Hoarberry Farm
Without Prejudice
Lauren shivered as the number 116 bus, headed for Ossett, pulled into the
depot with a swish of air brakes, Sending a pile of slush , made up of ice,water and
rubbish, grey and soaking onto any unwary passengers legs. Lauren gathered her new bought
woollen coat tighter into her tiny frame and adjusted her scarf just so. She knew the bus
would be warm and might, just might,thaw out her freezing cold feet. Her supposedly all
leather boots turned out to have soles of thick cardboard which turned to mush the minute
they were wet.
If Lauren had but known her chilled feet were going to be the least of
her worries that night in late October,1964, she would have endured them a lot more
stoically than she did. As it was, she was not blessed with the power of second sight, so
she grumbled and moaned to herself with some veracity. Berating herself for her stupidity
and cheapness.
The dampness had soaked into her knee high lace socks. And her misery was
complete. Lauren had idly thought as she stamped her chilled feet that she would have been
better off going barefoot. and laughed to herself at the thought.No one went barefoot in
England, not even in the height of Summer when temperatures could reach a dizzying height of
18 degrees or so.
No wonder the boots had been such a bargain at 5 quid, she thought. Her
Mother had warned her about buying cheap goods at the market but Lauren couldnt resist the
sight of them. with their Faux lace up fronts, shiny gold zips on the inside of the legs. A
block stacked heel that made her body tilt forward just slightly. She imagined that she
looked not unlike a Pigeon pecking at seeds on the ground as she walked.
Not exactly pigeon chested, however, for an otherwise small girl, Lauren had
a decent sized bosom inherited from her Grandma Lucy whose bust was so vast, deep and wide
that she placed her hearing aid in it, battery pack and all. When Granny didnt want to hear
what Grandad George was saying she just reached her hand into her ample chest and turned
down the sound. George never knew. But he was usually pissed half the time so it didnt much
mstter anyway, even if he had caught her.
The bus ride took 35 minutes exactly, from Wakefield to Ossett. The route
of 116 was one Lauren knew by heart, she ticked them off mentally as she shuffled forward
with the other passengers, anxioys to be on their way. The night was closing in very fast.
Wakefield - Wakefield Bus Station, Union St, Northgate, Bull Ring, Marygate, Westgate,
Westgate End, Dewsbury Rd, Horbury Rd, Northfield Ln, Cluntergate, High St, Westfield Rd,
Sowood Ln, Horbury and last stop Ossett, Lauren repeated to herself.
Ossett was where she lived, down Headlands Road, in an old Gate House
that had once been part of an estate. Her Dad had turned what had once been the old stables
into a large garage from where he operated a panel beating business, sprayed cars and sold
retread tyres. He bought a Bedford Van, second hand, and did it up and would travel up and
down the highways and byways to Sunderland where he bought the tyres cheap as chips.
Then he would flog them all around Wakefield, to car yards, markets,
boot sales and the like, always cash on the nose. He loved a bit of cash, her Dad, Eric. Mum
always called him a bit of a " wide boy". Lauren had no idea what that meant but she knew
who " Flash Harry" was from the St Trinian Films and that was another term Mum would come up
with when talking about Dad. Lauren tended to hero worship him and this only seemed to
aggravate her Mum.
That and being a 16 year old teenage girl that is. Mum seemed to be
going through a bit of a " funny stage " Dad said and he should know, he hsd seen her
through many a "funny stage " since the War. She had been badly injured both physically and
mentally in the War, serving in the RAF. She never talked about it, not ever. It was a
secret. Within a family of secrets, shhhhh, careful they might hear you.
"Loose lips, sink ships " Mum always warned them. Dad said nothing
when she said it.
