Lettuces and Cream (21 page)

Chris’s pretence began to fall away and she made her move. Turning around she grasped Jan by the shoulders and kissed her. Jan responded eagerly, and boldly placed a hand on a pliant breast.

‘Let me take this dress off, shall I? Then I think a quick bath.’ Chris murmured, Jan helped her out of the dress and it lay discarded and rumpled on the bedroom floor. Soon, other garments lay strewn about the room…

Outside in the deep darkness a figure crossed the yard and approached the house.

It had gone eleven when Jan reached home.

‘You were late last night love I thought you had lost your way in the dark like we did the other night,’ Mike chortled; he was still in a confident mood.

Jan’s reply was helpfully delayed by Mandy interrupting the chat.

‘When are we going to have our own milk, Dad?’

‘Today, soon as I’ve had breakfast I’m going milking.’

‘Will it be like the milk in the shops?’

‘Oh, much better than that. There’s lots of cream in Jersey milk.’

‘I like cream,’ David said, he followed his dad in this respect.

‘Come on you two, it’s time to go for the bus,’ Jan cajoled

‘Aw, mum will you take us, it’s pouring with rain.’

‘Oh well, I suppose I could. I need a few things from the village shop anyway.’ A worried frown crossed her face as checked the contents of her purse. It was rather empty, but they had to eat. Stoically, she continued as cheerfully as she could, ‘come on then you two, get in the car. It is Friday after all, then two days off for you lucky little devils.’

‘Cor thanks mum.’

Jan quite liked shopping in the village, where she would often try out her simple Welsh on the bemused shopkeepers. It wasn’t shopping as she knew it because there were only two shops, a post office, and of course the school, not at all like back in Barey. The largest shop was a corrugated iron clad ‘emporium,’ painted battleship grey, and which looked very much like the little tin chapels scattered about the county. The other, a tiny place, was attached to the village pub. The village itself was neither picturesque nor ugly and was a mix of very old cottages and between them, a sprinkling of nineteen thirties style properties – and of course the whitewashed old pub. The centre of the place was dominated by a large grass covered roundabout, customised by the locals with the points of the compass set in white painted stones. Which served as a junction for the three narrow roads leading in and out of the village. Set on the verge to one side of the roundabout was a War Memorial to the local causalities. The locals called the whole area, The Square, which Mike and Jan found rather odd. But perhaps before the roundabout was built it would have been just that. With the children deposited out side the school gate Jan began her simple shopping, with a very light purse.

The heavy rain continued, and Mike wasn’t expecting the builders to turn up, it was far to wet to work on the barn roof. Inside, Mike started the milking and was pleased that his hands remembered the skill, learnt so long ago in his childhood. And soon he had about half a gallon of rich yellow milk from Primroses swollen udder. And there was still plenty for her babes. He fed the calves from the bottle for the last time. They were now able to stand and feed for themselves so that was one less chore. He took the milk to the house and left it on the kitchen table for Jan to sort out when she got back from running the kids to the bus. Mike was soon back in the barn starting the boring routine of mucking out. Between placing forkfuls of steaming manure into the wheelbarrow, he would pause and watch the young pigs romping about in the fresh straw. They were now big enough to move out and away from their mother so that she could go back to the boar. So he would have to finish building their new pen as soon as possible.

‘Good litter you got.’

Mike half turned half fell and slammed his back against the wall.

‘Bloody hell, I didn’t hear you. You scared the life out of me.’

Josh stood, hands in pockets, looking at the pigs and totally unconcerned by Mikes remarks.

‘Yeah good pigs. Couple of months and the group will have them.’

‘Well I’m not sure I’m selling to the group. I might go in with Keith Bowen over at Penlan.’

Josh raised his eyebrows, accentuating his watery red-rimmed eyes, otherwise his face showed no emotion

‘Him? No, you be better with us, you come to the group.’ His poor expression in English probably inhibited him from making a stronger argument, and he turned and began walking out of the barn. Mike found it difficult to know how disappointed or angry Josh was. If his voice was anything to go by, it was higher pitched than usual, he wasn’t pleased at all.

‘You come to us, I will call when they are bigger.’ Josh called out over his shoulder. Mike was almost beginning to feel sorry for him, but then remembered what an odd bloke he was, and how he turned up invited. He just wanted him off his yard. Mike didn’t want to prolong Josh’s visit by arguing, so ignored his remarks and returned to the task in hand.

‘Would you believe it? He’s a creepy bloke, just appeared in the barn, I didn’t hear a thing, frightened the manure out of me,’ Mike laughed at his own witty remark, ‘anyway, how did he know that we had pigs?’ Mike had popped back into the house to tell Jan about Josh appearing out of the blue.

‘You know what its like around here, there’s the postman, then Ann and her gang, could be anyone. Perhaps Keith said something.’

‘Yeah suppose so, okay, I’m back out, the rain has eased so I’m going to mark out the field ready for the next batch of tunnels. Be in for elevenses.’

Joshua, Josh the pig man, had reached home, home by name, but not by nature. His aged mother met him at the door, her face well lined with misery. ‘About time, where the hell have you been? Those bloody pigs of yours are shouting their bloody heads off. Should have been fed hours ago. Been up to your old tricks have you? Stupid man, sniffing around those new English people like an old dog. I don’t know why you bother with them, English-uh. Stupid man. Why don’t you get married and bugger off, and take your pigs with you?’

Josh said nothing. He just stared at the floor and listened to his mothers’ familiar tirade. He had always been a loner, and his insulated rural existence had aided and abetted the process. After his father had committed suicide, Josh had been about twelve years at the time; his mother had sold the large farm for a good price and bought an old house in the village. With his mother financially independent, he eventually had gone his own way, using the ample buildings around the house for the pig enterprise. Most of the locals considered him to be the village freak, however he was no fool and made a good living from his animals.

‘Yes, bugger off that’s what you should do,’ She turned and shuffled off back to the kitchen sink.

Out in the shed he started the belated feeding routine to a cacophony of squeals and grunts. Some of the sows were jumping up at the pen gates with open salivating mouths.

‘Get down you bastard.’ Josh growled and lashed out unnecessarily at the hungry and agitated animals with a length of hard rubber pipe he kept for the purpose. He had a vicious streak borne out of anger and hate; sometimes he hated his self –but mostly, just about everyone else…

Mike was in the house finishing his usual elevenses, when the phone rang. They both were startled by the sound, as it was the first time they had received a call.

‘Hello, 622, Oh, hello Mr Williams - no I wasn’t expecting you today -yes they say tomorrow is going to be dry - Okay see you in the morning - Bye.’

‘Huh, our first call, great isn’t?’

‘I never thought we would be so excited about a telephone, but it’s going to be a big help Mike, it’ll save a lot of driving around the countryside just to pass messages.’

‘Yeah, it’s going to be a big help - ah, well,’ Mike sighed, ‘can’t stay in here enjoying myself, back to it,’ and with that he returned to his labours.

Across the valley, Keith was cleaning out their cattle yards and sheds ready for bringing them in for the winter months. However, unlike Mike and his wheelbarrow and shovel, their sheds were big enough to be cleaned by machine. They were still not on full speaking terms, so the fact they we working on separate jobs suited them both. Chris was putting fresh straw in their extensive calves housing - and thinking. She was now bored with Janice, and her innocent, compliant manner. Come to that she was bored with Keith too. He seemed to be a million miles away these days. Chris’s sexual curiosity had been sated and her seduction of Jan was complete, so now she was thinking of new challenges. She had men in tow, as Mike had unfortunately seen, but perhaps another woman ‘friend’ was on the cards.

Jan for her part had successfully reciprocated after Chris had been between her thighs. She had stepped over a line that she thought she never would, but licking, touching and gently nibbling such intimate parts had been immensely thrilling. Another erotic episode occurred when, after a pause in the proceedings, she had followed Chris’s lead, and they had watched each other excite themselves to yet another orgasm. Chris gained a vindictive sense of satisfaction from the realisation that Jan was thoroughly confused by their relationship, and she enjoyed having such an effect on people. Indeed, poor Jan’s head was bursting, once again, with broken ethical values and ideals, whereas Chris was devoid of such troublesome considerations. But Jan pondered, where would it all end?

‘That’s another month gone, first of November today.’

‘I know, the weeks go by so quickly, and Christmas is getting close now.’

We’ll have to start thinking about the kids’ presents soon.’ Jan was splashing about washing dishes at the old kitchen sink on stilts, and Mike was still chewing the remnants of his lunch of scrambled eggs on toast.

‘Yeah suppose so, although I expect my mother and sister will spoil them rotten as usual. They’re supposed to be phoning us tonight, I’ve got the feeling that they want to come for a weekend.’

‘Oh dear, really?’ Jan’s face wrinkled in a grimace.

‘Aw, come on, love, they haven’t seen the kids for months,’ Mike said defensively.

‘It’s not that I don’t want to see them, it’s the expense of the extra food.’

‘You can always give them chicken pies,’ Mike said with mock seriousness.

Jan was, as he expected, horrified at the idea, ‘God I can’t give them chicken pies for every meal.’

Mike grinned, happy at her response to his nonsense, ‘I’m sure you’ll cope sweetheart-you always do - anyway, knowing them, they’ll probably bring a car full of supplies with them.’

‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right, I’ll think of something.’

‘Are you at rehearsals tonight?’

‘Yeah, Monday and Tuesdays from now, perhaps more later on. It’s actually taking shape at last.’

At the mention of Am Dram, Jan made an involuntary pause with the washing up as an image of Chris leapt into her view. She still tingled from the memory of a week ago, although since then Chris had been rather distant, which Jan found a bit odd. But then again, Chris was always so matter of fact. Even in between their intimate moments their conversation was extremely bland. They were no closer as friends, and Chris was still very much a stranger.

‘The kids are looking forward to seeing you on stage again.’

‘It’s been a long time, I’m getting a bit nervous now.’

Mike laughed, ‘you always say that.’

Their chat was broken by a knock on the front door. Mikes chair gave a tooth jarring screech as he pushed it back and he headed for the door.

‘The roof is all done, do you want to take a look?’

‘Oh, yeah, sure, that’s great, I’ll just get my wellies on.’

Across the yard Mike stood looking at the replaced roof.

‘Looks good to me, Mr Williams.’

‘Oh yes, should last another hundred years,’ he smiled, ‘no good for business though is it?’

They both laughed at the notion that good workmanship didn’t pay.

‘Now, what about the house, when can you make a start on that?’

‘Soon as you like, but you’ll need planning for the extension but we can make a start on it. The planning isn’t a problem out here, so we could get the digger up here and start clearing away the soil behind the house ready for the foundations.’

‘Okay, I’ll leave that to you, and I’ll sort the planning out.’

‘Righto, but we’ve some work to do with the cattle back home on the farm tomorrow, so we’ll be back here on Thursday, okay?’

‘Yeah, that’s great, see you, thanks,’ Mike shook Mr William’s hand and gave a wave to his son who had already started up the lorry. They pulled away and the yard was silent once again. Mike strolled about looking at the new roof from all angles, smiling as he did so, pleased at another bit of progress. Things are definitely looking up, he thought contentedly.

‘Roof looks great, Jan,’ Mike was back in the kitchen finishing off his lunchtime coffee and rolling up a ciggy.

‘I’ll have a look later I’m busy at the minute. Did he give you a bill?’

‘He said he’ll bring it when he comes back to start the foundations. Any way, what the heck are you up to now?’

Jan was pouring pints of rich milk into an old cast iron pot on top of the Rayburn.’Well, this is the first batch of clotted cream. Ann told me what to do and lent me this old pan. It just has to simmer slowly then let it cool, then skim off the clotted cream.’

‘Hey, about that, we now have lettuces, and cream. Oo, bloody great stuff.’ Mike licked his lips.

‘Do you know, you’re swearing a lot these days?’

‘Am I ? The stress of country living I expect.’

‘Go on, get out to work, you naughty boy,’ Jan chided cheerfully.

The new pig pen was nearly complete and Mike began measuring out the sand for mixing the last bit of mortar. Humming, as he often did, one of his a nondescript tunes, he turned to reach for the shovel and tripped over the bag of cement. His hands flailed about trying to save himself. He slipped again which sent him staggering into the stack of unused concrete blocks. The stack wavered for a moment as though they were thinking about it, and then decided to give way and tumble down, trapping his left leg. He gasped with a sudden sharp pain as the weight of the blocks pinned his leg to the floor. He new instinctively that something really bad had happened. Damn, blast, bugger and shit, he swore at his carelessness. Now what was he going to do? Calling out would be a waste of time; Jan wouldn’t hear him from inside the house, especially if she had the radio on. He would have to help himself – somehow. He began slowly lifting the blocks from off his leg wincing has he did so. It was a slow job, the blocks were heavy and from a lying down position he didn’t have the same strength of leverage. Twenty minutes later he was free, but now he had to get back to the house. Using the shovel as a crutch he slowly and carefully limped crossed the yard towards the house.