MRS.
REECE did not appear that day or the next because her husband had
been taken ill. He had got up on Tuesday not feeling quite himself
but insisting that he was fit enough to go to work. Before midday he
was driven home from the quarry by Willie Cobb, one of his mates.
Mrs. Reece, peering through her rain-lashed window, saw the truck
coming down the lane, guessed what had happened and went quickly
into action.
First
she sent her two younger children next door to be minded by Mrs.
Mostyn. Then she filled the kettles, banked up the stove, rushed
upstairs for Bert's nightshirt and put it to warm in front of the
fire. Presently Bert was helped indoors, green in the face and
doubled up with pain, stripped of his wet clothes and put to bed.
Willie drove off, promising to call at the farm and telephone the
doctor. Soon after Willie left Bert had his first bout of sickness.
Mrs.
Reece suspected food poisoning. All the quarrymen took lunch packs
and sometimes for the sake of variety they shared the contents
around. She stooped over Bert, who was lying back exhausted, and
asked, `You been eating one of them meat pies again?' He gave a
feeble nod.
`I
thought as much, you silly juggins. I've told you to leave shop pies
alone. Last time Albie Waters gave you one it made you sick. You
know where he gets them from? From the railway caff, that's where,
and glory knows how long they been lying around that dirty hole.'
`They
never hurt Albie,' groaned Bert.
'Albie
got a stomach like a garbage pail. You got a tetchy one, you know
that. Ought to have more sense than eat such muck. Now look what
you've gone and done,' she scolded as she wiped his pallid face.
'You gone and poisoned yourself. And serve you right.'
The
scolding continued as she ran up and down with pans and towels, but
the words were lost in the uproar of the storm. Window-panes rattled
as if a giant were trying to break in. Hail drummed on the roof and
the wind had the mad shriek of the norther.
Willie
Cobb returned to say that the farm telephone was out of order, the
line having been cut by a falling tree. He would have driven on into
town to fetch the doctor but he couldn't get through. The road was
blocked by the tree that had cut the line. Mrs. Reece, however, was
no longer worried for she knew now what was wrong with Bert.
`You
go on back, Willie, I can manage. Bert will be back at work in a
couple of days, maybe a bit more. I'll keep him at home till this
weather lets up.'
Mrs.
Trim, popping in for the second time to offer assistance, was blown
halfway down the passage before she could shut the door behind her.
`How
is he?'
`Sorry
for hisself. But he'll do.'
`What
a day ! Wonder you didn't keep Jinny and Joey back from school.'
'I'd
a mind to,' Mrs. Reece said as she warmed an other blanket. `Just
hark at that wind. I reckon it's blowing a full gale.'
'I
reckon so too.'
The
two older children did not get home till after dusk. They had had to
walk most of the way from school owing to the blocked road, and were
drenched to the skin. By supper-time Joey was running a temperature,
so he too was bundled off to bed. There were now, two invalids in
the Reeces' cottage. Jinny looked after her brother while Mrs. Reece
nursed Bert. Mrs. Mostyn kept the two young ones with her. She
enjoyed mothering them and tucking them into the big brass bed in
the spare room.
During
the night one of Mr. Trim's hives was knocked over and some tiles
were torn off his roof. Ted Mostyn came home after the early milking
with a small tarpaulin and tried to help him tie it over the hole.
But the task proved impossible in the teeth of the gale.
Neither
the postman nor any of the tradesmen could get through to the
hamlet, but Ted brought milk and bread for them all. He reported
that the post office van had been sent to repair the telephone line,
but nothing could be done till the councilmen had chopped away the
fallen tree. The councilmen were doing the best they could with
everybody nagging at them but they were fed up with the driving
rain and the shrieking wind. There was a proper carry-on up on the
main road, Ted said, and he hoped the milk lorry would be able to
get through soon because they were running short of churns at the
farm.
In
all this commotion it was not surprising that none of the cottagers
remembered the striped kitten. They did not remember till yet
another day had passed. Then Mrs. Trim volunteered to go and look
for it, taking with her some bits of fat bacon and other left-overs.
The norther had not yet blown itself out. The elms still thrashed
and groaned and the sleet was turning to snow. Mrs. Trim could not
see the kitten anywhere, so she put the scraps down in the usual
place and hurried back to her warm kitchen.
Soon
after she had gone the air above the campsite became alive with
wingbeats and strident cries. Some gulls had seen the food and
swooped down to snatch this unexpected bounty. But the Mostyns' dog
Patch had also seen the pie dish being carried out and smelt the
irresistible aroma trailing from it. He was a greedy dog and if
there was one thing he loved more than another it was bacon fat. He
ran across the green and tried to drive off the gulls, but they were
too many for him, and unafraid. He snarled and snapped at the
flailing wings, but in the end for all his efforts he got no more
than a small morsel.
Mrs.
Mostyn also looked in vain for the kitten on her way up to the
village. Snow was falling lightly and the air was raw, but it took
more than this to stop Mrs. Mostyn from making her weekly visit to
her sister.
WHAT'S
NEW? 