Constable on the Hill Read Free

bodies, but space? I could always keep it in the garage.
    The piano was taken off the lorry and left on the garage forecourt until everything else was inside the house. The children did their best, losing things, carrying things, getting in the way and falling into and over everything. By four-thirty, the van was empty the house was full and we had a cup of tea. Only the piano remained.
    Using a little trolley, they steered it towards the front door and Sid measured up the prospects with his eyes.
    “Nay,” he said. “It’ll not go in.”
    “It’ll have to,” I said in what must have been a pleading tone. “It can’t stay on the lawn.”
    “It’ll mean taking it to bits.” He leaned on the lid. “Piece by piece, with screwdrivers. It’ll be a long job, and it’ll never be right again. Bad to tune are pianos that have been taken to bits.”
    “But overtime for you, eh?” I smiled.
    “Aye, happen,” he grinned.
    But his mate wasn’t interested in overtime. “We can do it if that front door comes off,” he said. “Take t’front off t’piano, an’ all. It’ll sidle round that banister end, and go in.”
    “You and your bloody piano,” Sid growled at me. “Why do you have to cart a thing that size around with you?”
    “I can’t live without it,” I told him. “It’s part of my life!”
    “You bloody pianists are all alike – kinky. Why don’t you play summat like a flute?”
    I didn’t tell him that I couldn’t play a note. I daren’t tell him, not now. I’d always wanted to play a piano, ever since I was a small boy, but somehow never found the time, even if I had found the instrument. I had learned the violin and the recorder, but had always hankered after the piano. I had therefore asked for this one as my twenty-first birthday present because it belonged to the family and because it might otherwise be sold. All those years after moving into Aidensfield, I still have the piano and it continues to cause problems whenever we move house. And I still cannot play it.
    By removing the front door and by sheer brute strength and skill, those men got it inside the house and somehow reached the lounge.
    “It’s not damaged,” they said, proudly.
    “It’s a good job it isn’t!” I said, “It would have been a big insurance job.”
    “That’s it, then,” Sid announced. “All in. Report the gateposts to your sergeant and write to my firm about the breakages. Insurance jobs, all of them.”
    I gave them a tip, said farewell until next time and watched them take the lorry away from the house. I was left with two broken gates and three children who couldn’t wait to get onto the road. Until now, the lorry’s front end had effectively blocked this exit, but I managed to stand up the gates by propping them against old packing cases, then Mary and I set about the massive task of putting the house straight.
    We were allowed one day off duty before a removal, a day for the removal and one day off duty afterwards. That’s all – after that, it was work as normal. By half-past-five, the children were beyond themselves with fatigue and hunger, so Mary made us a meal. We bathed them and plonked them into their beds, thankful that they, at least, were no longer a liability.
    Then we turned our attention to the packing cases and began the long task of finding somewhere to put everything. We turned in just after midnight, completely exhausted and the children woke us next morning at six. We struggled, aching, from our beds and began another long day’s work. The tasks seemed without end, but several villagers telephoned during the day, just to welcome us. I had no ideawho they were. All of them said, “Welcome,” and all said, “We’ll be meeting you soon.” It helped us through that tiring day. No one acknowledged leaving the cabbage, the pigeons or the hare, but already I began to feel at home. It did not take too long to make the house habitable, and besides, county policemen of those