Tableland (27 page)

This morning Trina handed me something she said P.H. thought I might be interested in. It was an invitation to the Builders' Dance in Liverpool, to be held at the Lyceum Hotel in December.

‘Oo lucky you. The Lyceum is ever so smart,' she said, obviously reading the card upside down. ‘I see there's a cabaret too – EXOTIC dancing by Abdul.'

‘His mother lives in Frodsham,' put in Brimcup, who had sauntered over, ‘He's a friend of my Auntie Ethel…'

Discussed the Builders' Dance with Julie, who seems excited at the prospect; it would be a chance to air my dinner jacket again and could prove a useful occasion, contact-wise, as it were.

Alan Uppe called round this evening.

‘Just between ourselves, and in the strictest confidence,' he said (I wondered what was coming), ‘could you let me know whether or not the Spicers are coming to your party, because if they are, you probably won't see yours truly on the night in question.'

Did a little Christmas shopping this afternoon. Julie spotted a pile of photo albums which had been marked down to a bargain price and bought six.

Was just settling down for a five minute sleep this afternoon when there came a knock at the door. It was Ron Spicer asking if the Uppes are coming on the 28th. ‘I suppose you know that things aren't exactly as rosy as they might be between us at this moment in time,' he said.

Have decided that my best course of action in this matter is to appear vague so I just replied, ‘I couldn't say definitely.' A touch of subtle diplomacy.

What a day! George Remnant phoned personally to say that the estimate was acceptable to them, but it was going to be a “rush job” and he wanted the order through as soon as possible.

‘Yes, sir. Yours truly will see to it personally,' I said and, true to my word, rang through to the mill straightaway and ordered trusses for the sixteen houses, sending round the plan of one of the houses.

P.H. was obviously delighted. ‘If there were more like you at I.C.T. it would be a different place,' he remarked and I almost felt it an auspicious time to ask for a rise, but decided to bide my time and wait for a few days.

Julie and I had a little celebration and drank a half bottle of hock with our supper.

Have had a slight problem with rats in the garden since someone living at the back decided to start keeping racing pigeons. Told Julie this evening that we ought to get the rodent exterminator round but she seemed horrified at this suggestion. ‘It wouldn't be nice. Everyone in the road would know. We couldn't possibly. You'll have to do something about it with rat poison or something,' she suggested vaguely. ‘And there's no time like the present. I'm just off to a little demonstration of make-up and hairdressing at Brenda Spicer's – she's very into make-up and hair at the moment.'

Found Trev's torch and made quick inspection of the garage. Really must clear out all the rubbish sometime. Unfortunately, the battery gave out after about three minutes so was not able to come to any clear decision on the matter. Will look into it again at the weekend.

‘Well, do you notice anything different?' Julie challenged me on her return.

‘Can't say that I do,' I replied warily. This apparently was the wrong answer as she had been picked as the model for the demonstration and had had “the full works”.

Surely, I reasoned, she should have been flattered that I'd noticed no change.

Felt in high-spirited mood this morning due, in no little measure, to, a) the order from Remnants, b) the imminence of our wine and cheese party, which will somehow set the seal on our social standing in Springcroft Meadow, and, last but not least, c) the thought of the A.G.M. on Friday, when I should hear at last that I have been proposed as a member of that group of worthy citizens – the Round Wheelers. With what pride I shall wear my little round lapel badge and place my car sticker on the windscreen.

It's no exaggeration to say that, spiritually, I feel a Wheeler already and I know how much Julie's counting on it.

Managed to suppress a little niggling thought that my joining and subsequent vow of loyalty might be a crafty way of ensuring my future silence on a certain subject but, in actual fact, have almost convinced myself that the whole thing was a figment of my imagination. Am not going to go looking for trouble. After all, wasn't it Disraeli who said, “Without evidence, there is no crime”? Or was it Gladstone?

Started whistling a classical number at the office from Mozart's Greatest Hits, one of my favourite records. The air was soon taken up by the whole room and sounded quite pleasant. Brimcup then introduced a tune so high-pitched and intricate that he must have composed it himself. We soon lost the drift and were unable to follow.

‘Steve's leg is playing him up this evening,' said Una when I opened the door to her, ‘so he's sent a note round to you about the A.G.M.'

Expecting to see just the time of the meeting written down, was horrified to read:

Due to the ‘flu having struck down our Chairman, K Dugeon Esq., and decimated our numbers somewhat, the meeting has been postponed until further notice.

‘Well, thanks anyway,' I said to Una, not wishing to appear ungracious, or to let her see my great disappointment. ‘We'll see you both on Saturday?'

‘Yes, I hope so,' Una replied, ‘that is if we don't come down with the ‘flu ourselves – we were with Ken on Tuesday evening.

At this moment in time, as I write, I should be sitting in a meeting and, hopefully, hearing some good news. Still, no good brooding over it. Tried to keep busy this evening by making arrangements with Julie for tomorrow's festivities. We expect seven couples – if no more fall victim to the ‘flu epidemic, like Ken Dugeon. The Price-Potters will be away in Berkhampstead. The Blades declined owing to a previous engagement and we are still in some doubt as to the Spicers. Geoff Savoury, to our pleasant surprise, has accepted, as have the couple from next door.

The problem with Scott and Dawn is how to introduce them. Rather a knotty one that – as we say in the trade. Should I say, “This is Scott Hopper and his good lady”? Or something like, “Meet our new neighbours – Scott and Dawn”? Julie favours the last mentioned, ‘Although,' she remarked, ‘as they say they've always lived in the neighbourhood, they probably won't need introducing.'

‘Ah, they may have resided hereabouts all their lives but I think you could say our crowd of friends are more cosmopolitan.'

‘I see what you mean,' conceded Julie.

It's funny how things don't always turn out the way you'd expect them to. Not that our party wasn't an unqualified success. It was. I'm sure everyone who came would agree that it was.

In the afternoon, we cleaned the room and then I went to collect some wine and extra glasses from the grog shop at the Cock and Bull. Julie made her speciality – cheese, curry and garlic dip – and Trev set out the plates with an assortment of biscuits, cheese and small pieces of celery on pink paper serviettes.

We had tea in the kitchen – it was at this time that Brenda Spicer rang to say that she couldn't make it this evening as she had to visit her sick friend again. ‘I'll send Ron though,' she promised.

With the electric logs flickering in the hearth, the food, wine and my beer set out on the red tablecloth, surrounding Julie's dried flower arrangement, it only remained for me to add the finishing touch – two red light bulbs in the two table lamps. It looked really stylish. This is what it's all about, I thought to myself with some satisfaction.

Una and Steve were first to arrive and immediately went over to the fire.

‘Do you think, oh Great White Chief, I could have the use of a chair, if it wouldn't be too anti-social?' Steve asked, pointing to his left leg. Trev and I dragged in the small armchair. Una pushed it in front of the fire and sat on one of the arms, shivering. ‘I'm sure I'm getting a temperature.'

‘Well, how about a spot of beer to take your mind off your troubles?' I suggested.

After about twenty minutes, there came a loud knock on the door followed by something that sounded like Hark! The Herald Angels Sing. There at the door were the Goodchaps, Ron Spicer and Dawn and Scott, who was holding out his hand and saying, ‘Spare a copper.' Much hilarity ensued when, thinking quickly, I pressed a few old Green Shield Stamps, which had been lying on the hall table, into his palm.

They all crowded in and seemed anxious to try my home-brewed beer. Had had one or two misgivings about this, since tasting it earlier this evening, but the rather antiseptic flavour must have been due to the fact that I had just cleaned my teeth.

The Uppes arrived at this moment and explained that the Gropes were sorry they couldn't come but had both got the flu.

‘Think I'm starting with it too,' Alan said, sneezing as he made his way to the fire.

Behind the Uppes, and to my surprise, I spotted Ken Dugeon, looking feverish. He should have stayed in bed, I thought, and not come spreading his germs around, but the reason for his flushed face soon became apparent, to me at any rate, as creeping in beside him was none other than Anita Crow!

Caught Julie's eye and nodded my head slightly in their direction in a manner I hoped she'd interpret as “What a damn cheek!”

Ken put his face close to mine and I caught the smell of his cough lozenge as he said, ‘Knew you wouldn't mind – she managed to get a babysitter very much at the last moment.'

I said, ‘Not at all, not at all, the more the merrier say I.' But while I turned to get a couple of glasses for them, suddenly all my old suspicions rose up and now with a completely new slant. Ken and Anita! I should have put two and two together before and come up with this one (almost found myself feeling sorry for Les).

It all seemed to slot into place now – a joint Wheeler effort to get rid of the area's public enemy number one, with the added incentive for Ken of Anita. However, had no time, as host, to dwell on all this at that particular moment.

Everyone seemed to have finished their beer very quickly and were starting on the wine. The eats were going well and the party was in full swing. Conversation was ranging over a wide variety of topics, plans for Christmas, holidays, cars, school and petty thefts in the area, when I heard Ken say to Keith Goodchap, ‘Funny you should say that about your watering can, I had an old gardening glove pinched the other day – just doing a spot of pruning for a friend, left the gloves in the porch and – Bob's your uncle – one's gone.'

Couldn't believe my ears. I must have picked up Ken's old glove but I noticed he hadn't said whose porch he'd left it in. Then I thought, is this a frame-up? Had Alan in fact passed the word round of my doings in the woods and they were waiting to watch my reaction, to see how much I knew?

The murmur of sympathy directed at Ken came to an abrupt halt and all eyes were on me as some pineapple chunks, spiked with ham, slid off the plate I was carrying. I was glad of the diversion and skilfully changed the subject round to the latest unemployment figures with Alan, always so knowledgeable on these matters. Then who should I see across the room but Geoff Savoury slapping Ron Spicer on the back.

‘No, no this is Peter,' Julie said, bringing him over.

‘Sorry about that,' laughed Geoff, ‘and apologies for our late arrival. We had a spot of bother finding you in this neck of the woods.' What did he mean by “we”, I wondered. Then I noticed a dark-haired girl standing behind him.

This is going a bit far, I thought, first he arrives nearly an hour late, then he mistakes Ron Spicer, whose face could only be described as homely, for me, and, to cap it all, he brings along a complete stranger, uninvited.

Determined to appear rather aloof, contacts or no contacts.

‘What's your poison?' I asked.

‘Well, just a quickie,' Geoff said, ‘we can't stay long. We're due elsewhere in half an hour.' He spotted Steve, who had his leg up on a stool by now.

‘Hello, hello, spot of the gout, old boy?'

‘Well, you know how it is,' murmured Steve.

‘You know what they say – too much good living. You'll have to give up the hard stuff, eh?' And they both laughed.

‘I say, isn't that a Carabineer's tie you're wearing?' asked Steve.

‘Sharp of you to spot it. Yes, I was with the regiment for a few years. Had some interesting experiences…'

Left them to it as they seemed to be getting along so well and returned to my duties as host. Offered Ron some more beer but he said he'd try the wine next. Trev was making himself useful passing round the eatables while Julie circulated.

‘Well, cheerio, old son, we must be wending our way,' Geoff Savoury said presently. ‘Thanks and all that – see you anon. Come along, Jummy.' And he and the dark girl left.

‘Yes, old fellow – I think we'd better be saying our fond farewells. Una's feeling very much below par,' said Steve, dragging himself to his feet, or rather his foot. ‘Don't rush off. Have another one for the road,' I urged. Una yawned and shivered.

‘In actual fact, I'd like nothing more but I can see that I'll have to get Una to bed with a hot milk and whisky. No rest for the wicked.' He limped painfully to the door then brightened a little. ‘It was a splendid party. What a character old Geoff Savoury is. We're meeting for lunch next week. Contact-wise, the evening couldn't have been better. That Jummy McPennine was quite a looker, wasn't she?'

The words rang in my ear for the rest of the evening. I thought of the lost opportunities and remembered my rather cool attitude to Geoff. It almost ruined the party for me, that and my reawakened suspicions. Afterwards, Julie admitted that she had been introduced to Geoff's friend but hadn't quite caught the name. She seemed more concerned and upset to find her dried floral arrangement dripping and quite a volume of liquid in the bottom of the bowl. ‘It smells faintly of dettol,' she said.