Every year, during or before the Frome Festival, the Frome Writers Collective, run a brilliant creative writing event called Writers in Residence.
Those who have been approved to participate, meet on the morning for a social breakfast. Before we start, we are given a prompt, and allocated to a venue in town. It could be a cafe or a shop. For the next 3 hours we sit and write 1,000 words, within the theme, and in a public space.
This year (2019) Frome is celebrating 200 years since the opening of the Singers Foundry, which was responsible for casting, amongst others, the statue of Boudicca which sits proudly on Westminster Bridge. The theme for Writers in Residence was thus around Boudicca and the Singers Foundry.
I won the competition last year, so the pressure was on. I was given a table in a cafe and started writing. This is my story (I know it still needs some work, but I wanted to share it with you).
Judge, Button and Goose
“This will be my last birthday poor,” I thought as I put on my best shirt on for my 14th birthday and my first birthday at my first adult job. I had washed my shirt the night before, and it was still a little damp. My smartest trousers only had two holes in them, but I had felt them shrink every time I put them on. I had started to fill out and I felt everything was changing for me – inside and out.
Mr Button, was always early, but that day he was over an hour late. When he arrived, it seemed he was carrying the world on his shoulders.
“Do things now. Never allow time to hold you back from great things”, he had always said.
“Good morning Mr Button,” I smiled coyly as I swept the workshop.
Button nodded in acknowledgement and made his way to his office. He closed the door with a bang, and I was left in a puff of dust.
I busied myself, wondering what had happened to make Mr Button so different, so distant and so unengaged.
This was not for me to concern myself, of course. I was only the cleaning boy, so no one important. My father and Mr Button had met at the Three Swans Pub and although came from very different backgrounds, they became firm friends. When Mr Button was looking for someone to clean the foundry, my father offered me as a hardworking and strong lad. I had not been very good at reading, writing or ‘rithmatic and was always looking for a way to get out of school. This job was my ticket to great things.
That day there was a hush across the foundry. Everyone knew something wasn’t right, but no one wanted to ask or even speculate. It was about midday before Mr Button came out of his office.
“Harry, round up the troops,” he called out.
“Yes, Mr Button,” I said and ran out into the courtyard, and across to the store.
“Hurry everyone! Mr Button needs to see us.” The men obediently nodded at me, knowing something bad was about to happen.
All eight of us stood outside Mr Button’s office and waited in silence. The door opened, and he stepped out to face us. His eyes were almost black, and his frown dragged his sunny face to an age many years ahead of him.
Button drew in a deep breath, “Men, the foundry has to close.” There was a knowing murmur as he continued, “Mr Judge feels that we aren’t making enough money and so, by the end of the day, we need to put plans in place to move the incomplete pieces to the foundry in Malmesbury, clean up what we have here, and then collect the last of your pay from me at the end of the day tomorrow.”
“But they can’t do that,” I blurted out.
With a collective gasp, the men all turned to face me – even Mr Button was taken aback.
Ed, who was only a few years older than me, and had been at the foundry since he was 12, jabbed me in the ribs.
“Shhshhh!” he tried to whisper.
I knew I had spoken out of turn, but my outburst was instinctive. My dream of having enough money for a 15th birthday celebration was slowly melting away.
The rest of the day was eerily quiet in the foundry. We barely spoke. My head was trying to work out what I was going to with the rest of my life.
That night I couldn’t sleep. Quietly I got out of my bed trying not to disturb my snoring father in the bed next to mine. I carefully unlatched the front door and stood outside with my arms spread out as I arched my back and filled my lungs with the cool evening breeze.
Then I climbed over the fence into Farmer Bunn’s field next door and found a soft grassy patch to lie down. The night sky was mesmerising, timeless.
“Do things now. Never allow time to hold you back from great things” I heard Mr Button’s voice as I found myself drifting off into an eternal world.
Hours later the baking sun forced me to realise where I was. I lay still as I returned to the present. But that present was not the same present as the day before. It felt like a new me, strange, but exciting.
I snuck back into the house and got into bed before I heard my father stir.
I decided to go into the foundry first thing, even though Mr Button had told us not to return until late afternoon for our wages. The office door was open, and I heard a male voice I didn’t recognise.
“That must be Mr Judge,” I thought as I crept closer.
Before I could stop myself, I marched right into the office. I knew the time was right and I was not going to anything hold me back.
Both men stopped talking.
“Yes Harry?” Mr Button asked.
“Mr Button,” I nodded. “Mr Judge?” I asked as I put my hand out. These were manners my father told me would always give me confidence. And surprisingly they worked wonders for me in that moment.
“Yes. Yes. It is.” Mr Judge looked surprised and slightly bemused. “And who are you, lad?”
“I am Harry Goose, sir.”
“And what can we do for you Master Goose?” Mr Judge asked, as he put his hand up to prevent Mr Button from ‘shewing’ me away.
“I have only been working at the foundry for a few months and you can’t close it.”
“Oh, and why is that?” he smiled and looked over at Button.
“Because I have great plans and I know we can save it, and I know we can make you money and I know…”
Mr Judge interrupted.
“And how do you propose we do that?”
I could sense Mr Button’s annoyance and frustration. I glanced his way to reassure him and continued, “I have a plan. It’s a great plan Mr Judge. And I know it will work.”
The men both sat down. Mr Button slumped in despair. Mr Judge patted the chair next to him.
“Sit down my boy”.
“He is just humouring me,” I thought, but wasn’t going to let that stop me.
I don’t know where it all came from, but that morning, I changed Mr Judge’s fortunes – statues of famous men and women, kings and queens, iconic structures for law courts and churches. I couldn’t get it all out. And I barley breathed as I rattled off how, what and why.
I could see Judge and Button’s faces light up as I spoke. I could sense their inspiration and motivation return. And I could feel myself becoming more than just the cleaning boy. In that moment I became a man.
For my 15th birthday, I bought my first cake. I also accompanied Mr Button to meet the Mayor of London to negotiate the location for our beautiful commission of the heroine Boudicca. When I turned 16, I bought myself a bicycle. That year I stood proudly between Judge and Button on the banks of the River Thames as men in robes and decorations unveiled the structure next to Westminster.
Soon after my 20th birthday I was called into Mr Button’s office.
“It is time for me to step down from my role as manager of the foundry. Mr Judge wants you to take over Harry. You have been remarkable. You have not only saved the foundry, but you have saved the jobs of our men and we are growing, so there will be even more jobs for others in the village. He held out his hand, “Harry Goose, welcome to your new office.”
I was in shock.
“I…I…thank you Mr Button” I said with pride and overwhelm.
“I must be the youngest man to be appointed manager of a foundry in the district”, I thought as Mr Button walked away. He looked back and without him having to say anything, I knew what he was thinking.
“Do things now. Never allow time to hold you back from great things!”
