to forgo the warmth and made a hasty retreat into the kitchen.
‘It’s like a volcano, Dad,’ David said happily, venturing a little closer to inspect the smouldering black nuggets.
‘Whew, it stinks in here,’ Jan said and crossed the room to open a window, letting in the cold night and defeating the whole purpose of the fire in the first place.
‘Mum I don’t like it,’ Mandy began crying and hugging her mothers legs.
‘It’s alright love, Daddy will put it out soon.’
Mike suddenly remembered seeing his grandmother putting handfuls of salt on the fire when her chimney had done the same thing.
‘Salt, that’s what we need, salt. Quick, fetch the salt.’
Jan returned carrying the minuscule salt cellar.
‘No no,’ Mike shouted, ‘lots of salt, never mind I’ll get it.’ He dashed to the kitchen and came back with a whole packet of salt, and standing at a safe distance from the heat began tossing handfuls upon the blaze. Slowly the blaze and the roaring decreased, whether it was the salt or it had just burned itself out Mike didn’t know or care. He just wanted it to stop. Eventually, the roaring calmed, the smoke cleared and Mike began the task of cleaning up and starting all over again.
A couple of hours later, with the evening meal over and the fire tamed and glowing nicely, Mike and Jan were sitting enjoying the warmth, drinking coffee, and Mike smoking a cigarette. David was studying a large black beetle he was keeping in a small box. He had found the critter on his home ward travels across the fields from school and had carried it home in his lunch box, much to the disgust of his sister, who now was at the other end of the room tinkling on the now, out of tune piano-what joy.
‘Ah well,’ Mike said philosophically, ‘I suppose the chimney fire saved us having to get it swept. Huh, it should be clean now after all that mess.’
‘It still smells a bit sooty in here,’ said Jan, sniffing the air.
‘Does a bit, it will go soon.’
‘Dad, what can I feed the beetle with?’
Although Mike was used to bugs of all sorts in his work in the fields, he wasn’t keen on having them indoors, but he didn’t want to stifle the lad’s interest.
‘I don’t really know son; different beetles eat different things. Some of them even live on dung heaps. What we need is a book on insects so we know which sort it is.’
Jan was startled at the idea of David bringing manure into the house, but also didn’t want to upset the lad, so tried an appeal to his humanity.
‘Don’t you think it’s cruel keeping it in a box? Perhaps it would be better if you put it outside.’
‘Aw mum, it’s the biggest I’ve found, I want to keep it.’
‘Well just think about it, there’s a love, you wouldn’t want it to starve to death would you?’
‘No suppose so,’ David replied morosely, and adding, ‘dad, when can I have a dog?’
‘Soon son, promise, we’re a bit busy at the moment. As soon as I’ve got time I’ll ask around.’ In an attempt to cheer the lad up a little, Mike joked, ‘but you won’t be able to keep a dog in a matchbox,’ David didn’t respond.
Mike was now developing a different more intense relationship with the children. His time with them back in town had been constantly fragmented by the shift working he used to do, and sometimes he would hardly see them for a week at a time. Often he had felt like an outsider, but now he saw them more or less at the same times everyday and could follow their interests more closely. This pleased him a lot and he was happy that they were now a ‘real’ family.
Apart from Mandy messing with the piano the room was peaceful. Mike switched the radio on, and Jan took up her knitting. Mike sat listening to the programme and at the same time sorting out paperwork and the bill for the poly tunnels. He liked planning and organising his ‘job list,’ which was growing by the day. He hoped that he could soon make a start on the inside of
‘It’s like a volcano, Dad,’ David said happily, venturing a little closer to inspect the smouldering black nuggets.
‘Whew, it stinks in here,’ Jan said and crossed the room to open a window, letting in the cold night and defeating the whole purpose of the fire in the first place.
‘Mum I don’t like it,’ Mandy began crying and hugging her mothers legs.
‘It’s alright love, Daddy will put it out soon.’
Mike suddenly remembered seeing his grandmother putting handfuls of salt on the fire when her chimney had done the same thing.
‘Salt, that’s what we need, salt. Quick, fetch the salt.’
Jan returned carrying the minuscule salt cellar.
‘No no,’ Mike shouted, ‘lots of salt, never mind I’ll get it.’ He dashed to the kitchen and came back with a whole packet of salt, and standing at a safe distance from the heat began tossing handfuls upon the blaze. Slowly the blaze and the roaring decreased, whether it was the salt or it had just burned itself out Mike didn’t know or care. He just wanted it to stop. Eventually, the roaring calmed, the smoke cleared and Mike began the task of cleaning up and starting all over again.
A couple of hours later, with the evening meal over and the fire tamed and glowing nicely, Mike and Jan were sitting enjoying the warmth, drinking coffee, and Mike smoking a cigarette. David was studying a large black beetle he was keeping in a small box. He had found the critter on his home ward travels across the fields from school and had carried it home in his lunch box, much to the disgust of his sister, who now was at the other end of the room tinkling on the now, out of tune piano-what joy.
‘Ah well,’ Mike said philosophically, ‘I suppose the chimney fire saved us having to get it swept. Huh, it should be clean now after all that mess.’
‘It still smells a bit sooty in here,’ said Jan, sniffing the air.
‘Does a bit, it will go soon.’
‘Dad, what can I feed the beetle with?’
Although Mike was used to bugs of all sorts in his work in the fields, he wasn’t keen on having them indoors, but he didn’t want to stifle the lad’s interest.
‘I don’t really know son; different beetles eat different things. Some of them even live on dung heaps. What we need is a book on insects so we know which sort it is.’
Jan was startled at the idea of David bringing manure into the house, but also didn’t want to upset the lad, so tried an appeal to his humanity.
‘Don’t you think it’s cruel keeping it in a box? Perhaps it would be better if you put it outside.’
‘Aw mum, it’s the biggest I’ve found, I want to keep it.’
‘Well just think about it, there’s a love, you wouldn’t want it to starve to death would you?’
‘No suppose so,’ David replied morosely, and adding, ‘dad, when can I have a dog?’
‘Soon son, promise, we’re a bit busy at the moment. As soon as I’ve got time I’ll ask around.’ In an attempt to cheer the lad up a little, Mike joked, ‘but you won’t be able to keep a dog in a matchbox,’ David didn’t respond.
Mike was now developing a different more intense relationship with the children. His time with them back in town had been constantly fragmented by the shift working he used to do, and sometimes he would hardly see them for a week at a time. Often he had felt like an outsider, but now he saw them more or less at the same times everyday and could follow their interests more closely. This pleased him a lot and he was happy that they were now a ‘real’ family.
Apart from Mandy messing with the piano the room was peaceful. Mike switched the radio on, and Jan took up her knitting. Mike sat listening to the programme and at the same time sorting out paperwork and the bill for the poly tunnels. He liked planning and organising his ‘job list,’ which was growing by the day. He hoped that he could soon make a start on the inside of
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