Lettuces and Cream

by John Evans

  ‘I am, he’s not,’ Mike replied, gesturing towards Zac. ‘We’re going to start a nursery growing salad crops, lettuce and tomatoes mostly,under cover in plastic tunnels.’

  Idris looked bewildered ‘Lettuce? Plastic tunnels? Out here?’ his head turned, scanning the wide-open fields dotted with patches of woodland. It was obvious that unless Mikes plans included four hooves and mooed, his ideas were bizarre and out of place. Added to that Idris probably wasn’t too keen on eating raw lettuce leaves either. Only animals did that. The quizzing continued with Idris wanting to know where they were from and all the other, ‘ins and outs of a cats bum,’ as Mike’s grandmother would have said.

  ‘Anyway thanks very much. What do I owe you Mr?’

  ‘Evans-Idris Evans, no, no nothing at all.’

  ‘I’m Mike, Mike Jones and I’m really grateful, but are you sure I don’t owe you anything Idris?’

  ‘Yes yes, nothing, we’ll be off now,’ he looked at his watch, ‘it’s nearly time for milking anyway.’ Back in the tractor cab the two looked at each other with superior attitude and smiled. ‘I wonder how long they will be here for, eh Dan. Bloody English hippies,’ they both sniggered disparagingly.

  By the time Mike and the van reached the house he found the kids had been released from the car and were rampaging with great joy around the overgrown and junk laden farmyard. Jan was still in the car, doors open and enjoying a cigarette and watching a dozen or so scrawny old hens and a cockerel scratching about in the dirt. Jan thought that they were left over’s from the farm sale being too old to interest a buyer. The poor cat was still in the box but had quietened down considerably.

  Mr Davis and the woman, who indeed was his wife, had finished their meal and were now throwing a few boxes and other bits and pieces into the battered Land Rover. ‘Now the road is clear we’ll be away now then,’ Mr Davies said, shaking Mikes hand and wishing them well and was off. The old Land Rover belching out diesel fumes disappeared from view and Jan and Mike headed indoors to assess the situation.

  ‘God, what a mess, they’ve left all this junk for us to clear out, the scruffy devils. Not to worry love,’ Mike said encouragingly, ‘the first thing is to decide which room we can shut the cat in out of the way until he calms down a bit. Those tablets were bloody useless made him wilder not quieter, useless dam vet. Then I think a bonfire is called for before we can get our stuff in. I’ll get Zac to empty the van in the yard so he can get back to Barey. Okay?’

  ‘Yes alright, I’ll make a start here.’

  ‘Mum, mum Mandy’s cut her hand on some glass in the yard,’ David shouted from the open front door.

  ‘Glass? Oh great, - coming,’ Jan shouted in reply and headed outside.

  By eight’ o’ clock they had got two rooms ready to sleep in. One for themselves and one for the kids. The children would have to share for a while, which didn’t please either of them, but they would to put up with it. In the yard the bonfire still raged on, consuming vast amounts of old cheap furniture, packets of stale food and mud encrusted, tatty old carpets. The place looked really decrepit when devoid of furniture and Mike’s stomach had given a lurch of panic at what he had taken on. The the now uncarpeted wooden bedroom floors and the boarded ceilings looked decidedly worm ridden. The place had been built in the late seventeen hundreds and looked it. But then, to the farmers of yore a house was just for eating and sleeping in. It was the land and stock that was the important thing, not a pretty home. Mike suggested the place was probably in a worse state because Mr Davis had been living alone, it might have been a little better if his missus had been around, although Jan didn’t think so. It was just the way they had lived.

  The kitchen was a half brick lean-to structure tacked onto rear of the house, and for access a doorway had been roughly hacked through the three foot thick outside wall. Roofed outside with corrugated asbestos, inside the ceiling was of cheap hardboard warped with time into an uneven and dirty surface. There was a cold-water tap over a battered cream coloured enamelled sink, which stood upon a crude wooden frame. Placed under each leg of the frame were old house bricks to give it extra height. Mike couldn’t imagine why it hadn’t been made to the right height to start with. There was no telephone, no hot water heating system or mains water. All the water had to be drawn in by an electric pump from a well in the yard to a large, square metal tank situated indecorously on the upstairs landing. However as a standby there was a hand pump fitted to the wall above the motor. But everything had been so crudely and cheaply done and pipes were held up with baling twine and bits of old wooden orange boxes.

  The floor was of uncovered concrete-and grease. It was disgusting, and Jan had given a quiet whimper of despair when she first saw it. But after a good old fashioned scrubbing the place looked fractionally less desperate. The kids of course were bemused and intrigued by the situation and David in particular saw many future opportunities for less than perfect behaviour. For instance there was no bathroom or inside W.C - that was a bucket and plank affair set up in a small corrugated iron shed in the yard just outside the front door. Well, the only door to the house actually. To be honest there was a bath - a tin tub hanging on a hook in the barn.

  ‘’Cos there’s no bathroom we don’t have to have a bath do we mum?’

  ‘Oh don’t worry son, we’ll think of something, but not today, we’re too busy.’ David gave a smirk of satisfaction and disappeared back outside.

  ‘Mum I don’t want to go in that toilet, it’s all smelly and spidery.’ Mandy moaned, the tiny cut on her finger now a forgotten major incident.

  ‘I know darling, it’s not very nice is it, but daddy will sort it all out very soon.’

  ‘Oh yeah, job nine hundred and ninety-nine,’ Mike said in rather despondent tone. You’ll just have to a brave girl for now. We’re all going to have to use it aren’t we?’

  ‘Will you come to the toilet with me, mum.’

  Jan gave a stifled exasperated sigh and headed to the ‘shed.’

  By nine’ o’ clock they had all been fed and watered and Mike and Jan were exhausted and the four of them were sitting in the large living room. All the furniture was indoors and more or less in final positions. Although no doubt Jan would have it all repositioned at least twice. Most of their stuff had survived being flung into the ditch but the piano had lost some of the veneer and sounded rather out of tune. But that was the least of their concerns.

  ‘What a day,’ Mike sighed, letting out a great stream of fag smoke. ‘Mind you, it was a bit of luck that Idris chap was available. Nice of him not to charge us anything for doing it. Seems a nice bloke. But I think, he thinks we’re English hippies just because I’ve got a lot of hair.’

  ‘Well we don’t speak enough Welsh do we? It’s their first language after all so I suppose to him we are English. We’ll have to go to Welsh lessons. Anyway, I think it’s time for bed kids, it’s long past your bedtime. But a wash down in the kitchen first. Mandy come on sweetheart I’ll help you.’ There were groans from both of the little Angels, but Mandy meekly followed Jan across the hall from the living room and into the ‘bathroom.’

  ‘Dad when can we have our dog?’

  ‘Whew, give me a chance son we’ve only been here half a day and we’re a bit busy right now. Soon, I promise.’

  ‘And when can we have the telly on.’

  Their television was only a small portable black and white and was still packed away-somewhere.

  ‘I don’t know where it is at the minute. Any way we don’t want it now it’s bedtime, but I’ll try and get it sorted soon, son.’ He had been saying that a lot that day.

  Once the kids had eventually gone to bed, Mike and Jan sat quietly enjoying another well-deserved cup of coffee and a cigarette.

  ‘I’ll think I’ll give up smoking,’ Jan said unexpectedly, and gave the cigarette in her hand a resentful glare.

  ‘What made you think of that, love?’

  ‘Well I only used to do it because most of
the Am Dram crowd did. Out here, away from the town, I think I could give it up. You should as well Mike-it would save us money.’

  ‘Oh no, I’ve got enough stress at the minute without that, I’ve got so much to do.’

  Suddenly there were bumping sounds followed by a loud cracking noise, then a pause, then hysterical childish laughter from upstairs. David came thumping down the stairs and into the living room with the news.

  ‘Dad, Mandy was jumping on her bed and the legs have gone through the floor.’ Mike and Jan looked at each other and laughed for the first time that day.

  In bed that first night, the room dark and silent even though there were no curtains at the windows, they lay together, but alone, each in their private universe. The intensity of the silence and inky blackness of the unlit countryside had caught them both by surprise. In fact before climbing the wooden hill to sleep they had stood on the doorstep staring out at the sky and marvelling at the utter peace and quiet of the place. They certainly didn’t miss the traffic constantly passing the house nor the glaring street-lights. The contrast with what they had left behind was immense. But now, in this other quieter, calmer world, other thoughts began travelling across their minds. Some were common to them both; such as trying to comprehend and visualize what their new life would be like, but other considerations were far more personal. For Mike, thoughts of sex were never far away, but he was no longer angry. Neither with Jan’s lack of interest, nor with her frequent but gentle rejection of him, but yes, disappointed. He still couldn’t understand why she could surprise him with unexpected and rare moments when she did want sex, and then nothing for weeks. He found this strange, because through her veil of motherly warmth he sometimes caught a glimpse of a powerful sensual streak. He couldn’t define it precisely, but he sensed it. Perhaps with age he was beginning to develop paranormal powers, Mike smiled at this idea but there was something in her eyes, that certain smile if you like. If only he could decipher the code and unlock the passion he believed lay within her. In other ways they got on so well, they were a team. Which was just as well for now he would be working at home everyday.

  Unlike Mike, Jan was not interested in discussions or scrutiny of this sort. But he was a bit of a philosopher and often questioned in his mind, and sometimes louder after a drink or two, many aspects of male female relationships, marriage and love and the like. Jan’s thoughts were a little more down to earth, and she was thinking that there was something very nice about not having a pristine house to clean and fuss over and this pleased her. She would be free of such considerations until the house was renovated and that, she thought, would be some way in the future. Income would be the most important issue. She had similar views about her appearance, she would be able, well not exactly slop around the place in tatters, but wouldn’t have to keep up with her old Am Dram mob. And of course she thought of sex as much as Mike did, but not quite in the same way. Of course she would, all to infrequently for Mikes appetite, respond to his advances, out of love, or was it sympathy? However, whenever she could, she avoided the dissatisfaction of intimacy with Mike and preferred pleasing herself. This wasn’t going to be so easy now that Mike would be around all day, and not even a bathroom for privacy. However, sometimes, at night when Mike was asleep beside her, she had learnt how to cleverly reach a peak without waking him. In this respect Mike was no slouch and he too would sometimes privately ‘comfort’ himself. But soon, fatigue had brought an end to their cerebral ramblings, and they had fallen into a deep sleep.

  THREE

  Their first morning in their new home, was heralded by the old Suffolk latch, on the old bedroom door, being energetically rattled open.

  ‘Dad, dad, there’s a man in the yard talking Welsh and I think he wants to see you- about some pigs-I think.’

  Both Mandy and David had been attending a Welsh medium school back in their home town but the local version of the language was causing David some problems.

  ‘Pigs, David? I don’t know anything about pigs. God, it’s Sunday, bit early for callers isn’t it? What time is it?’ He looked at the clock. ‘It’s only eight’ o’ clock,’ Mike groaned.

  ‘Okay, son, tell him I’ll be there in a minute.’

  ‘That’s it love, up with the lark, we’re in the country now,’ Jan said with a grin and gave him a playful jab in the ribs

  ‘Okay, okay I’m getting up.’

  Outside in the yard Mike found the early morning visitor peering through the doorway of the large, cob walled and slate roofed barn. He was tall, thin, aged about forty, and wearing dung spattered old clothes and Wellingtons, and with an equally dirty flat cap. There was also a distinctive aroma about the man that Mike assumed was the smell of pigs. He turned away from the barn door but made no attempt to introduce himself.

  ‘Good place for pigs in there,’ he said, nodding towards the barn. He voice was incredibly high pitched and thin, and sort of squeaky. Mike was a little startled at such an unusual sound from a man.

  ‘Well I hadn’t thought of keeping pigs, well, any stock really.’

  ‘Good money in it, we do sell them to the weaner group, you see, and the muck is good for your lettuce.’

  Blimey, thought Mike, news travels fast around here. ‘Weaner group? What’s that? Like a co-op?’

  ‘Yes yes, something like that.’ He spoke slowly as though struggling to talk in English, although the generous sprinkling of expletives came through clear enough, and he looked anywhere except at Mike. When he did catch his eye; they looked somehow, old, red rimmed and a very pale blue. Mike had the impression of someone a bit on the sleazy side. He went to explain what weight the pigs had to be and what money Mike could expect, and even where he could buy his first sow to make a start. It sounded interesting and profitable.

  ‘The trouble is it’s going to take a lot of work making the barn ready and I’ve so much other work on. But I’ll think about it. Okay?’ Mike held out his hand as a gesture of ending the conversation, but it was ignored. ‘I’m Mike by the way.’

  ‘Yes yes, I know. I live at Ty Mawr,’ he spoke curtly and seemed annoyed at Mike’s reluctance. He turned and began walking back over the fields and down to the village. Mike still didn’t know his name and thought even more adamantly that he was a very odd bloke indeed.

  ‘What was all that about?’ Jan said, placing the belated breakfast toast in front of Mike. ‘Do want jam or marmy.’ ‘Marmy’ was Mandy’s childhood name for marmalade. Actually they had quite a stock of silly family names for things. ‘Luggy’ for ear, was another favourite.

  ‘Marmy, please love. Well he reckons there’s money in rearing pigs to a certain weight, then selling them on through this group to other farmers for fattening up. Supposed to be very profitable, but I imagine it will cost a bit to get the barn ready. And of course you need a sow to start with.’

  ‘I think I’d like keeping pigs,’ Jan said pensively.

  ‘Huh, pigs are smelly,’ Mandy, said her face wrinkling with disgust.

  ‘Well, you could help me to keep them really clean couldn’t you?’ Mike replied with a grin and waited for her reaction.

  ‘Aw, dad I don’t have to do it really, do I?’ She whined.

  ‘Only joking-David will.’

  ‘Huh, I’m not cleaning up pigs poo.’

  Jan interrupted the cheerful banter. ‘Who was he Mike, what’s his name?’

  ‘God knows, he’s a bit odd-didn’t tell me. Told me where he lives though. And all the blokes around here seem to swear after every other word -and he said he’d help. You know, tell me what to do, and all that.’ Mike crunched his toast as he contemplated the pig business.

  ‘Wouldn’t we need a male pig, a boar,’ Jan exclaimed sipping her tea.

  ‘Trust you to bring sex into it,’ Mike grinned salaciously, never missing a chance to get a dig at Jan’s lack of conjugal intent.

  Jan as usual ignored the remark

  ‘Our mystery man said he keeps a boar but then he’s got lots
of sows. Not worth keeping one, for one sow-wouldn’t get much work would he,’ Mike laughed.

  Jan changed the subject, ‘What are you going to do today?’

  ‘Well I want to start marking out the field ready for the poly tunnels, but what do you think about clearing out that little room under the stairs and making into a toilet, just for now. The other one is far to close to the well, which isn’t very hygienic. And anyway we can’t keep crossing the yard at night, or in the winter. We’ve got to go shopping for Wellingtons for all of us on Monday anyway, so we could buy a nice new modern chemical toilet as well.’

  Mentioning the toilet evoked bad memories.

  ‘We don’t like the old toilet dad,’ Mandy moaned, her young fresh face wrinkled in disgust.

  ‘I don’t either,’ added David.

  ‘Well it seems it’s a good idea, Darl. I’ll wash the dishes, and then start clearing out that room.’

  ‘Okay troops, onward and upward,’ Mike said getting up from the table and purposefully striding out of the house and out, into the great beyond.

  ‘We’re always being called, troops dad,’ David laughingly called after his amusing father.

  As Mike strode purposefully outside, the warm late summer sunshine tempted him to walk around the field and woods-just to get the feel of the place, before he began his work. The dry weather was a huge bonus, because in Mikes limited experience of moving house, it was, like funerals, a time when it often rained. Blackie the puss, who was now fully recovered from his drug-induced ordeal, was also prowling around the yard sniffing the air and staking out his territory. He had plenty of it to choose from, unlike his tiny patch of garden in town.

  There is something immensely satisfying about walking about on your own land, whether is a suburban garden or thousand-acre plot. And he was experiencing just such a feeling. Mikes land lay mostly on a level plateau, sheltered on three sides by yet higher land, mostly woodlands. As the Crow flies, the village was only about a mile or so away, some four miles by car, and hidden in a valley and couldn’t be seen from the yard. The farm was in a very secluded spot indeed.