The Lily Hand and Other Stories (8 page)

‘Not tonight,' he says, ‘I'm driving. After we've blown you lot clean out of the park at Hillingdon Royal, you can buy me a double. Nice stuff!' he says, looking where I was looking. ‘What a pity you can't play 'em!'

We let him have that – he'd saved our bacon for us. We put our heads together after that, and did some hard thinking, but we couldn't think of anything else Langley could do to us now. We didn't trust him as far as we could throw him, though, so we used to drift in for a drink by twos and threes, just to find out it there was any funny business going on, but all we found out was that he'd nearly thrown a fit when he got the news, and had been foaming at the mouth for three days, and nobody dared to go near him except his missus, and after all she hadn't got much choice. So after a bit we relaxed, and concentrated on practising for the contest; and what with the stimulation we got out of having won the first two rounds, we were playing well.

We hadn't exactly hired Burke's bus for the trip to Hillingdon Royal on the day of the contest, it was just that we had an understanding with him. Some of us worked Saturday mornings, so we couldn't start off until half past one. Buses were always busy Saturdays, winter with football matches and summer with trips to the seaside or into Wales, so I'd just stuck my head into Burke's garage, three weeks ago, and said: ‘Okay for the championship, Bill?' and he'd said: ‘Okay, Les!' from under an old Alvis, and that was all the booking we ever did, but I knew it would be all right.

Only this time it wasn't all right, because on the Saturday morning I came off shift early, and there was Bill Burke dancing about on our doorstep like a flurried hen, and he grabs me by the arm and says: ‘Les, something awful's happened! I've let you down!'

‘What's up?' I asked him. ‘What's come to the bus?' It had to be the bus, how else could Burke have let us down? And at this hour there wouldn't be another within fifty miles radius that wasn't booked up. Saturdays are like that in Worbridge and district; when you've got a fine day and time off, you light out as far as possible out of it.

‘He's
bought
it!' says Burke in a wild groan. ‘I couldn't help it, Les! He owns the ground my garage is on, and the lease has only got a couple of years to run, and he as good as told me I could say goodbye to the place if I didn't do what he wanted. Tried to get me to put the old engine out of commission and pretend I couldn't get it right again, but when I wouldn't he offered me such a price for it – my God, I couldn't believe me ears! I'm no millionaire, what am I supposed to do when I get a windfall like that dropped in my lap? I've got kids to keep! And anyhow, I thought I knew of a bus I could get for you in Hillingdon, where my brother works. There's an old pit one they only use for the charter journeys during the week, it's shabby for parties on the spree, but I knew you wouldn't care so long as it goes, and I thought we could have it both ways. But even that's hired out,' he said, clutching his hair. ‘I didn't have the chance to phone about it first, I had to say yes or no to him then and there. And I said yes, and now look where I've landed you! I've been phoning all round ever since, and there isn't a coach to be had in this county. And now what are we going to do? You'd be justified in suing me!'

‘We can't afford to,' I said, ‘or we would. What are we going to do? We're going to get there, somehow, Heaven knows how, but we are! Have you got a car? Even one car? Can you get the four old 'uns there, and the big drum?'

He had a rickety old pre-war Morris, not big enough for four, really, but our older colliers don't run to size. We got 'em in, and strapped the big drum on the luggage-rack, and started that contingent off with plenty of time in hand for the two or three breakdowns they were liable to have on the way. Then I flew round the rest of the lads, beating up what transport I could think of, and warning the ones I couldn't fix up that they'd have to get out on the Hillingdon road and try to thumb a lift. Young Fred took Ernie Briggs on the back of his motorbike, Sid Peters borrowed his cousin's tandem and took one of the others on the rear saddle, one or two of those who finished work early, and were ready and dressed when I reached 'em, rushed straight out and caught the last possible service bus for the last possible train connection at Maddingley, and the rest of us swore we'd somehow get there in time under our own steam.

‘Whatever happens,' said Nora, when she saw us off, ‘you stick with our dad, Les, and don't let him get up to anything. And you behave yourself, our dad, and don't you get stopping anywhere for a drink on the way, because there's no time for that.'

‘I can have one after we've won the championship, I suppose?' he says, hoisting his old double-B on his shoulder.

‘You can do what you like afterwards,' says Nora, ‘but if you don't get there in time to play
and
win, I'll never forgive you. After a dirty trick like this,' she says, ‘we've
got
to win. And I hope the old so-and-so dies of spite when he hears!'

We were the last two to get started. We went by service bus to Maddingley, and then went and stood on the kerb a little way along the road out towards Hillingdon Royal, and started thumbing. They say there's no future in it with a rucksack these days, but it didn't pay off so badly with a double-B. I suppose it's the novelty. We got a lift for about seven miles of the way with a big Ford, then he had to drop us because he was turning off to one of the farms, and the next bite was only a little Morris with barely room for one, so I put Lije and his double-B into it, and then started to walk after 'em while waiting for another stroke of luck. But I didn't get one. I had to walk the rest of the way, four miles as near as makes no matter.

It would have been fine if I'd had plenty of time, but I had to do it in under an hour. By the time I got to the park gates at Hillingdon Royal I hadn't got breath enough for talking; but Ernie Briggs was there keeping a lookout for me and as soon as I puffed up he says, grinning: ‘Take it easy, you've got twenty minutes or so to relax in. We're playing third, and we're all here, now you two have made it.'

‘Two?' I said. ‘You mean Lije hasn't got here? But he must have done! Four miles back I started him off in a car. They hadn't got room for the two of us.'

‘He hasn't shown up yet,' said Ernie. ‘I took it for granted he'd be turning up with you.'

It was no use sending anybody out to look for him, we could easily lose another man that way, and anyhow it was just on closing time, so if Lije was where I reckoned he was he'd soon be turfed out to return to his duty. So I left Ernie at the gate to keep a lookout for him, and went to join the others where they were waiting nervously by the bandstand. Much chance I had to relax, with one ear cocked towards the band that was playing first, and one eye rolling back towards the gate to see if Lije had appeared.

Come time for us to go up and play, I thought we'd had it, but suddenly up strolls old Lije from down by the paddling-pool, as cool as you like. Been in the park three-quarters of an hour, he said. Said it made him feel calm and confident watching the kids, we'd ought to have more sense than huddle there making one another nervous. We had to send one of the lads to fetch Ernie off the gate quick. I've never started the band off on a test-piece in such a state of nerves in my life. I could hardly hold the baton, I was trembling so.

All the same, we won. We did it!

We had to wait until late in the evening to hear the result, and after that it was a rush to celebrate. I should have gone back on the last train, or cadged a lift in the Maddingley coach, like several of the others did, only I'd lost Lije again. It's a very easy thing to do as long as the pubs are open. So I sent the trophy back in the coach with Ernie, and started on a tour of all the bars in the town. I daren't go back and face Nora without him.

By the time I found him, leaning on his double-B in front of the museum, having a heart-to-heart with a statue of Orpheus about the relative merits of strings and brass, it was going on for midnight, and there was no more transport until morning, and even then only part way. But if he was drunk, he wasn't incapable, and he couldn't see that there was any difficulty about getting home.

‘We'll walk,' he says. ‘Do us good, Les, lad! Best part of the day's the night.'

‘What, with that?' I said, looking at the double-B.

‘Why not?' he says, surprised. ‘It's only ten miles, the short way.'

We walked. It took us two and a half hours, and he went like a machine all the way. He's only a little 'un, scrawny and bandy-legged to look at, but tough as blazes, especially when he's got a skinful. He wouldn't even part with his double-B, said it balanced him. It was all I could do to stop him playing it, just to show he'd got plenty of breath to spare. He did sing, several times. About half past two in the morning we were walking down the High Street at Worbridge, in that deathly small-hour hush, and he was so happy he loved everybody, even Eb Langley.

‘The old bastard!' he says fondly, beaming at the Black Horse all shuttered up and dark. ‘You can't help admiring his spirit. Hold on a tick,' he says, ‘I must blow him a kiss, just to show there's no ill feeling.'

And before I could lift a finger he skipped up to the front door, clapped the bell of his double-B tight over the keyhole, and blew a blast that lifted the roof six feet in the air and made the walls bulge.

You never heard anything like it! In that silence it scared me out of my skin. I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him down the shut back of Hollis's, so fast you couldn't have seen us go. And I didn't stop till I shoved him through his own back door.

‘You've got an unforgiving spirit,' he was saying reproachfully, ‘tha's th' trouble with you. We won, didn't we? We can afford to be generous!'

But I just shut the door on him and made for home as quick as I could. Everything in the High Street was quiet as the grave, I was thankful to see.

Next day I didn't get up until nearly dinner time, and then I went straight down to Nora's, same as usual on Sundays. Lije had gone out to the Black Horse to fetch some beer, and when he came back with the jug he was fairly busting with news.

‘What d'you think!' he says, his eyes bulging. ‘Old Eb Langley popped off in the night! True as I'm standing here! They found him dead this morning in his bed!'

‘No!' says Nora, dropping the tablecloth she was just unfolding. ‘What was it, his heart?'

‘They reckon so. Seemingly he must have jumped up in bed, some time in the night, and just gone out like a light. Joss says to look at his face you'd think he'd been frightened to death – looked as if he'd woke up and seen the devils coming for him.'

Lucky Nora was there to do the talking, because I couldn't have said a word. I was watching Lije to see if he was thinking what I was thinking, but his face was as smooth as a baby's.

‘He must have been took awful sudden,' says Nora. ‘And he never had time to call to anybody? Nobody heard anything in the night?'

‘Who was there to hear anything, when you come to think of it. His missus was in the next room, but she's deafer than the wall.'

‘Of course, that's right!' says Nora. ‘She wouldn't even hear Gabriel's horn! And when you think what I said when you went off yesterday – I said I hoped the old so-and-so would die of spite when he heard the news! How awful! I never thought he'd go and do it!'

I was still watching Lije, and I still didn't know what to think. ‘Just imagine!' I said, staring at him, ‘it could have happened just about the time we were walking past down the street—'

‘Did we walk down the street?' he says. ‘The head I've got on me this morning, I'm damned if I know how I did get home. Last thing I remember was that bloke with the long hair trying to swop me his harp for my double-B. What happened after that?'

But I didn't tell him, I just changed the subject. If he didn't know, I reckoned I'd best let well alone. And if he did know, all the more reason why I should keep my mouth shut. And if any of the folks who live near the Black Horse heard any funny noises in the night, all I can say is, they're keeping pretty quiet about it, too.

After all, everybody seems satisfied. We've got the trophy, we're getting our clubroom back next year because Mrs Langley doesn't much like having the place bunged up with sale junk, and nobody can fetch old Eb back, even supposing they wanted to. His missus looked ten years younger at the funeral. She had a nice new black costume, and a hearing-aid, and a smart hat on her new perm. They say Ben Barclay's beginning to cast an eye in her direction. Yes, on the whole I reckon things have worked out pretty well.

The Man Who Met Himself

If I hadn't known Frank Willard for four years without ever really knowing the first thing about him, I might not have felt so deeply involved. I'd played in the same cricket club for two seasons, and lifted my hat to him and his wife after church almost every Sunday morning since I'd come into the district; and yet when they fetched me to the police station that evening, it was as though I saw him for the first time.

He was sitting on an upright chair, with his hands slack between his knees, staring straight ahead of him with blank blue eyes in a stunned face, as though memory and mind had left him altogether.

When I walked into his line of vision he looked through me. His well-polished black shoes and rather worn grey suit were as neat as ever, but the man inside them had stopped functioning. The doctor said he was in a state of shock. Queer the way the human mind works. Nothing whatever had happened to him physically, nothing new had come to his knowledge; the thing that shocked him had been there within his consciousness for over a year; the only new development was that it had just been taken from behind his eyes and set, as it were, in front of them.