***Chapter 6***

***Jimmy***

The world was changing so fast it sometimes left Jimmy Turner breathless. In the new towns that were springing up, ordinary working class folk lived in houses with gardens and indoor bathrooms. Instead of the mines, they went to work in factories and some could even afford to buy television sets and cars. His daughter Peggy and husband Tom, who still rented a two up, two down, and were expecting their first child, talked of saving to buy a home of their own.

He laughed till he cried the day he visited and found a toilet roll, if you please, in the ramshackle wooden outside toilet instead of the usual torn squares of newspaper and Peggy smiled good-naturedly at his teasing about there having been nothing to read when he'd sat there earlier and said, well, they could afford it nowadays and it was more hygienic so why not?

Jimmy watched the unfolding of 1950s England with awe. Born as the century began, he had known harsh poverty, and had often been so hungry that he hunted in dustbins for food, where once he and his brother found orange peel that they'd devoured like a feast. Until the age of ten, when a kindly neighbour passed him a pair of hobnail boots that her son had outgrown, he had walked everywhere barefoot and it was not uncommon to hear of a schoolfriend's death from the likes of diphtheria or scarlet fever, childhood illnesses that had been largely eradicated in this brave new world.

As a boy, he'd earned a few precious coppers for his family helping Alfie Archer deliver milk transported by horse and cart and when one day poor Dolly was startled by a cruelly thrown firework and reared, about to bolt through a crowded outdoor market, he leapt on her back and amazingly managed to calm her. ("Little Cowboy Jimmy" is a Yorkshire tale that has been handed down through generations and you may well be familiar with it today.) The news of his affinity with horses spread like wildfire and he would often be asked to help at stables and farms. Years later the incident was to secure him permanent employment and, as we shall come to see, lead to him playing a huge part in Dora's childhood and in her love of horses.

It was a cold January day during the Great Depression of the 1930s when Jimmy, like many a man in those troubled times having lost his job, climbed the steep hill of Whistle Down Lane to Follyfoot Farm, where he'd heard a wealthy newly-married couple had lately taken up residence in the manor house.

The lady and gentleman were about to go for a brisk ride and dressed in all their finery sat on two beautiful black horses as a burly man, obviously an employee, pushed open the driveway's wrought iron gates (these magnificent gates would later be removed during the second world war, purportedly to provide material for munitions).

Clutching his cap, shivering in thin shirt and ragged trousers and waistcoat as snowflakes fluttered around them, Jimmy enquired about work.

"I'm sorry, my good man, but we have more than enough hands." Arthur Maddocks spoke sympathetically. "Perhaps, if something were to come up in future…Hargreaves, be so kind as to take this fellow's name and see he has a bowl of soup before he leaves."

"Very good, sir."

Hargreaves produced a leather-bound book from a satchel worn over his shoulders and licked a pencil and Jimmy's heart sank as he saw what was obviously a long list of names.

"Jimmy Turner of Loppington." His voice caught with unshed tears. Sympathy didn't put bread on the table for his wife and two small children and for a man proud as he, charity, however well meant, was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Wait! The Jimmy Turner of Loppington? Little Cowboy Jimmy? Why, we heard about you but two days ago. How very quaint!"

It was the first time the lady had spoken and Jimmy, apart from a deferential nod as he removed his cap, had paid her scant attention, for in those far-off days men did all hiring and firing. Now he looked up and saw a handsome young woman, her looks a trifle spoilt by a petulant mouth and condescending manner.

"Aye, ma'am. Happen I were though a good many year ago." He replied politely, surprised his fame should have reached the ears of "quality"."I was curious and asked to know more when I overheard the gardener telling the story to Davey, our stable boy, who sadly is only all too willing to stop work for whatever reason." Arthur Maddocks explained, smiling, and whether or not he was aware that the stable boy, half hidden behind the wall, was curiously watching and listening (fourteen-year-old Davey wisely slipped back to work) is anybody's guess.

"My dear," he added, turning to his wife. "As you know, I had intended to travel to York tomorrow morning to begin conducting interviews for head groom now that Buckley has left us for the Army, but perhaps it would do no harm to give the man a week or two's trial and see if he really is as good with horses as his reputation suggests? Young Davey is finding it difficult to cope and we can hardly expect Caldwell to help indefinitely when he has the gardens to upkeep. If it doesn't work out, well, we can always fall back on our earlier plan."

"Indeed. And I do so hate it when you are away. But come, Arthur, we've wasted enough time here and Magic and I are impatient to be off. Surely you can discuss this tiresome business tomorrow?" Ignoring Jimmy, Prudence rudely tugged at the reins of her horse.

"Be here seven o'clock sharp tomorrow morning and, mind, bring a character reference from your previous employer," Arthur ordered, turning back briefly, for his horse was keen to gallop after its companion and savour the crisp wintry air. "We'll discuss wages if I find all satisfactory."

And with such little ceremony, the man who (though none of them knew it yet) was to be the Maddocks' rock during the War years and, much later, a grandfather figure to Dora, was Jimmy Turner hired...