My Special Sausages (Talking Head)

 

Jack is a ruddy complexioned fifty year old butcher, standing at the workbench in his shop, dressed in whites with a blue striped apron and boning a side of bacon. He stops work and looks up at the camera.

 

She knew what she was getting into when she moved in. She'd been a customer of mine for years. Two or three times a week she came in; lamb chops on Monday, minced beef on Wednesday and my prized porkers on Friday. Regular as clockwork. Never missed. Always a bit overdressed mind you. Make-up plastered on and bangles up to her elbows; even on a Wednesday. Bit odd really, but she was pleasant enough. Often wondered what the make up was covering, as I'd heard one or two stories about her husband. Irish apparently. Something to do with the county show.

 

When my Betty took ill, it was the first thing she asked. How's Betty? How are you coping? Is there anything I can do to help? She'd been at school with my Betty, best mates she said. Occasionally, she'd pop upstairs and sit with her for an hour, nattering about old times. The idea of Betty being poorly and up there alone pricked away at me all day. I nipped up as often as I could, but it never seemed enough. Just didn't sit right somehow.

 

One day she came back down and told me she'd tidied round a bit, just to help things along. Fettled the kitchen and made a casserole with the beef she'd found in the fridge. Left it on a low light, ready for when I'd done for the day. I wrapped up a pound of my specials and dropped them into her shopping basket. She kissed me on the cheek and said I was a lovely man. Bit over the top I thought.

 

* * *

 

Standing at the Hobart sausage machine in the rear work room, packing chopped meats onto the loading tray. Looks up at the camera.

 

Doctor Dave visits my Betty every few days now. We grew up together as boys in Abbott Street, swinging from the gas lamp by the ramp up to the railway bridge. He fell off once and twisted his ankle badly. We all laughed as he hopped back home, crying his eyes out. Went on to the grammar school and became a doctor he did, so I've called him Doctor Dave ever since. Nice lad. Bit of a limp, but hardly noticeable.

 

Betty hadn't been well for some time. Tired all the time, not her usual self. Endless tests up at the hospital, but never any proper answers. Got to the stage where she couldn't help in the shop any more and gradually went from days on the sofa to days in bed. She's got me really worried.

 

He usually let himself out at the back after his visits, but one day he came through into the shop when I was stringing a joint of brisket and the look on his face stopped me in my tracks. She needed more constant care now. Better off in a home where she'd be looked after properly and would I like him to arrange something.  I snicked my finger with the cutting knife and stood there stunned, watching the blood emerge...... said I'd think about it.

 

 

* * *

 

Standing in the shop window staring out into the street. Begins speaking with his back to the camera. Turns slowly while speaking and walks over to the counter.

 

When I told her what Dave had said, she put her hand on mine and said she'd come every day if I liked. Now that her Irish bastard of a partner had buggered off, she said, I could leave Betty to her. More than happy to tend to her every need. Give her something to do, now she was on her own..... I switched on the Hobart and made a special batch.

 

She came every day and more or less took over. Told me I had enough to cope with in the shop. Saw to Betty, dispensed her medication, cleaned the flat and made our evening meal for us. Couldn't help feeling guilty though, having someone else carry my burden like that. I told her we should sit down and work out a proper carry on; a weekly wage for all she was doing. She touched my arm and told me not to even think of it. I needed help she said, and she was more than happy to provide it. Tell you what, she said, I'll see to Betty for a free weekly supply of your special porkers. We shook hands and smiled. She didn't let go for quite some time.

 

It was only a couple of weeks later, after Betty had suffered a really bad night, that she suggested she move into the spare room and be on hand day and night. I put up a token resistance, but secretly I breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn't cope with disturbed nights, not with the shop and the flat and all the worry. So she did.

pause

 

Couldn't find it anywhere when she asked for it. Nothing of great value, just something Betty treasured from that week we had in the Lakes. Local stones it was, made into a bracelet; set in silver. It'll turn up in the back of a drawer somewhere I said. These things always do. Betty smiled at me and sank back into the pillow. I knew then that I was losing her. The look in her eyes growing ever more distant. She put a hand on my arm, squeezed gently and closed her eyes.

pause

 

Had a call from the bank this morning. Mr Harris from security, he said he was. Told me there was some unusual activity on my current account and would I like him to run through a few items. Must think I was born yesterday. Oldest trick in the book. Put the phone down. Next thing would have been him asking me to confirm my account details.

 

Doctor Dave came down while I was serving a customer yesterday and waited 'till she'd gone. ‘She seems to be fading faster than I expected,’ he said. ‘Quite puzzling really, but we can never be exact with the timing of these things. She's not in pain, the medication's very strong.’ And then he paused for a while and looked me straight in the eye. ‘You are sticking to the prescribed dosage, aren't you,’ he said. ‘Too much would be dangerous.’

 

Didn't want to tell him that my new housekeeper did most of the administering. Felt guilty enough as it was. Set me thinking though, the way he looked at me when he spoke.

 

* * *

 

Seated at his kitchen table in the flat above the shop, pouring a cup of tea.

 

I chose the Co-op in the end, but I was a bit taken aback by the prices. Settled on the Cardinal Oak Veneer, with complementary brass wreath holders. Seemed an awful lot of palaver just to incinerate after only thirty minutes in the spotlight, but what can you do? Turns out dying's a lot dearer than living. Shouldn't complain though. I'd have spent every penny I had for my Betty.

 

I told them two cars would be enough. Our Walter and his tribe would have to follow on in that silly American thing of theirs. Haven't been near for more than five years and they only live in Penistone. They're Presbyterians.

 

A chap in a long black coat with a stick and a top hat walked in front of the cars to the end of the street. Made to turn left into the cul-de-sac, but fortunately realised his mistake just in time. I'm sure I could hear Betty giggling. She loved things like that.

 

Not much of a turnout. Most of our two families have already passed on. Old Jack was there, bless him. Brought his Tesco bag full of plastic bottles with him. Said he'd be dropping them off at the recycling on the way home. Salt of the earth.

 

The vicar kept calling her Elizabeth, when I'd specifically told him it was Betty. It's what you come to expect nowadays I suppose. He had Adidas trainers on on under his cassock. Says it all really. Saw him leaving afterwards on a motor bike, pothering smoke. Said he had a two-thirty at St. Jude's, so couldn't make the do. Passed St. Jude's in the hearse on the way back. Quiet as the grave it was, not a soul in sight.

 

We had the do in the room above the Bluebell. I've known Ted for years and he said we could have the room for free if I encourage people to drink as much as possible. I told him it was a wake, not a beer festival, so I put some money behind the bar.

 

 

They polished off the spread in less than an hour. Pork pies, sausage rolls, sandwiches, the lot. Even the pickled onions. Ted piped music through for us as a special favour, from the jukebox in the snug. I pulled the wires off the speaker. Never heard such a racket. The Sex Pistols apparently; whatever they are.

 

By four, there were just the two of us there; and old Jack of course. We dropped him off by the recycling. Fourth funeral this week, he said it was. Always smiling.

 

* * *

 

Back in the shop in whites and apron linking sausages hanging from a hook.

 

She said she'd stay on for a while if I liked. Help keep on top of things while I found my feet. So she did. Kept the flat clean and tidy, kept me fed and watered and we seemed to settle into a nice little routine. She even offered to go through Betty's things for me, save me the heartbreak. Fill a few bags and take them down to the Heart Foundation. Give someone a chance to make good use of them, she said. I felt a bit relieved. Said I'd be very grateful. Couldn't face the idea of going through Betty's things myself. Too many memories.

 

Went up one night to find everything in the flat moved around. Telly, sofa, the Welsh dresser we got from Betty's gran, all in different places. Quite a shock it was and to be honest, I felt a bit peeved. Didn't really know why though, so I didn't say anything. Some of Betty's ornaments have disappeared too. Suppose she's put them away somewhere. It was after we'd finished eating one night that she suddenly came out with it. Said that she'd put her house on the market and would I like her to move in permanently; as a live-in housekeeper sort of thing. Tend to my every need on a full time basis, she said, smiling. Suddenly realised that she was wearing Betty's bracelet, the one we couldn't find anywhere. Must have found it I suppose, when she cleared everything out. I was a bit taken aback. Felt the anger welling up, so I went downstairs and polished the Hobart.

 

pause

 

 

Bit of a shock the other evening. I'd just settled on the sofa, ready to endure her favourite Eastenders, when she slides in beside me wearing nothing but a towel and my Betty's bangle. Hope you don't mind, she said, but I've just had a shower.... and was there anything she could do for me, before we settled down. Told her making herself decent would be a good start and flicked over to Police Interceptors. Strange behaviour. Flounced off to her room and stayed there all night.

 

pause

 

Yet another so called call from the bank today, asked if I was aware of cheques being made out to cash from my account. Same voice as last time, so I hung up straight away. Never write cheques out for cash. Why would I need cash? They never give up do they.

 

Turning the open/closed sign and bolting the shop door.

 

She's started complaining that I spend too much time in the shop now. Wondered how long it would take. Obsessed with sausages she said I was. Preferred little sacks of offal to keeping her company. I got a bit annoyed, so I  told her it was no contest. She burst into tears and went to bed; again. Quite a drama queen for a housekeeper. Well I ask you, since when could my prize winners ever be described as little sacks of offal? County champions for three successive years. Took me back a bit it did. Not sure this is going to work.

There are other things beginning to rankle too, come to think of it. She seems to be wearing some of by Betty's clothes, the one's she said she'd taken to the Heart Foundation. Don't really begrudge them I suppose, not if she makes good use of them, but so brazenly, so soon after the funeral. I'll tell Betty about it. See what she thinks.

 

Funny thing, the mind. That comment Doctor Dave made about my Betty's medication. Just something about the way he said it. Can't seem to get rid of it.

 

Sitting at his dining room table with his books and ledgers spread out. Monthly accounts time.

 

Couldn't make it balance for the life of me. Something not right. Went through the figures three times until I spotted the problem. Five cheques with a different sequence of numbers to the others. Seven hundred and forty pounds altogether. I sat there as the penny slowly dropped, my blood pressure climbing. How could I have been so stupid?

 

She burst into tears straight away. Tried to hug me. Said she'd been desperate and didn't know what else to do. Said she'd pay it back when the house was sold. 'It's a bloody Council House. It's not yours to sell and never was. Get your stuff together and get out of here,' I shouted, 'and take my Betty's bangle off before you go.'

 

Explosion was how I'd describe it. She ignited on the spot; grabbed Betty's Lalique giraffe from the dresser and came at me across the room like a raging animal. It's a heavy lump of glass is that giraffe and worth two hundred quid. short pause Had to take decisive action.

 

Pause

 

I sat there on the sofa for about ten minutes, staring at her sprawled out on the floor; blood leaking slowly into the rug. Caught her head on the corner of the hearth as she went down. Knew straight away she'd had it. Seen it too many times down at the abattoir. Dead weight. Never moved.

 

Thought about taking her pulse, just to make sure, but just couldn't be bothered somehow. 'Let nature take its course', I heard my Betty say to me, 'it's more than she did for me.'  So I did.

 

Heavy little lump she was. Nearly dropped her as I struggled down the stairs. Moved a few things around in the walk-in fridge and made space for her behind the New Zealand lamb. I know I should buy British, but it's too expensive just now. She'll be fine where she is, just until I can think of what to do with her.

 

* * *

 

Putting goods for sale into the display counter, looking at the camera between items

 

Got the cheques from the bank this morning. Turns out she'd found a new book in the bureau and copied my signature from an old bank card. Didn't look very convincing to me, but the bank cashed 'em anyway. I gave them some real grief on the phone. They said they'd refer the matter to head office and that with any luck I should be reimbursed. 'Luck's got nothing to do with it', I told 'em. 'If the money's not back in my account by next week', I said, 'they'll be the talk of Meat Management Monthly.' That should focus their minds.

 

Bit shocked when I found some of Betty's clothes in the spare room the other day. All the good stuff she bought in John Lewis whenever we had a ride over to Sheffield. In bin bags in the wardrobe, all crumpled up. She would have gone crackers if she'd seen them like that. As if that weren't enough, in the bedside table was a receipt from a pawn broker. Six items of gold jewellery; my Betty's jewellery. The jewellery she told me would be benefiting heart patients all over the country.

 

That did it for me. I might be a bit slow with such things, but it all seems to fit now. Doctor Dave and his medication concern. Missing bracelet, forged cheques, stolen jewellery, Betty's best clothes stuffed into a wardrobe. That evil little bitch had it all planned. (Pauses and slowly smiles into the distance)

 

Of course. Why didn't I think of that earlier?

 

 

 

 

Working inside the walk-in fridge moving stock around. Brisk and business-like.

 

It's the county show next week and the organisers have just been on the phone. Want to know if I intend defending my title. 'Do pigs grunt,' I said. 'Of course I'm defending my title.' Planning something really special this year. Something different. Something in memory of my Betty. A one-off special. A measure for measure sausage!

 

Well, I have to say it took much longer than I thought it would. I ended up working into the early hours, cleaving,  boning and filleting. Only the prime cuts went into the machine mind you, the rest will make up batches of mince; a few bits at a time blended in with the other off-cuts. This week's special offer.

Much more space in the fridge now it's sorted. Told Betty all about it and she thought it was hilarious. Loved a good giggle did Betty. Ironic, she said it was. I'll be making up the batch first thing in the morning, ready for the show on Saturday. Can't wait to see what they think.

 

* * *

 

Repeat of the opening shot location

 

Well what do you know? First prize for the fourth year in a row. Bowled over by the taste the judge was. Said in all his years in the business he'd never experienced anything like them. Irish he was, bruised knuckles. Asked if he could buy them.

Well, what else could I do?

 

Smiles into camera and fade to black