Old Dorothys cat had finally died in the village. He was a cat of some renown, tallying great victories over weaker feline rivals, bruising many an opponent, and catching his share of mice as well. But old Tom was already well past his primea true village legend, really. Hed managed nearly twenty years on this earth, well beyond what youd expect without even a major mishap.
Dorothy wrapped her dear companion in a clean tea towel, grabbed the spade, and carried him beyond the allotment for burial. Her husband, William Edwards, was tinkering with something in the cellar at the far end of the gardentightening this and that, fixing leaks, and muttering under his breath in muffled frustration.
Having paid her final respects to her beloved old cat, Dorothy filled in the small hole shed dug and trudged back across the garden path, spadestill caked in earthbalanced in her hands. It was then that her neighbour passed bycity-bred Mrs. Mabel Green.
Good afternoon, Dorothy! called Mabel, pausing for pleasantries. And what are you up to with that spade?
Oh, nothing much, Dorothy replied, her face sombre. My dear Tommys gone nowthe poor old thing. Gods taken him at last. I had a little cry, then buried him behind the allotment.
The news gave Mabel such a turn she nearly forgot where she was going. Why, just yesterday shed seen William Edwards at the village shop buying a bag of sugar, a packet of Embassy, and a small bottle of gin.
You cant be serious! she exclaimed. Your Williams passed away? Just like that? But I only saw him yesterday
Yes, just yesterday he was scampering about, Dorothy nodded with a sigh. He was full of beans all day, wolfed down a whole kipper, even played a bit of cards with me last night
Mabels eyes grew round with disbelief.
And this morning, he just seemed a bit down, Dorothy concluded, He lay on the bench, grumbled a bitand then off he went.
Mabel instinctively crossed herself.
Well, I never she managed. He was here one minute, gone the next. But tell mewhats with the spade then, Dorothy?
I told you, Dorothy repeated patiently. Buried him just behind the allotment, wrapped him up in a nice clean towel. Marked the spot with a twig so I wouldnt forget.
As a city dweller, Mabel wasnt well-versed in every rural custom. Still, it did seem odd that Dorothy would bury her late husband William behind the allotment and mark the spot with a stick, of all things.
Well, youre certainly thorough, Dorothy! Mabel managed, clearly bewildered. You went and buried him yourself! Butisnt there a procedure youre meant to follow? Call the local constable at the very least, to note you know, the passing?
Now Dorothy looked at her as if shed lost her wits.
What are you on about? she chuckled. William was a fine lad, but you cant be bothering the local bobby over such things! The constable cant be running around for every old William who passes away. May as well call the Chief Inspector while were at it!
Mabel fell silent, and Dorothy swung the spade onto her other shoulder.
Maybe its the done thing in town, Dorothy said, a touch conciliatory. You city folkalways on to your inspectors and counsellors and whatnot. We country people do things the simple way. When John passes, wellthats that. Grab a spade and dig. Theres plenty of space behind the allotment.
Hmmm Mabel murmured, rather unsettled. I can see theres a lot I dont know about village life. But why bury him behind the allotment, in the weeds? Couldnt you have put him in a proper place?
Dorothys patience was beginning to fray.
And where else would I put him, once hes gone cold? she answered sharply. Not in the churchyard, among the proper folk! Thatd be far too much. Its always been done this waybury them just past the allotment.
Nervous, Mabel eased herself onto a wooden stump, pointedly ignoring the spade still in Dorothys hands. Her legs felt wobbly and she was keenly uneasy.
Youre quite something, Dorothy, she finally said. All buried out back! How many, apart from William, have you got out there?
Dorothy paused to think. Oh, a fair few, she admitted. Before William, there was Michaelgentle by nature, but such a sneaky thing underneath. Would slink in at night, curl up at my sideby morning, the sheets were always damp. Did I give him a thrashing, though! Before that, Simonhe was sweet-tempered, affectionate. But when his time came, he went too. Ive been through quite a lot of them.
With that, she jabbed the spade into the lawn.
Theyre all lined up together out behind the allotment nowWilliam, Michael, Simon my darling boys. Not to worry though, my niece is promising to find me a young new one before too long. Doubt Ill run out before my times up!
Lord knows what crossed Mabels mind at that point, for just then William Edwards himself lumbered into view, smeared in mud and fuming livid.
Trying to do me in, are you, you old bat? he roared at Dorothy. You nearly buried me alive under that messIm shouting and kicking and only just managed to dig myself out, and here you are nattering away!
He snatched the spade from his wifes grip and grumbled, Hand that here! I need to dig out my wellies, and the gins down there too.
At this, Mrs. Mabel gently slipped off the log and promptly fainted dead away. Needless to say, that little bottle of gin from the cellar came in handy.
