www.albiestales.co.uk part two

ALBIE’S MOTHER WAS NONE TOO PLEASED when her wayward son and Roz his girlfriend returned home late on Wednesday night. Their supper fish and chips was completely spoilt in the oven, and, judging from the state of the two teenagers, they had much to answering to do!

RED FACED AND DISHEVELLED, Albie did little to put his parents’ minds at rest that ‘nothing had been going on’! In fact, on the contrary, the more he tried to explain that ‘they’d just had a nice walk over the cliffs’ the more upset became his mother.

“Just look at the state of you!” she cried, pointing at his trousers, usually so neatly pressed with creases so sharp you could almost cut your hands on. “And, are those grass stains on your knees, what hev you bin up to?”

“I found some ‘pirate’ treasure,” Albie blurted, showing them his little tin of coins, “on Beeston Bump, an’ I hatta kneel down to dig it out!”

“An’ you expect me to believe all that squit?” replied his mother angrily, then turning on Roz: “Just look at you, my girl – I'm surprised at you both! What d’you take us for? We wun’t born yesterday!”

Flicking blades of grass from her hair onto the living room carpet, Roz did little to give credence to Albie’s tale. “I think it’s best I go to bed,” she said, beating a fast retreat upstairs.

“Now, look here, young man,” said Albie’s father, taking off his reading glasses and putting down the paper, “You haven’t done nothin’ to make us ashamed of you, hev ya? I sincerely hope not, as... I’ve got my customers down the Co-op to think of!”

“Besides, you know what the neighbours are like round here,” he continued, “If word ever gits out that’ll be all over town...”

Albie made a quick dash for the front room and the sanctuary of the bed settee. “I think I’ll turn in as well,” he said, leaving his troubled parents to worry amongst themselves, “that’s bin a long day – besides, I’ve gotta go an’ see PC Beck at the Police Station tomorra mornin’!”

After the door slammed shut behind him, Albie’s parents began discussing the implications of their son’s latest escapade, whatever it was of course, as they had no way of knowing.

“Oh, my goodness,”cried his mother, “whatever next! I dread to think what he’s bin up to now...”

“Bob Obie, the barber, told me only the other day Albie was ‘up to something’,” replied his father, remembering the day he’d told Albie to get his hair cut! “Apparently, he asked for ‘something for the weekend’!”

“Oh, I do hope he hasn’t... oh, not our Albie, he couldn’t, could he? ” replied the boy’s mother, wringing her hands with worry. “But, what shall we do if... if he has... you know?”

“If he has you know what?” asked her husband, finding it hard to understand that, at some stage in their lives, everyone is young once. “If you’re thinking what I’m thinking – then he’ll hatta suffer the consequences!”

“Oh, dear,” whimpered Albie’s mother, crying into her handkerchief, “Perish the thought! And all this talk of the Police as well... what are we to do?”

In the front room, tucked up in the convertible bed-settee – with its creaking springs and an unannounced tendency to close up when it felt like it – Albie was already fast asleep and dreaming of his exciting evening – but, would Roz still love him in the morning?

JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS?

Roz was up bright and early on Thursday morning, hoping to avoid any repeat of the unpleasantness of the night before, and trying to think of a way she could make it up to Albie’s parents for the misunderstanding between them!

Packing her suitcases, to return home before Good Friday – making sure to leave her room as tidy as possible – reluctantly she went downstairs for her breakfast. Albie, in the meantime, already washed and dressed, was sitting at the table in the living room munching on a round of toast and marmalade.

“Best that we say no more about last night,” his mother told him, with a somewhat icy tone. “But, Albie, there en’t to be any more o’ that there ‘hanky-panky’ – do I make myself abundantly clear?”

Albie nodded, though rather hesitantly, unsure of the constraints being imposed upon him and wondering just how far these were to extend! “Okay, Mum,” he eventually replied, “I’ll try...”

“You won’t try!” was the caustic reply from his mother, “you’ll do as you’re told!”

Just then, the living room door opened and Roz appeared, rather pale and drawn, and struggling with her suitcases.

“Hello, Dear,” Albie’s mother greeted her, “going so soon? It’s been so lovely having you!”

It certainly had, thought Albie, then quickly banished all those forbidden thoughts from his head.

“I thought I’d go home later this morning,” Roz informed them, “but I’d like to visit my Uncle and Auntie before I go, if that’s all right?”

“Where do they live?” Albie’s mum asked. “Perhaps we might even know them – specially if they’re customers in Dad’s shop!”

“Better have some breakfast first,” Albie told her, passing the toast-rack. “Like some toast an’ marmalade?”

“Or would you like some bacon, eggs and beans?” Albie’s mother asked. “A girl like you needs fattenin’ up a bit!”

“No – thank you, Mrs Gray,” Roz replied quietly, taking a slice of toast, “I’ll just have piece of dry toast if you don’t mind, as I feel a bit off colour!”

This, of course, sent Albie’s mother into a bit of a tizzy, bringing back all the memories and fears of the previous evening.

“Oh, dear, no,” she declared, putting a hand to her mouth, “I do hope it isn’t anything too serious?”

NEWS TRAVELS FAST IN SHERINGHAM

“Your mother does tend to jump to conclusions, doesn’t she?” laughed Roz, as they left Regis Cottage and headed towards the police station on Weybourne Road. “But I’m sure she suspects something...”

“Naah,” Albie replied, putting his arm around her shoulders, “She’s a born ‘worrier’ tha’s all – besides, you’re not havin’ second thoughts about... y’know... or us, are you?”

“Of course not, silly,” Roz replied, “it was all so-oo romantic – you, me and the sunset going down on Beeston Bump...”

“And don’t forget Treasure Island!” laughed Albie.

As they walked, arm in arm, towards the Co-op, where Albie’s father was manager, Roz suddenly tugged at his arm. “I’d like to go in and say good-bye to your father,” she said.

In the shop, Albert Gray, senior, was serving Mrs Bishop who lived half way up The Avenue and, as Roz and Albie stepped into the Co-op, his father and the customer turned to face them.

“Talk o’ the devil,” laughed Mrs Bishop, “wuz your lugs burnin’, boy? – ’corse we wuz jist a-talkin’ about you!”

Suddenly, the proverbial penny dropped, like a lead balloon, as Mrs Bishop, being a dog lover, often exercised her large black dog on Beeston Bump.

“I wuz jist tellin’ your father,” she continued loudly, eager to share her news with other customers in the shop, “how I saw you on the cliff tops last night, when I wuz out walkin’ my dawg...”

Roz and Albie beat a quick retreat, not wishing to discover exactly what she had seen, although resigning themselves to their slight indiscretion being made public, which indeed it was as soon as the local barber got to hear about it and, by lunchtime, it was the talk of the town under the clocktower!

“Between you, me an’ the geartepust,” he told his attentive clientele in his barber shop later that morning, “Oi hears that young Albie hev bin upta no-oo good wi’ a young mawther on that there Beeston Bump...”

“Not that mawther frum the bearker’s, wuz it?” asked his customer in the chair, “I hear she’re be a-lookin’ fur a new fella fur earges! She chearnge ’em uz offen as she chearnge her pants!”

Bob Obie laughed, “No-oo, not har! But accordin-lie tuh what Oi’ve heared this ’un’s a posh young mawther frum Norridge!”

“Lucky little waarmin!” exclaimed his customer!

THE LONG ARM OF THE LAW

“Hello, hello, hello,” declared PC Beck as he took the little tin of Gee’s Linctus Pastilles from Albie, “and just what have we here, then?”

“We found them on Beeston Bump last night,” replied Albie, as the tin’s contents of old coins tumbled out all over the counter and rolled across the floor. “As they may be treasure, me an’ Roz thought we oughtta bring them for you to have a look.”

Producing a notebook from the top pocket of his uniform, the policeman licked his pencil and proceeding to take down their particulars.

“Now, tell me, young Albie” he said, looking up from his notebook for a moment and holding a coin between finger and thumb, “just what were you doin’ on Beeston Bump last night? I do hope you weren’t up to any obnoxious behaviour?”

This line of questioning by PC Beck came as a bit of a shock to Albie, although not entirely unexpected as, apart from the fact that the lad did appear rather red-faced and suspicious, the news from Bob Obie’s establishment of tonsorial elegance had already spread far and wide! However, Roz was none too pleased at the Constable’s line of enquiry and told him so.

“Of course not, Officer!” declared Roz indignantly, “just what do you take us for?”

“Sorry, Miss, just tryin’ to get to the facts...” the constable replied, “no offence committed I’m sure – and none intended!”

One of Sheringham’s most popular policemen, PC Ernie Beck, a giant of a man standing well over six feet tall, was always eager to help and, having taking down all the facts relating to Roz and Albie’s discovery, was ready to offer his advice.

“As far as I can see,” he said, handling each coin in turn but taking a particular interest in the gold money, “this may be a case of you finding some lost property and, in the event of it bein’ unclaimed within a period of, say, three months, that’d be yours as the rightful owners!”

This verdict, of course made Albie and Roz most pleased, but more advice was to follow.

“However, as there’s gold involved I shall hatta inform the Chief Constable,” PC Beck continued, “and them coins could end up in the Castle Museum in Norwich – but, who knows, there might even be a little reward for you! We shall hatta wait an’ see!”

The next three months were a very long way off indeed for Roz and Albie!

ALBIE MEETS THE EGG PIRATES

Leaving the police station, Roz and Albie crossed the railway bridge and began walking down the hill, past St Peter’s parish church, and into town. The time on the Town Clock, at the top end of the High Street, showed a quarter-to-twelve as they passed on their way to visit Roz’s uncle and aunt.

“I think you’ll like my uncle and auntie,” Roz told Albie, as they made their way down High Street, “their daughter Pamela – my cousin – may be there as well. She’s engaged to a Sheringham rugby player, you know!”

“Never did like rugby,” Albie was forced to admit, remembering the bruising he’d received during his schooldays, “tried it once, an’ once wuz enough for me!”

Turning into the little Chapel of Ease yard that led onto West Cliff plain, Roz opened the gate to a little cottage and knocked on the door, which was quickly opened by friendly-looking, bespectacled lady who, immediately gave Roz a big kiss and invited them both inside.

“So, you must be Albie,” she said, shaking his hand warmly, “I’m Roz’s auntie – do come and meet Uncle Gee!” And, with that, they were shown into a little room, just off the hallway, where Roz’s uncle was hard at work.

“Here’s Roz to see you,” Mrs Gee announced, as her husband looked up from his work, “and she’s brought someone special to meet you...!”

“Well, I never,” the man declared, grabbing Albie’s hand and shaking it vigorously until it was fit to drop off, “so you’re the Albie we’ve been hearing so much about!”

“Nice to meet you too,” replied Albie, “I’ve heard much about you as well!” He hadn’t of course, being only made aware of their existence a half-an-hour earlier!

“Tha’s about time someone made an honest girl of you, isn’t it, Roz?” laughed her uncle, banging Albie on the back and knocking all the breath out of him. “Tha’s quite serious by all accounts, I hear?”

Blimey, thought Albie, news sure travels fast in Sheringham!

“I’ve been telling Albie about Pamela,” said Roz, looking around the room, “is... is she in...?”

“Heavens, no!” replied her aunt, “she’s gone off somewhere with her fiancé – you know, the rugby player – Sheringham are playing away tomorrow!”

“Now tha’s a real man’s sport!” said Roz’s uncle, his chest swelling with pride. “D’you play, young man?”

“Uncle is quite busy at the moment,” said Mrs Gee, sensing Albie’s embarrassment and quickly changing the subject. “He’s going to have his own programme on Anglia Television!”

“I’ve bin on the telly meself,” said Albie, remembering the day, late in October 1959, when he appeared, all too briefly, on the Midday Show. “So, what’ll you be doin’ then, Mr Gee?”

“Oh, call me ‘Uncle Gee’!” he laughed, “everyone does, and that’ll be part of the programme name – ‘Uncle Gee and the Egg Pirates’!”

Glancing around the small room, it all began to fall into place for Albie as, on shelves and in cupboards – in fact wherever there was any suitable space – were dozens upon dozens of colourful little characters, painted and dressed to resemble pirates, and all made from eggs! Not only that, but there were galleons made from scraps of balsa wood and cardboard, with cannon – primed and ready to fire – made from drinking straws and the like!

But it was the Egg Pirates themselves that attracted Albie’s attention, for they were all so lovingly created from ‘blown’ eggs, each and every one beautifully detailed with such wonderful expressions on their faces – many with black eye patches! Their spindly arms, carefully formed from pipe cleaners, held miniature cutlasses and flintlock pistols, with the pirates ready to do battle with the Excise Men. Their legs, similarly made, wore long sea-boots, not unlike those worn by the Sheringham fishermen of the day, Albie noticed.

“What d’you think of this one?” Uncle Gee asked Albie, holding out a sinister-looking figure complete with black eye-patch. “He’s Cap’n Eggles Egglington, leader of the gang of cut-throats – and I call him the Pirate King!”

“They are really... terrific!” Albie told Uncle Gee, being most impressed, “I just can’t wait to see them in action on the telly!”

Roz just hoped he wouldn’t mention anything about ‘Treasure Island’ and quickly joined in the conversation. “There’s going to be a book as well, isn’t there, Uncle?” she said.

“Well, ye-es,” he replied, thoughtfully, “but we’ll hatta see how it goes on Anglia first, although I do have plans for a book if Jarrolds will print it for me – but tha’s along way off yet, I’m afraid!”

“And, talking of a long way off,” Mrs Gee said, “as you two seem to be getting on so well together – by what we’ve heard, that is – have you thought of naming the day yet?”

NEXT WEEK: All Sheringham turns out for a Whitsun Wedding!

SOME OF ALBIE’S FAVOURITE WEBSITES A Norfolk Entertainer A Moment in Time Enjoy North Norfolk Enjoy Norwich Flint Holiday Cottages Norfolk Churches Norfolk Dialect Norfolk Village Signs Norwich City Hall and the Lions Picture Norfolk Remember Norfolk Sculthorpe Spyplanes

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