‘But they were also led by a brilliant general.’

‘What was his name?’

‘George Washington.’

‘You told me last week that Washington was the capital of America. Was he named after the city?’

‘No, the city was named after him. It was built on an area of marshland known as Columbia, through which the Potomac River flows.’

‘Is Bristol named after a man too?’

‘No,’ chuckled Old Jack, amused by how quickly Harry’s inquisitive mind could switch from subject to subject. ‘Bristol was originally called Brigstowe, which means the site of a bridge.’

‘So when did it become Bristol?’

‘Historians differ in their opinions,’ said Old Jack, ‘although Bristol Castle was built by Robert of Gloucester in 1109, when he saw the opportunity to trade wool with the Irish. After that, the city developed into a trading port. Since then it’s been a centre of shipbuilding for hundreds of years, and grew even more quickly when the navy needed to expand in 1914.’

‘My dad fought in the Great War,’ said Harry with pride. ‘Did you?’

For the first time, Old Jack hesitated before answering one of Harry’s questions. He just sat there, not saying a word. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Tar,’ said Harry. ‘I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘No, no,’ said Old Jack. ‘It’s just that I haven’t been asked that question for some years.’ Without another word, he opened his hand to reveal a sixpence.

Harry took the little silver coin and bit it, something he’d seen his uncle do. ‘Thank you,’ he said before pocketing it.

‘Go and buy yourself some fish and chips from the dockside café, but don’t tell your uncle, because he’ll only ask where you got the money.’

In truth, Harry had never told his uncle anything about Old Jack. He’d once heard Stan tell his mum, ‘The loony ought to be locked up.’ He’d asked Miss Monday what a loony was, because he couldn’t find the word in the dictionary, and when she told him, he realized for the first time just how stupid his Uncle Stan must be.

‘Not necessarily stupid,’ Miss Monday counselled, ‘simply ill-informed and therefore prejudiced. I have no doubt, Harry,’ she added, ‘that you’ll meet many more such men during your lifetime, some of them in far more exalted positions than your uncle.’





3


MAISIE WAITED UNTIL she heard the front door slam and was confident that Stan was on his way to work before she announced, ‘I’ve been offered a job as a waitress at the Royal Hotel.’

No one seated round the table responded, as conversations at breakfast were supposed to follow a regular pattern and not take anyone by surprise. Harry had a dozen questions he wanted to ask but waited for his grandma to speak first. She simply busied herself with pouring another cup of tea, as if she hadn’t heard her daughter in the first place.

‘Will someone please say something?’ said Maisie.

‘I didn’t even realize you were looking for another job,’ ventured Harry.

‘I wasn’t,’ said Maisie. ‘But last week a Mr Frampton, the manager of the Royal, dropped into Tilly’s for coffee. He came back several times, and then he offered me a job!’

‘I thought you were happy at the tea shop,’ said Grandma, finally joining in. ‘After all, Miss Tilly pays well, and the hours suit.’

‘I am happy,’ said Harry’s mum, ‘but Mr Frampton’s offering me five pounds a week, and half of all the tips. I could be bringing home as much as six pounds on a Friday.’ Grandma sat there with her mouth wide open.

‘Will you have to work nights?’ asked Harry, once he’d finished licking Stan’s porridge bowl.

‘No, I won’t,’ Maisie said, ruffling her son’s hair, ‘and what’s more I’ll get one day off a fortnight.’

‘Are your clothes posh enough for a grand hotel like the Royal?’ asked Grandma.