Scene 1 Derek’s living room. Derek is sitting in an armchair, a cup of tea in his hand
“I’ve just got back from Mr Leatherbarrow’s. He’s been very nice – and helpful. Mr. Leatherbarrow was Mother’s solicitor.
‘It’s all sorted out’, he said. ‘She was well insured. There’s enough to cover the funeral expenses and a little bit left over, which you’ll probably find useful in your current circumstances.’
“In my current circumstances”. He means my position at Hardcastle’s Bakery. I’ve been baking there over thirty years – that was until last week. Mrs Hardcastle asked me to stay behind one night.
‘Now Derek’, she says ‘Mr Hardcastle and me are ready for retiring. We’ve been trying to sell the Bakery as a going concern.’
I had noticed, couldn’t help it. There was a big “For Sale’ sign tied by two pieces of wood against the upstairs window.
‘It’s sad but no-one wants to invest in a bakery these days.’ continued Mrs Hardcastle. ‘The corner shops are now all part of bigger shops and they get their bread from those big articulated lorries that block up the street every morning. I’m afraid Derek that sadly we are going to have to let you go.’
It was Mother who got me the job in the first place due to a fortuitous meeting with Mrs Hardcastle at the Women’s Institute Coffee Morning.
‘Derek ‘, she said when she came home’ you’ll never go hungry whilst people have to eat.’
Mother had another bakery story she would bring out every so often, or when we had visitors. This was concerning the “plain tea cake.” It related to my Dad, who I think was some kind of rep who travelled the North of England.
‘Did you know’, she would say ‘that the humble piece of baked bread we call the ‘plain teacake’ has a variety of names, depending on where you live? If you go to Manchester it’s called a Barm Cake, but if you journey over the Pennines to Sheffield it becomes a Bread Cake and if you go even more South to Derby it becomes a Cob. Now isn’t that interesting?’
As mother had never been any farther than Lancaster I think this was one of Dad’s stories. When I asked her about Dad she just burst into tears and would only say ‘He’s gone!’ As we didn’t visit a grave or have any pictures of him anywhere I guessed that he just left. I didn’t ask her again.”
FADE TO BLACK
Scene 2 Derek’s Living Room .Derek is working on his computer turns towards the audience.
‘It all began when I went to visit Doreen Whitaker. Shortly after Mother died she asked me over for my tea. Mrs Whitaker and Mother had known each other for a long time and they used to go shopping together on a Saturday. These shopping trips could last all day – mainly because Mrs Whitaker needed some help with her driving. Mrs Whitaker had been driving for about twenty-five years.
In that time she had never ever taken a right turn in the road. Years ago she had read somewhere, probably in the ‘Sunday People’ that turning right was the cause of a lot of accidents. Mrs Whitaker wouldn’t risk it. She thought it was too dangerous. For this reason she always needed a passenger and this is where mother came in, trying to navigate the town by going left or straight on. Unfortunately for Mrs Whitaker Mother had no sense of direction so these trips could take all day, sometimes they returned without any shopping at all if the journey had taken a long time.
“It all began when I went to visit Doreen Whitaker. Shortly after Mother died she asked me over for my tea. Mrs Whitaker and Mother had known each other for a long time and they used to go shopping together on a Saturday. These shopping trips could last all day – mainly because Mrs Whitaker needed some help with her driving. Mrs Whitaker had been driving for about twenty-five years. In that time she had never ever taken a right turn in the road. Years ago she had read somewhere, probably in the ‘Sunday People’ that turning right was the cause of a lot of accidents. Mrs Whitaker wouldn’t risk it. She thought it was too dangerous. For this reason she always needed a passenger and this is where mother came in, trying to navigate the town by going left or straight on. Unfortunately for Mrs Whitaker Mother had no sense of direction so these trips could take all day sometimes they returned without any shopping at all if the journey had taken a long time
I was worried Mrs Whitaker would be looking for me to be her new co-driver, but I think she just felt sorry for me, what with losing the job and all.
Mrs Whitaker had a daughter called Julie. She was about my age but I didn’t like her, she was always trying to show me up. She would come into the shop and say things like ‘You can squeeze my coconut macaroons any time Derek’ hoping it would embarrass me. It didn’t. She’d had a husband but he had left for Australia some time ago. People said he chose Australia because it was the greatest distance he could find between him and Julie.
I was just explaining to Mrs Whitaker the difficulties in finding another job when Julie made a brief appearance on her way to the kitchen.
‘Derek,‘ she said, ‘ you’ve more chance of winning the Lottery than getting another job’.
I just ignored her as usual, but when I got home I thought I might try a Lottery Ticket, I’d never bought one before because Mother did not believe in gambling. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in a shop so I thought I would do it online.
Now I’m not totally ignorant of the Internet because when I first bought a computer we looked up ‘Granada’ on Google because mother wanted to know what was on television, but by chance it brought up lots of history and pictures of The Alhambra in Spain. This confused me at first because I thought the Alhambra was a theatre in Bradford.
Buying my ticket was a bit fiddly but I managed it although I ended up buying a European Lottery Ticket by mistake, due to an accidental slip of the mouse.
Mr Leatherbarrow has said he’d help me look for another job for, but I can’t see it. I would need what they call transferable skills to enter the legal profession. Anyway I have to sign on at the Job Centre Plus tomorrow. What mother would call the Dole Office. They might find me something but I’ll have to wait and see. Oh well. “
[Dereks turn back to his computer screen]
FADE TO BLACK
Scene 3 Derek’s living room. Derek enters. takes off his jacket and puts it on the back of his computer chair.
“It’s my fault that all this became a bit of a mess. I think I was worried about my Job Centre Plus visit and I didn’t check the emails. The Job Centre man upset me and put me off my stride.
‘My name’s Harry Price,’ he said grabbing me by the hand.
He didn’t look how I expected, no suit, just a sweater and open necked shirt and one of those tickets hanging round his neck. The photograph on it didn’t look like him either.
‘Derek may I call you Derek,’ he said without pausing for breath, ‘We need to check your paperwork. It’s very important nowadays. It’s all to do with laundering.”
I didn’t want a job in a laundry, but I know you can’t be choosy so I didn’t say anything.
First he wanted to know if I had a driving licence. That was a silly question as I don’t have a car. Then it was ‘Have you got a passport?’ Well you don’t need a passport for Northern Ireland which was going to be the only time we went abroad, however Mother was frightened about the bombs so we never did.
The next question was ‘have you any bills with your name and address on?’
Well after Mother died Auntie Mavis came round and cleared out what she called ‘all this rubbish’ and anyway the bills were in mother’s name.
Next it was a Birth Certificate but I think Auntie Mavis got rid of that as well.
‘Well never mind,’ said Mr Harry Price can I call you Derek ‘you can always get another one.’
I was getting annoyed by now.
Finally he said, ‘Derek. Are you a British Citizen?’
‘British Citizen!’ I said, ‘I was born in Cleckheaton. Does that count?’
‘There’s no need to get upset Derek, he replied, ‘I have a friend who lives in Huddersfield who has a broader Yorkshire accent than you and He was born in India.’
Mr Harry Price may I call you Derek was getting on my nerves
‘Do I look like I was born in India?’ I said.
‘No, but neither does Cliff Richard and he was.’
I was fuming all the way home. Freddie Mercury came to mind. I’m not sure where he was born – it may have been India. Somewhere abroad, but I think he was a British Citizen. I made a mental note to challenge Mr Harry Price may I call you Derek the next time we met.
When I got home I turned on the computer. I don’t usually have many emails – they are either from Russian ladies offering to marry me, I think that’s what they are asking, and I did have one from Nigeria offering me a share in a woman’s inheritance. But today there was one from Camelot asking me to contact them and they gave me a telephone number. Now I do know not to answer any of these unless you’re sure they are genuine.
I rang Mr Leatherbarrow. He checked it out for me and said Camelot was the company who ran the National Lottery. It was genuine, they wanted to call on me the following day. I asked if the Police would be there as well – in case I’d done something wrong.
‘No,’ Mr Leatherbarrow said, ‘It’s nothing bad’. He said he would come round when they came to meet me.
David Hodgkison who I sometimes see in the Black Bull, says if you win anything on the lottery, they send an email which says they have some good news for you and when you open it says you’ve won ten pounds. So it can’t be that.
At half past three the next day there was a knock on the door. There was a lady with blond hair tied up on the top of her head. She was wearing what they call a two piece suit but it seemed a bit tight on her. She had a small briefcase in her hand. She said her name was Melanie. When she sat down she seemed to be out of breath, and looking at the size of her high heels her feet must have been killing her.
‘Well its’ not the best news in the world Mr. er?.’ she said opening her briefcase.
‘You can call me Derek if you like,’ I said.
Mr Leatherbarrow introduced himself as my solicitor and asked what this was all about. Melanie looked puzzled.
‘Derek, have you checked your Lottery numbers this week?’ she said in a ‘schoolmarmish’ sort of way. So I told her about all the trouble I’d had in the Job Centre Plus with Mr Harry Price can I call you Derek so I’d not checked anything. I didn’t like to say I didn’t know how to.
‘Derek you do realize that you’ve won the European Lottery?’
Mr Leatherbarrow asked why that was bad news and Melanie said I’d have to share it with another winning ticket. She thought the other winner was a bartender in Marbella.
‘So,’ she said, ‘Instead of 50 million it will only be 25 Million.’
I asked Mr Leatherbarrow would it be pounds or Euros but he just sat there with his mouth open. There was some of Mothers sherry left so I gave him that in a large glass.”
Scene 4 Derek’s kitchen. Derek is looking out of the window whilst hiding behind the curtains. He turns toward the audience. ]
‘I think they’ve gone. I’m off the front pages now anyway so all the journalists have gone home. Julie liked that bit, where they interviewed her and she told the story of how she had made me buy a lottery ticket. It wasn’t quite like that but I didn’t mind.
When I found out that I’d won the European lottery I did feel a bit guilty. In the end I asked if she would like to go on a trip somewhere and I would pay. Mother used to watch these tea time quiz shows, and everybody seemed to want to go to Los Vegas, I can’t think why. If I had a choice I ‘d probably pick a Train Journey. That one in India seemed good that travels up into the mountains. Friends of Bentham Station I’m sure would like to accompany me, but I don’t think Julie would like it, so it was a bit of a relief when she suggested Blackpool .
We went in one of those stretch limos. It was alright I suppose. You are supposed to have free Champagne but it wasn’t Champagne, it was that cheap stuff, – Julie seemed to like it though.
I’d booked in at the Imperial Hotel because it looked like a proper hotel. I’d chosen a suite with two separate bedrooms, just in case she got the wrong idea.
When we unpacked I asked her where she wanted to go. ‘Slots’, she said.
Now the last time I’d played on the slot machines was when the travelling fair used to come to Bentham. Then to make them work you had to pull a handle down and the cylinders spun round. Some of them must have been quite old even then, because instead of fruit on the cylinders they had film stars names. But they were old film stars like Clarke Gable and Bette Davis.
These slot machines were totally different all electronic with flashing lights and mostly a pound a shot. There were some 2p ones where you had to drop your coin so that it pushed the others off the edge of a ledge and you won what fell off. David Hopkinson, from the Black Bull, had a cousin who worked on the fairground in Morecambe. He told me they had magnets underneath to stop the money from moving. When I told Julie she just said, ‘Derek you’re so boring’.
The other thing I didn’t understand was you didn’t get prizes just tickets – thousands of them. When you finished you cashed them in at a stall which had lots of prizes. Julie won a make -up bag in return for one thousand five hundred tickets.
‘Julie love’, I said ‘if you wanted a make-up bag I would have bought you one – it would have been a lot cheaper.’
‘Derek’, she replied ‘you’re so mean. No-one would think you’d just won a …….’ She put her hand over her mouth and began to giggle. ‘25million pounds’ she mouthed silently.’
Eating wasn’t much better. I’d noticed that the Imperial had a wonderful dining room with silver service on every table. I wasn’t put off by all those knives and forks. When I was little Auntie Mavis had shown me what every implement was used for and what order to use them, in the UCP Restaurant, in Southport.
Julie had other ideas though. We ended up in Colonel Jacks Chicken and Burger Bar at the back of the Winter Gardens. I didn’t have a problem with the knives and forks. There weren’t any. You just used your fingers.
We’d both decided we needed a night on the town. But progress so far had suggested Julie and I might have different ideas of what this might entail. I fancied a quiet night in a pub, but none of the pubs, or should I say bars had appeared quiet.
I got changed into my new suit. This had been recommended to me by Julian. Julian was my new accountant. He was a friend of Mr Leatherbarrow, my solicitor. He was quite young but Mr Leatherbarrow assured me he would be the best person to look after my money. He was a snappy dresser and always smelt fresh and clean. My suit was hand-made and reminded me that when I was young all suits were hand-made and sold in Burton’s.
Taking his advice I wore an open-necked white shirt. Justin had said,’ no tie, unless it’s black’ but I didn’t fancy that.
Julie had gone for what is commonly called a little black number. The trouble with it was that Julie was not that little and it seemed to bulge in the wrong places especially around the chest area. We staggered out onto the promenade, due in no small part to Julie’s high heels.
The ‘Dance Hall’ was called ‘The Warehouse.’ The music was loud and consisted of a continuous thumping sound. The dancing was a bit strange – everybody seemed just to bounce up and down.
I left Julie jumping up and down with a group of boys young enough to be her own children. I tried out the bar, but I couldn’t find anything to drink. It was all vodka shots and lager. I stood it for an hour then I told Julie I was leaving. She didn’t seem bothered so I left her to it.
Around four o’clock in the morning I was woken by a lot of clattering and bad language. The next minute Julie is lying on top of me stark naked. I didn’t check if any underwear was still in place but I guessed it wasn’t. For a while she didn’t move…. then I picked up a gentle sound of snoring in my ear. Now I thought was the time to escape. It was a very difficult manoeuvre to edge my way out without waking her but I managed it. I couldn’t get into the other bedroom because the door was locked so I sat on the sofa and began to think.
I found a table with a pile of hotel headed notepaper and left a note for Julie. I put it in a sealed envelope with £500 telling her the hotel room was paid for until the weekend and said I had to go away on urgent business. It wasn’t a complete lie. I caught an early train to Bradford and stayed with Auntie Mavis. I had promised to buy her a house in Morecambe. We found a lovely one- bedroomed flat in ‘Sandylands’. It had a small balcony and a lovely lawned garden which just about touched the promenade. That way she could watch the sunset and talk to passers- by at the same time.
CURTAIN
Tales from a Small Market Town 