Basham by Robert F. Clifton (types of ebook readers .TXT) 📕

sir. I'll tell you what's disgusting, the Ministry of Food allowing restaurants to remain open and serve a complete three course meal on their menu, The only thing regulated is the price of the meal,” said Marjorie.

“I believe it has something to do with keeping up the morale of the people. Stiff upper lip and all that.”

“What about the morale of us making the sacrifices?”

asked Marjorie.

“Save your money and eat out, I suppose.”

 

*****************

 

Mildred Perkins sat alone at a table for two in the crowded, Lyon's Tea Shop. Her breakfast consisted of tea, corned-beef hash, and black sunflower seed bread. She opened her pocketbook and counted her money. She had enough for the meal. What she needed was enough funds to pay a cobbler to repair her shoes which needed new heels. The left shoe was so run down that it was causing her to walk with a limp.

She looked up when and elderly woman walked up and asked, “Pardon me dear, but I was wondering if I might sit here? This place is so crowded and you seem to be alone.”

“Of course. Please have a seat.”

“Thank you. Now, if I can get the attention of a Nippie (waitress) hopefully I'll have breakfast. By the way, my name is Catherine Briscoe.”

“I'm Mildred Perkins.”

“Nice meeting you Mildred. Are you from East London?”

“No, actually I'm from Harrow. I came to London to work.”

“Oh, and what is it you do?”

“I'm a volunteer social worker. I look after the elderly.”

“How nice. May I ask, is the hash meaty or all potato?”

“I find it actually very good.”

“Excellent. Here comes a girl. Perfect timing.”

“So you have a job.”

“Yes, actually like many others I need a place to live.”

“Too bad. You see I need someone to help me put things back to rights. I'm a librarian and the concussions from the bombs shattered some windows and spilled the books from the shelves. Putting them back on the shelves is more than I can do alone.”

“What will you pay?”

“The minimum of course. It's not like the job requires skilled labor.”

“If possible I'd like to be consider for the position.”

“Really? What about your social work?”

“My social work depends on at least two meals a day, a spot out of the winter cold and a place to sleep, other than a bomb shelter.”.

“Well, you seem healthy enough. Do you happen to know the Dewey Decimal System?”

“I know that the number is on the spine of the book.”

“Well, that's something. Tell you what dear. After I have my breakfast you'll come with me. We'll go to the library and you can start. I can't promise anything, but I'll give you a try.

And, if things work out you can sleep on one of the leather sofa's.

Once the windows are repaired sometime today. There will be heat in the building. You also have the loo and running water. No tub mind you, but the ability to take a sponge bath and wash your knickers.”

“Sounds nice and much more than I have right now.”

“Excellent, now here comes my hash.

*************

Balsham placed his handwritten notes on the top of the lectern. Peering over the rim of his eyeglasses he looked at those seated in the classroom. “Good morning gentlemen. I trust that all of you had a good night sleep in spite of the Luftwaffe. Those of you who didn't are urged not to doze off while I lecture. Now,

As I recall we left off discussing crime. As a result I shall continue on that subject. “It seems that there has always been confusion between crime and criminals in criminology. The criminologist seeks the answer to crime in the behavior of the offender rather than the criminal law. I'll stop here for a moment while those of you that didn't add what I just said to your notes do so now..... To continue, the why and how people commit crimes is an important one, however, the theory of behavior is not a theory of crime, Behavior is criminal only when judged by some standard of conduct. The term, “crime” then refers to the judging or labeling the behavior rather than to the behavior its self.

By the blank expression on your faces I will attempt to give you an example. During the last war Turkey rounded up Armenians living in Turkish territory. First, there was the wholesale killing of the Armenian man. Some shot, others worked to death. Next, was the forced death march of Armenian woman and children into the Syrian desert. The women were robbed, many raped. No one was allowed food or water. Those that survived the march were put in concentration camps where many starved to death. My question gentleman were these criminal acts? Let me answer for you. The majority of us would certainly say that if nothing else, these acts were crimes against humanity. The crimes could be identified as murder or if you prefer, homicide, rape, assault, mayhem, torture, slavery and abuse. Nonetheless, even today Turkey denies that genocide ever took place. Those responsible were never arrested or brought to justice. Why? The answer is because of the judging and behavior of those responsible. They saw no crime because they saw the actions justifiable.

Now, some of you, no, most of you, see a miscarriage of justice here. Surely the international community should have taken action and brought those responsible to be at least adjudicated. Why not? Why didn't this happen.? One reason and let me say right here and now, that one reason is that the international community failed to act is that prior to the Great War of 1914-18 another war took place. The Boar war. In that war Boar women and children were rounded up, many from their farms. They were then transported to what we British termed, “concentration camps”, which incidentally was invented by the Brits. Boar men were shot on sight. Boar farms and crops were destroyed by fire.

A total of twenty six thousand Boar women and children died in the concentration camps. Many died as a result of typhoid and dysentery. There was no medical treatment. England did this you may ask? Barbaric treatment by the English? Who was responsible for such horrific treatment? The answer is Lord Herbert Kitchener, one of our most famous generals. He's right up there with Wellington. The question, why wasn't or hasn't Kitchener been charged at the time or later in history? The answer, once again is because the War Office, Parliament and probably the Royal Family saw these acts as not criminal, but judged necessary in a time of war. Do I make myself clear.?”

**************

On the way to the library Mildred and Catherine stopped at a cobbler shop. There the shoemaker put new heels on her shoes and then with the ability to walk naturally instead of with a limp the two women continued to their destination.

At the library repair men were already installing glass panes in the shattered windows when the librarian and Mildred arrived. Once inside Catherine Briscoe said, “Well, as you can see the place is a mess. Every aisle is littered with books that were spilled from the shelves because of the explosions. I will suggest dear that first you sweep up the broken glass and toss it in the dustbin. Once that's done you can start on replacing the books. Now, I don't expect you to know how to shelve a book since you're not a librarian. Simply pick up the books and place them neatly on a shelf. Later, I'll arrange them the way I want. Are there any questions?”

“Yes, where do I find the broom and dustpan?”

“In the closet next to the ladies loo. And make sure you do a decent job of it.”

On the way to the broom closet Mildred stopped and removed the black, heavy, wool coat. Seeing no place to hang it she carefully draped it over one of the chairs situated at one of the reading tables. At the closet she removed the broom and dustpan and walked to the wall where shattered windows had already been replaced. There she began sweeping the shards into a pile. From across the room Catherine said, “And, be careful. I don't need you cutting yourself and going to hospital.”

“I'm being careful,” Mildred replied.

“And pick up your coat. There is a coat rack right by the front door. Hang it there and be quick about it. You haven't even picked one book up off of the floor. I'm beginning to think that I made a mistake hiring you.”

Mildred felt the anger and resentment beginning to build. She fought the temptation to speak out. Not saying anything she carried her coat to the rack near the front entrance of the library then returned to where she had left the broom and dustpan. Returning to the pile of broken glass she bent over and carefully swept them into the dustpan. She then carried the pan with the glass across the room and deposited the shards in the waste container. “No, not in the waste paper basket. In the dustbin outside. I must say that you're making a mess of things. I think I've had enough of you my girl. I've changed my mind. Time for you to bog off. Get your coat and things and leave. I'll find myself someone who knows what they're doing and can think for themselves,” said Catherine Briscoe.

Mildred stood silently. As the anger grew so did the urge to strike back, to injure to kill. Memories of her dominating mother came back to her. Her mother always found fault with her. She recalled being called a liar when she complained. “You are an awful liar and a terrible daughter,” her mother had once said. As Mildred recalled those times, those many times growing up when her mother either refused to listen to her or accused her of lying she looked at Catherine Briscoe standing in front of her.

Mildred moved quickly catching the librarian off guard.

Taking the older woman by the throat she began to squeeze. The woman tried to fight back in an attempt to get away, to save her own life. The younger woman was too strong for her and as she tried in vain to breath she felt her knees bend and give way. She looked at Mildred pleading with imploring look on her face and in her eyes. Both were ignored as the hatred in Mildred Perkins dominated her thoughts inflaming the desire to kill this woman. This woman she now held by the throat. This woman who reminded her of her mother. Finally, realizing that Catherine Briscoe was dead, Mildred released the grip she had on the woman's throat and she let the body drop slowly to the floor.

Turning around slowly Mildred looked to see if anyone had seen or heard anything. Satisfied that what she had done went un-noticed she went to where she had placed her pocketbook and suitcase. Then, near the front door she put on her coat and left the building. When she did one of the repairman whistled at her. She ignored him.

Back on the sidewalks of East London Mildred joined the homeless, some carrying what few belongings they were able to salvage out of their bombed out homes. Others walked with nothing. She passed city workmen cleaning the streets of debris enabling fire trucks, ambulances and police cars to get through to where they were needed. Once again she was tired, hungry and homeless, but she kept walking.

********************

Alistair and Marjorie Helm sat looking at each other as they took shelter once again in the cellar during another air raid. Marjorie decided to break the silence and asked, “Have you given any more thought to the garden?”

“Actually, no. I'm thinking about those poor buggers living near the docks tonight. However, to answer your question, it's January if we make it until spring I'll give it some thought.”

“I see. What about the animals?,” she asked.

“What animals?”

“The chickens and rabbits.”

“If we go that route it will be chickens.”

“They say that chickens