‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph what in the name.......’ spluttered Briony.

‘It’s an arm,’ said Pat brightly.

‘I can see that you great eegit. What’s it doing in my kitchen?’

‘I found it and it’s a shame to waste it.’

‘Da, will you please knock some sense into your soft son?’ demanded Briony taking the kettle from the hob and filling it with water. As she struggled back to the hob she stared at her lump of a husband ensconced in the filthy leather chair occupying the corner by the range.

‘Are you going to say something or not?’

‘He thought you could put it in the stew,’ he mumbled sucking on his pipe.

‘He thought what? It’s a man’s arm; don’t you think the fellow is missing it? Where did you find it Pat?’ Briony pulled up a chair next to Pat; it creaked as she sat down.

‘I was out in Meadow’s field .’

‘And?’ said Briony looking at the arm in disgust.

‘Well, it was on top of the hedge.’

‘You mean there was no body nearby?’

‘Not that I could see,’ grinned Pat, ‘but there were other bits of meat scattered around.’

‘What did you do with them?’ asked Briony.

‘Chucked them in the back of the van.’

‘Have you phoned the police Da?’ she said turning her attention to the man in the corner. He mumbled something she could make out. ‘I’ll take that as a no! What on earth will the neighbours think?’

Later that morning Sergeant Flannigan collected the limb and informed Briony that there had been a fatal accident the previous evening in Jackson’s field. Tom had tried to remove a blockage in his plough and had got caught up in the machinery. ‘Surprised you didn’t hear about it?’ he said.

‘I had ,’ she said feeling a little queasy.

‘Are you alright Ma?’ enquired Pat.

‘I’m for my bed for a while it has all been such a shock. I’ll pop over to Margaret’s later she must be distraught. And me with part of her fellow’s body here in my kitchen. And you,’ she said turning to Pat, ‘wanting to turn him into a stock!’

Briony returned from Margaret’s. A wonderful aroma filled her kitchen. The table was set ready for supper.
‘God you haven’t been cooking have you Pat? It certainly wouldn’t be your Da,’ said Briony.

‘No Ma, Joyce heard about everything so prepared a meat pie. She thought you would be hungry. Me and Da, we waited for you.’

‘That’s kind of you son,’ she said sitting down at the table. Pat took the pie from the oven and placed it in front of her. She served up three portions and let them help themselves to vegetables.

Briony was just about to put a piece of pie into her mouth when she stopped.

‘Where did you get this meat from Pat?’

Her husband mumbled an explanation between mouthfuls, something to do with a van and a field.