by D. E. Harker
Expecting to see just the time of the meeting written down, was horrified to read:
Due to the ‘flu having struck down our Chairman, K Dugeon Esq., and decimated our numbers somewhat, the meeting has been postponed until further notice.
‘Well, thanks anyway,’ I said to Una, not wishing to appear ungracious, or to let her see my great disappointment. ‘We’ll see you both on Saturday?’
‘Yes, I hope so,’ Una replied, ‘that is if we don’t come down with the ‘flu ourselves – we were with Ken on Tuesday evening.
November 27th – Friday
At this moment in time, as I write, I should be sitting in a meeting and, hopefully, hearing some good news. Still, no good brooding over it. Tried to keep busy this evening by making arrangements with Julie for tomorrow’s festivities. We expect seven couples – if no more fall victim to the ‘flu epidemic, like Ken Dugeon. The Price-Potters will be away in Berkhampstead. The Blades declined owing to a previous engagement and we are still in some doubt as to the Spicers. Geoff Savoury, to our pleasant surprise, has accepted, as have the couple from next door.
The problem with Scott and Dawn is how to introduce them. Rather a knotty one that – as we say in the trade. Should I say, “This is Scott Hopper and his good lady”? Or something like, “Meet our new neighbours – Scott and Dawn”? Julie favours the last mentioned, ‘Although,’ she remarked, ‘as they say they’ve always lived in the neighbourhood, they probably won’t need introducing.’
‘Ah, they may have resided hereabouts all their lives but I think you could say our crowd of friends are more cosmopolitan.’
‘I see what you mean,’ conceded Julie.
November 28th – Saturday
It’s funny how things don’t always turn out the way you’d expect them to. Not that our party wasn’t an unqualified success. It was. I’m sure everyone who came would agree that it was.
In the afternoon, we cleaned the room and then I went to collect some wine and extra glasses from the grog shop at the Cock and Bull. Julie made her speciality – cheese, curry and garlic dip – and Trev set out the plates with an assortment of biscuits, cheese and small pieces of celery on pink paper serviettes.
We had tea in the kitchen – it was at this time that Brenda Spicer rang to say that she couldn’t make it this evening as she had to visit her sick friend again. ‘I’ll send Ron though,’ she promised.
With the electric logs flickering in the hearth, the food, wine and my beer set out on the red tablecloth, surrounding Julie’s dried flower arrangement, it only remained for me to add the finishing touch – two red light bulbs in the two table lamps. It looked really stylish. This is what it’s all about, I thought to myself with some satisfaction.
Una and Steve were first to arrive and immediately went over to the fire.
‘Do you think, oh Great White Chief, I could have the use of a chair, if it wouldn’t be too anti-social?’ Steve asked, pointing to his left leg. Trev and I dragged in the small armchair. Una pushed it in front of the fire and sat on one of the arms, shivering. ‘I’m sure I’m getting a temperature.’
‘Well, how about a spot of beer to take your mind off your troubles?’ I suggested.
After about twenty minutes, there came a loud knock on the door followed by something that sounded like Hark! The Herald Angels Sing. There at the door were the Goodchaps, Ron Spicer and Dawn and Scott, who was holding out his hand and saying, ‘Spare a copper.’ Much hilarity ensued when, thinking quickly, I pressed a few old Green Shield Stamps, which had been lying on the hall table, into his palm.
They all crowded in and seemed anxious to try my home-brewed beer. Had had one or two misgivings about this, since tasting it earlier this evening, but the rather antiseptic flavour must have been due to the fact that I had just cleaned my teeth.
The Uppes arrived at this moment and explained that the Gropes were sorry they couldn’t come but had both got the flu.
‘Think I’m starting with it too,’ Alan said, sneezing as he made his way to the fire.
Behind the Uppes, and to my surprise, I spotted Ken Dugeon, looking feverish. He should have stayed in bed, I thought, and not come spreading his germs around, but the reason for his flushed face soon became apparent, to me at any rate, as creeping in beside him was none other than Anita Crow!
Caught Julie’s eye and nodded my head slightly in their direction in a manner I hoped she’d interpret as “What a damn cheek!”
Ken put his face close to mine and I caught the smell of his cough lozenge as he said, ‘Knew you wouldn’t mind – she managed to get a babysitter very much at the last moment.’
I said, ‘Not at all, not at all, the more the merrier say I.’ But while I turned to get a couple of glasses for them, suddenly all my old suspicions rose up and now with a completely new slant. Ken and Anita! I should have put two and two together before and come up with this one (almost found myself feeling sorry for Les).
It all seemed to slot into place now – a joint Wheeler effort to get rid of the area’s public enemy number one, with the added incentive for Ken of Anita. However, had no time, as host, to dwell on all this at that particular moment.
Everyone seemed to have finished their beer very quickly and were starting on the wine. The eats were going well and the party was in full swing. Conversation was ranging over a wide variety of topics, plans for Christmas, holidays, cars, school and petty thefts in the area, when I heard Ken say to Keith Goodchap, ‘Funny you should say that about your watering can, I had an old gardening glove pinched the other day – just doing a spot of pruning for a friend, left the gloves in the porch and – Bob’s your uncle – one’s gone.’
Couldn’t believe my ears. I must have picked up Ken’s old glove but I noticed he hadn’t said whose porch he’d left it in. Then I thought, is this a frame-up? Had Alan in fact passed the word round of my doings in the woods and they were waiting to watch my reaction, to see how much I knew?
The murmur of sympathy directed at Ken came to an abrupt halt and all eyes were on me as some pineapple chunks, spiked with ham, slid off the plate I was carrying. I was glad of the diversion and skilfully changed the subject round to the latest unemployment figures with Alan, always so knowledgeable on these matters. Then who should I see across the room but Geoff Savoury slapping Ron Spicer on the back.
‘No, no this is Peter,’ Julie said, bringing him over.
‘Sorry about that,’ laughed Geoff, ‘and apologies for our late arrival. We had a spot of bother finding you in this neck of the woods.’ What did he mean by “we”, I wondered. Then I noticed a dark-haired girl standing behind him.
This is going a bit far, I thought, first he arrives nearly an hour late, then he mistakes Ron Spicer, whose face could only be described as homely, for me, and, to cap it all, he brings along a complete stranger, uninvited.
Determined to appear rather aloof, contacts or no contacts.
‘What’s your poison?’ I asked.
‘Well, just a quickie,’ Geoff said, ‘we can’t stay long. We’re due elsewhere in half an hour.’ He spotted Steve, who had his leg up on a stool by now.
‘Hello, hello, spot of the gout, old boy?’
‘Well, you know how it is,’ murmured Steve.
‘You know what they say – too much good living. You’ll have to give up the hard stuff, eh?’ And they both laughed.
‘I say, isn’t that a Carabineer’s tie you’re wearing?’ asked Steve.
‘Sharp of you to spot it. Yes, I was with the regiment for a few years. Had some interesting experiences…’
Left them to it as they seemed to be getting along so well and returned to my duties as host. Offered Ron some more beer but he said he’d try the wine next. Trev was making himself useful passing round the eatables while Julie circulated.
‘Well, cheerio, old son, we must be wending our way,’ Geoff Savoury said presently. ‘Thanks and all that – see you anon. Come along, Jummy.’ And he and the dark girl left.
‘Yes, old fellow – I think we’d better be saying our fond farewells. Una’s feeling very much below par,’ said Steve, dragging himself to his feet, or rather his foot. ‘Don’t rush off. Have another one for the road,’ I urged. Una yawned and shivered.
‘In actual fact, I’d like nothing more but I can see that I’ll have to get Una to bed with a hot milk and whisky. No rest for the wicked.’ He limped painfully to the door then brightened a little. ‘It was a splendid party. What a character old Geoff Savoury is. We’re meeting for lunch next week. Contact-wise, the evening couldn’t have been better. That Jummy McPennine was quite a looker, wasn’t she?’
The words rang in my ear for the rest of the evening. I thought of the lost opportunities and remembered my rather cool attitude to Geoff. It almost ruined the party for me, that and my reawakened suspicions. Afterwards, Julie admitted that she had been introduced to Geoff’s friend but hadn’t quite caught the name. She seemed more concerned and upset to find her dried floral arrangement dripping and quite a volume of liquid in the bottom of the bowl. ‘It smells faintly of dettol,’ she said.
November 29th – Sunday
Decided to spend a quiet day after all the excitement of yesterday.
Brooded over my lost chance of chatting up Geoff Savoury and the thought of Anita and Ken, which I’ve filed away at the back of my mind for the time being. Brought the room back to its usual order and Julie resurrected her dried flowers – still puzzled about that one. We agreed that the evening had been a success. ‘But I think once a year is quite enough,’ Julie said.
The weather was bright and sunny so decided to go for a drive after lunch, park somewhere away from it all and read the papers. Unfortunately, everyone else in the area seemed to have the same idea – Thurston Hill was swarming with people and FULL notices were up at the car park. It was impossible to park at Hollyoak beach – the sands were as crowded as an August bank holiday, dogs and horses all over the place as well.
At the country park along the old railway track, we found cars bumper to bumper. The country park ranger, magnificent in his safari outfit, was having a job controlling the crowds and looked to be in an ugly mood.
Reversed slowly back up to the main road to the accompaniment of car horns – people have no patience these days. Felt dry and hot after all this and wondered if the ever-popular ice cream shop at Woodgate would be open on a Sunday in November. Thought a rum and raisin ice would slip down very well, Julie favoured chocolate and Trev a large ice lolly. We saw the end of the queue before we had even found somewhere to park so abandoned the whole project and returned home. Swivelled the chairs round to face the sun and Julie made a nice cup of tea.
November 30th – Monday
A quiet day at the office. Brimcup told me of problems he and his wife are having with his in-laws.
‘Basically, it’s a them and us situation,’ he confided.
‘You mean you don’t get on?’ I asked.
‘This is it. In actual fact, as it were, I personally feel that no way can we resolve this multi-faceted syndrome.’
‘Stalemate, in fact,’ I put in.
‘That’s right, I mean to say, basically I’m a high-flyer, a bit of a swinger – don’t quote me on this but aspiration-wise…’
We talked in this way for ten minutes but at the end I still wasn’t sure that I grasped the essentials of the problem.
December 1st – Tuesday
A terrible blow has fallen – hardly able to put pen to paper to write about it. Ironic to think of my optimistic mood of last week.
The day started well enough with sausages for breakfast and, arrived at work to collect some new samples with no sense of impending doom.
The telephone rang. Trina answered it and handed it to me. ‘It’s for you.’
‘George Remnant here,’ came the voice down the line.
‘Good morning, sir,’ I replied with confidence, knowing that the ordered wood should have appeared on site early this morning. ‘I trust the trusses have arrived.’ (Promptly as promised by yours truly.)
A noise like a bull bellowing greeted me, followed by, ‘That’s why I’m ringing – they keep on arriving. My foreman’s going through the roof. Is this some kind of joke or what? We ordered 160 trusses (ten for each house) but by the look of it we have more like four or five hundred here already and another load has just arrived. Put me through to Prescott Henderson,’ he shouted. ‘This is what comes of using a firm like… ‘ I heard him muttering as I handed the ‘phone back to Trina to connect him with P.H’s office.
I sat down shaken – too shaken to listen in. Trina said later that it was all rather unpleasant. Fetched myself a cup of coffee from the new dispenser and tried to sort things out in my mind. What could have gone wrong?
I was soon to find out. P.H. called me into his sanctum later. ‘What’s all this then?’ he asked furiously with a face like thunder. ‘I’ve been on to the mill and Jim Smears swears black and blue that you ordered trusses for sixty houses for Greenacres Estate.’
(I suppose it’s nobody’s fault really – sixty sounding very like sixteen – but no doubt I shall take the rap.)
‘I have had a very nasty ten minutes on the ‘phone with Remnant, very nasty indeed. He’s sending the extra trusses back at once, disclaiming all liability. I suppose we’re lucky he’s accepting the rest under the circumstances.’
‘And just as I was thinking a little promotion for you might be on the cards!’ This went on for some time, after which I slunk out with my samples.
My heart wasn’t in my job today. Couldn’t concentrate – my mind kept going over the terrible mix-up. Had I really said sixty to Smears on the ‘phone and not sixteen, by mistake? Would I now be joining the vast number of unemployed?
Started to feel achy in my limbs and came home at 4 pm shivering as well. Julie pronounced the ‘flu so here I am in bed with a hot lemon drink and feeling wretched. Julie treated the blow rather lightly, I thought. ‘Well, can’t you store the extra wood until the next person wants it?’ she asked, having no real grasp of the situation. Tried to explain that the trusses had been cut to a certain specification but gave up. Eyes aching badly, can’t write anymore tonight.
December 2nd – Wednesday
Bed all day. Julie said she’d ‘phoned the office to let them know I wouldn’t be in and whoever had answered had said, ‘I’m not surprised.’
December 3rd – Thursday
Still in bed. Feel at very low ebb. Can’t imagine any news that would cheer me up at this moment in time. What do we all strive so hard for – what is it all about? This and other thoughts were filling my head when Julie popped in with another hot lemon drink. ‘I don’t know why you’re feeling so gloomy. What about me? I was looking forward to the Builders’ Dance tomorrow – I suppose I’ll have to ring up again and say we can’t go. I suppose the Brimcups will take the tickets.’
This made me feel worse than ever – had completely forgotten about the dance – it would have been an evening full of opportunity with important new contacts to be made. All my hopes turned to dust.
December 4th – Friday
Managed to get downstairs this evening despite feeling weak and shaky, but couldn’t raise much enthusiasm for This Was Your Wife, which I usually enjoy, or for the pineapple and sausage casserole which Julie had made for supper.
At 7.30 there was a knock at the door, then I heard Brimcup’s loud voice thanking Julie for the tickets. ‘No, we won’t come in – don’t want to miss the champagne reception, ha, ha, ha. Our best to Peter, sorry he’s had such a rough time of it and all that…’ The door closed and I heard them drive off to the dance.
December 5th – Saturday
This afternoon, Julie placed some Christmas cards down on the table which she had bought at Munniesave. ‘Choose which you like best and I’ll get another three packets of them,’ she said. There were five different cards – Father Christmas going to the moon on a multi-coloured ro
cket, a stocking full of toys with a tatty-looking mouse (or was it a rat?) peering out, a cross-eyed owl on skis, a reindeer with false eyelashes standing under a sprig of mistletoe and three robins playing blind man’s buff!
Didn’t care very much for any of them and told Julie so. ‘You know the sort of Christmas cards I like: lots of snow, a village scene, stage coaches, houses lit up, Christmas trees in the windows, families rushing along laden with parcels – real old-fashioned cards. Why didn’t you get some of those?’
‘These were special bargain offers – they were a very good buy,’ she replied rather haughtily. ‘You aren’t usually so choosy. Anyway, I think they’re very nice.’
Afraid to say I became a bit snappish with Julie, who answered back to the effect that I was feeling sorry for myself and why didn’t I snap out of it and so on.
Felt too weary to prolong the argument and in the end I compromised over the cards by playing “Eeny, meeny, miny, mo”. It came out at the cross-eyed owl on skis.
Was gloomily contemplating which would be the better of two unappealing programmes to watch on the telly when who should appear at the window but Steve. Put Julie’s thick knit cardigan round my shoulders and went to let him in.
‘Good evening, squire, what ails you? A touch of the plague, eh? No don’t worry, we’ve all had it,’ he said as I explained.
‘You look a trifle downcast, old laddie,’ he remarked, settling himself into the opposite chair and propping his walking stick up against the wall.
Was about to say it was just the after-effects of ‘flu when I remembered the old adage “A trouble shared is a trouble halved” and almost before I knew it, I was pouring out the whole sorry story.