B. Johnson: House Mother Normal

Work? I’m retired,

I’m not here to work. Though what she

calls work is not what I would call work.

Fancy goods, fancy goods. She

thinks she’s a pretty piece of Fancy goods!

Not my fault. I wasn’t on Fancy

goods last time. That is a relief,

she can’t blame me.

Relief.

Crêpe paper.

Crêpe? Crêpe, crêpe, what a word.

crêpe.

Crêpe.

Reason, I have always believed in reason. It

was only necessary to be reasonable to be saved.

But I have found many in my time

who have disagreed. It is

not important.

Ah, now what does she want me to do tonight?

Good that she relies on me, that she –

Pour about a quarter

into these empty ones. How many

empty ones? Several dozen. I see. What is

it in the bottles? No colour, like water. Even

when I open one I shall not necessarily know, since

my sense of smell is not — Yes, I understand . What’s

it say on the labels? BOAKA, BOAKA? Can’t

understand that.

No, I’ll be very careful. I haven’t let you down

yet, have I?

What’s she going to give her to do?

Nosy. I should mind my own. But she’s

got bottles, too. Little bottles. They look snug

in their little cardboard compartments.

Messy. Glad I

haven’t got a messy job. She’ll get all

messy doing that. I shan’t, just pouring.

I am a very careful pourer. That’s why she

chooses me to do these special jobs.

Let us apply reason to this job. If I stand a line

of empty bottles up, with a line of full ones in

front of them…. No, that wouldn’t be

very efficient because I’d have to keep moving the

full ones anyway. Try again.

If I fill the empty

ones a quarter-full with water, then I can pour

from three full ones to top it up. Yes. A dozen

at a time might be a suitable number to — Now

what’s she want? No, Sarah, you know

I haven’t got a cigarette . Disturbing my

reasonable deliberations. Now then, let’s try

filling a dozen empties a quarter-full with

water. When Sarah’s finished at the sink.

Line the dozen up, and a dozen full in front, and

pour… yes, a quarter each from three full

ones and I’ve got a finished

one. But what does she want me to do about

the corks? Does she want them corked? I haven’t

enough corks to go round. Still, that’s her problem.

She’d have told me if she’d wanted them corked. Now

another — no, wait a minute, mate, here’s a better

way. If you pour water from three of the quarter–

filled empties into the three you quarter-emptied–

better still if you’d filled the empties right to

the top with water, but for one or two. Then you

could have…. That’s it, Charlie

boy, you’ve got a scheme now. It’s all sewn up. Off

you go, back to the sink for more water.

Easy now. Filling and pouring. Straightforward

for a careful person with at least some intelligence.

Like I am. Straightforward. I can do it

without thinking after a short while. Even might get

to like it without too much trouble. Same as during

the War. Soon learnt to get on with it and

like it. Got out of being sent on one draft

because I was the aerodrome pianist, but couldn’t

dodge the second one. The first one I actually

left Dover aerodrome and was at Walmer

preparatory for leaving for the Front. But the

officer at Dover rang up and said Have you got

Edwards there? And they said Yes, he’s doing a

good job clerking. Well, he’ll do a better job

playing the Joanna here, he said, send him back

at once. So I went back in a staff car. Just

as we arrived there was a general alert throughout

the whole Dover Patrol and everyone leapt about.

Either bombs or shells were exploding as we drove

across the approach roads. But no one got hurt.

It was remarkable like that. So I was back to

organising socials and dances and concerts. By

the end of ’15 I was pianist and leader of an eight–

piece. The personnel changed, of course, as people

got drafted, but somehow our officer always avoided

sending me until the autumn of ’16, when I had to go.

But the year and a bit I was there stood me in good

stead. If it hadn’t been for the experience I got

then I don’t think I would have become a pro after

the War. I found I was better at it than I thought

I was. And I was making a tidy bit on the side

from it, too. It was then I first realised that

there was money to be made in this music game, far

more money than in the clerking I had been doing

up to then in the Civil Service. My disability

pension wasn’t much when I came out, but it was just

enough to keep me going until I got myself a job

playing in a cinema. A white sheet hanging up by its

four corners in a church hall in Kingsland High

Street. They didn’t listen to what the pianist was

playing. They only heard you if what you played

didn’t fit in with what was on the screen. I’d

never really been to the pictures until then. But

I soon enough picked up what was wanted. You had

to keep on playing no matter what. They noticed if

you stopped. Sometimes they would applaud. Since

I was the only one live who had anything to do with

it it used to amuse me. I would take a bow as if

I were Paderewski or someone like that. Sometimes

we had a drumkit and other sound effects. The new

films came in twice a week or sometimes oftener.

I did not usually get any chance to see them before

the first house. That was the worst house, too.

They booed and yelled as if they were at a prize

fight. There. That’s the first

dozen. Put them into their crate.

Suppose this must be liquor of some sort. My sense

of smell is nearly gone. I’d be lost in a fire. But

don’t ask questions. That’s why she puts her trust

in me. But can’t help wondering to myself what it

is. Or where it’s going. Perhaps it’s going to one

of those clubs like I used to play in in the twenties.

Before the rift came with Betty. Like the famous or

notorious Mrs Marshall’s All-Up Club in Frith Street.

All that dust-up in the papers over bribing a

police sergeant. They were all taking. It was not

only the sergeant. Mrs Marshall was just the type

who would buy watered whisky. Or stolen whisky. Then

she’d water it down herself. The customers were

always complaining about the drink. She was very firm

with them. She tried to run it as she would her own

home, silly as it may sound. That’s what she said

to anyone who complained, however. One night the

place would be full of gangsters, and the next you

might even have royalty there. There was no telling.

And it was all Mrs Marshall’s doing. She was that

kind of powerful phooooooor… rt! that’s better,

woman. No man could dominate her, no indeed. She

had her man, or rather men, of course. But one at a

time. I’ve seen that woman set a man quivering with

fear just with one look. That was enough. And he

went sneaking out of the door just like a whipped cur.

Yet she was kind enough when she wanted to be. She

was very kind to me in her way. She could see that

I was dotty about Betty at the time, so there was

never any question of my wanting to make advances to

her. So really right from the start it was purely

a business association. I could get her the quality