Lettuces and Cream (16 page)

‘Come on then, boss,’ Arthur said, getting up from the table, ‘lets go and give these weeds hell. The sooner we finish, the sooner we get a drink.’

‘Okay, I’m with you Arthur.’

That evening by a blazing fire in the sitting room, the children were notching up their sugar intake with a vengeance. Jan usually rationed their sweet quota, but today she had thought what the hell, its a special occasion. Mike was showing the, before and after, slides of the place.

‘This is the area that’s going to be the veg garden for the house before it was cleared and dug. The Davis’s never had any garden here at all. And this is the yard and so-called toilet before we cleaned it up.’

‘What a mess, damn big bonfire though, Mike,’ Arthur commented.

‘Yeah, it burnt for days.’

‘And this the hallway and landing before we stripped the woodwork and varnished.’

‘God, you’ve worked hard, the pair of you. How long have you been here now?’

‘Just on two months dad,’ Jan said proudly.

‘Good God, you’ve done marvels.’

‘I should say,’ Nana Gwen agreed.

‘Well that’s the lot for now,’ Mike said, switching off the projector.

‘Good idea, taking photos, in a couple of years no one would believe what you’ve done,’ Arthur said rolling up a smoke.

‘It’s a bit of a pain remembering to do it, but, yeah, it’ll be worth it in the future.’

‘Any way, come on drink up, Mike, and you Jan.’

‘Crikey, dad, we’ll all be drunk at this rate.’

‘It’s not like your father, drinking,’ Gwen was rather disapproving of her husbands behaviour, and gave one of her sniffs.

‘Well, we haven’t seen them for ages, and, I think it’s time you had a go at rolling your own fags, Mike.’

‘If you say so Arth, I’ll give it a go.’

Nana Gwen, who had been rather quiet and thoughtful, suddenly and rather shamefacedly announced, ‘do you know, I’m not sure now, but I think I did give that Roy man your address.’

‘Chris, come out here now,’ Keith was angry, his face set in a scowl.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Just get out here will you”

Chris emerged from the back door, struggling into her jacket as she did so, and followed Keith who was storming across the yard towards the cattle shed. She followed him inside where he gestured towards the mess. Water was flowing full bore from the tap used to provide water for the stock, and drenching stored bales of hay.

‘Jesus bloody Christ, just look at it. The bastard thing has been running all night.’ Keith turned off the tap and angrily kicked the sodden, now useless bales.

‘Chris couldn’t believe it, ‘oh no not again. It can’t be me this time I haven’t been out here since they were fed last night.’

‘You walk around in a trance half the time, you could have.’

‘What are you on about, no I don’t. I work as hard as anyone,’ her lips were twisted in anger, her face in a rigid, tight grimace, she spat out the words like bullets from a gun, ‘I told you, I did not leave it on.’

Keith looked at her quizzically.

‘And another thing it’s bloody strange how things usually go wrong when you’re at your dads place. I’ll tell you what, when you’re away I’ll start patrolling the place with the shotgun, yeah?’ Chris glared at him, turned and headed back to the house shouting over her shoulder, ‘and if I catch whoever it is - I’ll kill ‘em.’

Monday morning, first day of the kids half term, and Mike had come in for his elevenses. Jan’s parents had left earlier on the three and half hour drive home. A bit stressful on Arthur, particularly because he wasn’t used to driving in narrow country lanes. But he cheered up when he reminded himself that when the M4 motorway was finished to Carmarthen, the journey would be at least an hour shorter.

‘Any chance of a cup of coffee,’ Mike gave a hopeful grin in Jan’s direction.

‘I’ll get it going now, do want toast as well?’

‘Yes please’

Jan busied herself moving the kettle onto the Rayburn’s hotspot, and slicing bread.’I hope dad’s going to be alright with all that driving, it seems ages since we saw them, but I think they enjoyed themselves. The kids certainly did. All those sweets - it was a wonder they weren’t sick, and, I saw you taking their sherbet fountains.’

‘Aw, only one – I like sherbet,’ he put on a silly childlike air.

Jan laughed, ‘you’ll never grow up will you?’

‘Not if I can help it,’ Mike replied, ‘and give up sherbet – never.’

‘And I suppose now, instead of giving up smoking, you’re going to be making your own cigarettes?’

‘Yep, I’m going to get some tobacco when I finish this packet and give it a go. God, that was a laugh, trying to roll fags when I was half-cut. The kids thought it was hilarious. Bits of paper and tobacco all over the place. – yeah it was a great night.’ Mike spoke rather pensively, already missing the fun and having to face up to the days realities.

‘I was thinking – I suppose your mum and sister will be down next.’

‘I bet we’ll get a letter from them when they know your parents have been here. Anyway, do you think we should have a go with this potato-picking lark, Jan?’

‘I suppose we should, we would get to know our neighbours better. And they did help us with the hens,’Jan placed a slice of toast in front of Mike.

‘Yeah, okay. When is it? It is this week, half term, isn’t it?’

‘Well they’re starting it today, if it’s dry. Apparently they’ll be at it for a couple of days so we could give a hand sometime. Tomorrow, Tuesday, in the afternoon will be good for me. We’ll have to take the kids as well. More hands the better. What do you think?’

‘Right, Tuesday is okay with me; I’ll put it on my job list so I don’t forget. Is the coffee ready love?’

‘Here you are, you coffee addict.’

‘Lovely, thanks. I suppose you’re off to Drama tonight.’

Jan froze for an instant at the idea of seeing Chris again, and the possible consequences – good or bad, and answered with a quiet and thoughtful – ‘Yes.’

Back outside Mike was mucking out the pigs pen and laying fresh straw. He was finding it a slow job, what with the mother being so protective and eleven curious piglets running around. With the cleaning complete he stood for a while smiling at the antics of the young inmates rooting around in the clean straw. Some were burrowing under it, whilst others simply ran around in circles so fast that they fell over as they made too sharp a turn. All the while Pinky grunted contentedly.

The mucking out completed, Mike headed out to the tunnel field to carry on with weeding, but pausing on the way to have a chat to Primrose. She was grazing happily enough, but looked rather pathetic all alone in the big field. He had begun to talk to Pinky and Primrose and they now both knew his voice. Primrose was particularly responsive, and as he spoke her ears would turn this way and that as though in reply.

He was a sentimental chap and was growing fond of his dumb charges and treating them like oversize pets. Something he couldn’t imagine real farmers doing. Still, no one would find out would they? And on reflection he even felt sorry for the old cockerel he’d killed. The killing of animals was something he hadn’t given much thought to. Particularly as he was supposed to a nurseryman not a farmer. But he knew he had to be practical and not expect the Three Bears to help him out, but apart from the occasional chicken, he wouldn’t be killing anything larger. That would be a job for someone else.

He starting his weeding, and found it very quiet without Arthur, and suddenly had the idea of buying a little battery radio to keep him company. The radio in the house was nearly always on, and out here he was missing the afternoon play and other stuff. Yes, he would get a radio when next in town. His brain whirred on and he began planning for the next batch of poly tunnels – and the building works on the house- and a phone –and a million other tasks. He stopped, deciding to have a smoke, which would cloud his brain for while, calm him down. As he sat on the ground looking out through the tunnel door he saw a movement out in the ploughed field – a hare - a big hare, its black tipped ears erect, listening. He was thrilled; he had never seen a real live hare. The animal looked around the ploughed up area and then in Mike’s direction, as though to say, where the hell has all the grass gone? This was the life, Mike smiled contentedly and let loose a cloud of cigarette smoke. The hare gave a sort of shrug of its shoulders and began preening itself, oblivious to Mikes distant presence. Yes, this was the life indeed.

‘That’s another tunnel weeded,’ Mike gave a self satisfied sigh, ‘only one more to do – until the next lot of tunnels arrive. Hey, guess what Jan, there was a big fat hare in the tunnel field, sitting washing its face, bloody marvellous, eh?’

‘That’s nice – until it eats the crops.’

‘Mm, hadn’t thought of that,’ Mike mused.

‘Postman’s been,’ Jan said cheerfully, ‘and lunch is ready.’

Mike finished washing his hands at the kitchen sink and sat at the table. ‘There’s one for you, Jan, and a seed catalogue, and one for me,’ Mike opened it. ‘It’s from the Bank, we’ve nearly reached the overdraft limit. Basically they want to know when we are going to put some money in.’

‘All that money gone already, Mike. We can’t keep spending like this,’ Jan was shocked and looked absolutely downcast.

‘Cheer up love, it will be okay, I’ll sort it out.’ He had been saying that a lot lately. But good luck or bad luck were not terms Mike and Jan used in any serious way, and to attach blame to such ethereal concepts, illogical. To them ‘luck’ did not mystically happen, but were the result of far more tangible reasons of successes or failures. They believed that if they worked hard and planned carefully – all would be well. Even so, although Mike had spoken with such bravado, he was nevertheless greatly depressed by the news. It had spoilt his day – and Jan’s, and mealtime was a sombre affair, and even the children were unusually quiet.

Tuesday dawned dry and bright.

‘What time are we going down to Ann’s for the potato picking?’

‘Well, they’re working all day but I said we’d be there by half twelve to one, is that okay?’

‘Yep, fine.’ ‘Do we have to go, dad?’

‘Fraid so son, we can’t leave you and Mandy here on your own.’

‘Aw, but we don’t want to go,”David whined.

The two-acre potato field was a hive of activity. About eleven women and a sprinkling of children, were bent over buckets, large saucepans, old shopping baskets in fact anything that the picker could carry. Apart from Emlyn and his son, Mike was the only other man present, not that bothered him. In the corner of the field, a trailer was parked and at intervals pickers would empty their haul of spuds into it. Each time a row was cleared, Ann’s husband, Emlyn would mount his tractor and run the lifting machine along another row, exposing yet more of the golden yellow nuggets from the brown earth.

‘Oh, more helpers, hello Jan, good of you all to help. And you remembered to bring some buckets,’ Ann, wearing an old wrap around apron, and wellies, and her long grey hair tied back with a ribbon, greeted them warmly.

‘I think you do know what to do. Pick the damaged ones up too. The cattle do have them -we do sort them out again in the shed.’ Ann gave them one of her frequent smiles, and bent her back once more.

Mike and Jan got the drift of her instructions and set to. David and Mandy had not been too pleased at being dragged along – potato picking not being high on their list of fun things to do. So were more than pleased to see many of their new school friends present, and dashed off to join them. Mike and Jan felt a little out of place particularly as everyone was chatting to each other in Welsh. But, despite yesterdays letter from the Bank, they settled to their task with enthusiasm, after all this was all part of the life they wanted. They each worked a row apart from each other and the quiet wordless moments were an opportunity for Jan to once again recall Monday night Am Dram.

The rehearsals were going on apace in readiness for the pantomime, Cinderella. Jan had been given the part of Prince Charming, and Chris Cinderella. Which, considering what had passed between her and Chris was a little ironic, even amusing, but neither of them recognised it as such. The evening had been the usual drama mayhem with frequent and hopeful references to, ‘it will be alright on the night” but Jan had found some of the cast a bit too amateur. She liked to get it right – be professional. From her passing remarks Chris seemed to get out and about quite a bit, but for Jan the evening had been an absorbing and relaxing change.

‘That went well Janice don’t you think?’

‘Well I’ve seen worst,’ Jan tittered. They were once again in Chris’s car. She had turned up really early at Jan’s door before she could set off on her own. Which was just as well because Mike had let the car get really low on petrol and she didn‘t like driving the old van. Jan had thought that it been a ploy to get her in alone in the car, but Chris had appeared rather downcast all evening and now, homeward bound, seemed worse.

‘Everything okay at home, Chris?’ Jan said brightly.

‘No, not really,’ the no, was an especially long drawn out Geordie, noo. ‘We had a row Monday morning. He thinks I left the tap running in the shed. It was nothing to do with me,’ she paused for breath, ‘accused me of being a lazy – daydreaming he called it. Cheeky bugger I told him I work as hard as he does. He’s not there half of the time.’