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Authors: Joan Jonker
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‘What are yer getting for tonight’s dinner?’
Ada chuckled. ‘I put it to the vote last night, and all hands went up for Cumberland sausage fried with onions, on top of mashed potatoes.’
‘That sounds good, queen,’ Hetty said. ‘Yer won’t mind if I copy yer, will yer?’
‘Of course I don’t mind. Yer know what they say, sunshine, about copying being the most sincere form of flattery.’
When they walked into the shop the butcher raised his brows. ‘Ye’re late today, ladies. I’d almost given yer up. In fact, and Barry here will tell yer it’s true, I was beginning to think I’d got me days mixed up, and today was Friday.’
‘We got waylaid, Ronnie,’ Hetty told him. ‘One of our neighbours needed help.’
‘Yeah, we haven’t half had some excitement, Ronnie. It’s been like something yer see in the pictures.’
Hetty looked up at her friend, puzzlement on her face. She hadn’t found the events of the morning exciting. Worrying, yes, but never exciting. She was about to query Ada’s remark when a sharp kick in the shin told her it would be to her advantage to keep her mouth shut.
‘I could do with a bit of excitement,’ Ronnie said, ‘so what’s been happening?’
Ada leaned her two elbows on the counter, a sure sign she had a tale to tell. ‘One of our neighbours is elderly, in her eighties. She’s a lovely old soul; everyone in the street thinks the world of her.’
Now Ronnie wanted a bit of excitement to liven things up a bit, but he didn’t want any sad news. ‘Ay, ye’re not going to tell me she’s died, are yer, Ada? It’s nourishment I want, not ruddy punishment.’
‘Of course she hasn’t died, yer soft nit! She fell over in her bedroom and twisted her ankle. She couldn’t move ’cos she was in agony. She couldn’t get down the stairs, so she was sat on the edge of the bed from seven o’clock until one of the neighbours knocked. And although she shouted down the stairs, Jean, the neighbour, couldn’t hear her. And Jean was worried about her, what with not hearing any noise from the house and getting no answer. So she told me and Hetty. We looked through the window and couldn’t see any sign of life.’ She put her hand on Hetty’s shoulder. ‘Me mate here will tell yer I’m not lying, Ronnie.’
‘No one said yer were lying, Ada, so just get on with it! Is the old lady still sitting on the side of the bed? And if she couldn’t open the door to yer, how did yer know she’d hurt her ankle?’
Ada stood up straight and put her hands on her hips. ‘Who’s telling this story, Ronnie Atwill, you or me?’
The butcher held his hands up in surrender. ‘You are, Ada, but ye’re not half spinning it out. Why not let Hetty tell us? She’ll be quicker.’
‘Because it wasn’t Hetty what went for the ladder, that’s why!’
It was hard to know which face showed the most surprise, Ronnie, his young assistant Barry, or Hetty. But Hetty was quick to avert her face, and she left it to the butcher to ask, ‘What ladder, Ada? Where does a ladder come into it?’
‘Because we couldn’t get in the house any other way, soft lad, and we had to find out whether the old lady was all right or not. So yer know Bob Gibbons, the glazier who lives a few streets away? Well, I had to run round to his house to borrow a ladder. He was at work, and of course he had all his big ladders with him in his van. But his wife was very helpful, and let me take the one he keeps in the yard for emergencies. It’s what yer call an extending ladder, like two ladders in one. It wasn’t half heavy to carry. I bet me shoulder’s black and blue with the weight.’
When Ada stopped for breath, and for inspiration, Ronnie asked, ‘Yer didn’t carry that heavy ladder on yer own, did yer?’
Hetty said a little prayer asking God to forgive her for telling lies, but she had to help her mate out. ‘She did, Ronnie, all on her own. I would have helped, but she didn’t ask, she just
Ada chuckled. ‘I put it to the vote last night, and all hands went up for Cumberland sausage fried with onions, on top of mashed potatoes.’
‘That sounds good, queen,’ Hetty said. ‘Yer won’t mind if I copy yer, will yer?’
‘Of course I don’t mind. Yer know what they say, sunshine, about copying being the most sincere form of flattery.’
When they walked into the shop the butcher raised his brows. ‘Ye’re late today, ladies. I’d almost given yer up. In fact, and Barry here will tell yer it’s true, I was beginning to think I’d got me days mixed up, and today was Friday.’
‘We got waylaid, Ronnie,’ Hetty told him. ‘One of our neighbours needed help.’
‘Yeah, we haven’t half had some excitement, Ronnie. It’s been like something yer see in the pictures.’
Hetty looked up at her friend, puzzlement on her face. She hadn’t found the events of the morning exciting. Worrying, yes, but never exciting. She was about to query Ada’s remark when a sharp kick in the shin told her it would be to her advantage to keep her mouth shut.
‘I could do with a bit of excitement,’ Ronnie said, ‘so what’s been happening?’
Ada leaned her two elbows on the counter, a sure sign she had a tale to tell. ‘One of our neighbours is elderly, in her eighties. She’s a lovely old soul; everyone in the street thinks the world of her.’
Now Ronnie wanted a bit of excitement to liven things up a bit, but he didn’t want any sad news. ‘Ay, ye’re not going to tell me she’s died, are yer, Ada? It’s nourishment I want, not ruddy punishment.’
‘Of course she hasn’t died, yer soft nit! She fell over in her bedroom and twisted her ankle. She couldn’t move ’cos she was in agony. She couldn’t get down the stairs, so she was sat on the edge of the bed from seven o’clock until one of the neighbours knocked. And although she shouted down the stairs, Jean, the neighbour, couldn’t hear her. And Jean was worried about her, what with not hearing any noise from the house and getting no answer. So she told me and Hetty. We looked through the window and couldn’t see any sign of life.’ She put her hand on Hetty’s shoulder. ‘Me mate here will tell yer I’m not lying, Ronnie.’
‘No one said yer were lying, Ada, so just get on with it! Is the old lady still sitting on the side of the bed? And if she couldn’t open the door to yer, how did yer know she’d hurt her ankle?’
Ada stood up straight and put her hands on her hips. ‘Who’s telling this story, Ronnie Atwill, you or me?’
The butcher held his hands up in surrender. ‘You are, Ada, but ye’re not half spinning it out. Why not let Hetty tell us? She’ll be quicker.’
‘Because it wasn’t Hetty what went for the ladder, that’s why!’
It was hard to know which face showed the most surprise, Ronnie, his young assistant Barry, or Hetty. But Hetty was quick to avert her face, and she left it to the butcher to ask, ‘What ladder, Ada? Where does a ladder come into it?’
‘Because we couldn’t get in the house any other way, soft lad, and we had to find out whether the old lady was all right or not. So yer know Bob Gibbons, the glazier who lives a few streets away? Well, I had to run round to his house to borrow a ladder. He was at work, and of course he had all his big ladders with him in his van. But his wife was very helpful, and let me take the one he keeps in the yard for emergencies. It’s what yer call an extending ladder, like two ladders in one. It wasn’t half heavy to carry. I bet me shoulder’s black and blue with the weight.’
When Ada stopped for breath, and for inspiration, Ronnie asked, ‘Yer didn’t carry that heavy ladder on yer own, did yer?’
Hetty said a little prayer asking God to forgive her for telling lies, but she had to help her mate out. ‘She did, Ronnie, all on her own. I would have helped, but she didn’t ask, she just
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