Bangers & Mash

Bangers & Mash
Fran almost missed it. The spell of nice weather had come to an end, the early autumn blue skies and sunshine had given way to black clouds and a downpour that was coming down in stair rods. Adjusting her umbrella to avoid poking an oncoming man in the eye had given Fran the opportunity to spot the sign.
It was right at the end of the high street, outside a shop that had sat empty for almost two years. New shutters now covered the windows from prying eyes, and emblazoned in black on a white background were the words, JUST BANGERS. GRAND OPENING 12TH SEPTEMBER.
Opening Monday then, thought Fran. Ideal. She'd stop in on her way home from work, and if it looked good, maybe pick up something for tea. Monday was her half day, so she'd get here before lunchtime, hopefully, before any deals sold out.
Scurrying across the road, she hurried home, eager to get her wet coat off and have a warm drink before starting dinner.
Fran's husband, Keith, wasn't especially interested in her news. Most of the shopping and meal planning were left to Fran, so it wasn't as though he'd be going to take a look at it himself. As he sat at the table, Keith was eating while reading some papers from work. Fran curbed her irritation. They'd had a few "animated" discussions about why it was rude to read at the table, and she wasn't sure she could be bothered to go through it again today. Instead, she pulled her phone over and messaged her best friend, Nicky.
Fancy checking out the new shop on Monday?
Yeah, go on. I'll meet you outside at 1pm
Fran noticed that Keith had finally put his papers aside and was staring at her. "I'd rather you didn't use your phone at the table, Fran." Fran grimaced but decided not to point out the hypocrisy. Shrugging, she pushed the phone away, and they ate the rest of the meal in silence.
The rain had finally stopped over the weekend; it was chilly but dry, and when Fran got to the shop, she could see Nicky was huddled outside waiting for her.
The shutters had been pulled up, revealing an old-fashioned, plate-glass window above which, in italic gold lettering, was written "Just Bangers."
Inside, about six or seven people were milling around. Most were standing in front of the large, glass fronted butcher's counter, checking out all the different flavours of sausage on offer. The rest were looking at the shelves, which appeared to display various condiments and sauces.
Nicky and Fran joined the throng at the front, on display plates were piles of sausages with small, neatly lettered cards advising on the flavour and recommended accompaniments.
From the exotic, Chilli, sundried tomato & free-range pork. Best served with sautd potatoes and seasonal vegetables.
To the more bog standard, Pork & seasoning. Best served on a bed of mashed potatoes with peas.
Fran was quite overwhelmed by the options, but knowing that her Keith tended to be a more traditional man, she decided to go with the pork and seasoning. I'll pop in the grocers and pick up some potatoes, she mused, and I've got frozen peas at home. Bangers and Mash, the ideal cold-weather meal.
The butcher was a big, ruddy-faced man wearing the traditional blue and white striped apron over a white coat. As Fran and Nicky got to the front of the line, he flashed them a wide smile. Although Fran was sure he was trying to look welcoming, unfortunately the smile didn't seem to reach his eyes, and he looked more as though he was about to slit her throat than serve her.
Fran tucked that nugget away; Nicky would laugh her socks off when she told her. Glancing at her mate she could see that Nicky had also noticed and had raised an eyebrow at her.
Stifling an inappropriate giggle, she asked the man for six pork and seasoning sausages. Deftly plucking them from the display and then wrapping them securely in waxed paper, he put his hand out.
"That'll be 8.00, please."
Fran winced. A lot of money for a pack of sausages, and she could see Keith's face when she told him. Handing over a ten-pound note, she took her 2 change and waited to see what Nicky would pick.
Being more adventurous in their household, she'd gone for the hand-reared pork, sweet chilli, & chutney flavour. Her outlay was over 10, but both her and her husband earned well, and he wasn't as prone to complaining as Keith.
They had a quick look at the shelves before leaving. A dazzling array of chutneys, pickles, and home-made jams and sauces were carefully displayed. All were in old fashioned pots with mock cloth tops over them. Nicky chose a couple of jars and went back to the till to pay while Fran continued to browse for a bit longer. Afterwards they went to the local caffor a hot drink and a bun before going their separate ways home.
 
Fran was looking forward to cooking her new purchase, and after pottering around and doing some chores, she got out the pans and started peeling the potatoes. Pricking the sausages with a fork, she fried them slowly on the hob. Soon, a tantalising aroma filled the kitchen, making her mouth water. The sausages themselves went a lovely, deep, golden brown and looked like the ones you see in photo adverts.
Fran added butter and a drop of cream to her potatoes, such special sausages deserved the best mash, she reasoned. Fran had just finished the gravy and drained the peas when she heard the key in the door that heralded Keith's return from work.
"Just in the nick of time." She called from the kitchen, "I'm just ready to dish up; would you lay the table for me?"
Fran heard the usual sounds of Keith kicking off his shoes and the rustle of his coat being hung on the peg in the hall, before he bustled into the kitchen.
Leaning over her shoulder, he gave her cheek a dry peck.
"It looks and smells amazing."
High praise indeed, she thought drily, Keith usually didn't bother to dispense compliments.
He grabbed the knives and forks and condiments, and she could hear him distributing them to their places at the table. Fran got the warmed plates and dished up both meals, the gravy she poured into a jug separately, and Keith came back out to give her a hand carrying it all out. Another unusual occurrence, as he usually just sat at the table and waited to be served. Fran was already impressed with her purchase, as it seemed to have been a good influence on the man of the house.
Keith looked up as he tucked in and grinned around his mouthful of food.
"This is bloody good love. Best sausage and mash I think I've ever had."
Fran almost fell off her chair. Two lots of compliments in less than an hour!
In between mouthfuls, Keith started telling her about his day; she'd forgotten how witty he could be, as usually they didn't talk like this. He didn't once get out his work papers, and there were none of the usual digs at her either.
Both Keith and Fran had scraped their plates clean, and Keith leaned back, patting his stomach contentedly.
"Did you get those sausages at the new butcher shop you were telling me about last week?"
Fran nodded, "So many sausage flavours it made my head spin!""A little pricey, these six cost me eight quid."
Waiting for Keith to be outraged, she was surprised when he just shrugged.
"You get what you pay for, I guess. They were definitely quality. Might be worth picking up a pack each week and making it a regular Monday meal?"
Fran almost fell off her chair again. Tight arse Keith wasn't at all pissed off at how much she'd spent but was even suggesting they actually spend that every week. Not that she was complaining. It had been one of the best meals she'd had in a long time.
 
The rest of the week's meals paled against the sausage and mash extravaganza, and Fran found she was looking forward to Monday more than she usually did. On Sunday, she'd put together a roast beef dinner. Although it was enjoyable enough, Keith did comment that it was a shame that the new butcher didn't do roasting joints too.
On Monday, Fran was pleased to find that "Just Bangers" had now extended their range of options and included other pork cuts. Pork steak, bacon rashers, and joints of pork It's interesting that the butcher specialised in this one specific meat, but she assumed that he must have a contact who bred pigs locally.
Fran managed to spend over 20 this time and put in an order for the pork joint that she'd collect on Friday for their Sunday dinner. The butcher still gave her the heebie-jeebies, but that aside, it was the best butcher's shop the town had ever had.
Keith frowned as he examined his stomach. "I think I've gained weight," he said.
Fran shook her head.
"You just feel bloated. Shouldn't have had the extra portion, should you" she laughed.
This time around, she'd used the sausages to put together a toad in the hole, and Keith had been full of praise. Not only for the meat but also for her Yorkshire pudding and the fresh vegetables she'd served it with.
He was pleased to hear that she'd ordered a Sunday joint and offered to pick up a decent wine on his way home on Friday to go with the meal.
 
On Friday, Keith was whistling as he came into the kitchen. Fran had the radio on, and he twirled her around the room, singing tunelessly along with the music.
He'd also bought home a very decent white wine for Sunday, which he stashed in the fridge, so it'd be nicely chilled.
Overall, Fran thought, life was on the up and up. Keith seemed to be more lighthearted and more like the man she'd met and fallen in love with.
The roast pork dinner on Sunday was superb. Fran had managed to get the top to brown, so there was an abundance of crackling, her Yorkshires had risen like little alien spacecraft, and the sage and onion stuffing had come out exactly as they liked it. Fran had bought a jar of the butcher's home-made apple sauce, which set off the pork perfectly. Nicky and her husband, Dan, had both come over, and they'd also brought a bottle of wine with them, so it was a very tipsy foursome that parted on Sunday evening.
"Must get back to the teenager!" slurred Nicky. They had a 17-year-old daughter called Skye, who was apparently out with friends tonight.
Waving farewell from the doorway, Keith wrapped his arm around his wife's waist and pulled her in close.
"Early night?" He whispered. Fran winked and raced him up the stairs.
 
Skye glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly 8pm and she knew her parents would be going home soon. She really ought to be getting off, but the meeting she was at was just warming up. Cheap cider had been passed around, and plans were being made between the students from the local college Skye attended.
"We need to video it." Announced Liam. A tall lad, he was "cute" in the way only 17-year-old boys can be to their teenage counterparts. Skye had long had a crush on him, and when she found out he was part of the animal cruelty group, she immediately became a vegetarian and joined up.
The focus of tonight's meeting was the new butcher in town. Liam had heard from a friend of a friend that far from being the wholesome free-range rearing that was promised, it was actually battery farming hell that produced the pork he sold.
Liam had claimed to know exactly where the pigs were held and that he knew someone who would get them in. This had led to tonight's meeting, where they were all putting together plans for what to do once they did gain access.
"We'll let them all go. Just open the cages and chase them out."
The speaker was a small, pale girl called Fifi. Her washed out complexion was accentuated by her dishwater blonde hair and black ringed eyes. Fifi was a vegan, but as she wasn't keen on vegetables, she seemed to be very limited in what she could eat.
Jez, who'd not long got his driving licence, chipped in.
"I'll borrow my dad's big van. We can load them in the back and take them somewhere safe."
That settled it. They'd go tomorrow night under the cover of darkness and execute their plan. Jez would drive, and Liam would film it on his phone. They'd live stream it online, and that way the truth would come out.
"Otherwise, if we get arrested, they'll just cover it all up."
Liam was a great believer in conspiracies.
Once everyone had high fived each other and topped up the glasses, they settled in to enjoy the rest of the evening, so it wasn't until nearly 10pm that Skye eventually got home.
Her dad wasn't particularly impressed, but luckily the wine earlier had smoothed off the edges, and he didn't give her the full version of the lecture she'd been expecting. After pointing out (unnecessarily, in her opinion) that she had college in the morning, he waved off her excuses and returned to watching the film on the tele.
Skye had beat a grateful retreat to her room. Laying on her bed, waiting to fall asleep, she imagined that tomorrow could be what she needed to finally bag Liam. She decided she'd have to make an effort to stand out and catch his attention.
 
The next evening Skye got ready for the night raid. She'd been disgusted to see that her mum had a large pack of meats from that local butcher in the fridge when she got home earlier. After remonstrating with her, fruitlessly, that the pigs were kept in horrible conditions Skye had given up and stormed off to her room.
She'd seen the look that her parents had exchanged and her dad's eye roll, but she'd decided to ignore it. When she had the video evidence, she'd show them she was right.
It was the perfect night for their mission. The cloud cover meant that the moon was almost entirely blotted out, and the only light was from their mobile phone screens.
They'd all parked up by a large, iron gate at the front of the farmland where Liam claimed the pigs were being kept and slaughtered.
A short but stocky man in his thirties crept out of the bushes, with wild dark hair and red rimmed eyes, and he looked both ways before approaching them.
"Very cloak and dagger," thought Skye.
He palmed a key to Liam and whispered something to him before sloping off in the direction he'd come from.
"Dave reckons he's not been in there himself, but his mate installed the security. There are cameras to watch out for, and we need to keep an eye out for silent alarms as well. Must be something dodgy going on for that much security."
Liam made sure his little band of followers had taken the information in before opening the gate with a theatrical flourish.
They kept to the outskirts, creeping carefully through the trees that lined the big yard. Ahead were three large buildings; two had dim lights h the trees that lined the big yard. Ahead were three large buildings; two had dim lights inside, but the third was in darkness. There didn't seem to be anyone around, but they were all cautious and kept an eye out for cameras and the red flashing lights of silently alarmed areas.
"Which building shall we hit first?" whispered Fifi.
Liam scrutinised them carefully before pointing to the middle one.
"I'll creep over and peek in the window; if it's clear, I'll signal you all, and we'll make entry."
Keeping low, Liam scuttled over to the building and crouched below the window. He slowly raised himself up and peered in the bottom half before ducking back down again.
Raising his hand, he beckoned them over. Mirroring his approach, they scurried over in a half crouch and joined him under the window.
"I can't see anyone. Let's make a quiet entry, though. I'm thinking, go around the back and see if there's a way in there."
The group scuttled around the building together. All wearing dark clothes and hats, they were hoping that even if someone looked out, they wouldn't be seen.
At the rear of the building, Jez spotted what looked like a small, tin door. He gently pushed it slightly and felt it give.
"This one is open." He announced in a low voice.
The group shuffled over, and Liam turned on his camera.
"We've found the entry point, and we're about to go in. Keep watching."
As the group entered, Liam held his camera high enough to give the live streaming viewers what they'd tuned in for.
The room was large and empty, but on all sides were gated-off areas. They couldn't see what was in there, as the only light was the dim one in the main room.
Skye decided this was her moment of glory. Wanting to be the first to discover some poor, mistreated animal and set it free, she ran over to the nearest gate.
Reaching it, she held up her mobile and shone the screen light into the dark shadows.
Carrie propped her phone up on her bedside table to watch the live streaming event. She hadn't been able to go along herself after coming down with a nasty stomach bug, but she wanted to see what happened.
Watching as Liam followed Skye with the camera, she got a very clear view of what was behind the gate, and it wasn't her stomach bug that made her vomit this time.
 
PC Jerry Hollands ineffectually tried to comfort the vomiting girl, who hunched in front of him. He didn't blame her. He'd come perilously close to losing his own dinner when he'd seen what was going on here.
The 999 call centre had been inundated with calls from concerned citizens who'd seen the live streaming event, and he'd been one of the unlucky officers tasked with heading up here to see what all the fuss was about. He'd arrived to find a pretty young girl spewing up what appeared to be a vegetable concoction, while a green-tinged young man appeared to be about to join in.
The others had seen enough from the back of the room and hadn't got close enough to see it in all its graphic glory. A waif like kid who said her name was Fifi had shakily handed over her phone and asked in a tremulous voice if someone could call her parents for her.
Always wanted mum and dad at the end of the day, thought Jerry wryly, no matter how big they get.   
The bright spotlights of the forensic team had lit the areas around the edges of the room. Each refrigerated cubicle had a long, metal table similar to those used in morgues. Laying on each table were the remains of a neatly dissected body. It wasn't possible to identify if they were male or female at this point.
The forensic officer had shown a grudging admiration.
"Look how neatly the leg was removed at the joints and then carved into perfect steaks," she pointed out.
Jerry hadn't wanted to consider that thought too much. His wife had also been one of the avid customers of "Just Bangers," and he was starting to wonder what he'd really had for tea last night.
 
Bartholomew Bartlett sat in the cab of the lorry he was driving; his face was illuminated at regular intervals by the passing headlights.
Looking grim, he curled his lip and silently cussed the group of young people who'd disrupted his latest project. Bartholomew usually got to run his enterprise for at least a few months before he had to move on to the next town.
The remaining specimens that hadn't had to be left behind when they'd hurriedly packed up and fled just in time were in the back of his lorry.
Bartholomew had inherited the business from his father, and his father had inherited it from his father before him, and so on. As far as he knew, Bartlett's had been dealing in human meat for the last hundred and fifty years.
They'd learned a lot over that time. For example, how to raise their stock from infancy. In the back, Bartholomew had several, healthy, pregnant brood humans. At birth, the young were left to be breastfed; they'd found it helped give the meat a better flavour. When weaned, the young were then moved to the incubator unit, where they were kept quiet and well fed until they reached the ideal age for slaughter.
Back in the early days, his grandfather had faced the dangers of needing to kidnap people for his trade. Risking being caught and often finding the meat was substandard, it made sense to move on with breeding them.
Bartholomew cussed again; he'd had to leave a whole load of prime, recently cut meat behind when they'd left, and he knew it was going to go to waste. People just didn't appreciate what he did, he thought ruefully.
Always a pragmatic man, Bartholomew had already moved his thoughts forward to setting up his next operation. He'd secured a nice building, and the sign was being hand painted.
Purely Pork seemed to sum it up, he thought.