Happiest Days by Jack Sheffield

Author:Jack Sheffield
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2017-01-26T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Too Many Cooks

A note was sent to parents relating to the PTA Celebrity Cookbook Project.

Extract from the Ragley & Morton School Logbook:

Monday, 19 January 1987

It was a frozen dawn and the pale sun in the east touched the land with cool fingertips. The line of light was a golden thread as it crested the ridge of the distant hills and a monochrome snowscape stretched out to the far horizon. Thin trails of wood smoke rose towards a gun-metal sky while the villagers of Ragley huddled round their log fires. It was a cold and hostile world and the small creatures found shelter wherever they could. The bitter rhythms of a Siberian winter had scoured the land of life.

When John Kettley had delivered his Countryfile weather forecast just over a week ago on 11 January, he had said, ‘The only bright thing on this forecast is my tie!’ How true! Our favourite weatherman had predicted correctly that we were in for freezing temperatures and a week of blizzards. The following day had been one of the coldest in living memory, with sub-zero temperatures for the whole of the UK. However, on this Monday morning as I drove to school the temperature had begun to rise again and in spite of a fresh snowfall there was hope that the worst had passed.

In Bilbo Cottage Beth had left early for school and left me to give John his breakfast while waiting for Mrs Roberts to arrive. It seemed appropriate that on the radio The Communards were singing ‘So Cold the Night’.

Three miles away in Ruby’s house, Radio 1 was on full blast. Natasha had tuned in as usual to Mike Smith’s Breakfast Show and she was swaying her hips to Alison Moyet’s ‘Is This Love?’ while frying bacon and thinking of our local bobby, PC Julian Pike, and the tickle of his moustache.

In complete contrast, in Morton Manor Vera was sipping her Earl Grey tea as she hummed along to the tranquil sounds of a Boccherini string quartet on Radio 3. We were all beginning our day differently; however, we were destined to end it in the same way.

It was a slow journey to Ragley and I needed petrol, so I pulled in at Victor Pratt’s garage. His assistant, Kenny, was clearing the forecourt with a snow shovel. He propped it against the garage wall and removed the nozzle from the single pump.

‘Mornin’, Mr Sheffield, what’ll it be?’ Kenny appeared to be thriving as a car mechanic.

‘Fill her up please, Kenny.’

Victor lumbered out after him. ‘Bit sharp this mornin’,’ he remarked.

‘Yes, it’s certainly cold,’ I conceded as a bitter wind blew and my face began to freeze. However, this was all in a day’s work for our local car mechanics.

‘An’ m’bronchials are playin’ up,’ went on Victor. ‘M’tubes get blocked in winter. Ah need some goose grease.’

Kenny grinned – he had grown used to Victor’s complaints by now. I offered the usual sympathy, paid Kenny and drove off.

Vera was checking the morning post, which included a note from Mrs Earnshaw.

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