To Have and To Hold

‘It’s huge!’ Carmel said, approaching the marvellous structure. ‘Look at the enormous arches on the ground floor and those giant columns soaring upwards from it, and all the carvings and decoration.’

‘You never really look at the place you live in,’ Lois said. ‘And I am ashamed to say that, though I knew all about the Town Hall, I’ve never truly seen its grandeur until now. It’s supposed to be based on a Roman temple.’

‘Gosh, Lois,’ said Carmel in admiration. ‘What a lovely city you have.’

Lois was surprised and pleased. ‘You haven’t even seen the shops yet,’ she said.

‘Well,’ said Carmel, ‘what are we waiting for?’ She linked arms with Lois and they sallied forth together.

Carmel came from a thriving town, a county town, which she’d always thought was quite big, but she saw that it was a dwarf of a place compared to Birmingham. The pavements on New Street, on every street, were thronged with people, and she had never seen such traffic as they turned towards the centre where cars, trucks, lorries and vans jostled for space with horse-drawn carts, diesel buses and clanking, swaying trams.

Carmel had never see a sight like it—so many people gathered together in one place—had never heard such noise and had never had the sour, acrid taste of engine fumes that had lodged in the back of her throat and her mouth. The size of the buildings shocked her as much as the array of shops or things on offer. Some of the stores were on several floors. Lois had taken her inside a few of these and she had stood mesmerised by the goods for sale, by the lights in the place, the smart shop assistants.

Some of the counters housed enormous silver tills, which the assistants would punch the front of and the prices would be displayed at the top. Carmel had seen tills before, but none as impressive as these. Best of all, though, were the counters that had no till at all. There the assistant would issue a bill, which, together with the customer’s money, would be placed in a little metal canister that was somehow attached to wires crisscrossing the shop. It would swoop through the air to a cashier who was usually sitting up in a high glass-sided little office. She would then deal with the receipt and, if there was any change needed, put it in the canister and the process would be reversed.

It was so entertaining, Carmel could have watched it all day. But Lois was impatient. ‘Come on, there is so much to see yet. Have you ever been in a lift?’

No. Carmel had never been in a lift and when Lois had taken her up and down in one, wasn’t sure she wanted to go in again either.

‘I’ll stick with the stairs, thank you,’ she said.

Lois grinned. ‘I’ll take you to some special stairs,’ she said, when they were in Marshall & Snelgrove. ‘See how you like them.’

Carmel didn’t like them one bit. ‘They are moving.’

‘Of course they are.’ Lois said. ‘It’s called an escalator.’

‘How would you get on to it?’ Carmel said. ‘I prefer my stairs to be static.’

‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’ Lois demanded. ‘It’s easy, even children use them. Come on, follow me.’

Carmel did, stepping onto the escalator gingerly and nearly losing her balance totally when the stair folded down beneath her foot. All the way to the next floor she didn’t feel safe, but still she felt proud of herself for actually doing it.

‘They have escalators in Lewis’s too, where Dad works. You remember me telling you?’ Lois asked. When Carmel nodded she added, ‘Well, that is where I am going to take you next.’

Carmel thought Lewis’s at the top of Corporation Street a most unusual shop altogether. It appeared to be two shops on either side of a little cobbled street called The Minories, though Lois said they joined at the third floor.

Carmel gazed upwards. ‘I can see they join somewhere.’

‘The fifth floor is the place to be,’ Lois said. ‘It’s full of toys.’

‘Toys?’

‘Yes, but toys like you have never seen. Before my mother took to lying on a couch all day long and moaning and groaning, she’d bring us to town sometimes and we always begged to go to the toy floor. I have to go again, if only to see if it has the same fascination now that I am an adult.’

With a smile, Carmel agreed to go with Lois so that she could satisfy her curiosity, but she didn’t expect to be much interested herself. What an eye-opener she got.

The first thing she saw were model trains running round the room, up hill and down dale, passing through countryside, under tunnels and stopping at little country stations where you could see the streets and houses and people. Then they would be off again, changing lines as the signals indicated.

‘It’s magical, isn’t it?’ Lois said at her side. ‘I used to watch it as long as I was allowed.’

Carmel could only nod, understanding that perfectly.

There were other toys too, of course, when Carmel was able to tear herself away—huge forts full of lead soldiers, or cowboys and Indians. There were also big garages with every toy car imaginable and a variety of car tracks for them to run along.

Another section had soft-bodied dolls with china heads and all manner of clothes nice enough to put on a real-life baby, and the cots and prams and pushchairs you would hardly credit.

‘Did you have toys like these?’ Carmel asked Lois.

‘No,’ Lois said. ‘Our stuff was basic, nothing like these magnificent things.’

Carmel wandered around the department, mesmerised. Teddy bears, rocking horses, hobby horses, spinning tops, skipping ropes with fancy handles, jack-in-the-boxes and kaleidoscopes were just some of the things she knew her little brothers and sisters would love. There were giant dolls’ houses, full of minute furniture and little people that would thrill the girls. And she so wished she could buy her brothers a proper football, for all they had to kick about were rags tied together, or the occasional pig’s bladder they begged from the butcher in the town. And wouldn’t they just love the cricket sets and blow football, and they could all have a fine game with the ping-pong.

The only thing the Duffy children had to spin was the lid of a saucepan, and their toys were buttons, clothes pegs, or stones. Any dolls were made of rags. Carmel felt suddenly immeasurably sad for her siblings, but even worse, she also felt guiltily glad that she was no longer there to share their misery.

‘Well,’ said Lois, ‘I don’t know about you, but I am ready for my dinner and Lyons is as close as anywhere.’

‘Are you sure you can afford it?’

‘Don’t start that again,’ Lois said. ‘We have already discussed it. Come on quick for my stomach thinks my throat is cut.’

Carmel realised she too was hungry and her stomach growled in appreciation when just a little later a steaming plate of golden fish and crispy chips was placed before her. Both girls did the meal justice, and Lois sighed with satisfaction as she ate the last morsel.

‘Ooh, that’s better,’ she said. ‘It’s amazing how a meal revives you. I was feeling quite tired.’

‘So was I,’ Carmel said. ‘But I have enjoyed today, for all that. You have a very interesting city here, Lois.’

‘You know,’ Lois said. ‘I have never really thought that before. What do you say to us exploring the Bull Ring now?’

‘I say lead the way,’ Carmel said, and the two girls left the cafeteria arm in arm.

The Bull Ring astounded Carmel. There were women grouped around a statue selling flowers, such a colourful and fragrant sight, though she had to shake her head at the proffered bunches for she hadn’t enough spare money to buy flowers.

The hawkers, selling all manner of things from their barrows, swept down the cobbled incline to another church that Lois told her was called St Martin-in-the Fields, though there were precious little fields around, she noted. It was however, ringed by trees, its spire towering skyward.

Everywhere hawkers shouted out their wares, vying with the clamour of the customers. One old lady’s strident voice rose above the others. She was standing in front of Woolworths, which the two girls were making for, and she was selling carrier bags and determined to let everybody know about it.

‘Woolworths is called the tanner shop,’ Lois said.

The two girls wandered up and down the aisles, looking at all the different things for sale for sixpence or less.

‘Everything is just sixpence?’ Carmel asked in amazement.

‘Oh, yes,’ Lois said with a smile. ‘Though some say that it’s a swizz. I mean, you do get a teapot for a tanner, but if you want a lid for it that is another tanner and a teapot is not much good without a lid, is it?’

‘No,’ Carmel agreed. ‘But I don’t know that that is not such a bad idea. After all, it is usually the lid breaks first. I would be very handy to be able to get another and all for just sixpence.’

‘Well, yes,’ Lois conceded. ‘That’s another way of looking at it, I suppose. Come on, I want to take a dekko at Hobbies next door.’