Chapters (71)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Part Two
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part Three
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Part Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Part Five
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
“It sounds as if the business is thriving,” Blackie said, realizing there were various pieces of unfinished furniture in the warehouse. “I think I might have come just at the right time.”
His uncle merely smiled and walked him down to the end of the room. Opening a door, Patrick said, “I work in here, keep the books, do the paperwork when I’m not at my carpentry.”
He moved on, opened the next door and said, “This is where Tom does his drafts of the special pieces he makes. You can learn a lot from him, Blackie. He’s a good draftsman. The last office belongs to my uncle Tim. He comes in a couple of times a week. He’s not got much to do since he retired, and it makes him feel good to be here with us, still part of it in a sense. I’ll take you to meet him on Sunday.”
“I bet he’s proud of ye, Uncle Pat, the way ye’ve built his business up, ever since ye were a little lad—”
“Not quite,” Patrick cut in. “I was away for a while, remember? In the navy. I didn’t start to change a few things and encourage him to go into building until I left the military. But, you know, he was always willing and enthusiastic, whatever ideas I came up with, even when he muttered they sounded newfangled to him.”
A short while later, Patrick and Blackie left the workshop and walked down through the nearby streets. “I want to show you a bit of Upper Armley,” Patrick explained, as they headed toward another main thoroughfare called Ridge Road.
It was a wide road. On one side was the Co-operative, a large grocery shop with many branches. His uncle explained that everyone used it on a daily basis, since the prices were excellent and bonuses were given in the form of stamps to buy extra foodstuff.
“I come here to do the heavy shopping for your aunt Eileen,” Patrick said as they were entering the large, well-stocked shop. “I get the heavier items … like dried goods, canned food, that sort of thing.”
Blackie simply nodded, his eyes wide with surprise at the produce on display. He’d never seen so much food in his life.
After leaving the Co-op, as Patrick called it, they went down Ridge Road, going in the opposite direction from Town Street.
“So where does this road go?” Blackie asked, as usual full of curiosity.