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‘Look at this Ma, I can hardly believe it.’ Harry walked into the kitchen where Mary was frying bacon for breakfast, the savoury smell wafting into the hall as he opened the door. The Daily Mirror was in his hand, and he blinked and rubbed his eyes. He sat down on the kitchen chair to read further.
‘What is it?’ asked Mary, flipping the bacon in the frying pan and only half listening, ‘if it’s a story about football, I don’t want to know; go and give Berry and Fred a call, this bacon is nearly done.’
‘It’s about our Agnes,’ said Harry, ‘she’s in the Mirror. There is a photo of ‘er an all.’
‘Bless me, what’s she been up to now?’ asked Mary, setting down the pan with a bang, ‘here, pass that plate, let me turn out this bacon and I will read.’
Sure enough, on the third page of the Daily Mirror appeared a photo of Agnes standing on the forecourt of Duncan Court with the caption, “Balham Woman Foils Crime Spree.” Mary leaned over Harry’s shoulder to read the article.
“Agnes Bracken, a resident of Duncan Court in Balham High Road, London, successfully uncovered the long-standing mystery behind the theft of tenants’ property from these flats along with other crimes. Blackmail is also thought to figure in the case, but Miss. Bracken did not elaborate. The perpetrator, unnamed for legal reasons, and believed to be an employee of the Duncan Court governing trust is in police custody. When asked how she uncovered these despicable crimes, Miss. Bracken told reporters that it was all down to her careful observation and intuition. Miss. Bracken further hinted that her legal background stood her in good stead, and she knew the right procedures to follow.”
Mary sat and stared at Harry, who read the article for the third time. ‘I don’t believe it, I really don’t, that our Agnes should get her picture in the paper and be involved with crooks. What does she get up to there? What happens, that’s what I want to know. I wish she was still here with us; I really do. Can you believe it Harry? I’m sure I can’t.’
‘What can’t you believe?’ said Berry, walking into the kitchen, ‘my Fred ‘as a sore ‘ead this morning an’ will be down later. It’s ‘is own fault, I told ‘im so, but no, he ‘ad to go an’ get plastered last night. What can’t you believe love?’
‘This,’ said Mary, grabbing the paper from Harry, ‘will you read this; I still think I’m dreaming.’
Berry took the paper and squinted at the photo of Agnes. ‘Read it to me, there’s a love, me specs are upstairs. Is that Agnes? It looks like her.’
Mary read the article while Berry listened and Harry poured cups of strong tea laced with sugar.
‘Well, fancy that,’ said Berry, ‘and you didn’t know nothin’ abaht this? When did you last talk to her?’
‘It was two weeks come a fortnight,’ replied Mary, ‘she don’t seem to want to have much to do with us since she moved to them flats. She’s quite a lady now you know, and she has her friends, and they don’t mix with the likes of us.’
‘Oh, I’m sure she’ll want to see you,’ said Berry, ‘she’s not what I calls a proud person. A proud person wouldn’t ‘ave ‘elped me and Fred with our council house. We did find that Ingrid a bit strange though, I will say that. I said to Fred I did, I find that Ingrid a bit strange; imagine dressing like a man, wiv the name of our bird Joey? We ‘ad a few laughs, me and Mrs. Morris over that I can tell you. You get on the telephone this morning Mary, give ‘er a call at work, you have the number. Go an’ talk to her.’
‘I will Berry, later when I have done me jobs; can you come with me to the box? As you know, I lost me money when I tried to call Agnes last week.’
‘Yes I’ll ‘elp you make the call, an’ take some extra coppers this time. Your trouble was you pushed button A an’ not button B when Agnes didn’t answer. Only push button A when the other person speaks.’
‘Thank you dear, I am obliged to you, I’m sure. This new way is confusing. I liked it when the operator told you when to pay the money, but it’s progress I suppose. Do you know, one day we will be able to dial up to speak to people living in America and Australia? I heard that on the wireless the other day. Such times are coming Berry. Now come and sit in the back room, and I will serve the breakfasts. I’ve done us poached eggs today and bacon. Is your Fred coming down? If not, I can leave it in the oven for him, but it won’t be so nice kept warm.’
Fred did not arrive for breakfast and the three sat at the table without him. Mary believed in a good breakfast to start the day, and as soon as they finished the bacon and eggs, she made toast under the grill, and this she served spread with margarine and marmalade.
They were still seated at the table and draining their teacups when a loud crash came from the room directly above; the room used by Berry and Fred. A silence followed, and then came a muffled groan. Their conversation, that was again about Agnes and Inga paused, and they glanced at one another. Berry pushed back her chair and got to her feet.
‘That’s Fred, ‘e’s collapsed,’ she cried running to the door, ‘I thought he looked dicky this mornin’ and I weren’t wrong.’
‘Come on,’ said Harry, ‘better go and ‘ave a gander.’ He followed Berry upstairs with Mary not far behind.
Fred was sprawled sideways on the bed with his feet still on the floor, his face a pasty yellow. He gasped for breath. The remains of a chamber pot, broken on the floorboards, told that he had attempted to use it, but collapsed before he had the chance. He lay wheezing and groaning.
What’s up? asked Harry, ‘you should've stayed in bed to sleep it orf.’ Harry scooped up Fred’s legs and swung them back on the bed while Berry pulled the sheets and blankets round him. It was late in the year and a cold morning.
‘Don’t feel too bright Fruit,’ wheezed Fred from his pillow, ‘I felt sick and got up to have a slash, then bang, over I went.’ He gasped and shut his eyes.
‘You stay in bed,’ said Berry, ‘I’ll get the doctor to see you. We aren’t on your doctor’s panel Mary, will that matter?’
‘This ain't no hangover but sommat more,’ said Harry, ‘I think we ought to bring the ambulance out to him. Fred’s not breathing proper, an’ just making a gurgle noise. Go down to the box an’ ring up for the ambulance.’
Mary and Berry both rushed to the door and collided with each other. ‘You stay with him Berry, I will telephone the ambulance, I know the number to ring, it is 999, emergency. Oh dear, what a turn up, I do hope he will be all right.’ Mary ran down the street in her slippers. She remembered to pull on her coat but not her shoes. Ah, here was the box and no one in it, good. She reached into her pocket for the money, but alas, had forgotten it. Then she noticed the sign in the box saying emergency calls were free, thank goodness. She dialled 999 and spoke to a very calm operator who asked her which service she required. ‘Oh! Ambulance please, and send it quickly to forty-six Shadwell Street.’
Mary replaced the receiver and felt quite faint. She steadied herself and walked home, slower this time. As she approached the house, she became aware of a ringing bell becoming louder. She waited by the door and the ambulance pulled up outside; two ambulance officers stepped out. Mary opened the door for them and pointed upstairs without speaking. The two men rushed up the stairs while Mary waited below. She could hear their muffled voices, and then came a repeated thumping sound followed by silence.
Harry came down the stairs and shook his head. ‘He’s gone Ma, slipped away just as you left the house, his heart ‘as given out, that’s what the ambulance man said. Give it a minute before you go up there.’
Mary sat in the back room and listened to the subdued voices coming from the room above. There came the clump of heavy shoes on the stairs, and one of the ambulance men knocked on the door, while the other waited in the hall.
‘There was nothing we could have done for him; he’s had a heart attack by the looks of him. I am sorry; we will have to report this, and there are other things to go through now; can you help and contact his doctor?’
‘I will try,’ said Mary, ‘oh dear, my poor sister; I will have to ask her who his doctor is. They are staying with us and don’t live here.’
‘Thank you,’ said the ambulance man, ‘I have to radio in a report to my headquarters, so give me a minute or two. You can go up; I think your sister wants to see you.’
‘Oh, my poor Fred,’ wailed Berry, as Mary entered the room, ‘when I think he was alive just an hour ago; and then I was angry with him, and told him he was selfish and a drunkard.’ Fred lay in bed with the sheets pulled up to his chin; a chin unshaved this morning and now forever; his face a dull yellow, and his eyes closed to the world with all its troubles. ‘I saw ‘im pass,’ sobbed Berry, ‘yes, I saw ‘im go; a shadow went across ‘is face, and I knew it was the end. Oh, why didn’t I make my last word to him a kindly one? Why did we part after all the years together with me angry?’
‘Don’t blame yourself dear,’ said Mary, ‘he would have understood, it doesn’t always turn out how we want at the end. Fred would have known you love him, and his end was peaceful. Pull up the sheet, cover him over love. Now we will have to wait for the doctor, let me have his name dear, and I will ask Harry to phone him from the box; stay here with Fred, and I will make us a cup of tea.’
A cup of tea is the English restorative in times of grief, and while the kettle was heating on the stove, Mary found the telephone number for Fred’s family doctor. Her hand was shaking badly as she wrote down the number, and she told Harry to phone Agnes straight after, and tell her about her uncle.
‘I shouldn’t talk about this other business just now Harry,’ said Mary, ‘you know, the newspaper story, just tell her about Fred. Oh, my goodness, I still can’t believe he went just like that, it is frightening, it is really.’
‘He was all right last night down the Shuttle,’ said Harry, ‘he was on form, joking, and singing. Nuffin’ wrong with ‘im. Hmm! ‘Spoke of a pain in his arm when throwing darts, but we kidded him an’ said ‘e lifted too many pints.’
‘Poor Berry,’ said Mary, wiping her eyes, ‘what’s she going to do now? We can’t think of it at the moment. Listen, pour the tea, there’s a dear, and I will pop upstairs to check on her.’
Berry was still sitting by the bed. She had arranged the sheets to just show his face and rocked to and fro slowly, muttering softly to herself. She looked up when Mary entered the room that had a close fetid smell. Mary went over to the window and opened it to the sharp winter sunshine. ‘I thought I saw ‘im trying to speak just then,’ said Berry, ‘I moved ‘im a bit, I tried to prop ‘im up, an’ a sound came, but nah, it was nuffin.’ Oh, I do blame myself; I was thinking that if I’d been here, I may ‘ave saved him. Oh, too late, and it’s my fault.’ She broke down into a fit of uncontrollable sobbing.
‘There dear, don’t take on and say that,’ said Mary, kindly and patting her shoulder, ‘there was nothing any of us could have done. When your time arrives, that’s it, and the best doctor, if he was here, would say the same. Come along, leave him now, and come down to have a cuppa while we wait for the doctor. Harry’s brewed a fresh pot.’
Berry followed Mary downstairs but not before taking one more glance at Fred. Downstairs and seated round the table, the three did not speak, and when they finished the tea, Harry put on his coat and said he would make the call now. As he closed the front door, he remembered when his own father passed away many years before, a little detail long forgotten. Out of respect, their neighbours put straw in the road to deaden the sound of the passing carts. The memory was now strangely vivid, and he felt uncomfortable; he jingled the pennies in his pocket and walked down the road.
Harry first telephoned Fred’s doctor and left a message with the receptionist for the doctor to call; he then rang Agnes. It was now late morning, and she was helping on the switchboard. It was not busy, and to relieve the boredom she was reading her book. She answered his call in the customary manner by announcing that he had reached Artole and Clutterbuck, and to whom did he wish to speak?
‘Can I talk to Agnes please?’ asked Harry; ‘wait a minute, that’s you ain’t it? I’ve not been through to you at work before. Afraid I ‘ave a bit of bad news.’
Agnes listened while her father spoke of the sad event of the morning and the sorry state of Berry who was waiting for the doctor to arrive. ‘He is lying in my old room I suppose?’ said Agnes, ‘I am unhappy to hear that, what a shame.’ She shuddered at the thought of Fred lying dead in her room. How dreadful for him to die so suddenly, poor Aunt Berry. What will happen now with the maisonette they are supposed to be getting? She told her father she was sorry, and that her aunt will now end up in a flat instead.
‘I ain’t thought through any of that. Fred’s snuffing it come on a bit sudden like, but we will take what comes. Can you pay us a visit come the weekend? Oh an’ bring Ingrid with you; your mother wants to see her.’
Agnes said she would come, and her friend’s name was Inga and not Ingrid. She made no mention of Mr. Hogg, and of course said nothing of Mr. Brown with his cache of weapons in the flat. She was already tiring of the Hogg story and the endless questions people were asking. Jeremy Spode told her that the saga sounded like an Agatha Christie tale, but without the dead bodies to give it spice. Agnes was, however, pleased with the publicity that made her known at Duncan Court. Some of the tenants even knocked on her door to thank her; but the story was becoming stale very quickly. Sensationalist news has a short life, and the readers of newspapers want a new story to read over their morning tea. What bad timing on the part of Fred, she thought. He might have least waited until they became settled in their new house before snuffing it; and after all the effort she put in. It was too bad. One fact was certain; Aunt Berry must come clean with the council, and own up that her family now comprised just one person. There would be no maisonette now for Berry, but a one-bedroom flat in dreadful Ebenezer House. She would discuss accommodation with her aunt after her uncle’s funeral. A phone call came in, and Agnes transferred the caller to Jeremy Spode. Hmm! Yes, now, where was I? Agnes collected her thoughts. Ah yes, the funeral, that will be next week I expect, and I will have to take a half day. Blow, what a nuisance, but I will have to go along to pay my respects. Agnes sat at the switchboard, scowled and pondered over the matter. The funeral, I wonder how Aunt Berry will pay? They do not come free unless you are a pauper; and I expect she will arrange a church service to send him off properly. That is the very height of hypocrisy, when did Uncle Fred ever go to church? He spent all his Sundays in the pub, ha! She smiled a smug smile when she thought of her two visits to the Sunday church service. When it comes to marriages, christenings, and funerals, a church service becomes indispensable. People generally ask the church for assistance to do these things properly, as it is expected of them. But at all other times, church attendance is ignored in favour of golf, family outings, or any other diversion providing that it does not involve sitting and listening to the minister. Hypocrisy, that’s what it is.
Harry returned home after a remedial beer or two at the Shuttle. He observed a black car parked outside — the doctor’s car. Fred’s doctor was in the back room and talking to Berry in a hushed voice while Mary sat in the kitchen with the newspaper spread out in front of her but now unread.
She got to her feet when Harry appeared. ‘The doctor says he will contact the undertaker, isn’t that good of him? Ah, but he is used to it I expect. Poor Berry, she’s trying to put on a brave face, but she is so shocked. Poor thing, we all are shocked, I still find it hard to believe.’
‘It comes to us all Ma,’ said Harry, ‘I’ve seen me mates drop off one by one, an’ it ‘appens more often the older we get. Don’t make it no easier to bear though.’
‘Oh, don’t talk like that Harry, I don’t want reminding. Here, did you speak to Agnes; is she coming to see us?’
‘Yes, Saturday an’ I asked her to bring Ingrid, I didn’t say nuffin ‘abaht that do of hers in the paper, and she didn’t neither, so we let it go.’
‘I will be interested to meet this Ingrid,’ said Mary, ‘Berry and Fred, oh dear, Fred.’ Mary sobbed when she recalled his name. ‘They met Ingrid but she was dressed up as a man, we knew that, but so strange I find it. They are not like us, these foreigners. You don’t think Ingrid is German, do you? I don’t trust Germans; oh, and all this at that place where Agnes is staying. Do you think she is in danger? Oh, I wish she still lived back here.’
‘I can’t remember if she’s German or not,’ said Harry scratching his head, ‘she’s some foreign bird, but not sure what she is. We’ll find out Saturday Ma.’