Alfie's story

Reality Check 1964

As we were walking through the airport Tracie noticed her. I can't believe I could have not recognised my own Mother, but she was clearly distraught and I'd only ever seen her happy. As we approached she put her hands out towards us, it amazed me how a virtually blind woman could know we were there from 20 yards away, but she always had that sixth sense. It reminded me of the day we were outside Ede & Ravenscoft, the day I'd been accepted for my apprenticeship at Kilgour. 'Some one's giving us evils Alfie' I told her not to talk daft but she knew he was looking at us.

Heather drove us back to the cottage and she too was not herself, both women, usually the joy of spring were button lipped and making yes and no noises the whole way back to N20.

Once inside the cottage Mum turned and said 'You know that St John Geezer!! always blamed you for him getting ditched from Andersons?' I nodded and looked at the fire place, I felt knotted up inside. 'He was your Father.' I looked around the room, taking in the scene. Tracie gave me a playful dig in the arm and grabbed her suede; Heather took her cue and they left us to it.

Soon as the door shut Mum broke down. 'I'm sorry son but I never loved him, he was just a bit of posh, thought I was a bit of rough for him.' As she paused I poured us a Scotch each and knelt at her feet. I handed her the glass and told her to carry on. We both took a slug. Tears started to run down her face, she sighed then carried on. We were gonna bunk off to Gretna and start again but I bottled it.' When I realised I was expecting I moved from Lewisham to Barkin' and made up a story about being a widow, never thought I'd see him again but he clocked us in Savile Row, back in 62. Ironic that he got into that game, and then you went and joined the firm.' I swallowed and asked if he'd seen us that day!! thought I knew who he was all along didn't he. She nodded, before bursting into more tears. I downed the Scotch and flung my arms around her shoulders as she sank into to chair.

He came here the day you went to Paris, he wanted to start again but I couldn't, next thing I knew he's stormed out like a mad thing. The old Bill came round an hour later, he'd chucked himself under a tube!! dead. In his pocket was this, I unfolded several sheets of A3 and a note. It was the deeds to the post office, open a tailors shop son. I love you. Dad.

I changed my surname to St John, and named the business St John and Son but it became known as Mod Meets Mayfair.

Heather and her Husband now manage it and I make the jackets in the attic, the trousers are made by a bloke called Sid Walton.