Read Online A Little Bit on the Side by John W O' Sullivan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John W O' Sullivan
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meeting, and where and when, then that would certainly increase the value significantly.’
Jimmy emptied his glass with an emphatic gulp. ‘I take back all I said Jack. There’s no other way of putting it. That’s absolutely bloody marvellous’
‘But what’s Ada going to do?’ asked Celia. ‘Is she going to put it up for auction?’
‘Says she wouldn’t hear of it,’ said Charlie. ‘Told us it’s our nest-egg when she’s gone, and we can do what we like with it then. She wants us to see if we can find out anything more about Dad’s time in South Africa. Do you think that’s possible Jack?’
‘Well if you’re hoping to prove that there was a meeting you’re going to be hoeing a hard row, and I think with little prospect of success. It would probably need the talents of an expert researcher too. But if all you want to do is find out a little more about your Dad’s part in the campaign, then the best place for you to start would be in the Regimental Archive.’
‘There you are,’ exclaimed Jimmy. ‘QED: the practical advantages of having a literary taxman as a neighbour.’
‘Oh do belt up Jim,’ said Celia.
It was past two in the morning when Ted and Charlie took their leave to stagger off home, and by the time their version of events had mutated two or three times Jack’s reputation as a literary expert and authority on rare books was established throughout the county.
‘Think Celia could doss down here somewhere Jack?’ said Jimmy walking to the window and gazing out. ‘I feel like killing the bottle off and seeing the sun up. Are you game?’
‘Well I haven’t done this for years,’ said Jack, ‘But as it’s Sunday tomorrow, why not. You’ll sort Celia out with a bed won’t you Kate?’
Jimmy topped up the two glasses, and wishing the ladies goodnight they wandered out together into the night air, and as Kate led Celia up to the spare bedroom she could hear Jack saying, ‘Drummer Hodge, Jimmy. I’ve got it off by heart now. Gaze up into our friendly, old night sky. Listen, and learn.
They throw in drummer Hodge, to rest
Uncoffined — just as found:
His landmark is ….’
‘God he can be a pompous ass sometimes,’ said Kate as they passed out of hearing.
4
Add a Pair of Dagging Shears
Within three years of his arrival on the hill Jack’s inept performance as a countryman, and the entertainment it provided to the locals, who watched it all from a distance with ill-concealed amusement, had done as much to endear him to the community as anything else might have. When he turned to them for advice and assistance his acceptance was finally assured.
The fate of Colditz, his fruit cage, in the January of their third winter had been the first act in his rural comedy. Determined not to share the fruit of his labours with the birds and other assorted wildlife, Jack had constructed the cage in the autumn of their arrival. With a stoicism and faith born more of love than common-sense and self-preservation, Kate stood below him holding each eight-foot support post upright while Jack, from the top of a step-ladder, swung a seven pound sledgehammer to drive it in. She survived to see their planting done and the nets in place.
Their plants flourished, and throughout the spring and early summer of the following year they watched their blackcurrants, raspberries and gooseberries swell and ripen with a satisfaction that was only a little dampened as the squirrels bit holes in the netting through which the birds could always find a way in, but never a way out, leading to anguished excursions by Kate to rescue them.
By the end of the season their losses were relatively modest, however, and with their harvest home, they had not only enough for their own pickling, jamming and freezing, but also a tidy surplus, which they offered to their cage-less neighbours, only to find that they too had their own surpluses by the simple expedient of planting an extra row or two for the birds.
At the
Jimmy emptied his glass with an emphatic gulp. ‘I take back all I said Jack. There’s no other way of putting it. That’s absolutely bloody marvellous’
‘But what’s Ada going to do?’ asked Celia. ‘Is she going to put it up for auction?’
‘Says she wouldn’t hear of it,’ said Charlie. ‘Told us it’s our nest-egg when she’s gone, and we can do what we like with it then. She wants us to see if we can find out anything more about Dad’s time in South Africa. Do you think that’s possible Jack?’
‘Well if you’re hoping to prove that there was a meeting you’re going to be hoeing a hard row, and I think with little prospect of success. It would probably need the talents of an expert researcher too. But if all you want to do is find out a little more about your Dad’s part in the campaign, then the best place for you to start would be in the Regimental Archive.’
‘There you are,’ exclaimed Jimmy. ‘QED: the practical advantages of having a literary taxman as a neighbour.’
‘Oh do belt up Jim,’ said Celia.
It was past two in the morning when Ted and Charlie took their leave to stagger off home, and by the time their version of events had mutated two or three times Jack’s reputation as a literary expert and authority on rare books was established throughout the county.
‘Think Celia could doss down here somewhere Jack?’ said Jimmy walking to the window and gazing out. ‘I feel like killing the bottle off and seeing the sun up. Are you game?’
‘Well I haven’t done this for years,’ said Jack, ‘But as it’s Sunday tomorrow, why not. You’ll sort Celia out with a bed won’t you Kate?’
Jimmy topped up the two glasses, and wishing the ladies goodnight they wandered out together into the night air, and as Kate led Celia up to the spare bedroom she could hear Jack saying, ‘Drummer Hodge, Jimmy. I’ve got it off by heart now. Gaze up into our friendly, old night sky. Listen, and learn.
They throw in drummer Hodge, to rest
Uncoffined — just as found:
His landmark is ….’
‘God he can be a pompous ass sometimes,’ said Kate as they passed out of hearing.
4
Add a Pair of Dagging Shears
Within three years of his arrival on the hill Jack’s inept performance as a countryman, and the entertainment it provided to the locals, who watched it all from a distance with ill-concealed amusement, had done as much to endear him to the community as anything else might have. When he turned to them for advice and assistance his acceptance was finally assured.
The fate of Colditz, his fruit cage, in the January of their third winter had been the first act in his rural comedy. Determined not to share the fruit of his labours with the birds and other assorted wildlife, Jack had constructed the cage in the autumn of their arrival. With a stoicism and faith born more of love than common-sense and self-preservation, Kate stood below him holding each eight-foot support post upright while Jack, from the top of a step-ladder, swung a seven pound sledgehammer to drive it in. She survived to see their planting done and the nets in place.
Their plants flourished, and throughout the spring and early summer of the following year they watched their blackcurrants, raspberries and gooseberries swell and ripen with a satisfaction that was only a little dampened as the squirrels bit holes in the netting through which the birds could always find a way in, but never a way out, leading to anguished excursions by Kate to rescue them.
By the end of the season their losses were relatively modest, however, and with their harvest home, they had not only enough for their own pickling, jamming and freezing, but also a tidy surplus, which they offered to their cage-less neighbours, only to find that they too had their own surpluses by the simple expedient of planting an extra row or two for the birds.
At the
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