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Tick Tock.

by LONGJON 

Posted: 13 July 2003
Word Count: 1305
Summary: A first attempt.


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Tick.

Billy McEntee was a barrow boy, just like his Dad before him and his Granddad before him. He’d never done anything else, just worked on the barrow six days a week down the Woolwich market. Left school at 14, tried to get out earlier but the truancy kept finding him and dragging him back. They reckon that his granddad was one of the shrewdest traders the market had ever known, and among the families that owned the barrows up on the High Pavement that was praise indeed. Billy’s’ Dad was no slouch either, but Billy had the best of both of them.

Tock.

See, these High Pavement traders were the aristocracy of the market, every last one of them was at least third generation. None of them were ever to be seen wearing anything else but tweed cheesecutter cap, fingerless mittens, shirt with no collar and a canvas apron that looked like one of Nelson’s sailors had stitched it. But if you were quick enough to follow them when the market was all finished and the barrows had been wheeled away, the cars they had parked in the quiet back streets looked more like stockbrokers cars than barrow boys’. And no matter how flash the cars were, the local toe rags would never touch them, they all knew what would happen if they did. Occasionally a few of the young and stupid ones would try it on, but none of them ever tried twice, and nothing was ever reported to the Police.

Tick.

But things were changing, the supermarkets were growing in size, and it seemed that every new housing estate had its own Safeways. Billy had just turned 59 and he was beginning to think of doing the unthinkable.

Retiring.

He’d been thinking about it on and off for months now, but still hadn’t had the courage to tell Jean, his wife of 36 years. If there was anyone in the market who was sharper than Billy, it was Jean. If he could spot an underweight sack of spuds a mile off, Jean knew how much was missing. And though Billy and Jean had three kids, it was three daughters and no son to take over the barrow.

Then one day his eldest daughter, Suzie, right in the middle of Sunday dinner, says “Me and Ricky are going to get married, Dad, that all right with you?”
Well, for about 10 seconds Mr Razor Brain just shut down, didn’t he. Had a power cut, lost the power of speech.

Tock.



Then he said “ What brought this on, Suzie, you’re not up the duff, are you?”

“Course I’m not, Dad, just that we’ve been going out now for about a year, and I think it’s time to do me own thing. Ricky’s all right, I know he’s not in the business but he makes good money selling those European cars.”

There was a pause, and no-one said a word.

“Bloody good luck to you both” said Billy. “Got any dates in mind?”

He didn’t see the grin on Jeans face and the look that she flashed at Suzie, one of those “told you” looks. Her sisters jumped up and just about smothered her, and that was all that was talked about for the rest of the day.

Tick.

That evening Billy finally told Jean that he was thinking about giving up the barrow soon, and retiring.

“Took you bloody long enough to get round to it, Billy boy. You’ve been moping around for months, did you think I didn’t know what was on your mind.”

“Yeah, I know. It was Suzie that made up my mind for me, with just the three girls and none of them wanting anything to do with the barrow, I think it is about time we had some time to ourselves. Marie and Annie will be off flatting somewhere soon, and I just fancy a place down on the coast somewhere, maybe near Worthing or Brighton. We’ve got a good bit put away and by the time I sell the barrow and the spot, we should be well provided for. I want to see about buying one of those motor homes and getting round the country a bit, over to the continent and suchlike. We’ve never had a proper holiday, it’s time to make up for that.”

Jean just looked at him, because making a speech was just not his style. She saw the look in his eye and knew that she hadn’t seen that for a long time, and a sudden sense of plain old fashioned happiness made her wrap her arms around Billy and give him a big kiss.

“When I first saw you Billy boy, you were going out with that Mavis Archer. Once I’d seen you, she didn’t have a chance. I’ve never regretted it.”

Tock.

Everything just seemed to roll on from there, the wedding was planned for about six months away, Marie told her Mum that she had been accepted to work for one of the big holiday companies at a resort in Spain and Annie said she had been offered a place at Luton University to study English as she wanted to go into teaching.

Suddenly the house changed, the girls had not yet left but they were away much more and the house was quieter than it had been in a long time.
Billy had no trouble selling his barrow and the spot to Pete Brickell who owned
the barrow next to his, and the farewell in The Artilleryman pub was still going at 3 a.m.

Billy arranged with Pete that he would stay on the barrow until him and Jean had found a place down on the coast and sold their house up on the Common.

They had been down to the coast on several Sundays and thought that they had found just what they were looking for. The owner and his wife had always wanted to go and live in the South of France and had decided they needed to go now, before it was too late. Billy couldn’t believe it when he found out that the owner of the house also owned a motor home only four years old and that he wanted to sell that too. Jean and Billy were happy with the price of both the house and the motor home, and the sale was quickly settled.

Tick.

The wedding was only a month away now, the sale of their house was almost finished, and they now owned the house down near Worthing. Billy had taken the motor home out for a drive with the owner, and when he came back home he nearly drove Jean barmy raving on about how much fun he had had. He just couldn’t shut up.

And now the final day on his barrow was here. His Granddad had started in the nineteenth century, just out of the Army, with nothing except a small gratuity. Billy was down at the market at his usual time, yakking away to Pete about how him and Jean were going to take the motor home over to Wales then up through Cheshire to the Lake District. He had set up the display, New Zealand apples, Seville oranges, beautiful Packham pears. The last thing was going to be some dark blue Australian table grapes, special giveaways to his oldest customers.
He opened the long, shallow box, unfolded the soft, green wrapping and reached in to pick up the first bunch.
He called out to Pete, “Hoi, these are beautiful grapes, Pete, do you want some?”

Yeah, Billy McEntee was a barrow boy, and a smart one at that. But he never found out what a Taipan was, never learnt that the baby snake was as poisonous as its parent. Didn’t have time, you see.

Tock.







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Comments by other Members



Ralph at 14:50 on 13 July 2003  Report this post
Jon
there's a mesmerising rythm that runs through this piece.
The interspersing "ticks" and "tocks" seem to establish it and run against it at the same time - a wonderful way of expressing the way that time works for and against us. And the start these interspersions really give impact to the word "retirement".
I was left dangling a little by the last line about the taipan...is this refering to the discipline of integrated commerce symbolised by the three coins and the red ribbon thing...? don't know an awful lot about it but that's probably just my ignorance showng me up again :)
First attempt? I don't believe you :) It's too good.
Huggs
Ralph

Nell at 16:31 on 13 July 2003  Report this post
Hi John,

What can I say except, that I can't believe this is your first attempt! Brilliant idea of running the 'tick' and 'tock' through the piece - something is going to happen, but what? The tension builds. Perfectly paced and well written too, and the sudden ending of their dream brought about by the little snake in the fruit - inspired.

And how strange for me to be sitting here at my computer in Brighton writing about a piece mentioning that blowsy old queen and written by a guy in New Zealand. Don't you just love the Internet!

Best, Nell. And keep posting.

Ralph at 16:42 on 13 July 2003  Report this post
Ah snake - got you know...sorry! :)

olebut at 21:48 on 13 July 2003  Report this post
nice one pardner i always knew you'd come up trumps see all those days watching the Orwell flow by weren't wasted

take care

LONGJON at 09:30 on 14 July 2003  Report this post
G'day Ralph,

Most generous comments, for which my thanks. Yes, the Taipan is a copper brown, largish Australian snake, the Inland Taipan is far and away the most poisonous of all the Australian snakes.
Oddly enough, the author of "Australian Snakes - A Natural History" once travelled in the back of a car using a bag containing six tiger snakes for a pillow!
Have just found "The Icarus Complex" - you must be possessed of considerable reserves of mental energy to sustain a piece like that.
I'll go back and read it again.
Take care
John P.



LONGJON at 09:52 on 14 July 2003  Report this post
Haere mai Nell,

I have to confess to having written it initially hoping to put it forward to one of the publishers mentioned in "Jobs and Opps", Aurora Publishing, whose current subject was "Time".
Should have read the rules first - only for people resident in the U.K!
Your comments are most generous - I was over in the U.K.in 1999, first visit back since 1965. What an eye opener.We visited Brighton and I was struck by the number of seafront properties that were for sale.
I've just about finished another piece, about a gardener. I'll put it up as soon as its done.You mentioned in your profile you are a painter - I'm a potter and am currently cutting poetry onto paperclay plaques. Have just finished one called Remembering Summer by our current Poet Laureate, Brian Turner.

Do keep enjoying those Downs though. An uncle of mine lives in Worthing and at a place called "The Millers Grave" on the Downs there is a seat dedicated to my Aunt, Margaret Brewer, who died of cancer.

Keep writing,

Haere ra,

John P.

LONGJON at 09:53 on 14 July 2003  Report this post
G'day Olebut.

How did you know I spent all my time staring at the Orwell (from the public bar of the Butt and Oyster!)

Take care

John P.

olebut at 10:25 on 14 July 2003  Report this post
John

a shrewed guess !

david

Nell at 10:55 on 14 July 2003  Report this post
Haere mai John,

I came here to suggest Aurora - it takes a while for the old computer (my brain) to process things sometimes. Shame you can't submit it - you could always try another competition though - most allow email submissions for overseas writers.

I walk the the Downs every day - every time is different, and I usually see deer, sometimes a fox, and recently beautiful golden rabbits, which must be either a colour mutation or the progeny of a pet returned to the wild. I must look at the Ordnance Survey map for 'The Miller's Grave' - I don't remember ever seeing it.

Keep writing and potting, best and haere ra,
Nell.

Ralph at 14:46 on 14 July 2003  Report this post
Hey John
That's a real shame about Aurora because I think this would definitely stand a good chance...do keep looking.
And thanks for the run down - that's one thing I love about this site...I keep on learning :) I've never been a huge fan of snakes (coward through and through) but I'm a big chinese food buff see, I think that's where my translation of Taipan came from. I'm always fascinated by words that cross over like this... thanks for this one.

Keep writing
Huggs
Ralph

stephanieE at 14:55 on 14 July 2003  Report this post
Neat story, John and well told. I too was flummoxed about the Taipan reference until the explanation - and I guess this could be a problem for snake ignorant readers...

If this is your first effort, then I think I'll stop right now - the tick-tock device is a clever one, and something that worked for you, but I know that I wouldn't dare to attempt it. Keep on posting stories as well as poetry...

Becca at 19:56 on 14 July 2003  Report this post
Hi John, good story, simply written and I found the tick tocks had me going there! I was waiting for a disaster, and I too, although being a Kiwi bought up in Auss, didn't know what a taipan was. This is a bit of a techno point, but would the snake have been so small as to be able to hide in grapes like a spider might? Like a Redback, maybe?

LONGJON at 23:48 on 14 July 2003  Report this post
Hello Everyone,

Nell,
Many thanks for thinking of Aurora, I'm going to have a bit of a fossick through the Directory section today and see if I can find someone to send it off to. It may well generate no interest but at least I'll get into the habit of sending bits and pieces off.

Stephanie,
Yes, I agree, the snake bit is difficult. I'm going to re-write that last bit. Your comment is most generous. Now I start thinking "what if the next story is a load of old codswallop?" Never mind, I'll do one anyway. Have one just about finished one about a gardener and mummification......

Becca,
Most generous, for which my thanks. You are right about that finish, I've thought of an alternative that should make it clearer. Glad to see there is another Kiwi involved in this site, it is a darn good site and one that I much enjoy. I checked up on Redbacks before writing the story and to my surprise found that there is in fact only one (the Sydney Redback) that is regarded as dangerous and there have been very few recorded deaths. My intention with the Taipan was that it was a baby one, because they are as poisonous as their parents from the day they are born. I didn't make that clear though.
How do I find "Danforth Review"

Take care, and many thanks for the generous comments.

John P.

Becca at 07:14 on 15 July 2003  Report this post
John, have you got a search engine? Google for example? If not let me know. They've just gone to press, so I don't know if it's reading time now. Best to look at the stories they print, which you can do on the site as they're an online publisher these days. They say as a result they get thousands of pieces of work in but the admin is so much easier. They think as short story mags will go this way in the end, sad I thought.
The Sydney Redback would be the one we had living under the gas metre cover in the front yard then. Forbidden to play within twenty yards of it.

LONGJON at 21:38 on 15 July 2003  Report this post
Becca,
I've found and bookmarked the Danforth Review, I'll read it today. Looks like an excellent, serious publication (I mean serious in the sense of commitment, not serious equalling virtuous.)

Many thanks for your advice and your comments.

John P.

Becca at 08:10 on 16 July 2003  Report this post
It is a site with prestige. Very serious literary people.

LONGJON at 04:35 on 18 July 2003  Report this post
Becca,
Thoroughly enjoyed reading over the Danforth site. I see that they are not accepting submissions until September, and don't think that this particular piece would fit their models.

Take care

John P.


Becca at 06:05 on 18 July 2003  Report this post
Haven't looked there myself for a while, it used to be all bears, fish and wild places


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