I joined in the laughter, and Bryan laughed some more, and then I said I’d better be going.
“Don’t be late tomorrow,” he said, as I departed.
“No, alright,” I replied.
Tomorrow being Thursday I assumed he was referring to the next darts fixture in the Packhorse. I took his remark as meaning that my period of exile was over and I could begin drinking there again. This came as quite a relief. My resolution of the previous evening about ‘not drinking anywhere for the time being’ had seemed very bleak in the cold light of day. After all, what was the point of working if I couldn’t go to the pub at night? Now I had confirmation from the darts captain himself: I could go back to the Packhorse tomorrow evening.
In the meantime I had an engagement with Gail to fulfil, so I put my foot down and sped home. When I arrived in the yard at Hillhouse I noticed Deakin’s pick-up truck parked in front of the big shed. Standing beside it were Mr Parker and Kenneth Turner, deep in conversation about something or other. When they saw me approach they beckoned me to join them.
“We’ve had a word with one or two people,” said Mr Parker.
“And we think you might as well take over the milk round straight way.”
“Take it over?”
“Yes, then you’ll be all set up to keep it going.”
“Better for everyone in the long run,” added Kenneth. “People always need milk.”
“Yeah, but…” I hesitated. “Surely I can’t just seize control of a going concern?”
“Why not?”
“Well…it just doesn’t seem right, that’s all.”
There was a long silence, then Mr Parker said, “I thought you liked Deakin.”
“Yes,” I replied. “I did quite like him.”
“Well, if you took the milk round over you’d be looking after his best interests, wouldn’t you?”
“Suppose so, if you put it like that.”
“Nobody would be getting let down.”
“No.”
“So you might as well start straight away, hadn’t you?”
I shrugged and nodded towards Deakin’s pick-up. “Is it all fully serviced now?”
“Yep,” said Kenneth. “OK for another year.”
“And how will I know where to deliver the milk?”
“Deakin’s order book is in the cab,” said Mr Parker. “All the details are there.”
With my head still reeling from the suddenness of this turn of events, I was shown the order book and also a delivery-route map. Kenneth then handed me a wad of requisition dockets for the dairy at Greenbank.
“If you get there early someone’ll give you a hand loading the crates,” he said.
“What do you mean by early?” I asked.
“Well, Deakin used to start at five o’clock.”
Five o’clock! This was the part of the equation I hadn’t considered. I always thought I got up early when I worked at the factory, but that was only for an eight o’clock start. Five o’clock was three hours earlier, and I began to wonder what exactly I had let myself in for. To get a full night’s sleep of seven hours I would have to go to bed at about half past nine. Which was the time I usually went to the pub. It dawned on me that I was saying goodbye to any social life I had just to keep Deakin’s business going. On the other hand, I couldn’t help feeling quite elated at the prospect of having my own milk round! I decided to buckle down and get used to the idea of becoming an early riser.
Once everything was settled Mr Parker gave Kenneth a lift home, and I went over to the bothy for some tea. Around seven there came a knock on the door. It was Gail.
“Ready for a lesson then?” she asked.
This made it sound as if she would be teaching me, not the other way round, but I let the remark go and produced the dartboard from under my bed. When Gail saw it she took it from me and seemed to hold it rather fondly in her arms. Then she led the way towards the hay-loft.
“By the way,” I said. “What are we going to do for darts?”
“There are some up there,” she replied.
Getting into the hay-loft required going up a wooden ladder and through a trapdoor. Gail found the light switch and went up first, and I followed. After clambering over Bryan’s hay bales we came to a space about four feet wide and ten long. Just enough room for a darts game. By the time I got there Gail had already hung the board up on a hook at one end. The surrounding area of wall, I noticed, showed signs of having being struck many times by pointed objects. There were also a number of scores chalked up on a nearby plank of wood. Someone had even marked out an oche on the floor.
“Done this before then, have you?” I asked.
“Oh yeah,” she said. “Loads of times.”
“Who with?”
“Anyone who happened to be here.”
“So I’m not the first one?”
“No, course not.”
She opened a box in the corner and took out some darts. They were a rough-looking bunch with cheap plastic flights, but they would do for practising. She gave me a set of red ones and chose yellow for herself. Then we began.
I suppose we must have played about fifteen games altogether that evening. Gail knew how to stand correctly on the oche, and her aim wasn’t too bad. Where she fell down was on tactics. She had no idea about the importance of eights and sixteens for a double finish, nor did she recognize the problem of ‘blocking’ until it was too late. Time and again she’d be on three darts to win, and then lose the game because she just couldn’t see an out-shot. This was were I came in. I was able to give her little hints and tips that I’d picked up over the years, and slowly her play became stronger. At first I won game after game, but after a while Gail began to win a few as well. When she’d had the satisfaction of beating me a few times we gave up for the evening and put the darts away. We both agreed that we might as well leave the board hanging where it was.
“By the way,” I asked. “Where did it come from?”
“Don’t know,” she replied. “Marco got it from somewhere.”
“Who’s Marco?”
“The one who was here before you.”
♦
That night I made the mistake of going to bed early, assuming it was what people did if they had to get up at half past four.
At ten o’clock I was tucked under the sheets with my head on the pillow, but still wide awake. The thought hadn’t occurred to me that it would be better to catch up on lost sleep after I’d lost it, rather than before. As a result I spent several long hours trying desperately to drift off, while all the time worrying in case I overslept.
Finally, about four o’clock, I got fed up with tossing and turning, so I rose from my bed and put the kettle on. I was bleary-eyed, but began to feel better once I’d worked my way through a whole pot of tea. At twenty to five I went out into the yard, found Deakin’s pick-up in the darkness, and set off towards the dairy at Greenbank. I’d never been in that direction before, but it was marked clearly on the map and I was there for five o’clock. As I approached the building a loading bay came into view, where some other vehicles were waiting. There were a few men in overalls standing around, and one of them signalled me to reverse in next to a pile of full crates. By the time I’d got out of the cab he was already swinging them into the back of the pick-up, so I climbed up to lend a hand.
“Morning,” he said, without any introduction. “Got a docket for me?”
“Oh yes, sorry,” I replied, producing the paperwork from my pocket. “I’m new to this game.”
“Don’t worry,” he grinned. “You’ll soon settle into it.”
I gave him a requisition docket, which he separated in two, giving the bottom half back to me. Then he got me to sign the sheet on his clipboard.
After we’d finished loading he said, “Right. That’s your lot. If you take my advice you’ll go down the side of the common first, get rid of your gold-tops, then you’ll have an open run for your pasteurized as far as Millfold. After that it should be plain sailing. Oh, don’t forget homogenized is on ‘specials’ Wednesdays and Fridays.”