The Bottle Factory Outing by Beryl Bainbridge

Author:Beryl Bainbridge
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: General Fiction
ISBN: 9780748125746
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2010-09-02T10:00:00+00:00

6

Freda laid her embroidered tablecloth on the ground, and it flapped upwards immediately and threatened to fly into the branches of an oak tree. She knelt on her elbows, bottom raised in the air, and told Brenda to help her. Between them they anchored the cloth at its four corners with the basket, the cocked chickens, the bag of apples and a convenient stone. The men were shy of placing their provisions on the cloth. They held tight to their briefcases and carrier bags and sat self-conciously on the grass. Stealthily – for hours of stalking each other about the castle had given them an appetite – they tore pieces of bread and chewed salami.

‘For God’s sake,’ entreated Freda, ‘put your food all together.’

She was like a matron, starched and encapsulated in her stiff sheepskin coat, ordering them to take their medicine. They did as they were told, heaping the loaves of bread and the fat lengths of sausage in front of her, and munched in silence.

Some children ran through the grass and stood at a distance looking at the barrels of wine perched on the slaughtered oak.

Freda served Vittorio first. ‘Have the best part of the chicken,’ she urged. ‘Go on, have the breast.’

Brenda looked at the ground. Freda handed her a shrivelled portion of wing and a piece of skin. I want chips, thought Brenda, in this weather.

‘Come, come,’ called Rossi, smiling at the children and gesturing towards the food.

Freda scowled, and the children scattered and ran to the parked cars.

The morsel of chicken stuck in Brenda’s throat. She longed for a mug of hot tea. ‘It’s nice here,’ she said, and scoffed a hunk of bread and looked up at the road for signs of Patrick. Freda had said he had gone home. It didn’t seem possible – he hadn’t said goodbye.

Freda recollected that there was a safari park nearby. She said it would be nice to go there later in the after-noon. ‘You know,’ she said impatiently, ‘it’s a park full of wild animals.’

‘Wild animals,’ repeated Rossi. ‘You are thinking of the little deer?’

‘No I’m not. I’m thinking of the little lions and the little tigers – wandering around free, not in cages.’

The workers watched first Rossi then Freda, eyes flickering hopefully back and forth in an effort to understand.

‘But it is dangerous,’ said Rossi. ‘We will all be running.’

‘In the car, you fool. We go in the car and they’re outside wandering about.’

Rossi liked the idea, once he felt it would be safe. He translated rapidly to the men, who murmured and looked at each other in wonder. They eyed the stretch of grass and the parked mini as if measuring the distance they might have to run.

Gino, whose son had gone to America, refused to eat communally. He had deposited his carrier bag in a pew in the chapel and forgotten to reclaim it.

‘For God’s sake,’ bullied Freda. ‘Feed, you fool.’ And she thrust into his hand a yellow scrap of meat.

He shook his head politely in denial and turned his face to the wind, the unwanted food lying on his palm.

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