5. STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

If you go to Skegness you've just got to have a fish and chip meal.

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

5. Fish and Chips for Lunch

The mobile fish and chip van, parked down the road from where Ian’s caravan was sited, made the air smell of heaven. That’s what Isabel thought anyway, as did Brian, and there was a short queue waiting for the first chips of the day to be ready.

“It was said that fish and chips kept this country going during the war,” Daisy told the two children as they waited.

“You can say that again, Mrs Parfitt said a voice from in front of them and Daisy wondered who on Earth knew her name so far from Brumpton. It all seemed very spooky. Then the man (for it was a man) turned round and his dog collar gave him away.

“Reverend Pocock” she exclaimed, “I never had you down as a caravan by the sea sort of man!”

“The collar can hide a multitude of sins,” he said, and smiled, “not that I commit many being of the cloth, though I am partial to a nice fillet of cod and a portion of chips, if that’s a sin.”

“I didn’t mean, no, of course it isn’t,” she replied, “it’s just that I saw you with my mind’s eye in an ancient chapel with its wooden pews and stained glass windows and filled with monks and nuns, you know, all singing hymns and reciting the gospel to each other!”

“That sounds dreadfully monotonous,” he murmured with a grin, “I get to recite enough of the gospels in my day job without having to come and sample the bracing fresh air of the east coast in order to recite some more! Anyway, I love a week in a caravan, miles from any births, marriages and deaths for a few days and able to really enjoy the company of my good wife.”

“Next please,” called the fish and chip salesman, “and that’s you I believe, Reverend,” he added.

“Sorry. Cod and chips for two, please, and plenty of salt and vinegar on one of them.”

“Freshly in today, this cod,” the Reverend Pocock was told, “And very nice too, by the look of it, raw!”

“I didn’t know you were married, Reverend,” murmured Daisy, “I mean, I’m not being nosey but I just didn’t know.”

“You probably imagined me in a sequinned boudoir with winged angels playing harps to lull me to sleep and the loneliness of the single man my only companion during the dark hours!”

“No, not that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“We of the cloth get it all the time, theories about what we do when there’s no-one around but truth to tell life is really very normal for us. Down to enjoying fish and chips and a week by the sea in a caravan,” he said, and, listening, she felt suitably chastised.

“I hope you’ve recovered from your sad loss,” he murmured, changing the subject. “I felt for you. He was very young to be leaving a pretty wife and two young children to fend for themselves.”

That one sentence brought it all back, and she tried to smile and it wouldn ‘t come. Memories came flooding back, memories that had gone away for most of the holiday, and standing there by the mobile chip shop couldn’t begin to manage the smiling bit. But her loss and the fact that she’d not known Fred for more than a few years was a fact she couldn’t ever keep out for long, it was always in the background of her mind, for ever hanging like a cloud over her thoughts.

She was rescued by the jolly fish and chip salesman handing Reverend Pocock his fish and chips and asking her what she wanted.

“Do you do small portions, you know, for children?” she asked, fearing she’d have to fork out for three portions, one for each of them. Not expensive, but every penny counted.

“What most folks do is buy one for themselves and one they can chop up between their kids,” he said helpfully.

She thought for a moment. Then: “yes, then, can I have fish and chips for two?” she asked.

“Salt and inegar? He asked, and that made her frown.

“Do you like vinegar?” she asked Isabel

“I don’t know, mum,” replied the girl, “we never have anything called, what was it, vin-gar at school when we have dinner.”

“Better not risk it then. Salt and vinegar on one please,” she requested.

“Would you like some batter bits on the side? Kids usually like them,” suggested the fish and chip vendor, “and they’re free!”

The word free appealed to Daisy, and she nodded. “That’s be nice,” she said.

Then, clutching a parcel wrapped in newspaper, and glancing at it she saw it was a week-old copy of the Daily Mail, she carried their food back towards the caravan.

Once inside she prepared three plates, cut one of the portions of fish into two and distributed the chips from one of the bags onto two plates whilst arranging the other packet on a plate for herself.

“This is nice,” she whispered, “I’ve always liked fish and chips, and it makes quite a cheap meal.”

“The trouble, mum,”b said Isabel with a twinkle in her eyes, “is you always like the word cheap.”

Daisy shook her head. “It’s because I have to,” she replied sadly. “With no man earning our money I have to do as best I can on what I get from the Government.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Isabel told her, “I was only joking.”

“I know, dear,” replied Daisy, and had Isabel a few more years of understanding she might have detected the flavour of sorrow and regret in her mother’s voice. But she was only a seven year old, almost eight she told herself, though her birthday wasn’t until winter and now it was only autumn, and a bright and cheerful autumn at that.

“We’ll be going back home tomorrow,” Daisy announced in order to lighten the atmosphere as she washed the plates and her two children prepared to go out and see if they could find any friends on the small play area fairly close to their caravan. Being children with none of the hang-ups humans get as they grow up, they found forming friends just about anywhere relatively simple.

“By the puffa-train?” asked Brian, “that was fun, that was, even the specks and smuts of black that came in when Issy opened the window!”

“Yes, by the train, smiled Daisy, “but I’ll tell you what: we’ll keep that window shut when we’re on the train, shall we? I’m going to have a big enough job washing our dirty seaside clothes without extra black smuts to make it harder!”

“Promise, mum,” murmured Isabel.

“Good girl,” smiled Daisy, and she’s beginning to get some kind of understanding of how hard my life is, she thought, and she smiled inwardly.

© Peter Rogerson 27.02.23

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