The House on the Hill

THE HOUSE ON THE HILL

Sharron looked up with a smile on her face as she did every afternoon at this time. She had heard the door opening with its special squeal. She had ment to oil it, but the squeal was a good signal to let her know someone was coming in. The smile was a part of the job for Sharron whatever her mood.

Stan crossed the room to the bar, ‘three of the usual’ he said. This was the usual order every day, ‘Jason will be paying’. Stan took his drink, walked over to a nearby table and sat down while Sharron carried the other two drinks over. As she put the drinks down Trevor walked in and joined Stan, ‘Jason will be last again’ he said. ‘I told him that if he doesn’t get a job nearer to exit, he will always be last and that means he will always pay for the first round, he just doesn’t listen’ said Stan. ‘Well,’ said Jason, ‘he hasn’t been in the job long, he’s still learning’. They all looked round as Jason hurried in. ‘Dam’, he said, ‘I got held up again, I recon they should have two roads out of the yard, it would speed things up.’

By now Sharron had moved back towards the bar, her domain. She was proud of this, she was the license of the Rising Sun, her own business. She felt she had come a long way since the days when she got her first job, washing dishes in a big local hotel. She had found that job herself by knocking on doors and begging for a chance. She just wanted to get out of the house, away from the rows between her mum and dad. She also wanted some money of her own to buy herself some small treats once in a while. Life wasn’t easy when your family were at the bottom of the pile when it came to income or advantages, not like some she knew. She had worked her way up quickly from washing dishes to preparing vegetables then onto cooking them. When she reached eighteen, she was promoted to the bar. She was a fast learner, she watched and listened, had done all her life. That was the way to keep out of trouble and move up in the world. It was also the best way to learn what was going on locally. Nothing happened in the area without Sharon knowing about it.

The men’s table was just near enough to the bar for Sharon to eves drop on their conversations. These conversations mainly were about work or football. She would prick up her ears when they talked about the bosses in the factory. She knew that Sir was the owner of the factory who lived in the big house on the hill. She also knew that Sir and his wife had two sons, Jerold, and Charles. They had been in the same junior school as Sharon but in higher classes and not in her circle of friends. Jerold had always seemed stand offish, but Charles was someone who could catch a girls eye, easy going and getting on with everyone. She had lost touch of them when she went up to the high school as they had both been sent to a private boarding school. After school they had gone on to university and now had joined their father, Sir, in the factory. The conversations about Sir and his family were the ones Sharon pricked up her ears to listen too. She dreamt of living in the house on the hill. She imagined what it looked like, she’d studied the magazines ‘Idea Home’ and ‘Beautiful Home’ and knew just what she wanted when she owed such a house. She was only the tenant of the Rising Sun but she had made her flat upstairs look beautiful.

‘Sir’ had the respect of all the people in the factory, firm but fair, knowing everyone by their first name and asking after their families according to the three men. Sharon had only seen pictures of him in the local paper, often doing good works, occasionally with his petite, well-groomed wife at his side. The talk had really started to get interesting when Jerold had arrived on the scene. According to the men, he had not changed much since she remembered him in school. He was still aloof, acting as if he knew everything when he didn’t. His father had tried to start him off on the factory floor so that he understood the job from the bottom up, the way his father had learnt his trade. The stories she had heard from the three men round the table often made her smile. They laughed at the way they had easily set Jerold up for a fall. Tools would fall, often onto Jerold which would result in a visit to the factory first aider, and on one occasion to A& E. Jerold wasn’t good with his hands, downright clumsy according to Stan. His work getting rejected in the quality control department time after time. Sir eventually saw the error of his decision and moved Jerold up to the offices where he felt much more at home. Jerold didn’t stay there; he would often get sent on an errand to the factory floor where he would try and pick on the staff if he thought they were shirking. Sharon would smile at the names he was called behind his back, many of which were unrepeatable but word she had heard often before in her job.

Charles arrived up in the factory a couple of years later and set too on the factory floor, joining in the banter, and showing his worth. When he was there he got on with everyone and did a good days work. That was the problem, he wasn’t there enough. If he’d been out partying, he wouldn’t turn up on a Monday at all causing the production line to be a man down. Jason quite liked this because it gave him a chance to show his worth. If there was a weekend party organised, he would be there either, he did like a good time. According to the lads, Jerold and Charles did not see eye to eye, they would bate each other unmercifully. Sharon lapped up all these stories, smiling to herself, she had a soft spot for Charles, as did all the girls. There was talk of far too much drink and even drugs where Charles was concerned while Jerold’s story was far less interesting except for his engagement and marriage to a wealthy young lady. The pictures of the wedding in the local paper showed an awfully expensive affair with a honeymoon in a far-off land of sun and sand. Sharon continued to dream of a day when she would have something similar.

The talk this Friday afternoon was of a big charity event to which Sir was going to present a cheque. Everyone had been told that the money they had raised over the year was to be handed over at a big gala dinner that very evening. Sharon bought the paper on Saturday, looking forward to seeing the pictures of the family. Low and behold, there was a picture of Sir and his wife all dressed up and looking happy holding the giant cheque.

All was to change on Monday evening when the three men arrived for their nightly pint together. This was unusual for starters, but Stan’s first words were not ‘three of the usual’. What was going on? ‘Have you heard the news’ where the first words out of his mouth. ‘No’ said Sharon who was quite confused. ‘Sir is dead’ replied Stan. Sharon stared at him with her mouth wide open, ‘dead’ she repeated. ‘Yes, drowned’ said Stan. ‘Drowned’ Sharon repeated, she’d been taken almost speechless by the news. His body had been found floating down the local river on Saturday morning by a man walking his dog. The police had been called and he had been identified by the information found in his wallet. There was a head wound but the cash in his wallet had not been stolen which made it even more of a mystery. Nothing had been put into the local newspapers over the weekend at the polices request, until they had spoken to the family and made further enquires. Jerold and Charles had not been into work and gossip was rife around the factory. Some said it must have been Charles because his father would give him no more money. Some said it was Jerold as he wanted to run the show and Sir would not retire. Others said it was a local tramp who had been seen in the area stealing and scavenging. It was a great mystery, no one knew what would happen next, who would run the factory, would it be sold on. Sharron listened to what everyone said, it was the talk of the town.

By Tuesday the news had hit the papers, the stories heated up. Stories of family rivalry where printed, there was no surprise there for Sharon. The police didn’t comment any further than, ‘enquires where continuing’. Sir’s wife was said to be heart broken, unable to talk to anyone. Jerold and Charles were both interviewed intensively. Slowly a story emerged from the gossip. Sir and his wife had left the charity event in good form on Friday night and arrived home after midnight. His wife had gone to bed while Sir had stayed up to see to some paperwork. He must have gone out as his car was not at home and was later found parked up in a local park near the river. His wife was at the point of phoning the police when they had arrived to give her the bad news. She didn’t know where or why he would have gone out in the middle of the night. The doctor had been called and she had been given tranquilisers to calm her down, she was in a bad state. Jerold and his wife had been to the event with his parents and had arrived at their own home at a similar time. All this was verified by other guests. Charles didn’t go to the event, no one, as yet knew where he had been, but he had been out all night. He still lived at home with his parents. It was Charles who the police were looking at most intensively.

Most evenings that week the men came in together with new speculation and gossip. The papers were shedding no more real news only speculation. Talk throughout the area was rife. Sharon listened to the three men more intensely as she waited to hear what had really happened. At one-point Charles had been interviewed again for twelve hours. The area had been scoured, the tramp found and questioned but was no were near the site of the ‘accident’ at the time it happened. None of the family had been into work, the junior managers carried on as usual, trying to damp down speculation.

Eventually the body was released, and a funeral was held. More pictures were shown in the papers. The family, all in black, friends, and staff members. The factory had been closed for the day. It was a big affair with people from far and wide who had a connection to the family.

After the funeral things went quiet. The men went back to discussing work and football. Sharon listened to their conversations but, so far, no one knew who the police were looking for.

A month after the funeral an arrest was made, and someone was charged with murdering Sir. What a shock. The police had scoured the area for a weapon and found nothing but a local out for an afternoon stroll had come across it between the spot were the car was parked and the house on the hill. This had led the police back to a family member being involved. Jerold’s alibi was tight, and Charles had managed to clear himself. Sir’s wife, now much calmer, was interviewed again more intensely and admitted she had killed him. She had demanded he stopped so that she could talk to him face to face. She lost her temper, went into the boot of the car and took out the jack handle and swung it at him. She said she only ment to threaten him, but she hit him and he fell. She had rolled him down to the water and walked home.

As information spilt out it revealed that the marriage wasn’t good. She was a bully, demanding more and more from all the family. She wanted the biggest and best of everything and if she didn’t get her own way all hell would let loose. The smiling exterior hid a horror story.

Poor Sharon was, like everyone else, very shocked by all this. It crushed Sharon’s elusions of riches and happiness being linked. She now realised just how happy she was doing what she was doing. She didn’t need fancy goods to show her that, her life was good, and she would be happy to carry on the way she was. Stan, Trevor and Jason settled down into their usual routine only by now Jason had had a promotion and didn’t have to pay for the first round every night. Football and Work were still their main conversations, as usual the boss was wrong, and they knew best. Their only difference was that Jerold and Charles were now the bosses, Charles having settled down since having to live on his own. The house on the hill was put on the market and sold on, Jerold and Charles didn’t want to live in it after all that had gone on.