‘He’s coming now, Jer, just hang on there,’ she shouted and then hissed under her breath, ‘There’s nothing for your break,’ as she shoved an empty knapsack into his hands. ‘Pretend there is and carry it anyway. You only worked three days last week and I’ll have to go over the road to Kathleen and scrounge something to get these kids fed tonight. And understand this, you fat lazy slob, even if your back is breaking in two, you will be working every day from now on. There’s no Tommy to carry you, no Maura to feed our kids when they are starving or invite us round for a roast. The rent hasn’t been paid for weeks and it’s time for you to pull your bleedin’ weight.’

Paddy’s reply was drowned out by the noise of the men at the back gate. ‘Paddy, you got to dress yourself in time, what next, eh?’ said Jerry, patting him on the back. ‘Have you had breakfast?’

‘He has,’ shouted Peggy from the doorway. ‘His belly is as full as a tinker’s bra.’

The men roared with laughter.

‘Don’t worry, Peggy, I’ll have him home before dark,’ Jerry called back.

‘Don’t you dare, Jerry Deane. If there’s an extra shift, you make sure he is taken on for it. He can work all night as well, for all I care, because he’s a lot of catching up to do.’

She slammed the back door and felt the weight fall from her shoulders. A day’s pay was in the bag, Jerry would make sure of that. Peggy placed her hand in the small of her back; the ache which had been there for so long was almost unbearable these last few days, but she never complained like Paddy did. She would ask Kathleen for some Anadin. It had been grumbling away for weeks and if Kathleen gave her more than two pills she would hide the rest in the bread bin. Her need was greater than Paddy’s, for her pain was real.

*

Paddy grumbled all the way down the steps to the pen which was full, but there was no pushing or shoving. The gaffer would point to those who were known to be good workers, his own friends and the sons of his friends. Everyone else stood and waited, desperate to be taken on. The klaxon rang out, persistent and demanding, teasing the men with the promise of labour, larders to be filled, nights in the Anchor to be enjoyed. Those who weren’t picked would make their way back up the dockers’ steps and walk to the social, hearts heavy with worry.

‘What’s due in from out on the bar?’ Stanley Tanner called out from the back to Jerry who, as usual, was first down, and always taken on.