NOW ITS LIKE LOOKING THROUGH A WINDOW
by Mary Morgan
Chapter 2 - page 3
After this episode my mother appeared to back down a little and I would
have died rather than go back, so I was left alone to go after any other
job I wanted - as long as it was an office job. This is when I went to
work at Courtaulds Ltd., in Hordern Road, Whitmore Reans. It was a huge
company that made nylon and silicone fabrics - apparently an American
invention which had suddenly taken off after the war.
At last I started enjoying my working life. I worked in the Time Study
Office as it was called, and there was just Joan Fletcher and myself in
the inner office and eight men in the outer office. The men were
employed to time the jobs that the different tradesmen did around the
factory, and Joan and I did the office work that went with it. In those
days most factory workers were employed by how much work they could do
in a given time; it was called piecework. If they were slow workers they
didn't get the same wages that faster workers got. There are a couple of
schools of thought about this arrangement, and at the time I thought it
was a very good arrangement. But I was young and fit then; it doesn't
seem too good an idea now that I'm older and slower.
Part of my job was to hand out each card that contained the details of
the maintenance work that was to be done on a particular machine or
building. When the carpenter, toolmaker, electrician etc., had finished
one job he had to clock off that and onto another one. I had to keep a
record of the time each worker took doing that particular job. I still
remember the times when a worker who's wages hadn't worked out how he
expected them to, took it out on me. If my records showed that somebody
else had done a particular job in a faster time I would be accused of
not doing my job properly and that it couldn't possibly be done that
fast! Of course the time study fella in our office, who had timed that
job in the first place, was always missing when that happened. This was
about the only hassle I had with the job.
The company was great to work for. We used to have weekly dances at the
youth club and yearly events like Easter parades, Christmas parties and
organised "charabanc" trips. I found the annual sports day very
lucrative; most of the contents of my eventual "bottom drawer" were
prizes won on those days. I had a different boyfriend for every night of
the week, and was having the time of my life. Of course this was before
the modern habit of sleeping with your boyfriends began. I can honestly
say that most girls were treated with respect. We (or at least I) had a
sixth sense about what sort of male to steer clear of, and only once did
I find myself in an awkward position.
My mother had been hinting to me about letting a boy called Tony take
me out one of the nights. His father had a number of businesses around
Wolverhampton at the time, although I never found out what they were. I
think she was hoping to "marry" some of his wealth into our family! This
Tony was a real goodlooker and I agreed, more out of hoping to stop the
nagging than anything else, because he really "had tickets on himself"
so I didn't particularly like him. Mom must have been very naive or
desperate, or else she would never have put me through the humiliation I
went through that night.
He was four years older than me and drank heavily. We spent the night
visiting all of the pubs around Birmingham - before the Bull Ring was
built. I hated every minute. When he eventually met up with his "well
off" friends they took it in turns to make me feel unwanted and made a
huge joke out of his latest "conquest". I didn't know my way around
Birmingham then and was completely lost. I had no idea how to get back
home on my own. I had to stick it out until he decided, after midnight,
that it was time to head back to the railway station. My faithful sixth
sense told me I was in trouble when two of his friends decided to walk
back with us. On the way their conversation and body language began to
go in a very sinister direction! All I can say is that if it hadn't been
for my running ability I'm sure I would have ended up a very sorry young
lady that night!
Normally I was expected to be home by 10 o'clock but my mother didn't
say a word when I eventually got home around 3 a.m. I'd had to walk into
a Birmingham police station to ask for help and I had been given an
escorted trip home on a very late train.
Apart from a nosey neighbour asking me why the police had visited
Tony's parents and my mother the next day, nothing was ever said in our
house about this event again.
