Police Memories

by Bill Williams

  He sat up and not recognising the voice he just held back from his automatic response, “Please come in” but, by the Grace of God, called instead, just a minute please I am not dressed.”

  The mystery voice replied. “Ok, give me a knock when you are decent, I have just moved in next door.”

  “Who on earth might that be he thought, a lady neighbour and one keen to be friendly, this is an event one has to behold, he thought.”

  He rose with aching bones, he consoled himself with the distracting thought at 75 years old, one can expect and has to suffer stiff and aching bones on rising each morning.

  He raced into the bathroom at the brake neck speed of steadily placing one foot before the other making sure he securely held onto anything within his grasp. He put out of his mind the fact every step caused a twinge from the ankle, knee and hip, rather he was floating over the floor with all the grace of an old time dancer.

  At the sink he reached for his battery-operated razor, switching it on, “Blast,” he said, “The batteries are flat.” More hesitation and delay, would he never meet this new neighbour?

  Reaching for his razor there was no alternative than to have a wet shave. To save time he would not bother to lather up with the foam, just wash his face with soap, and then shave. He still used the old fashioned carbolic soap; though it stung the eyes if any went in, it was a good disinfector he always thought.

  He washed, opened his eyes, “blast.” They were stinging; in his haste some suds had entered into the corner of each eye, and, heavens how they were stinging.

  He persevered, after putting the towel in the corner of his now blood shot eyes, the pain abated, permitting him to shave on, and with a brisk tempo, “Shit.” Two cuts, one to each cheek.

  Who, he thought would permit carbolic soap to get into ones eyes and then inflict two, half inch scrapes to the check so holding one up, yet further.

  How he regretted now he was taking Warfarin for the blasted razor gouges were streaming with blood. He looked for something to stop the bleeding.

  He hesitated, then thought of the days when as a young Copper in lodgings when he had spent a night in the company of some lady or other who had a flat of her own or better.

  An ideal lady for a young single copper was one who had no hopes or anticipations of commitments she being married. A husband who was working away all the week as a highflying business executive. Better, she was deeply in love with him and his large salary. No way would she want to leave home to live on a Coppers pay.

  He had shaved before at the home of one or more lady hosts, and then reported for duty directly from there for the early shift at 5 45 am. A cut such as these occurred in those days, there was always a remedy to stop the bleeding.

  This was all he could do now on this occasion; he reached for the newspaper, ripped off two small pieces and stuck these on the cuts, then held them for a while.

  Great he thought that did it, bleeding stopped. He eventually dressed and went outside knocking on door number twelve.

  Within moments it opened and a smiling face said, “Good morning Claude, cut your face have you?” Don’t say you have forgotten me.”

  He hesitated, he did recognise the features but her name, it was gone.

  She saved further embarrassment and said “Miss Angelina Prim, don’t say you have forgotten me, the post mistress and not forgetting the drapery and my sowing skills. Surely you remember when you were a sergeant, the stripes case and my handbag.”

  Claude then recalled the cases if there was anything he never forgot it was his police history.

  Any further conversation was halted when the breakfast alarm sounded calling the faithful to early morning feasting. They both realised their presence was required and walked off together.

  En route Claude now cast his mind back and recalled as the years had passed if Miss Prim had always remained single. He would not say, she had been left on her shop shelf but he did recall the joke. If, she had never married upon her death, some well-meaning mourner might well put an inscription on her tombstone.

  “Miss Prim, post office mistress, returned unopened.”

  At long last they arrived in the dining room, for a change, he was happy and not down hearted. He sat at his customary corner table joined by Angelina, an old memory. The first time he had enjoyed a meal and the company of someone he knew from the past. His future life style and the atmosphere of his day-to-day life were about to change, he hoped.

  They enjoyed a hearty breakfast, the first cooked breakfast he had consumed for what appeared ages. Angelina being the new comer looked around her, from her facial expression she knew several other residents.

  Claude had the feeling that his life may well become brighter; it would of course never be the same as it was at home but with a friendly face and neighbour to chat with, things were looking up. He would be remiss he thought if he didn’t compare his desire to have a friendly companion living next door than his thoughts may well have been when he was 19 years old how different his thoughts were in those days.

  Breakfast finished they made their way to their rooms when Sally came walking towards them announcing matron was having a room inspection and so it was all hands to make sure everything was according to her instructions.

  “Matron seems a bit of a stickler,” said Angelina

  “Indeed,” replied Claude, “Ex military, I think, I have tried to keep a low profile and out of her clutches.”

  “We had better go to the lounge,” said Angelina, give them time to make the beds and finish the rest of the cleaning; we could have a chat and get up to date.”

  “A very good idea,” replied Claude.

  He was anxious to have someone and something different to converse with and it would be a pleasing change from looking through the window or simply sitting among the snoring and gaping mouths.

  Things were definitely looking up he thought as they reached the lounge and sat in the comfortable chairs soon followed by others until every seat was occupied.

  Matron is definitely making an impact Claude thought, but, did not say so for fear of giving Angelina the impression he was a moaning complainer and put her off.

  “Right Claude,” said Angelina, “I must say I was surprised when I arrived to be told by Sally that my next door neighbour was a fellow previous resident of Copton,” she began the conversation.

  “The same for me,” he replied, “when you put your head round the corner, I recalled the voice but I confess at that moment I failed to put a face to it. As always it is old age,” he said.

  “Indeed it is,” she said, “Indeed it is; none of us are getting any younger.” “Well now Claude, shall we get up to date? Better I suppose than gossip of what is happening here.

  “As you are the lady and so with the old values, as a lady, you go first” he replied, in the hope of getting her to test the water first, using the guise of being a gentleman.

  “Well Claude” she began, “Here is my story, now settle down for you know me, once I get chatting I don’t really know when to stop.”

  “I suppose it stems from the old days from the shop, when folks came in and I was constantly in conversation. Hearing their problems and then there was all the gossip of what was happening, a real source of information, the Post Office. Pity you didn’t come in more, I may well have been able to solve many of your cases,” and she laughed.

  “If I had only known,” said Claude. “I can’t wait to hear your story, by the way I take it you never married?” he said.

  She did not reply, hesitated, thought and began.

  “Now Claude, you may recall my father had the millinery business, it did quite well. When I left school he sent me to train as a Seamstress I really enjoyed the making of clothes. I eventually expanded the interest and designed clothes; wedding dresses, christening gowns and occasionally specific fashion items. I tried hats but didn’t like doing that much. It was only an interest, but I logged them into a sort of scrap book.”

>   “I must say,” replied Claude “I was to experience your skill with a needle but the designing, it is news to me.”

  “Well” she continued “I worked in the family business for many years, but as time passed, with the import of foreign clothes the sales fell off so by the time father retired the business was really no longer viable, so it closed.”

  “I was fortunate, just at that time the Post Office business was available and so father acquired that for me. I was his Manager for many years, and then upon his death it passed to me.”

  “We sold the various confectionary, newspapers and of course the franchise from the Post office for the stamps, letters etc. As you know I continued after the death of my parents and until the death of the Post Office when it spilt up to become the Royal Mail and those changes in themselves are another story. I finally arrived in old age but had worked there until I myself finally retired not long ago.”

  “So you never followed up the clothing side, I find that strange” said Claude, “I am a little confused,” he said, “The business with my uniform stripes, am I losing it.”

  She laughed and said; “No silly you haven’t got it wrong.”

  Just at that moment a voice called, “Ladies and Gentleman your rooms are ready, Matron has now finished her rounds.”

  Angelina replied, “I need to use the toilet and I have to go into town shall we?”

  “Ah really,” replied Claude, they both stood and made their way to the lift and were soon outside their rooms.

  “Look Claude, I must go, I hope to catch the transport into town, I have odds and sods to get, would you fancy coming?”

  Claude hesitated and said, “Yes, I will come into town with you, it will make a change and my leg is on the mend I think it will do me good to experience a change of atmosphere. I have a note here of some items I need.”

  Some thirty minutes later they were in the foyer and joined the queue for the Home transport. When it arrived the waiting residents began to load into the vehicle but when Claude arrived at the door, Spud the driver made his day.

  “Sorry Mr Friendly, the bus is full, you really do have to book, and sorry I can’t come back for you. With these cuts they have reduced the journeys to one in the morning and one after lunch and from memory that is also fully booked, sorry.”

  Angelina agreed to the buy the laptop and camera equipment he had chosen and marked in the shop catalogue.

  Spud closed the door, Claude was left standing there, he felt a bit of a Charlie but as he was dressed he turned, did not go inside but walked around the garden and eventually he found himself outside the front gate and walking up the road.

  After a short walk he saw the canal and so ventured along the toe path. Seeing a man armed with a rake with which he was dragging items from the water. Claude thought he might pass the time of day with him.

  When he arrived, Claude recognised him as the Lock Keeper, for he had seen him so many times through the window in his room as he had gazed down. Claude was about to speak to say hello but before he could do so, the man turned and having looked up said to Claude.

  “If you are from The Homestead, Matron doesn’t like you folks coming down here, she is worried you might fall in, drown and there will be a hell of a fuss, I should go back if I were you.”

  Realising he wasn’t wanted Claude turned to walk away, hesitated but eventually he did speak, his leaving words were, “By the way locker keeper, haven’t found the skeleton of a Gypsy have you.” He then strode away.

  The lock keeper about to reply hesitated, thought and eventually couldn’t resist calling to Claude, “Hey, I say, how the hell would I know if the skeleton was a Gypsy.”

  Claude smiled and said, “Well you see, it would have a clothes peg up its arse, good day to you, keep the faith and keep smiling.”

  The Lock keeper realised he had been had and this old man was not much pleased with the message he was an unwelcome guest to the canal side.

  What could he do he thought, the Matron was such a “bugger” on some issues but hesitated and corrected his thoughts think, but more liberal on others smiling as he continued to rake. It did cross his mind life must be difficult when one grows old. He was however to be discovered as having a dark secret. There were no reports in the newspaper he ever did find the skeleton of a Gypsy or any other though he found quite a few pegs and often thought of Claude.

  Claude turned tail, and then slowly walked back along the pathway towards the bridge and then onward to The Homestead, he was feeling low again.

  On reaching the building he remembered to press the bell for his floor and not the reception bell, just in case Matron should be the only one there and he knew what that would mean.

  Arriving inside he went directly to his room and settled in his armchair peering through the window. The sun was beginning to set; he saw the lock keeper had finished the raking, seeing not a sign of a skeleton, Claude thought and smiled.

  His attention was then attracted to a female walking along the canal side; her outline even from the rear was familiar. She stopped and spoke with the Lock keeper and then to Claude’s surprise she and the Lock keeper suddenly embraced and were soon kissing passionately. The couple then walked away together and Claude smiled as he saw them both enter the works cabin located at the side of the canal.

  He was not a “Peeping Tom” or minded other folks business so his attention was moved to the approaching narrow boat. It was nearly dark by the time the boat had passed.

  He was about to close the curtains when he couldn’t help seeing through the canal cabin window the lady and the lock keeper in a full embrace but on this occasion they were both completely in the nude. There was an even bigger shock; the lady was none other than, Matron Verity Raving. The interior light went out and some minutes later Matron left the cabin and walked back towards the bridge.

  Some minutes later the lock keeper emerged, locked up the cabin and walked in the opposite direction towards his house. As he arrived a lady and two children emerged and they in turn all embraced. What a popular man today is our lock keeper and what a dark horse is our matron, not raving much at lock keepers, thought Claude.

  He drew his room curtains then sat in the arm chair and smiled, ah, he thought I see Matron is not such a "Prim and Proper," as she makes out to be, still he thought that was her business.

  Seated for a while he heard voices, he recognised one as his new next door neighbour a genuine Miss Prim he thought. There was a knock on his door, he responded, “Hello come in.”

  The door opened and Angelina put her head inside, clearly she had just had her haircut and he could see it was highlighted. My, he thought, highlighted at your age, he said nothing of course.

  “Sorry you missed the transport I had a lovely day had my hair done.” She said.

  “Indeed” replied Claude “Very nice it is too.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “I have your items here, I am just going to change and I hope you will join me for dinner” she concluded.

  “I am only too pleased to do so,” said Claude, in reality her presence had changed meal times for him and he would be disappointed was she to change tables.

  She closed the door and then he rose, had a shower and changed for dinner.

  He opened the parcels Angelina had brought, checked them then put away his newfound toys.

  Whilst waiting for her knock, to go down his thoughts returned to the wayward Matron.

  His many years of experience should have taught him to take nothing or no one for granted and be surprised at less.

  As he sat contemplating, another memory of his police service came back to him.

  In those far off days as a young constable during the winter months in the cold wet season it was commonplace for the local river to flood its banks. It was part of police duties, when information was received the river was likely to flood for officers to be directed to visit people living close to the river and warn them of the impending danger of flooding to the
ir homes.

  On receipt of the police warning many residents moved themselves and as much of their household goods as they could upstairs.

  One night such a call was received, the force headquarters retrieved the list of vulnerable properties and directed officers to attend the residents to pass on the warning. Claude arrived at one house which was immediately adjacent to the river, and down from the road. As the police car stopped Claude and the car driver could clearly see the householders inside as they had a small lamp similar to a table lamp, switched on, they were in bed, making love. Claude was directed to leave the vehicle, as he was the recruit.

  He walked down the hill arriving at the front door, which he banged. After a few minutes a lady arrived and opened the front door. She was wearing a see through nightgown, but further, it was unfastened and she was displaying all she had. Having opened the door Claude informed her of the flood warning when a voice, presumably the woman’s husband and or bed partner, called “Who is it?”

  It was commonplace when police officers visited houses during the night for the wife or girl friend to be the one sent to answer the door, whilst the man remained in bed and called “Who is it?”

  She turned her head and called, it’s only the police.”

  “Oh,” called the man,” That’s alright then.”

  The lady thanked Claude for his warning, closed the door, leaving him to walk up the hill to the waiting police car. Once inside the vehicle, the engine started Claude and his driver smiled as they saw the couple continue their sex session.

  Thinking back to Matron Raving, Claude recalled around the same time as the river warning incident, that whilst on night patrol the officer on foot patrol in the next area or beat often disappeared for sometime. There were no radios or similar in those days so it was impossible for supervisors to know exactly where officers were whilst on patrol duty.

  Claude had occasion one night to attend an incident at the local hospital. When he arrived he saw his disappearing colleague walking across the hospital car park, then get into a vehicle. Thinking it was strange, he stopped, but realised he had a call to attend to. Once inside the hospital he was told that a man had arrived at the casualty department some time ago with a badly cut arm. The police control room had previously called asking, “If anyone turns up with a cut arm, let us know, we have had a smashed window.” The call was logged and later the hospital had called reporting a man with such injuries was in the department.