Lettuces and Cream (27 page)

‘Dirty who?’ His mother asked.

‘That’s another huge story, mum, Jan will tell you all about it.’

Jan was confined to barracks preparing for the next family feeding session, and tidying up the house. The children, and of course Spot, Mike and his mother and sister, were plodding around the holding doing the grand tour. He was showing them the extent of their land and woodlands, and of course the animals. Something he hadn’t ever intended to have.

‘And these are the tunnels with the lettuce, the new empty tunnels next door, are for tomatoes next year.’

‘They’re huge aren’t they?’ Marion said, ‘nice and warm too.’

‘Yeah, a little bit of sun and the temperature rises quickly. Mind you, they can be cold at night.’

‘When will you be able to sell these lettuces, son?’ Mum asked.

‘Not until March or April next year,’ Mike face clouded over with concern at being reminded-once again, of the crucifying time scale for the crop. Summer lettuce would be much quicker growing, but that fact wasn’t helping him now.

‘Come and see our den in the woods, Grandma.’ The children were bored with lettuce and wanted some attention from their grandmother.

‘Come on then my lovelies,’ Grandma said, ‘show me what you’ve been up to.’

After examining the luxurious woodland den they headed back for the elevenses food top up. As they got to the yard the postman arrived in the yard with hot news.

‘Have you heard the news?’

‘News? No, what’s that then?’ He was used to Postie giving out gloom and doom.

‘There was a shooting last night, over the other side of the village’

‘Blimey, really?’

‘Police cars all over the village, don’t know exactly where yet, but I expect it will on the Welsh news later.’

‘Okay, right, thanks.’ Mike somewhat flummoxed at the revelations, took the letters and waved him cheerio.

‘What was he on about, Mike? Marion asked, ‘was it a murder, out here in the wild?’

Mike was unconcerned, ‘oh he was going on about a shooting somewhere or other. You can’t believe everything he tells you he’s a right old woman, exaggerates like mad. Probably nothing at all.’

As they went indoors Mike looked through the bundle of letters. Sadly, he recognised one from the Bank, and another from the mortgage people his stomach turned at the thought of their contents. He hid them his pockets, he would look at them later.

Later that afternoon, after Mike had seen to the animals, he was back in the house making the most of the visitors company. But while he was in the barn, and well away from his mother and sister-and Jan, he had opened the letters. The manger wanted to see him. To discuss, as he put in it, Mikes current cash flow situation. What cash flow? Well, it was flowing out, but not in. The worse news was that the Bank hadn’t paid the mortgage for that month. So they were now in big trouble. Mike decided not to tell Jan until the weekend was over. What was the point of spoiling it. But he was immensely saddened that their dream was rapidly coming to an end before it had hardly begun.

Mike put down the phone, again. He had been calling at intervals throughout the day and had just tried once again to get through.

‘Do you know, I’ve tried three times to get Keith, or Chris, about Pinky, and there’s still no answer.’

‘They’re probably out in the fields, or out and about in town.’

‘I suppose so, I’ll try again later.’

At the mention of Chris’s name Jan had experienced another of her little flashbacks. This time with the added thought that what would Mikes mum make of it if she knew. It wasn’t quite the behaviour of a good daughter in law. Jan had at last begun to believe that her ‘affair’ or whatever one would call it was over anyway. Chris hadn’t made a move of any sort for some time. In a way Jan was pleased if it was finished, and in her heart she knew she should concentrate on Mike, the children, and surviving the crisis they were suffering. Yet, it had been such a powerful experience, and the thought of losing it entirely gave her an unexpected deep sense of loss.

The rest of the weekend went by pleasantly enough, and had been a temporary touch of normality for Mike and Jan. The only low point had been when the topic of Christmas arose. Mike and Jan pretended that everything was fine and their Christmas would be as generous as always. When in fact they had no idea how they were going to cope. It was late Sunday afternoon when Grandma and Marion headed off for the long drive home.

Monday morning came around, once again, and a gloomy morning at that. The weather was dull, overcast, and the yard was quiet without the builders on site, and until they paid his bill, it would remain so.

It was early, about eight thirty, the children had set off for school and Mike was crossing the yard to do the morning chores. When to Mikes enormous surprise a police car came into the yard. Bugger it, what now? He sighed and lent on his crutches. The police car was a Ford Anglia liveried as a police car, and with a blue light on the roof. He recognised the driver in uniform as P C Hughes the village bobby, and Mike watched as a bulky man struggled to get out of the passenger seat. The man, in his fifties, with thinning black hair, dressed in a scruffy dark suit got out. His suit was dusted with cigarette dust, and his tie was pulled from his shirt collar which was unbuttoned. All in all he looked like someone under a great deal of stress. Before speaking to Mike the man lit up a cigarette, which was followed by a fit of coughing.

‘Mr Jones?’ He croaked, as he cleared his throat.

‘Yes.’ Mike felt strangely nervous, he wasn’t used to being in close proximity with policemen.

‘Inspector Price, C.I.D, I wonder if I can have a chat to you and your wife.’ He looked Mike up and down and Mike felt even more uncomfortable.

‘What have you been up too then?’ The Inspector coughed again.

‘Huh, the plaster? Had an argument with some concrete blocks – I lost. Shall we go in? The place is a bit of a mess.’ Mike said apologetically.

The Inspector didn’t respond and was busy looking around the surrounding countryside.

‘You’re well hidden in this place aren’t you?’ The Inspector commented, and coughed yet again. The fresh air didn’t seem to be doing him any good.

‘Yes, everyone says that,’ Mike replied cautiously, just in case that was going to be a problem.

Mike ushered the man into the kitchen.

Jan did a double take when the Inspector introduced himself and they both wondered what the hell this was all about. The Inspector sat at the table and took out a notebook.

‘Could I have your full names please and anyone else living here?’ Names were duly given and Mike and Jan were both getting nervous. What the hell was all this about?

‘We are talking to all their friends and contacts and I understand that you are friends with Mr and Mrs Bowen at Penlan?’

‘Well, yes, not that we’ve seen much of Keith but my wife knows Chris quite well.’ Mike looked towards Jan who looked more concerned than seemed necessary. In fact her continuing guilt over Chris had made her think that this visit was somehow connected to it, and her face became a little flushed.

‘Yes, we go to Drama together but I don’t know her that well as a person if you see what I mean.’ Jan was speaking the truth because she really didn’t know how Chris’s psyche worked at all.

‘Have you heard from her in the last few days?’

‘No, we haven’t. In fact my husband has been trying to get Keith on the phone all weekend.’

‘Well that would be difficult, Mrs Jones. He was found shot on Friday night, and his wife hasn’t been seen since Friday either.’

‘Dead? Keith?’ Mike was stunned.

‘How terrible, dead’ Jan added disbelievingly.

‘Not dead, but he’s critically ill in the hospital at Abersoch. It’s touch and go I’m afraid, he’d lost a lot of blood. We received an anonymous phone call late on Friday night otherwise he might have lain there for longer.’ The Inspector took a drag on his fag and stifled the cough that followed. ‘We don’t know who called, or how he knew about it. All we know is, the caller had a very high pitched voice.’

Mike flinched, bloody hell, that sounds like Josh. But he said nothing they had plenty of their own troubles without getting involved in this business.

‘God, poor Keith, he’s been a big help to us lately,” Mike said, tapping the plaster on his leg, ‘especially since I did this.’

‘But Chris told me Keith is usually away at the parents place until Saturday.’

Jan was puzzled how he would be home to get shot in the first place. The policeman was unusually forthcoming. ‘Well, we have had a brief word with him before he had surgery. And it seems he has been telling his wife that, but in fact he has been coming home early to spy on her. And I can’t tell you any more than that at the moment.’

This revelation worried Jan. Was it something to do with Chris’s antics with the man Mike had seen her with? Or had he seen her and Chris at those intimate moments. Worse still, was it this that led to this strange and violent event?

‘What about their girls, are they all right?’ Jan asked.

‘Oh yes, they weren’t at home-they’re safe.’

‘Is Chris okay?’ Jan asked, still not clear as to why she couldn’t be found. ‘She must be frantic with worry.’

‘We believe she’s unhurt, but we do need to talk to her. If she contacts you, could you call us on this number?’ The Inspector delved into his jacket pocket and handed Mike a card.

‘Yes, sure” Mike said, reading the card. ‘All we can tell is that they have been having strange goings on over there. Stock let out, taps left on, stuff like that – if that’s any help finding out who’s done this.’

‘Right, thank you for that, thank you both, I’ll leave you now. We have to see everyone she knew, that’s a lot of people it seems. Thank you again for your help.’

‘Well that was a bloody good start to the day, Darl?’ This news had shocked them deeply, it seemed such an unlikely thing to happen. It was like something out of the newspapers.

‘I wonder who did that to poor, Keith? Do you think there’s a madman about?’

‘God knows, love. What sort of place is this? Peace of the countryside? That’s a laugh,’ Mike was totally despondent.

‘It doesn’t seem real does it? We’ll have to make sure we lock up tonight.’ Most nights they didn’t bother to lock the front door, didn’t seem necessary-until now.

‘Yeah suppose so,’ Mike sighed heavily.

That was another nail in the coffin of their dream. They used to feel safe way out here, but now the world had found them. ‘I’ll have a coffee, now that I’m here. Milking can wait a minute.’ Mike rolled up a cigarette and dragged on it heavily. He still hadn’t told Jan the bad news about the Bank and mortgage.

While Jan made the coffee, she was thinking about Chris. And where could she be? What the heck had happened at her place? Whatever it was, everything was different now, the bubble had burst. This latest incident in her life gave her the courage to decide. And however the police business turned out, and whatever was going on with Chris, there could never be the same sense of adventure, of excitement. Her attempts at self-analysis, in which she tried to accommodate, to justify continuing her times with Chris, were over. Jan was back to her normal self. Not that Mike had noticed any change in her whatsoever. But she was now back home, in body and mind. Her out of character excursion to another world finished, over, for good.

His coffee drunk, Mike, in a deeply morose mood, went about his routine work. What a calamitous day, and it was only half past nine, what else would this foul Monday bring? He had just finished the mucking out, when the postman drove in. Mike accepted yet another brown envelope with sullen indifference. He didn’t even bother to look at. Whatever it was it didn’t seem to matter any more, there was no point in hiding it. Jan would have to know the worse sooner rather than later. This was going to be the day when all the disasters would collide. Jan had to be told – and the children. Jesus, what a terrible day this was to be. He limped back indoors to deposit the letter on the table to be opened later; he simply couldn’t be bothered to look at it.

‘Only one today” he said throwing it on the table and turned to go, ‘I’ll open it sometime.’ He was almost back outside, when Jan gave an almighty shriek. Christ, what the hell is wrong now, Mike, paused and turned back from the door.

‘Darl, Darl, come here, quick.’

He limped back in to find Jan checking the letter avidly

‘Look, look. It was addressed to me so I opened it. Look at it.’ She passed it to Mike, smiling happily and awaited his reaction.

He couldn’t believe it, ‘Is this a joke?’ Then, he laughed, laughed with joy and relief.

‘We’ve won, we’ve won,’ he yelled, ‘us Jan, wining something – it’s unbelievable.’

‘I know, I know. Five thousand pound, five thousand pounds,’ Jan repeated the amount with excited astonishment, her eyes sparkling.

‘I didn’t know we had any Premium Bonds,’ Mike had a sudden panic-it was all a dream or a huge mistake after all.

‘One, only one, Auntie Betty gave me a one-pound Bond for my sixteenth birthday. Ten years ago, I’d nearly forgotten about it myself.’

‘That’s fantastic - absolutely bloody fantastic,’ Mike responded. ‘Lettuces and cream, and now, money.’ Mike was ecstatic - what a turn around, ‘we can get the house done, and get those rich bed and breakfast bods in, and, have a Christmas after all.’

Jan was crying and laughing with happiness and Mike wasn’t far off from doing the same. They hugged each other with absolute relief and joy.

‘It’s a pity we haven’t got any champagne – to celebrate.’

‘I think there’s still some vodka left over that dad brought down,’ Jan trilled happily.

Just then the phone rang.

‘I’ll get it, Mike, you find the vodka.’

‘If it’s the bank manager tell him he can shove his loan up his…

‘Mike, behave,’ Jan was still giggling happily as she lifted the receiver.

‘Yes hello 622 - hello, Chris? Is that you Chris….?’

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Copyright © John Evans, 2011

John Evans is hereby identified as author of this