R
Robert Harrison
Guest
It began to rain as Tom made his way along the lane that joined up with the main road from Litchfield to Tamworth. His short stay in Whittington had been pleasant enough, and he was pleased that he had caught up with old friends. His excuse for leaving was not quite true, but it was better than having to tell them that he did not want to stay in a bed with clean sheets, nor did he wish to be fussed over by the landlord wife, friends of the past they may have been. Tom was an independent man and it was his independence which he cherished most of all. The urge to be up and doing was far too strong in him to set down any timetable which would have been forced upon him, however good intentioned it was. Perhaps, one day they would all meet again if by chance he were in the area.
His purpose for being in the area in the first place was all but forgotten as he swung his arms to the steady sound of his tramping feet, and the song that came from his lips. “Where am I supposed to be, who knows the knowing? Where will I finish up at the suns going? He looked at the assault course that was part of the training ground for the troops stationed at the barracks, and a memory in the back of his mind rang a bell which he soon dismissed as being of no importance.
It started to rain as he made his way past the well-kept Hawthorn hedges that lined one side of the lane. He stopped for a moment to admire the craftsmanship of the hedge trimmer. The stakes were set at just the right angle to reinforce the hedge, and Tom could see how the main trunks of the hedge had been thinned and only the stronger ones left to form the hedge. “This chap knows his job,†he thought. “Not like some of these Council fellows who use great trimming shears which do more harm than good to a hedge, ripping and tearing their way along with noisy tractorsâ€Â. Tom spat out a grass stalk he had been chewing on in disgust. “What’s wrong with the old ways, no bloomin’ time I suppose to do a proper jobâ€Â. He was cheered by the sight of a single Primrose growing at the top of the bank; it’s bright yellow petals contrasting with the dark of the hedge.
He pulled up the collar of his army greatcoat, tucked in the lapels and pulled on his old black felt hat, which was now turning to a silvery green as age and weather took their toll upon it.
“Now where did you come from? He said half to himself and half to the rain. “I didn’t see you comingâ€Â. He looked up at the sun and then at the sky, the only cloud he could see was over towards Litchfield. “Must be a wind up there to blow it this far away from the cloud†Tom thought. There was little anyone could tell Tom about reading the weather; everything was an open book to him. The sun was his barometer, he could tell by its colour and its heat or lack of it if rain was about, and just how much would fall and when it would start. He looked over the hedge at the cattle and saw that they were facing into the shower, which was an indication that the rain would not be heavy nor would there be any wind with it. Cattle will always turn their rumps towards the wind driven rain. “Nothing to worry about†he thought “Be over soonâ€Â
On reaching the main road Tom crossed the road and heading in the direction of Litchfield, his friend at Tamworth completely forgotten about. Hem managed to get a lift to Litchfield where he stopped by the town’s great church. The rain had topped so Tom found a bench near the entrance to the church where he could look at all of the statues adorning the might walls which had taken some four hundred years to reach its present state. Tom wondered if it would go through any more changes, any additions to its already tremendous size. He guested not as there was little room for any more addition, and the cost would be far out of reach of the wealthy church building fund. “No†he said to himself “I reckon she has reached her limitâ€Â.
He took off his great coat and placed it on the bench along side of him. Out of one of the pockets he took out a crumpled packet containing some sandwiches that he had packed for himself while at the Crown in Whittington. The bread was thick and crusty still, out of his other pocket he took out a small pinch of paper into which he had placed some of the leaves of the Hawthorn hedge. “Nothing like a bit of Bread and Cheese to make a good sandwich,†he mumbled to himself, for he was looking forward to this tasty meal. He sprinkled the young green leaves over the butter and made up the sandwich again, then he took a big bite and sat back to enjoy the sunshine and the smell of the earth after the light rain. Tom was content as he chewed and looked at the statues once again. He shaded his eyes and tilted back his head to look up at the three spires that towered above the 13th century cathedral.
By eleven o’clock Tom was walking along the main road towards Sutton Coldfield. He never hitch hiked, if anyone stopped to give him a lift is was because they wished his company. Tom could have well done without theirs, but he never refused a lift. He was fortunate that morning; he was picked up by the driver of a Burton on Trent Ales lorry who was on his way to the Canal Pub at Hopwood. Hopwood was just inside of the county of Worcestershire. The Canal Pub was situated on the side of the Birmingham to Worcester canal. The open village of Hopwood had nothing to offer the traveller, apart from the local garage and a caravan park situated on the other side of the road that ran along side the canal. The road led the adventurous traveller along a picturesque route to Barnt Green and then on to Bromsgrove and then to the Licky Hills.
It was one o’clock when the lorry pulled up at the pub, and while the driver helped the publican and an assistant unload the great barrels Tom went into the None Smoking part of the pub and ordered a Shandy for himself and a pint of Bitter for the lorry driver, who thanked him for the offer of a drink. Tom was no stranger to the pub and had called in whenever he was passing. He and the publican were on friendly speaking turns but not close friends, which suited Tom, also the publican, for it meant that Tom would not be a regular drinker there. It was a friendship where Tom’s money was as good as the next man’s.
The driver had not put in an appearance by the time he had finished his drink. He left the drink on the table and on the way out he told the driver where his drink was and thanked him for the lift.
“Glad of your company†the diver said “And thanks for the drinkâ€Â.
Tom crossed the road and walked past the garage and the little post office, which had its office in one of the local houses. He passed the local policeman’s house, and unless he was on night duty and in bed, Tom guessed that the policeman would be on duty in Redditch. Two ladies looked at him as he passed the bus stop. He gave them a polite “Good Afternoon†but they ignored him, only talking when he had passed. It never bothered Tom that he was often the subject of people’s conversations. He considered that if he were worth talking about, then he would be remembered. He walked on past with a new spring in his step and a smile on his lips.
He walked all of the way to Alvechurch, a distance of about six miles. Passing fields where Hereford and Brahman cattle browsed the green grass. The Braham were a new addition to the farmers of the district. At the local shop he bought himself a bottle of milk, walked down a cobbled lane at the side of the shop and sat beneath a Horse Chestnut tree growing in a small field. The field was used each year for the local fair and the small schools sporting events. Every two years a gymkhana was held, and young budding horse riders set their small mounts to jumping over coloured rails. It had started about ten years ago when the land was donated by a wealthy landowner. It had been good for the village, previously that had to go to Redditch to hold the event. Now they were able to hold their own on the villages own ground. It was the only ground where Gypsies were allowed to stay for the duration of the events. These colourful nomads added a great attraction to any event, and young ladies eagerly sought out their fortune-tellers to find out if they would marry soon.
Tom finished his bottle of milk, folded his arms and closed his eyes. “Just a few minutes†he told himself “Then I can reach Redditch before darkâ€Â. It was the chill of the evening, which awoke him. Dusk was well set and he decided that tomorrow would be soon enough to carry on his journey. He stood up and stretched the stiffness out of his old body. Tidying himself up as best he could and straighten his old hat, Tom walked across the road to the Red Lion pup. The car park already held three or four cars when he crossed the car park towards the Out Door entrance. He pushed open the door, which led into a narrow hallway with a counter at the end. There was no one to serve him so he rang the punch bell on the counter. Soon a plump but attractive lady came to serve him. “Hello Tom†she said “We haven’t seen you for some timeâ€Â.
“Hello Mary, how have you beenâ€� Tom took off his hat and gave Mary a slight bow.
“Always the polite one Tom, always the polite one, you certainly know how to make a girl feel like a ladyâ€Â.
“It is a pleasure I would not miss Mary,†said Tom giving her his best smile. Mary was one of his closest friends. Her friendly smile and her comeliness made her into a very special woman. Mary radiated friendliness and that made it all the more difficult for the men not to take her into their arms and give her a big cuddle.
“What can I get you Tom?†she asked.
“Do you have any of those hot sausage rolls Mary?â€Â
“For you Tom I would even make you some if we were out, but yes, we do have some, how many would you like?â€Â
“Two Mary please, and a small bottle of Shandy if you wouldn’t mind my dear â€Â.
She was back in a few moments with a white paper bag holding the sausage rolls and his Shandy.
“Where are you sleeping tonight Tom†asked Mary. Before he could answer she said, “Bill Swanson has built in a new barn, and has been having some trouble with some of the louts from Redditch playing around in it. I am sure that he would appreciate someone staying there until her can get the doors up, what do you think?â€Â
“Thank you Mary, I will have a walk up to his farm and see him about it, and thank you for the sausage rollsâ€Â
“My pleasure Tom, and don’t leave it so long next time you comeâ€Â.
Tom walked up the hill towards the farm, and crossing over the canal bridge he saw the lights of the farmhouse glowing in the fast passing of dusk. It would be dark before he arrived there but if Bill Swanson accepted his offer to look after the barn he would still have time to make up a bed with the straw that would be stored there.
He was about to knock on the farmhouse door when it opened and Mrs. Swanson stood in the doorway. “Tom†she said smiling, “Mary phoned earlier and said that you would be calling, come along in wont you?â€Â
Mrs. Swanson led Tom into the warm kitchen, “Toms here†she shouted to her husband who was in the next room. He came into the kitchen carrying a lamb in his big arms.
“Hello Tom, nice to see you†he said offering Tom his hand.
“Fine thank you Bill, what have you got thereâ€Â.
“Mother died giving birth†said Bill “We will keep it in the kitchen until I can find a mother who will adopt it. There is one in the field who lost her kid. I’ll skin it tomorrow and wrap this little one in the skin, the mother might take to it, we’ll have to wait and see
“ Mary said that you would be willing to sleep in the barn for tonight, just in case these louts decide to pay me another visitâ€Â.
After a cup of tea Tom went to the barn to make up his bed. He fluffed up a pile of loose sweet smelling straw into an acceptable bed and stuffed some into a spare jumper for a pillow. Sitting on a bale he opened the bag of still warm sausage rolls and smiled to himself, Mary had given him an extra one. He ate all three but left the bottle of Shandy for the next day. He had placed his bed to the left of the open barn doorway, if the louts did turn up they would not see him, within a few minutes he was asleep.
At eleven o’clock the Swanson’s were woken by the sound of cry’s coming from the barn.
“They are killing Tom,†shouted Mrs Swanson as she followed her husband across the yard to the barn.
“Doesn’t sound like it to me he answered.
When they arrived at the doorway Bill shone his torch inside the barn. Mrs. Swanson gave a gasp, “Tom†she shouted, “What are you doing to those poor youngsters?â€Â
“Poor youngsters be blowed,†said Tom, “The perishers woke me up out of a sound sleepâ€Â.
There were three of them; two boys aged about fifteen and a girl who appeared much
Older. Tom had the twin prongs of a hayfork stuck into the ground each side of one of the boys neck holding him to the ground, Tom’s foot hold him on the ground, while Tom’s other foot was standing on the girl’s hair. The third youth was still running down the road as fast as his legs would carry him.
“What do you want me to do with these two Bill?†asked Tom.
“Let them go Tom, I know who they areâ€Â.
Tom let the youth up who started to rub his sore neck.
“I’ll have you up for assault†he said as he reached the doorway. Tom walked towards him with the pronged fork pointing towards the youth. The last they heard was the girl screaming abuses at the youth.
“Thank you Tom†said Bill.
“My pleasure, nothing like a bit of excitement to settle one down to a good nights sleep.
Bill and Mary left arm in arm, and before they reached their front door Tom was sound asleep.
His purpose for being in the area in the first place was all but forgotten as he swung his arms to the steady sound of his tramping feet, and the song that came from his lips. “Where am I supposed to be, who knows the knowing? Where will I finish up at the suns going? He looked at the assault course that was part of the training ground for the troops stationed at the barracks, and a memory in the back of his mind rang a bell which he soon dismissed as being of no importance.
It started to rain as he made his way past the well-kept Hawthorn hedges that lined one side of the lane. He stopped for a moment to admire the craftsmanship of the hedge trimmer. The stakes were set at just the right angle to reinforce the hedge, and Tom could see how the main trunks of the hedge had been thinned and only the stronger ones left to form the hedge. “This chap knows his job,†he thought. “Not like some of these Council fellows who use great trimming shears which do more harm than good to a hedge, ripping and tearing their way along with noisy tractorsâ€Â. Tom spat out a grass stalk he had been chewing on in disgust. “What’s wrong with the old ways, no bloomin’ time I suppose to do a proper jobâ€Â. He was cheered by the sight of a single Primrose growing at the top of the bank; it’s bright yellow petals contrasting with the dark of the hedge.
He pulled up the collar of his army greatcoat, tucked in the lapels and pulled on his old black felt hat, which was now turning to a silvery green as age and weather took their toll upon it.
“Now where did you come from? He said half to himself and half to the rain. “I didn’t see you comingâ€Â. He looked up at the sun and then at the sky, the only cloud he could see was over towards Litchfield. “Must be a wind up there to blow it this far away from the cloud†Tom thought. There was little anyone could tell Tom about reading the weather; everything was an open book to him. The sun was his barometer, he could tell by its colour and its heat or lack of it if rain was about, and just how much would fall and when it would start. He looked over the hedge at the cattle and saw that they were facing into the shower, which was an indication that the rain would not be heavy nor would there be any wind with it. Cattle will always turn their rumps towards the wind driven rain. “Nothing to worry about†he thought “Be over soonâ€Â
On reaching the main road Tom crossed the road and heading in the direction of Litchfield, his friend at Tamworth completely forgotten about. Hem managed to get a lift to Litchfield where he stopped by the town’s great church. The rain had topped so Tom found a bench near the entrance to the church where he could look at all of the statues adorning the might walls which had taken some four hundred years to reach its present state. Tom wondered if it would go through any more changes, any additions to its already tremendous size. He guested not as there was little room for any more addition, and the cost would be far out of reach of the wealthy church building fund. “No†he said to himself “I reckon she has reached her limitâ€Â.
He took off his great coat and placed it on the bench along side of him. Out of one of the pockets he took out a crumpled packet containing some sandwiches that he had packed for himself while at the Crown in Whittington. The bread was thick and crusty still, out of his other pocket he took out a small pinch of paper into which he had placed some of the leaves of the Hawthorn hedge. “Nothing like a bit of Bread and Cheese to make a good sandwich,†he mumbled to himself, for he was looking forward to this tasty meal. He sprinkled the young green leaves over the butter and made up the sandwich again, then he took a big bite and sat back to enjoy the sunshine and the smell of the earth after the light rain. Tom was content as he chewed and looked at the statues once again. He shaded his eyes and tilted back his head to look up at the three spires that towered above the 13th century cathedral.
By eleven o’clock Tom was walking along the main road towards Sutton Coldfield. He never hitch hiked, if anyone stopped to give him a lift is was because they wished his company. Tom could have well done without theirs, but he never refused a lift. He was fortunate that morning; he was picked up by the driver of a Burton on Trent Ales lorry who was on his way to the Canal Pub at Hopwood. Hopwood was just inside of the county of Worcestershire. The Canal Pub was situated on the side of the Birmingham to Worcester canal. The open village of Hopwood had nothing to offer the traveller, apart from the local garage and a caravan park situated on the other side of the road that ran along side the canal. The road led the adventurous traveller along a picturesque route to Barnt Green and then on to Bromsgrove and then to the Licky Hills.
It was one o’clock when the lorry pulled up at the pub, and while the driver helped the publican and an assistant unload the great barrels Tom went into the None Smoking part of the pub and ordered a Shandy for himself and a pint of Bitter for the lorry driver, who thanked him for the offer of a drink. Tom was no stranger to the pub and had called in whenever he was passing. He and the publican were on friendly speaking turns but not close friends, which suited Tom, also the publican, for it meant that Tom would not be a regular drinker there. It was a friendship where Tom’s money was as good as the next man’s.
The driver had not put in an appearance by the time he had finished his drink. He left the drink on the table and on the way out he told the driver where his drink was and thanked him for the lift.
“Glad of your company†the diver said “And thanks for the drinkâ€Â.
Tom crossed the road and walked past the garage and the little post office, which had its office in one of the local houses. He passed the local policeman’s house, and unless he was on night duty and in bed, Tom guessed that the policeman would be on duty in Redditch. Two ladies looked at him as he passed the bus stop. He gave them a polite “Good Afternoon†but they ignored him, only talking when he had passed. It never bothered Tom that he was often the subject of people’s conversations. He considered that if he were worth talking about, then he would be remembered. He walked on past with a new spring in his step and a smile on his lips.
He walked all of the way to Alvechurch, a distance of about six miles. Passing fields where Hereford and Brahman cattle browsed the green grass. The Braham were a new addition to the farmers of the district. At the local shop he bought himself a bottle of milk, walked down a cobbled lane at the side of the shop and sat beneath a Horse Chestnut tree growing in a small field. The field was used each year for the local fair and the small schools sporting events. Every two years a gymkhana was held, and young budding horse riders set their small mounts to jumping over coloured rails. It had started about ten years ago when the land was donated by a wealthy landowner. It had been good for the village, previously that had to go to Redditch to hold the event. Now they were able to hold their own on the villages own ground. It was the only ground where Gypsies were allowed to stay for the duration of the events. These colourful nomads added a great attraction to any event, and young ladies eagerly sought out their fortune-tellers to find out if they would marry soon.
Tom finished his bottle of milk, folded his arms and closed his eyes. “Just a few minutes†he told himself “Then I can reach Redditch before darkâ€Â. It was the chill of the evening, which awoke him. Dusk was well set and he decided that tomorrow would be soon enough to carry on his journey. He stood up and stretched the stiffness out of his old body. Tidying himself up as best he could and straighten his old hat, Tom walked across the road to the Red Lion pup. The car park already held three or four cars when he crossed the car park towards the Out Door entrance. He pushed open the door, which led into a narrow hallway with a counter at the end. There was no one to serve him so he rang the punch bell on the counter. Soon a plump but attractive lady came to serve him. “Hello Tom†she said “We haven’t seen you for some timeâ€Â.
“Hello Mary, how have you beenâ€� Tom took off his hat and gave Mary a slight bow.
“Always the polite one Tom, always the polite one, you certainly know how to make a girl feel like a ladyâ€Â.
“It is a pleasure I would not miss Mary,†said Tom giving her his best smile. Mary was one of his closest friends. Her friendly smile and her comeliness made her into a very special woman. Mary radiated friendliness and that made it all the more difficult for the men not to take her into their arms and give her a big cuddle.
“What can I get you Tom?†she asked.
“Do you have any of those hot sausage rolls Mary?â€Â
“For you Tom I would even make you some if we were out, but yes, we do have some, how many would you like?â€Â
“Two Mary please, and a small bottle of Shandy if you wouldn’t mind my dear â€Â.
She was back in a few moments with a white paper bag holding the sausage rolls and his Shandy.
“Where are you sleeping tonight Tom†asked Mary. Before he could answer she said, “Bill Swanson has built in a new barn, and has been having some trouble with some of the louts from Redditch playing around in it. I am sure that he would appreciate someone staying there until her can get the doors up, what do you think?â€Â
“Thank you Mary, I will have a walk up to his farm and see him about it, and thank you for the sausage rollsâ€Â
“My pleasure Tom, and don’t leave it so long next time you comeâ€Â.
Tom walked up the hill towards the farm, and crossing over the canal bridge he saw the lights of the farmhouse glowing in the fast passing of dusk. It would be dark before he arrived there but if Bill Swanson accepted his offer to look after the barn he would still have time to make up a bed with the straw that would be stored there.
He was about to knock on the farmhouse door when it opened and Mrs. Swanson stood in the doorway. “Tom†she said smiling, “Mary phoned earlier and said that you would be calling, come along in wont you?â€Â
Mrs. Swanson led Tom into the warm kitchen, “Toms here†she shouted to her husband who was in the next room. He came into the kitchen carrying a lamb in his big arms.
“Hello Tom, nice to see you†he said offering Tom his hand.
“Fine thank you Bill, what have you got thereâ€Â.
“Mother died giving birth†said Bill “We will keep it in the kitchen until I can find a mother who will adopt it. There is one in the field who lost her kid. I’ll skin it tomorrow and wrap this little one in the skin, the mother might take to it, we’ll have to wait and see
“ Mary said that you would be willing to sleep in the barn for tonight, just in case these louts decide to pay me another visitâ€Â.
After a cup of tea Tom went to the barn to make up his bed. He fluffed up a pile of loose sweet smelling straw into an acceptable bed and stuffed some into a spare jumper for a pillow. Sitting on a bale he opened the bag of still warm sausage rolls and smiled to himself, Mary had given him an extra one. He ate all three but left the bottle of Shandy for the next day. He had placed his bed to the left of the open barn doorway, if the louts did turn up they would not see him, within a few minutes he was asleep.
At eleven o’clock the Swanson’s were woken by the sound of cry’s coming from the barn.
“They are killing Tom,†shouted Mrs Swanson as she followed her husband across the yard to the barn.
“Doesn’t sound like it to me he answered.
When they arrived at the doorway Bill shone his torch inside the barn. Mrs. Swanson gave a gasp, “Tom†she shouted, “What are you doing to those poor youngsters?â€Â
“Poor youngsters be blowed,†said Tom, “The perishers woke me up out of a sound sleepâ€Â.
There were three of them; two boys aged about fifteen and a girl who appeared much
Older. Tom had the twin prongs of a hayfork stuck into the ground each side of one of the boys neck holding him to the ground, Tom’s foot hold him on the ground, while Tom’s other foot was standing on the girl’s hair. The third youth was still running down the road as fast as his legs would carry him.
“What do you want me to do with these two Bill?†asked Tom.
“Let them go Tom, I know who they areâ€Â.
Tom let the youth up who started to rub his sore neck.
“I’ll have you up for assault†he said as he reached the doorway. Tom walked towards him with the pronged fork pointing towards the youth. The last they heard was the girl screaming abuses at the youth.
“Thank you Tom†said Bill.
“My pleasure, nothing like a bit of excitement to settle one down to a good nights sleep.
Bill and Mary left arm in arm, and before they reached their front door Tom was sound asleep.
