So Fa La Land

3 - Getting A Piece

None of the guests were down early for breakfast so Minnie had time to make Tony's sandwiches for school. Cheese with brown sauce today. When she was a child in Scotland a sandwich was called 'a piece'. It was the men who usually had a piece to go to work, but girls, too if they were going to school or the like.

Minnie chuckled at the thought of her brother Robert (the baby in the photograph), the eldest son of the family of eleven, telling her about how he used to wangle a piece out of one of their neighbours, Mrs Dixon ...

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Robbie never had a vest or underpants. All he had was a wee pair of short trousers and a jersey. The toes of his shoes flopped open as he ran through the slush to try to catch up with his friend Bill Dixon on the way home from school.

His family were in a dreadful poor state. A miner in the early twentieth century earned maybe two pounds a week unless he was very good on the coal face when he might make two pounds and ten shillings (£2.50 today). There was no difference in pay for a man with a family of eight or a man with a family of two or three and there were no tax credits or similar benefits. You had to live within your means a hundred years ago.

Robbie didn't understand the economics, he just knew that he was always hungry and if he latched on to Bill, there was always the chance of something to eat from Bill's mum.

Bill saw him coming and kicked a can at him. Robbie took a running kick at it and the can sailed over Bill's head. "Goal", he cried.

Bill laughed and waited for his mate to catch up, "Hey, your foot's bleeding."

Robbie looked down, a delta of red was running out of his shoe into the snow. He must have just caught the open end of the can. He lifted his foot into his hand and hopped about as he examined the damage.

"S'nothing," he said and they rushed off after their makeshift football, passing it back and forth as they approached Cuthill.

"Can I come in?" asked Robbie, hoping above hope the answer would be yes.

"Aye," replied Bill, running up the steps to the front door. Both boys burst into the flat, dutifully remembering to wipe their feet on the horse-hair doormat.

A sturdily built lady with bob hairstyle and floral apron turned to see the two lads.

"How's my bonnie boy?" she asked. Bill coloured, he hated being called his mum's bonnie boy in front of his friends. He kissed his mum's lowered head and said, "Robbie's hurt his foot."

"Aw, it's nothing," said Robbie but Mrs Dixon insisted on looking at it. She removed his shoe.

"This shoe is in a dreadful state, you must ask your mum to get it repaired and get you some socks too. This wee foot is frozen! Take your shoes off and sit on the table while I look at that cut."

Robbie hated being fussed over but let Bill's mum wash his toes and dab his cut.

"It isn't bad enough for a bandage Robbie, but you take care walking home. Don't knock it again ... and tell your mum. Wiliamina might want to dress it."

Then Mrs Dixon bent down to Robbie's ear and whispered, "I was just going to make Bill a piece. Would you like one?"

Robbie's heart almost missed a beat with joy, but he tried not to sound too excited and replied, "Well if you are sure it isn't too much trouble Mrs Dixon."

She lifted the wee lad onto a wooden chair by the table where Bill was already playing with some wooden blocks his dad had made for him. Could they get ten to stand on top of each other? He added the ninth and the tower tumbled to the ground, blocks everywhere and the boys tumbled after them, chasing escapees under the table and the dresser to retrieve them.