Tableland

by D. E. Harker

  ‘What ho!’ I shouted. They stopped and turned round and we spent a few minutes thinking up some witty names for the fish as we walked along.

  Steve was the first to bring up the subject of the tennis. ‘I hear I have to congratulate your better half on making the tennis team,’ he said.

  ‘That’s very good of you,’ I said, relieved that he had taken it so well.

  ‘Of course, Una was in it last year and we’d virtually decided that it was too much of a good thing – too demanding, all those evenings out. Another thing, old chap, keep your eye on Les Crow – he’s in the team too and, entre nous, I wasn’t too keen. There was that little business with Nina at the badminton some months ago.’ But he did not expand on this.

  June 21st – Sunday

  Who could feel bored in a town like Weston? There seems to be something going on all the time.

  After lunch, we went to support our local cricket team and who should be bowling when we arrived but Ron Spicer. Watching the proceedings from under a large straw hat was Bren, accompanied by Alan and Sue Uppe. Went over to join them and put up my father’s old golf umbrella as it was so hot. Trev became embarrassed by this for some reason and insisted on going to sit on the far side of the field. I know the umbrella is not in its “first flush of youth” any more and has one or two holes in it, but it always does a very good job as a sun shade and even Sue Uppe, who I’d noticed giving it rather a strange look, was glad enough to come under it as the afternoon progressed.

  Ron only made two runs but got a good clap from our little support group and shortly after that we decided it was time to wend our way home.

  ‘Do you want a lift back?’ I asked Alan.

  ‘Don’t mind if we do,’ he said.

  Julie, who had made some of her special biscuits with green peppermint icing this morning, said, ‘Stay and have a cup of tea with us in the garden.’

  ‘Will do,’ he replied.

  We were drinking our tea and chatting about this and that when Alan suddenly pulled a leaflet from his pocket.

  ‘If you want a laugh, read that.’ It was Rodney Blade’s council election address with a photo of him on the front clutching a pipe and looking both wise and shrewd as “The People’s Friend”.

  His hobbies were listed as politics and beekeeping, with active bird-watching and opera thrown in for good measure.

  “Having lived in this beautiful area for all of two years and enjoyed its many amenities, my one desire is to put a little something back into it – namely my services, which, I can promise you all, will be unstinting, loyal and selfless. I will also be able to bring my professional qualities to bear on one of the major issues of this area – the sewage system.”

  ‘Do you think he’ll get in?’ I asked.

  ‘Shouldn’t think so. He’ll be even more unbearable if he does.’

  ‘His wife hardly ever comes to any of our functions,’ said Sue, which amazed us.

  Rang Derek Wineglass in the evening as we felt it was time we returned their hospitality.

  ‘How about coming over to our part of the world on Saturday?’

  ‘Hang about,’ Derek said, ‘I’ll just consult Marlene in case it’s the children’s sports day or a garden party at Buckingham Palace.’ Saturday appeared to suit, so I then gave graphic instructions of how to get here, which I hope he followed as, in the middle of them, a young couple with a screaming baby knocked on the front door and, when I opened it, said they had been informed that I had the key to the empty house next door and could they have it, please.

  June 22nd – Monday

  Was very annoyed about this key business. Why should anyone think we have it?

  Told Julie to ring the estate agent acting for the house next door after 9 am and make a serious complaint.

  When I arrived home, Julie said that she had rung the agent this afternoon, who had turned quite nasty.

  ‘They said they had left the key with the people on the corner and that we should have realised this and, not only that, but the young couple had apparently sounded very interested in the house and hadn’t been in touch since, so we had probably lost them a sale. In fact, they were quite rude.’

  I said to Julie, ‘If this happens again, I shall have a few strong words to say to those agents.’

  June 23rd – Tuesday

  Had what virtually amounts to a begging letter from my brother-in-law this morning. It ran:

  Just when we seemed all set to make the big time, this had to happen. Know you and Peter won’t let me down over this. Me and the lads are relying on you. You won’t regret it.

  Then, right at the end of the letter, he came to the point of the whole thing – his guitar and amplifying equipment had been stolen. He had not insured them and he coolly expected Julie and self to stump up £100, which would be added to money already collected, so that they could fulfil their next engagement. I had to laugh at his nerve, before chucking the letter away.

  June 24th – Wednesday

  Julie startled me at breakfast this morning by saying, as she passed the Rice Krunchies, ‘I’ve been thinking, if I went along to the bank this morning, I could draw out that money my grandfather left me and send it off to Bri in a registered letter and he’d get it in time for his engagement.’

  I was astounded – in fact, speechless for a minute or two – then I remembered that I’d thrown away the letter with his current address.

  ‘You won’t know where to send it – I chucked the letter away.’

  ‘Oh, I salvaged that, I have it here.’ And Julie produced it from her handbag.

  ‘Well, it’s your money,’ I said, ‘but I’m sure it could be put to better use.’ And several ideas sprang instantly to mind. ‘And, of course, it’s the last you’ll see of it – mark my words – make no mistake about that.’

  ‘No, no, Bri’s not like that, he’ll pay us back as soon as he can. I know he’s unreliable in some ways – ‘

  I gave a short sarcastic laugh which ended in a cough as a Krunchie went down the wrong way.

  June 25th – Thursday

  Bought a pork pie for Trev and me to have for supper, it being the big night of Julie’s tennis match at Crag Ferry. Thought the pie would go well with one of the lettuces from the garden which are just about ready for picking.

  The shop where I bought the pie also sold lettuces and couldn’t help noticing how cheap they are at the moment. However, there’s nothing like the taste of your own home-grown garden produce and, after I had said good bye and good luck to Julie – immaculate in white – I took a trowel and went out to the lettuce patch.

  ‘We’ll have a nice juicy lettuce for supper,’ I said to Trev, who had followed me out.

  ‘You know that’s Kipp’s favourite part of the garden, don’t you?’ he asked. I ignored this and selected the largest of the ten.

  ‘You can wash it while I lay the table,’ I said, noticing that Trev screwed up his face with a look of distaste.

  ‘I think I’ll have baked beans with my pie, Dad,’ he mumbled and reached for Julie’s rubber gloves to wear while washing the lettuce.

  Felt unreasonably angry by his attitude. After all the months of hard work in the garden, to have my efforts scorned, it made me see red and I gave him a piece of my mind, finishing up with, ‘and don’t expect any help with your geography homework tonight.’ To which he had the cheek to reply, ‘I don’t want any, thanks. You always get it wrong anyway.’

  We ate our meal silently, apart from my lettuce crunching (and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever tasted a better one).

  Trev read his comic and I re-read last night’s Echo, then he darted off to a Cubs’ meeting while I watered the garden and adjusted the wing mirror on the car, which had somehow got twisted out of position.

  After creosoting the bird table, I went inside and turned on the television. It seemed a long evening. Hope these tennis matches won’t come round too often.

  Julie came in at 10.15. They didn’t win,
but she seemed in good spirits.

  ‘We stopped for a drink on the way home and planned our strategy for next week’s match.’

  My heart sank at the thought of another one so soon.

  ‘I played with Colin Dunking this evening, but I’m going to play with Les Crow next week. He says I have a marvellous forehand drive.’

  June 26th – Friday

  ‘By the way,’ Julie said, as I left for work this morning, ‘I sent off that money to Bri – he should have it by now. You do think I did the right thing, don’t you?’

  I don’t think I’m an ungenerous person but I don’t see the point of throwing money down the drain, which, to my mind, is exactly what Julie has done.

  ‘It’s your money,’ I said again, ‘and don’t forget the Wineglasses are coming over tomorrow so get plenty of food in.’

  Had an unusually busy day at work, only stopping for a quick sandwich in the canteen, so felt pretty tired by 6 pm and decided to stop at the Cock and Bull for a pint on the way home by way of refreshment.

  ‘Hail-fellow–well-met.’ A hand slapped me on the shoulder and it belonged to Steve, dressed for squash.

  ‘Looking forward to seeing you and Mrs P tomorrow evening.’

  For a moment, I wondered what on earth he was talking about, then luckily I remembered.

  ‘Of course – the barbecue.’ Don’t think Steve noticed my little lapse. With the Wineglasse’s visit on my mind I had very nearly forgotten Steve’s invitation.

  ‘We’ve been talking about it all week,’ I lied. ‘Quite a social day for us tomorrow – we have friends coming over from Manchester.

  ‘Bring them along too,’ Steve said. ‘The more the merrier. Don’t forget it’s a bottle party.’ Hadn’t remembered him mentioning anything of the sort. With a bit of luck, Derek might bring a bottle of one of his homemade brews.

  ‘Oh, there’s Les Crow – I must just go and have a word with him.’ I looked over to where he stood holding court – his shorts and shirt looked whiter than white against his tanned and hairy arms and legs. Black sunglasses hid his eyes but he flashed his teeth in recognition and raised his racquet in a greeting to us.

  ‘He cuts notches on his tennis racquet,’ Steve said.

  ‘For the matches he wins?’ I asked.

  ‘In a manner of speaking,’ he replied. ‘Conquests, certainly.’

  Trust he didn’t mean what I thought he meant, especially in view of what Julie said last night.

  ‘I want to pick his brains regarding our holiday plans – he may be able to get us something cheaper in the State of Denmark. Mind you, strictly between the two of us, his travel agency is a bit of a one man band – one room over a dry cleaner’s – still, it’s worth a try.’

  ‘What’s his agency called?’ I asked, making a mental note to give it a miss.

  ‘A.T.C.F. As the Crow Flies.’

  June 27th – Saturday

  The Wineglasses arrived on the dot of twelve o’clock. Unable to ring our broken door chimes, they appeared at the back door. Marlene holding an enormous bouquet of mixed flowers, which she presented to Julie. We had been putting the finishing touches to the meal. Julie had cooked a chicken yesterday and had invented a delicious apricot sauce to go with it – me being chief tester – and this was to be served with salad – another of my lettuces – followed by trifle decorated with mandarin segments.

  ‘How about a drink in the garden before lunch,’ I suggested. I had forgotten the names of the Wineglass boys so just said, ‘Trev, pour some squash out for you and the lads and then you can go and show them that new model of Frankenstein you’re making.’

  We adjourned to the garden with some tins of shandy. I noticed that Derek had something wrapped in brown paper which bulged out of the top of his trouser pocket and which I hoped was a bottle of something or other.

  ‘Have a look at this,’ he said to me, suddenly producing the object as he sat down.

  ‘Oh, you shouldn’t have,’ I started to say, taking it.

  ‘It’s a sample of South American palma wood. Becoming very popular for small boat building. Strong and yet light – see what I mean?’ ‘It was sent to the office last week. I knew you’d be interested.’

  Made what I hoped were suitable noises of appreciation and we went on to talk about the timber trade in general.

  Old Butt decided to choose this morning to clean his upstairs windows. He seemed to be in unusually good humour as, for some reason, he kept giving us a thumbs up sign, which I, of course, ignored.

  Marlene, on the other hand, responded in a very friendly manner by waving at him and smiling.

  While Derek helped himself to salad over lunch, I couldn’t resist muttering, ‘Our own lettuce.’ Trev then said something very rude which I won’t bother to write down.

  ‘Who’s been at the trifle?’ Julie asked crossly, trying to smooth down the cream again where a finger had been scooping it up.

  I tore a strip off Trev, knowing this to be one of his tricks. He sat there waiting for me to finish and then said, ‘It was him,’ pointing to one of Derek’s boys.

  We decided to go for a walk through Barton Woods in the afternoon and show the Wineglasses one of our local beauty spots. Marlene wasn’t too keen on the idea at first as she was wearing very high heels – far too high in my opinion – and a rather tight skirt. However, we managed to persuade her and all enjoyed a good walk, while I broached the subject of Steve’s barbecue party. The idea that we should all go was received with enthusiasm.

  Had been keen to point out the panoramic view of Wales seen from a certain part of the wood, but unfortunately couldn’t strike the right path today and found ourselves, at one point, on the footpath which overlooks the deep sandstone quarry, which is fortunately fenced off. Even so, Marlene made quite a fuss clinging on to my arm and complaining that she’d no head for heights.

  We were all ready for a cup of tea when we got home. Marlene said, ‘I think I sprained my ankle on a root up in the woods.’ She then limped towards the sun lounger, where she stayed until it was time to go to the Downes’. However, noticed amazing improvement in ankle as she danced energetically later in the evening with Steve, to his country and western style tapes, watched with a beady eye by Una, I might add.

  The barbecue went well and was voted a great success by everyone. Una had “gone to town” over the kebabs, and, as I said to Alan, the smoke kept the swarms of mosquitoes down to manageable proportions.

  Later still, when it was dark, I spotted Les Crow dancing in the gloom with his head buried in someone’s hair.

  Thought perhaps it was his wife – Anita – but, as they vanished into the house, I saw by the light of a small Habitat lantern that it was Una.

  June 28th – Sunday

  Spent nearly the whole of the morning washing up after yesterday and then went over to see if Steve wanted any help after his party. Could hear Una banging about in the kitchen. ‘She prefers to do it her way so I let her get on with it,’ Steve said, adding that he had a bad headache – was not surprised with all that noise. He didn’t seem to want to go over the events of last night and changed the subject.

  ‘Looking forward to the Open at Birkdale on the 8th,’ he said referring to the golf tournament. ‘I’m taking Robin Crundle Crundle’s Ketchup. Our firm organises a nice little set-up there with plenty of booze and a jolly time is had by all. Drop in for a drink if you’re going to be there. Look for a banner with the name TRUGOODS in purple letters and that’s us.’

  Made a mental note of this as I had promised myself a day at Birkdale. A good opportunity to see the top stars at work and pick up some tips.

  Spent the afternoon in the garden reading the papers while Trev and Craig shied paper pellets through the gap in the fence at Diane Butt, who was working hard on her tan, prior to entering a bathingsuit beauty contest next month.

  June 29th – Monday

  Found myself next to Avery, of all people, at the traffic lights this morning.
Gave him a wave but was ignored and he accelerated past me with a flourish in his brand new dark brown Jaguar.

  June 30th – Tuesday

  Recounted the incident of Avery to Brimcup when he came into the office this morning.

  ‘Yes, Avery seems to have hit the big time. I hear Lumberjobs is about to go public, so rumour hath it. And Avery is moving to one of those houses in a young executive’s estate, Brimcup told me.

  For a moment, I must admit, I thought to myself, that could have been me, and then I banished the thought, although it recurred again once or twice during the day.

  Julie deeply engrossed in watching Wimbledon on the television when I arrived home, and when I broached the subject of Avery and “what might have been”, she just said, ‘Sshh – just look at those backhands.’

  July 1st – Wednesday

  No note of thanks from Brian – only to be expected, of course.

  A sudden thunderstorm followed by heavy rain put a stop to Julie’s tennis match this evening, much to her disappointment, but to my secret relief. Thank goodness I didn’t have to hear anything about Les Crow, I don’t know why but the very name is beginning to get on my nerves.

  July 2nd – Thursday

  Brimcup very full of himself this morning. I suppose having an article printed in Chips might go to anyone’s head.

  July 3rd – Friday

  Interesting advertisement in local paper today:

  Come to White’s Home Farm, Kelston and pick your own strawberries – 25p per 1lb.

  If there’s one thing I enjoy, it’s strawberry jam. Julie seemed enthusiastic and Trev licked his lips. Decided to make excursion tomorrow.

  July 4th – Saturday