(74) 'The Admirable Mr. Lindfield'

[Ken]

This tale tells of my fathers last ever job and my first full time one.  Our employer was Timothy Whites and Taylor's, a nationwide retail chain that combined the strange mix of being both a chemist and a household goods store.  My dad started working at their Guildford branch in the middle of the 1950's, shortly after he discovered he had diabetes.  Just a few years later in 1959 he was diagnosed as suffering from bowel cancer and, sadly, after his surgery, he found he was unable to work at all.  However, during the few years he worked for Timothy Whites, he had formed a close relationship with it's branch manager.  That man, Ron Lindfield, who was once dads boss, was to become his very good friend.

Dads job at Timothy Whites was that of a porter.  All of the goods that arrived there were delivered to a unloading bay in market street where he would sign them in.  He had use of an antiquated lift that had to be operated by a rope pulley system and he used this to take stock to the storage cellars below or to the three floors of stockrooms above.  To haul things up was heavy going and my dad more than earned his weekly wage of eight pounds and eight shillings.  It has always been my supposition that Mr. Lindfield was pleasantly surprised by my fathers intelligence for it was certainly a cut above that of the average shop porters I came to know.  They probably shared stories of their war time experiences and this, together with an interest in sport, meant they had much to chat about whenever they worked together.  I also feel Mr. Lindfield would have appreciated dads people skills and how all the female staff liked him.  I know this to be a fact for when I started to work there the women still spoke fondly  of him!

After dads operation one would have expected the relationship between the two to fizzle out for the work connection had ceased.  It didn't and, at Mr. Lindfields request, my mother would visit his high street shop to keep him informed on dads progress.  On one such visit he asked mum for a suitable evening for him to visit us and I can recall him being met as he got off the No.23 bus at Shamley Green.  He didn't stay long at our Hullmead House, however, for soon he and dad were walking over the village green and their destination was the Red Lion. That was the first of many such visits and every fortnight he would meet Dad at our house.  After chatting with my mother, and sometimes with the thirteen year old me, the two of them would inevitably visit the pub.  On one visit he brought with him a chap called, Ken South, who worked for Timothy Whites at their head office.  He too had met, and been impressed by, the shop porter and he'd asked Mr. Linfield if he could tag along on the odd occasion.  That's what happened and for four or five evenings a year, he too would catch the No.23 green bus.  I recall there always being a lot of laughter in the house between their arrival at our home and their departure to the village pub, where I'm sure the laughter continued.

I know not what monies my father received from the state when he was no longer able to work.  I do know it was a lot less than the eight guinea's a week he had earned at Timothy Whites.  That meant he was unable to meet his friends as often as he would like and that was sad, for dad was a people person.  He was also a proud man and he couldn't stand showy offers of kindness.  Someone once said to him in a voice the whole pub could hear, "If you're ever short of the price of a pint Wally, you just ask me."   I know that happened because I heard dad speak to my mother about it and I could tell it angered him.  It was the opposite with Mr. Lindfield, for his kindness whenever he visited was of the non showy type.  Dad told mum that before they went to the pub he would be slipped the money to buy his round and it would be done without anyone noticing.  At the evenings end when they'd say their goodbye's with a handshake, dad would find a ten bob note in his hand.  In those days that was enough for a few more nights out!

I never heard my parents call Mr. Lindfield, Ron.  I certainly wouldn't have dreamed of doing so for this smartly dressed man had a manner that inspired instant respect.  I came to know he had a problem with what is often called a five o'clock shadow and his pride in his appearance meant him shaving twice daily. In those days a shop managers job held enormous prestige and he insisted on looking the part.  He succeeded with his polished shoes and his well groomed, and slightly Brylcreamed, hair.  As I approached my fourteenth birthday he suggested to dad that I might like a Saturday job.  I was delighted and before long I was rushing to finish my paper round in time to catch the 8.20 am, Saturday, bus to Guildford. Some fourteen months later in the August of 1961, I started working there full time. I remember my brother Gordon lending me the money to buy a new bicycle so I could cycle to work.  It was a palm beach, blue streak, tourist model and I purchased it from Jeffery's cycle shop.  I used that bike to cycle the five miles to work and back for six days every week.  Every morning, shortly before nine o'clock, I would wheel it through the Market street door of the same unloading bay my dad had once used.  For some reason that pleased me.

The porter who had taken over from my father was a miserable old cuss called Bill and he disliked me on principle, perhaps because all the women would constantly tell him how nice my dad had been.  I can't say I ever saw Bill smile and I certainly never heard him laugh.  I recall one morning when I arrived at work, feeling good after my energetic bike ride, I'd discovered he'd died the previous night of a heart attack. One of the women would later call me I heartless when I refused to put money into the collection to buy him a wreath.  I said I would be a hypocrite to do so for I'd never liked a single thing about the miserable old sod.  I discovered later she'd claim my selfish attitude had influenced the younger staff, for several of them also chose not to contribute.  The next porter was a lovable old fellow called Horace who everyone liked.  I can still visualise his bad fitting false teeth that would almost fall out when he laughed and, unlike Bill, Horace liked to laugh.  I could tell Mr. Lindfield liked him too, but not in the way he'd liked my father, as an equal and as a friend!

Mr. Lindfield was a good and popular boss, but one who would stand no nonsense.  His refusal to tolerate stupid squabbles amongst his staff definitely influenced the way I thought in later years.  One event demonstrates this well and it happened after I had been working there for about a year.  I'd returned from my lunch break to find that many of the, mainly women, staff were giving me the cold shoulder.  This continued for the rest of the day and I'll admit, that as I cycled home that evening, I was both puzzled and angered by this treatment.  The next morning I asked a Mrs. Spears, a woman my dad had liked, what was wrong.  She told me, with a touch of amusement in her voice, that a member of staff called Sally had informed a crowded staff room that I had molested her in one of the stock rooms.  This astonished me for it was obviously untrue.  When you learn that Sally was at least twenty five years my senior and physically resembled a large Russian shot putter, you may understand my confusion.  Mrs. Spears suggested it was perhaps a case of wishful thinking, but advised me to tell Mr. Lindfield immediately, which I did.

He quietly listened to my concerns and then told me he had noticed I got on very well with some younger members of staff.  He singled out three girls I seemed keen on, a Maureen, a Margaret and an Irene.  He had a twinkle in his eye when he told me that he'd noticed I would often find stocks to fetch whenever one of them was working in the stock rooms.  He went on to say he was aware that I also had a bit of a crush on a Miss Pat Elson, who worked on the Chemist counter.  I realised then that the man didn't miss a thing for he knew exactly what was going on in his shop.  He said he knew I wasn't interested in Sally and not to concern myself, for he'd handle the problem.  I didn't expect that meant he'd sack Sally that very morning, but that's what he did.  I leaned a lot from that event, but the main point was how ready people were to believe the worst of someone.  Apart from the girls mentioned above and Mrs. Spears, the entire staff had seemed ready to believe badly of me. The strange thing was over the years I would often see Sally and her new job led to an even better one.  She was nothing but friendly towards me whenever we met!

My time spent working for Timothy Whites was a good time.  In many ways it was like going back in time, particularly when working in the cellars which were very ancient.  There were partially sealed off tunnels there that Mr. Lindfield assured me once led to Guildford Castle as well as a nearby park called, Racks Close.  I was fascinated by these underground rooms which were used to store all the garden fertilisers and tools.  It was also the place where the soap powders and cleaning products were kept and the mixture of so many varied items created a wonderfully evocative aroma that I became hooked on.  It was either that or the occasional kiss I shared with a girl called Irene.  Perhaps it was a little of both.  I know I grew in both mind and body during the next two years.  The constant hauling of goods using the rope pulley lift strengthened my arms, but it was the watching of Mr. Lindfield that strengthened my ability to motivate people.  When I left his employment in 1963 I was a more able person because of the example he'd set.

Mr. Lindfields fortnightly visits to see my father continued throughout this period and only stopped when dads cancer returned and he became too ill for visitors.  In one of my Cosy stories, I wrote of how my proud father once said in 1948, "All men are equal and there's none I'd doff my cap to, save Mr. Lloyd." If we'd thought to ask him that same question in the 1960's, I'm convinced he would also have added Ron Lindfield to that answer.  He was a good man who truly impressed both my father and his youngest son!            

   

[Ken]

This story tells of the time I was accused of a heinous crime and of the man who believed in me.  The same man who helped both my father and I with his dignified kindness.  He was what I would describe as a truly good man.