Crankwood Chapter 18, The others and some of what they were doing.

Nan watched from her window for her sweet boy’s return. She listened to the raucous racket downstairs in the public bar, as her son, her lovely boy’s Father, pushed away his guilt and his many inabilities with drink. He actually, was his own Father come again but her boy’s mother was not Nan.

The hell of it was that her boy was running away from her son. He had gone to his fields and woods once more. Now no one would find him. Not for a while. Gone early this morning before she had a chance to speak to him. Before she knew fully what had happened at the farm. She also felt strongly, a need to apologise, once again, for his mind crippled Father. For her bloody, useless, drunkard, child beating, son.

She had spoken to Tom and Albert before they left the bar. Other than finding out that her boy had seen the body of the suicide walker in the coldroom, she had discovered nothing else of use.

Idiots! Stupid, stupid. She spat sharply in an uncharacteristic, viscious, shading of anger. Gone as soon as it arrived, it blew away fitfully, as wind on water.

Come on my old girl, she said to herself, noticing that she called herself ‘old’ these days; this will get you nowhere, and snatching up a handbag with a noticeable matriachal, charged, vehemence, she made her way to the door.

Pastor Mcbride was blaspheming, but the only other person to hear him was his confederate and occasional friend, the Doctor. There was then little immediate danger of the Pastor coming to ecumenical grief over his foul and somewhat physically inaccurate ranting’s. If our voluble clergyman had been at death’s door, danger may have been a touch closer. As it was, only the Doctor felt it reasonable to keep a tally of his ‘friends’ misdemenours. He recorded and reconciled these, with himself, for what he said were important medical reasons. Allowing the Pastor to continue building up his blood pressure was the easiest way to eventually sedate him. Telling him that it was all for his own good and important rest was needed now, with no compromises, was the only way to shut him up. There was of course, a certain frisson of fear on the Doctor’s behalf, in payment, as he gave orders to the maddening priest.

After a while, the doctor duly observed a lessening of colour in the Pastors face and the rather swift decline into incoherent mumble. The drugs prescribed and quickly administered began to take effect.

“Now perhaps there will be some peace”, the Doctor sighed out loud, " Instead of everybody ranting and raving about bloody eggs!", he continued. He left, in apparent high dudgeon, whilst still thinking his own thoughts. Closing the door on the Pastor’s inert, snoring form behind him.

Tom passed a cracked and stained pint mug of disgustingly strong tea to Albert, who was hovering around the door to the cold room. " Put thysel raint autside oh that, me owd lad", he said with forced smile. Attempting to liven his friend up had been a solid job for most of the morning. Getting him to sit down for longer than a minute was still a mountainous task as yet unattempted.

Tom felt as usual, underestimated, undervalued and overlooked. but then what else was new. It was no use getting het up about it he silently said to Albert, as he piled two more sugars into the already oversweetened tea. “Come on, me owd cock sparrar, get that dain thee. Thy’ll feel better”.

Ignoring the massive mug, Albert turned a pale face towards his mate. “We shall have t’ get shot o’ yon mon” he said, indicating the cold room. “A decent interval is last thing wi want”. A pensive pause and worrisome sigh, escaped. “At present time wi things as thi are neh. An yon Doctor couldn’t give a toss. He’es only an owd walker and nowt good ever came from them”.

Having evidently made his choice he turned and further ignoring Tom’s proffered tea marched through the door into the Coldroom. " Probably too much sugar", Tom explained, to himself and Albert’s retreating back. Just as the other outside door opened without warning.

Crankwood Chapter 18, The others and some of what they were doing.

Kenart

Joined January 2008

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