Old Mabel in the village had lost her cat. It was a noble old tom, toorenowned in his day for countless victories over the weaker feline sex, conquered rivals, and more than his fair share of mousy trophies. But age had finally caught up to the old tabby, and there was nothing to be done. Nearly twenty years hed clocked up in this world without so much as a full overhaul.
Mabel gently wrapped her cherished companion in a clean tea towel, picked up the spade, and headed beyond the vegetable patch to lay him to rest. Her husband, Alfred Jenkins, was out in the far corner of the garden, tinkering and grumbling in the shed, trying his hand at some sort of makeshift repair.
Mabel offered her tomcat his last rites, filled in the little grave with soft earth, and strolled back through the gap in the privet hedge, the muddy spade balanced in her hands. It was then that her neighbour passed byEdna, a city woman with a brisk air about her.
Good morning to you, Mabel! Edna called, pausing to nod and, out of politeness, asked, What are you up to today?
Well, said Mabel, her voice soft, my Alfies had his last go. Poor old boythe Lords taken him. I shed a tear or two, but I’ve just buried him out back.
The shock made Edna falter, quite forgetting her errand. Only yesterday, shed spotted Alfred Jenkins in the village shop buying sugar, a Woodbine packet, and a quarter bottle of gin.
That cant be! Edna gasped. Your Alfreddead, so suddenly? I saw him just the other day, right as rain.
True, yesterday he was as lively as ever, Mabel nodded. He laughed, gobbled a whole kipper, and we even played a hand of cribbage in the evening…
Ednas eyes grew steadily wider.
But this morning, my Alfie seemed out of sorts, Mabel finished. He stretched out on the settee, muttered a bit, then simply passed away.
Edna crossed herself out of old habit.
Well, didnt expect that, she murmured, shaking her head. One moment Alfreds with us, the next hes gone. But, erwhats with the spade, then?
Told you, I buried him out by the rhubarb, Mabel replied, a bit sharper now. Wrapped him up in a nice bit of linen, marked the spot with a twig so I wont forget.
Edna, unfamiliar with village ways, found it rather extraordinary that Mabel had so calmly buried her dear husband out beyond the garden, marked only with a twig.
Always such a caring soul, Mabel, you really are, Edna muttered, uneasily. But, wouldnt you normally, I dont know, call the bobby round, just to make things official?
Now it was Mabels turn to give Edna a curious look.
Oh, you do talk nonsense! she laughed. Alfie was a grand lad, but whos got the time to bother the constable with every old man who pops his clogs? Might as well summon the Chief Inspector! Theyll never get their tea breaks at this rate.
Edna remained silent, while Mabel slung the spade over her other shoulder.
Maybe thats how you do things in the city, Mabel offered, trying to make peace. But round here, we keep it simple. When old Will went, nobody batted an eye. Just pick up the spade and get on with it. Theres plenty of room past the cabbages.
Yes, well… Edna mumbled, realising shed much more to learn about village life. But why bury him out in the nettles? Couldnt you put him in a proper resting place?
Mabels patience was wearing thin.
And drag his bones to the churchyard with decent folk? she snapped. Thats a bit much, if you ask me. Weve always put them behind the veg patch, and thats the end of it.
Nervous, Edna perched gingerly on a log, pointedly not looking at the spade. She felt faint, her knees like jelly.
You dont half surprise me, neighbour, she managed. Stowing them all behind the garden! How many you buried out there?
A fair few, I suppose, Mabel mused. Before Alfie, there was Charliegentle soul, mind you, but a right scoundrel in his way. Crept into my bed at night, and by sunrise, hed have drenched the sheets. Did I wallop him! Earlier still was Sammellow, affectionate. But his time came as well. Ive switched them out over the years.
With a final motion, Mabel plunged the spade into the earth, as if to draw a line under it all.
Now theyre all in a row behind the rhubarb! Alfie, Charlie, Sam… handsome chaps, the lot. No matter, I hear young Sallys promising to bring me a fresh one soon. Reckon therell always be enough for me.
What Edna thought about that, no one would know, for just then, up from behind Mabel, Alfred Jenkins himself emergedfilthy from mud, looking as furious as a devil.
After my blood, are you, you daft old bat? he bellowed. I was buried up to me ears in there, hollering awaybarely got myself out, and youre out here gossiping!
He snatched the spade from Mabel and said, Give me that! Gotta dig out me boots… And the gins still in there too!
At that, poor Edna toppled clean off her log, fainted dead away. Which was for the best, reallybecause at least the gin would soon come in handy.
