Sweet Memories of You (Beach View Boarding House) (24 page)

Stan and Chalky divided up the bounty and wrapped each portion in newspaper. As Alf and Stan packed theirs away in rucksacks, Ron tucked his into the inside pockets of his long poacher’s coat. He hated the thought he’d have to give Doris even the smallest of the chops, but knew he had no alternative if she was to be kept from informing the authorities.

Chalky lifted up the pig’s head and trotters, wrapped them in newspaper and stuffed them into a small hessian bag that had once contained chicken feed. ‘This is for Doris,’ he said gruffly as he handed it to Ron. ‘I reckon she should have been more precise when she asked for pork, but she can’t say we didn’t oblige.’

Ron grinned at the thought of Doris’s expression when she unwrapped it. ‘That’s grand, so it is, Chalky. But I’m guessing she won’t be best pleased, and could still carry out her threat.’

‘Not when she’ll have to explain where she got this lot from in the first place,’ muttered Alf as he cleaned the knives. ‘Either way, we won’t be able to do this here again. Doris has got a loose tongue, and if she knows about it, you can be sure others will.’

Stan was scrubbing down the butcher’s block, his ruddy face creased in thought. ‘If we could get the next one over to my Ethel’s, then we could carve it up there. Mind you, she won’t stand you bringing a live pig into the house. Very neat and tidy is my Ethel.’

‘Can you trust her to keep her mouth shut, Stan?’ asked Chalky.

‘Aye. She knows the consequences if she doesn’t, and her and little Ruby love a bit of pork.’

‘I’ll think on it,’ said Chalky.

Stan gave the block one last swipe of the damp cloth. ‘Right, I’m off then. See you all next Friday at the Anchor and be prepared to be thoroughly beaten at dominoes.’

The other three laughed and he went off with a cheerful wave, his rucksack lying heavy against his broad back. Alf shook hands with Chalky, hefted his own rucksack over his shoulders and set off along a different winding track which would eventually lead him to within a few yards of his house on the northern borders of Cliffehaven.

Ron felt the weight of the meat in his coat pockets as he hefted the hessian bag over his shoulder. ‘Thanks, Chalky. I owe you one.’

‘In that case, perhaps you’d like to help me with something?’

‘If I can.’ Ron frowned as Chalky bustled into the main barn and ducked behind a rusting tractor to emerge a moment later carrying something. ‘What’ve you got there?’

‘Something I can really do without,’ he muttered as he held up a tiny kitten with a withered back leg. ‘I’ve found homes for the others but this one’s the runt, and the mother’s rejected it. If you don’t take it I’ll have to put it down, ’cos it won’t survive like that and I haven’t got the time to tend to it properly.’

Ron dropped the sack as the tiny kitten was thrust towards his chest. ‘I don’t know, Chalky, me old friend. Harvey will probably try to lick it to death, and Peggy will go mad. You know what she was like when Monty was dumped on us.’

‘I know all that, Ron, but I have too many cats already, and no time to care for this wee one.’

Harvey whined in confusion as Ron looked down at the tiny black kitten, which looked back at him with wide blue eyes. His heart melted, and although he knew it would get him into trouble with Peggy, he simply couldn’t abandon the poor wee creature. He cleared his throat and carefully tucked it into the inside pocket of his coat so it lay close to his heart and perhaps would be soothed by the beat of it. ‘Aye, well, I suppose Peggy won’t really mind.’

He took his leave of Chalky and began the long climb back up the hill, aware of the kitten moving restlessly in his coat pocket, and Harvey eyeing him in puzzlement. Peggy would have his guts for garters and no mistake, but she was as soft as he was and he had little doubt that she’d fall in love with it the moment she saw it.

He watched as Harvey went charging off and wondered how long it would be before he realised he would have to share his status as the family pet.

Cliffehaven was still quiet on this early Sunday morning, and Ron plodded contentedly down the steep, winding track that would take him to what had once been the recreation ground at the back of Havelock Gardens. When he reached the boundary of the field, he spotted a couple of keen gardeners tending the vegetable allotment that had replaced the football pitch, and two young members of the Home Guard busily stacking fresh sandbags at the entrance to the large community shelter that lay beneath the old cricket pavilion and changing rooms.

He kept to the shadows of the trees as he quickly skirted the area and then ducked into the small park, now bereft of iron railings and rose beds. The pond looked murky and had been abandoned by the birds which had once swum there, and the rose bushes and flower beds had been sacrificed to grow yet more vegetables – but spring bulbs were sprouting, heralding warmer days, and Ron’s spirits rose with every step.

He emerged from the park and headed towards the big house near the end of the cul-de-sac that was Havelock Road. The kitten had stopped moving about in his pocket and he quickly checked to make sure it was all right. It was sleeping peacefully, curled up into a fluffy ball.

Ron tramped across the gravel drive and gave the doorknocker a series of good hard raps, then eased the hessian bag from his shoulder and waited.

‘Who is it?’ called Doris from the other side of the door.

‘It’s me. With your pork,’ he shouted back.

There was much rattling of chains and the turning of keys and the door opened a fraction. Doris’s hair was in curlers, there was some shiny cream on her face and she was clearly still in her nightclothes. ‘There’s no need to tell everyone in the neighbourhood,’ she hissed. ‘And what time of morning do you call this anyway, disturbing people on a Sunday?’

Ron made a show of looking at his watch. ‘It’s half past eight.’

‘Give me the pork and go away,’ she ordered, reaching an arm through the narrow gap.

Ron held the hessian bag just out of her reach. ‘Don’t you want to check it first?’

Doris shuddered as blood seeped from the sack and spotted her pristine doorstep. ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ she said, waving her hand impatiently.

‘Well, I’m thinking you might like to take a wee peek – just to make sure that I’m not cheating you in any way,’ he said, now thoroughly enjoying himself.

‘Oh, very well,’ she snapped. She opened the door wider to reveal a pink dressing gown and fluffy slippers. She snatched the bag from him and held it away from her as she opened it and looked inside. ‘It could be anything in there,’ she said crossly as she tried to undo the parcels of meat with one hand.

‘Here, let me help you.’ He reached in and swiftly unwrapped the head and trotters and held them up. ‘There,’ he said proudly. ‘Five lovely bits of pork, just for you, Doris.’

Doris went quite pale beneath her face cream. ‘Trotters?’ she managed as she clutched her dressing gown to her throat. ‘A pig’s head? What am I supposed to do with those?’

‘You can roast the head – the brains are quite a delicacy – and the trotters can be stewed or boiled down for brawn.’

‘But I’ve invited Lady Chumley to Sunday luncheon and I can’t possibly serve her a roasted pig’s head,’ she gasped. ‘I was expecting a proper joint, and perhaps a couple of nice chops.’

Ron raised his brows and feigned surprise. ‘Were you? Well, you should have said.’

Her eyes narrowed and her expression was stormy. ‘You’ve done this deliberately,’ she rasped.

‘The price of your silence was a share of the pig,’ he said flatly. ‘I’ve kept my side of the bargain, and if you can’t appreciate that, then there’s nothing I can do about it. Enjoy your lunch, Doris.’ He tipped her a wink and strolled away as the front door slammed behind him.

He was grinning widely as he and Harvey walked down Havelock Road and headed for home. ‘To be sure I’d give anything to see the look on Lady Chump Chop’s face when she’s presented with that head for her lunch. But I’m thinking I’ll be paying for that wee bit of mischief before long.’

Harvey sneezed and cocked his leg up a lamppost.

Peggy was sharing the bath with Daisy so she could save water, and they were having a high old time chasing a plastic duck around and making bubbles out of the shampoo. She’d heard Ron leaving the house very early and the thought of roast pork for lunch was making Peggy’s mouth water. It had been an age since anything had been roasted in this house – in fact, the last time had been Christmas, and that had been a rather scrawny chicken.

The water was getting a bit cold now and so she clambered out of the bath and gathered up Daisy, who was as slippery as an eel, and wrapped her in a towel. Rubbing her dry, she quickly dressed her before she caught a chill. The bathroom might be full of steam but it was very cold in here, and there had been ice on the inside of the window when she’d first come in earlier this morning.

With Daisy dressed for the day, Peggy pulled on her own clothes and brushed her teeth before cleaning the bath and basin and carrying the damp towels to the airing cupboard on the landing. Cordelia was downstairs reading the newspaper that arrived along with the milk come rain, shine, air raid or calm, but the girls were asleep, and soon Ivy would come home from her shift to catch up on her sleep before she had to go out again tonight.

Peggy sighed as she carried Daisy downstairs. The night shifts must be awfully hard to cope with, what with trying to stay awake when they should be sleeping and vice versa. At least tonight would be Ivy’s last one for a while and she could get back to living life more normally again.

‘They’re taking a long time to kill that pig,’ said Cordelia as she put the newspaper aside. ‘I hope he’ll get back in time for us to be able to have that roast for lunch.’

‘It’s a long walk to Chalky’s place, Cordelia. And don’t forget, he has to stop off and give Doris her share.’

‘Utterly disgraceful,’ said Cordelia with a sniff. ‘That woman has no shame.’

Peggy let Daisy stumble about with her wheeled wooden horse as she put the kettle on the hob and spooned a few fresh tea leaves into her brown teapot. ‘I’m afraid Doris thinks only of herself,’ she murmured, ‘and at the moment I feel enough shame for both of us.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t,’ said Cordelia sternly. ‘You’re not your sister’s keeper.’ She rustled the newspaper impatiently and folded it over. ‘Talking of sisters,’ she continued, ‘didn’t you say that Doreen was in London at the beginning of the week?’

Peggy frowned. ‘Yes. Why?’

‘Well, there’s a bit in the paper here about some accident in the East End.’

‘What sort of accident?’

Cordelia handed her the newspaper. ‘It actually says very little, and I’m sure that if Doreen was anywhere near it she would have telephoned to reassure you that she was all right. But I seem to remember that her sailor came from around that way.’

Peggy read the few short lines that had been put at the bottom of the page. It told her nothing much, only that several people had died in an accident in the East End, and that there would be an inquest and inquiry later in the year.

‘The paper certainly doesn’t classify it as very important or they would have given it more coverage,’ she said as she handed it back. ‘It’s sad that people died, but then there have been so many deaths these past four years, I suppose the journalists thought we didn’t need to hear about any more.’

‘That’s cheerful talk on a lovely Sunday morning,’ said Ron as he stomped up the cellar steps with Harvey at his heels.

Peggy grinned back at him in delight as Harvey licked Daisy’s face and let her half-strangle him in a hug. ‘What did we get?’ she asked breathlessly.

‘A bit of belly to roll into joints, a lovely chunk of shoulder and leg and four whole chops with a tiny bit of liver to go with them.’ He began to pull the bloody parcels from his pockets and laid them out on the draining board.

Peggy quickly popped Daisy in her playpen and joined Cordelia at the sink to unwrap the parcels and coo over the lovely, glistening, fatty meat.

‘My mouth’s watering already,’ said Peggy. ‘Shall we have a bit of that belly rolled over some of my homemade stuffing? The crackling should be marvellous once we’ve scored and salted it. And I can use some of the fat to roast the potatoes and carrots to go with it.’ She turned from the sink, kissed his bristled cheek and beamed up at him. ‘Thank you, Ron. You’re an absolute star.’

‘What did you have to give Doris out of our share?’ demanded Cordelia.

‘Well now, there’s a funny thing,’ murmured Ron with a twinkle in his eye. ‘We decided she might like the trotters and the pig’s head.’

‘No,’ Peggy gasped in glee and burst out laughing. ‘I bet she didn’t like that at all.’

‘I’m thinking she was a wee bit put out,’ Ron chortled. ‘She’d invited Lady Chump Chop to join her and Caroline for a roast Sunday dinner.’

Peggy had tears of laughter rolling down her face as she collapsed into a kitchen chair, holding her sides. ‘Oh, Ron,’ she gasped. ‘The image that conjures up is too funny. I can just see them all looking utterly po-faced as they’re forced to stare at that pig’s head in the middle of Doris’s dining table.’

Cordelia was giggling so hard she too had to sit down. ‘My word, Ron,’ she finally spluttered. ‘That was a brilliant way to get your own back.’

‘Aye, well, it wasn’t actually my idea,’ he confessed. ‘It was Chalky’s. He always was a clever wee man.’ He carefully took off his coat and reached into the inside pocket. ‘And I’m hoping you’ll be thinking that his other idea is just as clever.’

Peggy was still giggling as she looked up at him. ‘What was that, then, Ron?’

He gently eased the sleepy kitten out of his pocket and placed it against her heart so she had no option but to cup it in her hands. ‘The poor wee thing was abandoned by its mother,’ he said smoothly, ‘and Chalky thought we might be the best people to look after it.’

Peggy held the tiny, furry creature which weighed so very little, and looked down into a pair of beautiful blue eyes. The kitten was as black as night, with a pink nose and tiny pink paws, the right back leg cruelly thin and withered. How could she not be instantly in love with it? ‘Oh, Ron,’ she said. ‘The poor little mite’s absolutely adorable.’