Tableland (6 page)

‘We've got some delicious kipper fillets for breakfast,' I announced heartily this morning over the cornflakes but it didn't seem to appeal.

‘Oh no, thank you all the same – nasty, smelly things. Just a lightly-boiled egg and two thin pieces of toast, dear,' Mother said to Julie. ‘Though I usually have three hot rolls with plenty of butter at home.'

Dashed off before the others had finished breakfast as arrangements re Mr McTartan had been changed and I was to meet him at the airport at 9.30 am, generally make myself agreeable to him, show him the factory and entertain him all day.

Due to a “sit in or walk out” at Manchester Airport, the plane was one hour late. This fact, and a disgusting, thick rusty-tasting cup of tea, put me in an unpleasant mood.

When the passengers alighted from the plane, I spotted a bluff sort of fellow in a loud check jacket and a red face. Approached him and said in a friendly manner, ‘Mr McTartan, I presume.' He turned on me quite rudely, saying, ‘Don't be cheeky with me, sonny.'

When Mr McTartan and I finally made contact, I was in an uncertain temper. He was a small, meek man with spectacles and a pin-striped suit – eager to get on with the job in hand.

Car kept stalling on leaving the airport, whereupon Mr McT did not endear himself to me by telling me exactly what I was doing wrong. Was going to say, ‘I think you'll allow me to know my own car, thank you' but bit my lip.

If he was impressed by International Consolidated Timber, he didn't show it.

‘What you need is a time and motion study expert and a good P.R.O – nothing like a good P.R.O.,' he kept muttering (and sniffing).

We dined on toad in the hole in the canteen, followed by semolina and prunes and washed down with canteen coffee, which is usually enough to shake anyone out of complacency. He sat with an impassive face while lecturing me on boardroom tactics, efficiency on the floor, how to play chess in your sleep, etc. etc. I asked to be excused for a minute and had a quiet smoke in the gents. A new “Out of Order” sign had been put on the door of the toilet; I took it down and put it on top of a dusty shelf. All to no avail, Mr McT returned from his visit upstairs as inscrutable as ever – if anything even more so and I felt ashamed of a rather childish prank. Especially as I now realise, writing this in bed, that I forgot to return the notice to the door.

Friday the 13th – suffice it to say that we all went to Indian restaurant for a treat and were violently sick all night.

All felt very weak this morning and no one fancied eating any breakfast. Hoped this would wear off as it was the night of the Uppes' dinner party, to which we had been looking forward. Dosed myself with a spoon of our special standby – a thick white stomach-ache medicine which Julie's mother declined; perhaps she was right as it had a rather stale and musty flavour.

After tiring afternoon shopping with Julie's mother, who eagerly compared prices with those in the shops at home and kept saying darkly, ‘You only get what you pay for', we had tea in front of the fire.

Felt reluctant to go upstairs to wash and change as temperature in bedroom was arctic. Envious of the two sitting in front of fire watching old James Cagney film as we set out. Left house with ‘Be good and if you can't be good, be clever' ringing in our ears, which I thought rather inappropriate. Trev said, ‘You look like a couple of swingers.'

The dinner party at The Nest was a great success. Started meal with grapefruit segments and then Sue cried out, ‘Look everybody,' and carried in the fondue – hope I spell this correctly.

‘A bit of a ‘do-it-yourself' meal,' Sue laughed and it was quite a talking point as we dipped our bits of meat into the unusual sauce with strange lumps floating in it. Julie asked Sue for her black forest gateau recipe but apparently she didn't hear.

Alan kept us amused after dinner by drawing our attention to the various framed certificates around the living room wall.

‘This one is for a piano music exam I took aged seven, my O and A level certificates, a fishing competition on holiday at Cornwall…' etc. etc.

Then there were Sue's swimming and ballroom dancing diplomas and the three children's – Justin, Jason and Cordelia's – achievements were also duly paraded.

We muttered appreciatively through our dinner mints. I had the feeling that Steve had seen them before as he said ‘Don't forget the one you won for drinking a pint of beer from the wrong side of the tankard.'

Think I keep my O level certificate in the desk. Perhaps if I frame it and hang it in the hall it will lend a touch of academic endeavour to the proceedings.

Felt a little out of things when Alan and Steve started to chat about an imminent Round Wheel charity fun night so joined the girls and felt equally out of things as they discussed a recent Skipperware coffee party, which Sue had attended, and rumours of wife-swapping on a neighbouring estate. Was unable to talk about TV programmes as the Uppes have no set.

Then Una asked Julie how the badminton was going – ‘I used to belong,' she said, sounding a bit wistful, ‘but Steve persuaded me to take up metalwork and it clashed.' She asked Julie if Les Crow was still in the team and, when she nodded, said, ‘He's hot stuff, isn't he?' Was not sure if it was his game of badminton which she was referring to or something else altogether, but noticed that Julie and Sue responded enthusiastically.

‘Is he in the Round Wheel?' I asked, just to be chatty.

‘Well, not so you'd notice,' Sue said, ‘Inner Circle, more like,' and the girls started laughing. Steve turned round sharply at this point and, consulting his watch, said, ‘Good heavens, is that the time?' with a meaningful look at Una and the party broke up.

Home at 11.30. Took large dose of liver salts.

Inspired by the Uppes' example, decided to turn the television off this evening and have a change by enjoying a little family conversation and some old-fashioned games.

My idea was received with groans. ‘What about that play you wanted to watch?' Trev reminded me. But I was adamant.

‘No, the television is going to be switched off now – we watch far too much,' I replied in what I hoped was a firm, decisive tone.

We found the old darts board in the garage and set it up in the living room, which was a great mistake.

It brought back memories of the W.A.F. mess room for Julie's mother, who shouted, ‘Watch this!' and, with gay abandon, hurled five darts simultaneously and with disastrous results, need I add. That wall will never be the same again.

We settled for a game of whist and, after spending ten minutes hunting for our one pack of cards and shuffling them and reorganising our seating arrangements, we discovered that two of the pack were missing. So much for whist.

Next we tried snap, which was quite a success, despite a few disputes and some false calls and angry looks, but we tired of this in an amazingly short time and Julie suddenly said, ‘Let's play consequences – I haven't played it since I was a child.'

We explained the rules to Trevor and assembled bits of paper and pencils and all went well until it came to the reading out.

Trevor triumphantly announced, ‘Gran met a rat exterminator in a dust bin. She said to him, “Where do you live?” He said to her, “Bottoms Up” and the result was they went away together for a naughty weekend.

I laughed heartily. Gran took it personally and maintained a frozen silence and a hurt look. I could see that Julie wanted to laugh but tried to disguise the fact. The more Trevor and I tried to suppress our mirth, the worse it was. Our eyes watered. With great presence of mind, Julie switched on the television and we watched the play (to the accompaniment of the odd snort of nervous laughter from Trevor), probably to the great relief of everyone.

Cocoa and bed.

Do not know if it was the after effect of our ‘games night' but when I came to write up this diary on Monday evening, two pages were missing and it transpires that Trev had been searching for paper to make paper darts with his friend Craig and had ransacked the house, seizing my diary and vandalising it. I gave him a piece of my mind in no uncertain manner, with reference to personal possessions, matters of principle etc., and Julie fully supported me in this.

He said, ‘I'll replace the paper with two sheets from my French exercise book' but I replied, ‘It's not the same.'

Will have to try and condense the past four days' activities very briefly. Julie's mother is still here.

Infestation of beetles discovered in larder.

Showed tiresome Asian salesman, from Expresso Laxatives, the door (last thing we needed after our experience of the other evening, anyway).

Avery still behaving in stupid and secretive manner. Does it mean anything, or doesn't it?

Very cold weather.

While I was gardening this morning, caught sight of Steve hovering at the side of the road with wheelbarrow. The next moment, a truck drew up laden with stone paving slabs. Two chaps alighted and started manipulating the load into the barrow.

‘Morning, Your Grace,' hailed Steve with a mock bow. ‘Meet two fellow wheelers – Ken Dugeon, Keith Goodchap. Marvellous opportunity for getting cheap slabs for patio – Ken heard of them going cheap on a demolition site. Coming to give a hand?'

Assisted for about half an hour. Feel sore – I have twisted something in my back, as they were extremely heavy stones. Thankful when Julie called out of the window that lunch was ready. Reflected again on the obvious advantages one reaps from belonging to the Round Wheel. Ken Dugeon is president of the local branch. He's in pharmaceuticals, if that's how you spell it.

My back definitely stiff this morning.

This evening the phone rang – just at the crucial moment in Play of the Month.

‘It's for you, Mum' Julie said. ‘It's Bri.' We exchanged a glance. I hoped that he was not going to suggest coming here but all was well.

‘Bri didn't get the job at Butlin's after all,' she told us (was not surprised at this). ‘He's been asked to join a pop group in Leeds calling themselves The Dregs and he's changing his name to Bryllan. He's arriving home tomorrow so I'll have to get to the station in good time.' And addressing me, ‘You'll give me a lift in the morning, won't you?'

‘My pleasure,' I said and hoped I didn't sound too relieved.

Bryllan!! (pah – ugh) words fail me…

Took “Mother” to the station for the 7.55 train and heard again the tale of how she won twenty clothing coupons in a raffle in the war and was the belle of the mess ball, getting a kiss under the mistletoe from the C.O.

‘You ought to write a book about your war memoirs,' I said jocularly. ‘That's a very good idea,' she replied and, thus encouraged, resumed the thrilling exploits of Hut 21, until we said our goodbyes.

I don't know what dubious venture her son is about to embark on – just another one of a long series, it seems to me. However, she does not seem worried by the prospect so why should I waste my valuable time even thinking about it?

It is nice to have the house to ourselves again although I must say the visit from Julie's mother went off very well.

My car brakes have developed an annoying squeak. When I put my foot down on the foot brake for cornering, slowing down or stopping, it emits a loud screech, which can be very embarrassing, causing people to turn round suddenly and stare. Must get it seen to. In my job it is essential to have a smart and efficient car to promote confidence in people.

That stupid new typist had the nerve to refer to me today as Al Capone, when she thought I wasn't listening. Am surprised that she even knows who Al Capone was.

Bombshell at the office today. Avery has handed in his notice. Must say, I have suspected something of the sort for some time now. This explains his sly and secretive manner of late.

The fact of his leaving was staggering enough but when I asked, ‘To what higher plain are you elevating yourself?' he replied simply, ‘To Lumberjobs.' Frankly, I was amazed.

‘Yes,' Avery continued, ‘Stan Swindlehurst has offered me a fantastic job – very good money, foreign travel, wonderful perks and a dolly bird secretary,' and he clicked his tongue in an annoying way.

Well, good luck to him. I forbore to mention that I myself had been offered the self-same job, only last month.

Am more or less used to the idea of Avery leaving now but I must say I didn't sleep very well last night. My head was in a whirl and when Julie asked, ‘You haven't any regrets, have you?' in the early hours, I knew that she had been turning it all over in her mind too. I think I can honestly say that I have no regrets and when Gordon Brimcup bumped into me this morning and said, ‘Well, it's just us two chaps on the road now' and slapped me on the shoulder, I felt unaccountably light-hearted.

The burning question now is – will Prescot-Henderson advertise for another salesman or will Brimcup and myself take on the work of three men with a possible rise in salary? It remains to be seen.

Hooray. Our holiday arrangements confirmed by post today. Two weeks in a caravan near Tenby – that really is something to look forward to. Julie's badminton season finished this evening. Can't say that I'm sorry.

Very sharp wind today and unpleasant smell blowing over from the steelworks. However, not to worry, as they say. I expect there are worse polluted places.

The patio and barbecue “gang” were back in action this morning but was unable to help personally as decided to clean the car and see if I could discover the cause of the screeching brakes. Thought I had located the trouble, but when I took it for a trial run down the road, they seemed to be noisier than ever.

Very irritating especially as “the three” stopped loading paving stones, pretended to leap back in fright and Steve shouted, ‘Who's after you?' to the amusement of the others.