serve
you where I serve all my customers’ and I stepped closer to him and
continued to stare straight into his bloodshot eyes. From that
distance, I was very aware that he stank of alcohol, bad breath and
unwashed body and clothes and it took a great deal of resolve not
to shudder and step away from him. I knew, however, that my
attitude was affecting him in a way to which he was clearly unused
and it was in my interests to keep him off balance. It may have
been my quiet tone or the fact that I was so close to him, but
whatever it was, the bluster seemed to go out of him a bit and he
shook himself like a dog before he replied.”
“‘I’ve come for my servant-girl,
Mrs High and Mighty,’ he said when he managed to remember where
he’d left his mouth. ‘You stole her from me and I want her back.
She’s coming with me now, whether you like it or not.’”
“His voice rose as he got to the
end of the sentence and he started remembering both why he was
there and that people were generally afraid of him. By that time,
however, I was in such a white-hot rage with him that I did what no
other person had ever done before to him in the whole of his
stupid, stinking, fat life. I stepped even closer to him, so that
my nose was within half an inch of his and I was almost overpowered
by the stench from his mouth, body and clothes. It was
nausea-inducing but my fury so intense I overrode my sense of smell
as well as my fear.”
“ ‘You get off my property this
instant and stop acting like a schoolboy bully in a playground with
me, Mr Dennison.’ I said, putting as much sarcasm as I could muster
into saying his name, but still not raising my voice above a
church-pew-during-a-funeral whisper. ‘Take your drunken brain home
for a rest and don’t you ever come threatening me again.’”
“My voice was so quiet and
controlled that the pig butcher couldn’t decide whether he had
heard me properly or not, but he took a step backwards to give
himself breathing space and the time to try and think up an answer.
Something, I don’t know what it was, made me step towards him so
that we were once again nose-to-nose.”
“‘Don’t even think about it, Mr
Dennison.’ I said, as quietly as before. ‘Get off my property and
go and sober up before you do something you will later regret.’
“I could hear that a crowd had
gathered behind me, at the open backyard gate and I prayed that if
the butcher turned violent then they would stop him before he did
me any real damage. I couldn’t rely on anyone to intervene when he
started causing me pain, I could only hope, but that didn’t stop
me. I continued to step forward every time he retreated and I
continued to let him know that I wanted him off my property. He was
finding it very difficult to understand that I wasn’t going to
buckle under his bullying attitude, I think because he was so used
to his poor little wife cowering in front of him. The fact that I
didn’t let him intimidate me was what was holding him back from
letting his fists fly, so I continued to press forwards, but, at
the same time and with a detached part of my brain, I was trying to
work out where I went from there. We would eventually run out of
back yard and when his back was up against the wall, he could turn
nasty again.”
“What did you do next?” Victoria
was horrified at the thought of the pig butcher hurting her
grandmother.
Nana Lymer smiled at Victoria’s
shock.
“I was at a loss as to what to
do next and I was terrified that he would turn violent again if I
gave him chance to think and then inspiration struck me. In the
same formal but soft voice I had used all along I said,
‘I am very sorry about the loss
of your son and I couldn’t begin to imagine the grief and misery
which you must be feeling. But that wasn’t my fault, nor was it
Hannah’s and you won’t feel any better for taking your anger and
despair out on us. Peter has gone for the constable, Mr Dennison.
Don’t you
you where I serve all my customers’ and I stepped closer to him and
continued to stare straight into his bloodshot eyes. From that
distance, I was very aware that he stank of alcohol, bad breath and
unwashed body and clothes and it took a great deal of resolve not
to shudder and step away from him. I knew, however, that my
attitude was affecting him in a way to which he was clearly unused
and it was in my interests to keep him off balance. It may have
been my quiet tone or the fact that I was so close to him, but
whatever it was, the bluster seemed to go out of him a bit and he
shook himself like a dog before he replied.”
“‘I’ve come for my servant-girl,
Mrs High and Mighty,’ he said when he managed to remember where
he’d left his mouth. ‘You stole her from me and I want her back.
She’s coming with me now, whether you like it or not.’”
“His voice rose as he got to the
end of the sentence and he started remembering both why he was
there and that people were generally afraid of him. By that time,
however, I was in such a white-hot rage with him that I did what no
other person had ever done before to him in the whole of his
stupid, stinking, fat life. I stepped even closer to him, so that
my nose was within half an inch of his and I was almost overpowered
by the stench from his mouth, body and clothes. It was
nausea-inducing but my fury so intense I overrode my sense of smell
as well as my fear.”
“ ‘You get off my property this
instant and stop acting like a schoolboy bully in a playground with
me, Mr Dennison.’ I said, putting as much sarcasm as I could muster
into saying his name, but still not raising my voice above a
church-pew-during-a-funeral whisper. ‘Take your drunken brain home
for a rest and don’t you ever come threatening me again.’”
“My voice was so quiet and
controlled that the pig butcher couldn’t decide whether he had
heard me properly or not, but he took a step backwards to give
himself breathing space and the time to try and think up an answer.
Something, I don’t know what it was, made me step towards him so
that we were once again nose-to-nose.”
“‘Don’t even think about it, Mr
Dennison.’ I said, as quietly as before. ‘Get off my property and
go and sober up before you do something you will later regret.’
“I could hear that a crowd had
gathered behind me, at the open backyard gate and I prayed that if
the butcher turned violent then they would stop him before he did
me any real damage. I couldn’t rely on anyone to intervene when he
started causing me pain, I could only hope, but that didn’t stop
me. I continued to step forward every time he retreated and I
continued to let him know that I wanted him off my property. He was
finding it very difficult to understand that I wasn’t going to
buckle under his bullying attitude, I think because he was so used
to his poor little wife cowering in front of him. The fact that I
didn’t let him intimidate me was what was holding him back from
letting his fists fly, so I continued to press forwards, but, at
the same time and with a detached part of my brain, I was trying to
work out where I went from there. We would eventually run out of
back yard and when his back was up against the wall, he could turn
nasty again.”
“What did you do next?” Victoria
was horrified at the thought of the pig butcher hurting her
grandmother.
Nana Lymer smiled at Victoria’s
shock.
“I was at a loss as to what to
do next and I was terrified that he would turn violent again if I
gave him chance to think and then inspiration struck me. In the
same formal but soft voice I had used all along I said,
‘I am very sorry about the loss
of your son and I couldn’t begin to imagine the grief and misery
which you must be feeling. But that wasn’t my fault, nor was it
Hannah’s and you won’t feel any better for taking your anger and
despair out on us. Peter has gone for the constable, Mr Dennison.
Don’t you
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