Tableland (10 page)

The Downes have been away for a few days visiting Una's family in Carlisle but we heard the car come back late last night.

This morning I happened to glance out of the window at about 7.45 and, to my amazement, saw the whole of the Downes family, resplendent in red and blue tracksuits, jogging off down the road. I pointed this out to Julie. ‘Look at that,' I said.

‘They are real keep-fit addicts. Una does yoga too – she wants me to go along to the classes with her when they start again next month,' Julie said.

We waylaid them as they came jogging back. ‘What's all this then?' I enquired as Steve stood there and started running on the spot.

‘Part of our “beat the flab” routine. Are you going to join us every morning?'

‘No way,' I replied.

‘By the way,' he went on – skipping now, ‘while we were away we had some garden tools stolen from the garage. It's a good job we have double glazing and had that new burglar alarm device fitted in the house, otherwise goodness knows what would have gone. You want to be sure and lock everything up, old chap,' and he skipped away indoors. We said nothing.

In the post this morning was a bill from the garage – what a cheek after the way they behaved. Also, at the bottom of the page, Leftburke had had the nerve to scrawl, “Wood on dashboard defective.”

Have a good mind to write back, “Boarding fees for cat for one night £2” but suppose that would only be lowering myself. Screwed up the bill and threw it away.

‘What was that you just threw away? asked Julie.

‘The bill for repairs to my car,' I replied with a short, sarcastic laugh.

‘Oh well, while we're on the subject of cars,' she continued, ‘I thought I might have some driving lessons.'

I had not forgotten my plan to have a golf lesson and this evening, on the way home, I called in at the Oxborough Golf Club. Was lucky enough, through a cancellation, to get a half hour's lesson tomorrow morning at 9.30 with one Gary Humwistle.

Found my golf clubs – I remember how my father used to prize them – abandoned at the back of the broom cupboard. Kipps showed undue interest in them, which Trev encouraged by whirling one of them round and round, which sent the dog into a frenzy, and I had to speak sharply to him.

My accurate putting was always my strong point so I must concentrate tomorrow on my drive. Yes – I really feel that golf could be the one thing that could open new doors for me, both at work and in my social life.

While I was sorting out my clubs and knocking cobwebs off, Julie came into the kitchen and said, ‘Try this on for size – I bought it at the market this morning,' and she produced from behind her back a red Tam O'Shanter with a black pom-pom, similar to the one Steve had been sporting the other day.

I think it suits me – although I say it myself – and I felt encouraged to practise a few puts with a training ball until the dog chewed it up.

There seems to be something the matter with the television set – we haven't had a good picture for five or six days now and, considering that it is nearly brand new, I shall have a word or two to say on the matter when I visit the shop tomorrow afternoon.

Up bright and early. Caught sight of Steve looking through the window as I drove off. He'd better watch out – I could be a dangerous opponent after one or two lessons.

Arrived at the club at 9.20 and parked the car with the dog in the back – much against my better judgement. Julie had said she was going to the launderette and Trev had been asked out for the day by Craig so, rather than leave Kipps on his own, it had been suggested that I should take him with me.

I issued him some stern words of warning as I locked the car and went to find Gary Humwistle. Stood around by the club house for a few minutes and then a tall man with a miserable face came over to me.

‘Mr Porter?' he enquired and when I replied in the affirmative he put out his right hand – to shake, as I thought.

‘Pleased to meet you,' I said as I proffered my own hand but his own went right past mine and into my golf bag. He drew out a club and said, ‘Hmm,' and sighed, ‘alright – let's get over to the practice tee.'

‘It's my drive I want to brush up,' I explained.

‘Ah well, your grip is all wrong, Mr Porter, for a start. Now this is the way you should hold your club,' and he demonstrated a grip which was so uncomfortable that it was as much as I could do to keep hold of the club, never mind swing it. I made a feeble attempt.

‘Never mind – try again,' he sighed.

‘Is this right?' I had taken several minutes to rearrange my fingers.

‘It really will make all the difference once you have acquired the knack – you just need practice.'

I suppose one can't blame these fellows for getting bored and after about a quarter of an hour, he seemed to lose interest in me and my grip completely and came out with things like ‘I was sacrificed on the altar of commercialism'.

I said, ‘Steady on – that's putting things a bit strongly.'

‘What would you know about it?' he muttered. ‘To look at me you wouldn't believe that I'd once caddied for Edward VIII, would you?'

I had to admit that the thought had never crossed my mind.

‘Well, I did,' he continued, ‘and not only that, when I was twenty, I was considered the best chipper in the business; of course the war put a stop to all that – things were never quite the same after that.'

‘You mean you lost your grip, eh?' I joked, desperately trying to bring a note of light-heartedness to the proceedings, but I could see that he was not amused.

My fingers were turning numb by this time. He continued to reminisce for another five minutes and then announced, ‘Well, practise everything I've told you, Mr Potter, and I'll see you next week.' I didn't think he would somehow.

We walked back to the club house together and I settled my fee, thanked Gary Humwistle, who was being greeted by his next pupil, and went back to my car. Kipps, who had obviously been feeling cooped up, sprang out as soon as I unlocked the door. Without more ado, he rushed out and cocked his leg over Gary Humwistle, who was deep in conversation with someone. I was too appalled to even shout to him. Luckily, he dashed straight back into the car and I drove off at great speed, not daring to look back.

Spent the rest of the morning perfecting my new grip. It will be a long time before it comes naturally to me.

Julie returned from the launderette and held up my underwear to show me. It has assumed a delicate shade of pink owing to a red dress of hers being washed at the same time. She seemed quite pleased by the result.

This afternoon we walked into Weston and tackled the television repairs man. I was at pains to tell him that we had not long since bought the set from this very shop on the h.p. and we extracted from him the promise that he would call late Monday afternoon to fix it.

‘It's just not good enough' I said quite loudly as we went out of the door – it keeps them on their toes.

Remembered that Julie had mentioned something about going to the Uppes' for a drink sometime. Hadn't been concentrating at the time so was surprised when she suddenly said at breakfast, ‘You can't go to the Uppes looking like that.'

‘Who said I was going to the Uppes?' I retorted.

‘I told you the other day that they had asked us for a drink this Sunday at 12 o'clock and that I had said yes. I remember telling you when you were in the bath.'

‘Well, I don't mind going for a quick jar,' I said, ‘but I do draw the line at having to change – I'm alright as I am.'

‘You're not going to wear those filthy old jeans – you'd really let me down,' she said then spoke some more words in the same vein.

In the end, I compromised by changing my trousers but keeping on my old shirt, which I covered up with a black polo-necked sweater. I had been looking forward to spending my Sunday morning with the papers and generally pottering in the garden, but we set off down the road at five to twelve fairly cheerful and looked forward to widening our circle of friends.

‘Don't forget to put the potatoes on at half past twelve,' Julie shouted back to Trev. ‘We won't be long.'

‘They've asked the new people who've just moved in next door to them,' she said as we walked along. ‘They've only been there a week and haven't met anyone yet. I expect the Price-Potters will be there too.'

We felt quite old stagers as the Uppes let us in and gave us a welcome glass of the special fruit cup Alan had concocted. ‘Do you want some of the fruit salad that's floating around on the top?' he joked. ‘Come and meet our new neighbours – the Spicers – Brenda and Ron. Bren and Ron moved up from Somerset last week.'

‘Ah – where the cider comes from,' I quipped. ‘Seriously though – I have an aunt who lives there – a Mrs Poole, Chedderview Road, Taunton.' (It always makes people feel at home to have a link with a familiar place) ‘I wonder if you've met her?'

‘This is Peter Porter and his good lady wife, Julie,' Alan hastened to introduce us. ‘They live in Springcroft Meadow and have been here all of five months now – haven't got tired of us all yet, either, have you?'

‘No, indeed,' I replied.

Apparently the Spicers had never heard of my aunt or Chedderview Road and had only been to Taunton once. In fact, they had only lived in Somerset for a year and before that had been living in Folkestone.

No one else had yet arrived and, after admiring the 6ft long African carving on the wall depicting nude native dancers (which Alan had ordered from a friend who deals in them), we were rather stumped for conversation.

I tried my usual opening gambit, ‘What's your line of business?'

‘Pet foods,' Ron said. ‘Bow-wowbix and Meeow-mix.' (No use to me business-wise – what a pity it wasn't dog kennels instead of dog biscuits, that would have been much more in my line.)

Alan came round again with the white wine cup and I noticed that Julie had a refill. Brenda took the ladle off Alan and ladled practically all of the floating fruit and mint into her glass, which I thought rather rude, although Alan was too polite to say anything.

‘Are the Price-Potters coming?' asked Julie and I would have been quite glad to see them.

‘No, they can't come – Neville's had to go to Blackpool on a sanitary engineers' conference this weekend – so the whole family have gone with him,' said Sue, coming into the room with a plate of sausage rolls. ‘Now, is everyone happy?'

Jason arrived at that moment and was quite a welcome diversion. He had some dandelion leaves in his hand. ‘I'm just going to feed Bubbles,' he explained to his mother and went towards the French windows.

‘Who is Bubbles?' we all said.

‘My rabbit.'

‘Can I come and see it?' I asked, not really having any interest in rabbits whatsoever. I followed him out to the hutch and remarked on Bubbles' fine markings. This seemed to please Jason, who became quite carried away, lifted Bubbles up and carried him back into the living room. ‘You can see him better out of his hutch,' he explained plonking him down on the carpet.

‘Aha, I see you're a connoisseur of Dutch rabbits, Pete,' said Alan. Other people were coming into the room now – some I recognised and some I didn't. They all clustered round the rabbit as Alan dispensed his fruit cup. ‘If you want to know anything about rabbits – Pete's your man,' said Alan, airily waving the ladle in my direction.

I suddenly became something of a celebrity and was cornered by a variety of people asking all kinds of questions on their pets – it seemed I was an authority on gerbils, canaries, dogs and cats, not to mention parrots.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Julie accepting her fourth glass of wine and I could hear her laugh taking on that certain bawdy quality which I dislike.

When a perfect stranger came up to me and said, ‘Our Karen's pony is in foal,' I decided enough was enough.

I caught Julie's eye and, for once, she pretended not to notice. Finally, after hissing ‘potatoes' at her three times, she got the message and we extracted ourselves. Expressed our thanks to our hosts and wended our way home, Julie feeling very light-hearted. Although the potatoes had burned the bottom of the pan and the kitchen was all steamy – facts which would usually have annoyed her – she just laughed.

Organised things so that I was doing my last call quite near Weston and was able to get home at 4 pm, when the television man had said he would call. Was determined to get this sorted out without any nonsense. He turned up at 4.30 and I told him, ‘You are half an hour late.' He took no notice of this and went straight over to the TV set, switched it on, studied it and then said, ‘Do you realise, the aerial is not plugged in?' Was dumbfounded and remembered, to my consternation, that we had unplugged it during our furniture removals before the Elkes' visit. Was given a bill for £5 for “visit to house and cost of labour”.

Was as good as my word and called at the builder's – Proones – this afternoon. The buyer seemed interested in the competitive prices of our hardwood and said that if the toilet roll factory extension came to fruition, we could submit a quotation.

Felt heartened by this, despite a nagging toothache brought on by small piece of bone in the canteen Irish stew.

Steve came round in the evening on the way to a game of squash and had with him a book of raffle tickets. ‘All in the name of a good cause – for local old age pensioners. The Wheelers give them a bumper Christmas party each year and send each one home with a bucket of coal – providing they bring their buckets with them of course!'

‘How many will you have? They're 5p each or a book of 5 for 20p.' Feeling magnanimous, I settled for a book.

‘What do we get if we win?' I asked.

‘First prize – one week at Butlins for two; second prize – two weeks at Butlins for two,' he joked.

‘By the way – old Ron Spicer joined us at our meeting last night. It seems he was in Round Wheel down in Somerset so he automatically gets a transfer. Seems a decent sort of chap.'

My toothache returned during the evening, not helped by a particularly sweet syrup pudding we had for supper. Must contact a dentist.

Old Ron Spicer indeed, he's only been in the area two minutes!