The Hole in the Hedge

A story in two parts

Part II

Yesterday I told how the hole in the hedge was a source of joy for me, until suddenly and mysteriously it became a place of dread. It happened the day that the man moved into the house next door.

I was with Dad in the garden when the new neighbour arrived. We went through the hedge to greet him. I have no recollection of him, apart from the conviction that he was no Waltermar William.

It was later when we were still in the garden that Dad shouted at me to go inside and stay there. I'd never seen him so angry and was I afraid. Next day the hole in the hedge was blocked up, and even years later when I was older, my parents would never speak of it.

Some forty years on, after Mum had died, I got Dad talking about the house, testing my memory about the layout of both the house and the extensive vegetable garden. Gradually I led the conversation to the hole in the hedge and asked him outright what happened. Dad was a great storyteller, and it didn't take much to launch him into one of his entertaining tales from his own, or a friend's experience. This time he was silent for a long time and I thought the brick wall was still there. His face was grim, but then he began.

The man (he can remain nameless) arrived early. When we went through the hedge to greet him he was busy rolling out a coil of wire. He told Dad that he'd come ahead to get the aerial up for his wireless (the old-fashioned name for radio). A farmer's lad of Dad's acquaintance was to bring his gear on the dray. The man was obsessed with getting the aerial up in time to hear the early evening war news. He was disdainful when Dad admitted that he didn't have a wireless. Dad would have liked one, but money was tight. He had been working only part-time since he returned from his stint in the army overseas. The new neighbour couldn't understand how anyone could get by without a wireless. He went on and on. We left him climbing up the hedge to attach one end of the wire.

A couple of hours later the dray arrived. Dad could tell by the clatter of hooves and the rattle of the dray that the lad was driving too fast down the slope. When it reached the yard there was a terrible commotion and he feared that the dray had overturned. He dashed through the hedge with me behind him. That was when he shouted at me.

A glance at the scene told him what had happened. The boy had been standing in the dray. The wire caught him across the throat. Dad knew that nothing could be done for him and he turned his attention to the panicking horse. It took all his strength and skill to get it under control.

Meanwhile the man was hopping about whining, "The bloody fool! He's wrecked my aerial. I'll never get it fixed in time!"