But Jayne would be disappointed because it didn’t work out at all like that.
Christmas came and went, and the weeks slipped by. It was 1974 and Britain was in the grip of the coal miners’ strike. The numerous power stations that depended on coal to generate electricity were forced to shut down and a three-day week was introduced in an effort to conserve energy. A general election was called, resulting in Edward Heath’s resignation and Harold Wilson becoming Prime Minister.
By March, Sadie’s pups were ready for new homes. Jayne was concerned that Bella had made no attempt to have the puppies adopted, and the cottage was filled with the yaps of seven young dogs and beginning to look the worse for wear.
“Bella, shall I put a postcard up in the Post Office and see if we can’t get these pups adopted?” she asked. “Hey, stop that!”
This remark was directed to a pup whose sharp little teeth were sunk into the hem of her skirt, playing tug of war.
“There’s no hurry,” said Bella. “They’re doing well here.”
“Are those puppies of Miss Tait’s ready for adoption yet?” asked PC Cooper a day later, popping his head round the Post Office door.
“Well, yes, and no,” replied Jayne. “They are old enough now, but whether you can persuade Bella to part with them is another matter.”
“I’ll have a go,” he said, grinning. “I’ll pay her a visit.”
He walked up Bella Tait’s path and tapped on the peeling front door. Her father had been planning to sand down the door and revarnish it in spring.
His knock set off a chorus of yaps from within.
“Hold on, I’ll just shut the puppies away,” Bella called, then opened the door, her face blanching when she saw PC Cooper on her doorstep.
“It’s okay, Miss Tait,” said Stan hurriedly. “I’m not here on police business. I heard you had some puppies and wondered whether I might see them.”
“Of course!” said Bella, suddenly more cheerful. “Please come in.”
Stan stepped inside, and his shiny leather boot landed in a pile of puppy poo that should have been cleared up.
Bella opened the door to the kitchen and seven fat, hairy, brown and white pups tumbled out. In the lead was one with a patch over one eye and hair that stuck up at all angles.
Stan crouched down and the puppy stopped tugging at his shoelaces long enough to smother the policeman’s face with wet licks.
“Hey, Tufty, good to meet you!” said Stan, picking up the wriggling, affectionate puppy.
“I think you’ve made a friend there!” said Bella.
“Are they ready to leave their mother yet?”
“No,” Bella said quickly, almost snatching the puppy from his arms, “not nearly ready yet.”
“I’d love to adopt young Tufty here, would that be okay? He’d live at the police house with me, not far away at all. Perhaps I could call back for him in a couple of weeks?”
“Well, I don’t know… I’ll contact you when I feel they are ready to go.”
Stan had to be satisfied with that.
Weeks turned into months and the puppies grew. Bella turned away PC Cooper and all prospective owners. Jayne Fairweather worried more and more about the state of Bella’s home and her health. It was only a small house, and the puppies and other animals filled it.
Word had trickled round the village that Bella rescued animals. Jayne Fairweather was partly responsible for this because, in an effort to help Bella, she’d put up a postcard in the Post Office saying:
Wanted.
Old towels, blankets or quilts to be used for animal rescue. Please drop them here or at Bella Tait’s house.
Thank you!
People brought their old blankets and quilts, but they also brought all manner of animals and wildlife for Bella to nurse and care for. The house began to fill up with rescued and injured animals and Bella needed to make space to accommodate them all.
The living room was mainly given over to Sadie and her puppies. The pups had grown big and their boisterous behaviour was ruining the furniture and carpet. Sharp puppy teeth had shredded the curtains and chewed the upholstery. A window was broken, and roughly boarded up. Bella dragged one big chair into the front garden, uncertain what to do with it next. And in spite of her efforts, the room smelled of urine and puppy poo. Hattie sought peace on the mantlepiece.
Her mother’s dining room was now unrecognisable. Chair legs were chewed, crates sat on top of each other, some with occupants, others empty but not cleaned out. Those that were occupied contained a pigeon with a broken wing, other injured birds, and even a barn owl that had flown into a power line. There were rabbits, both wild and domesticated, white rats that bred alarmingly, and guinea pigs, either abandoned or injured. There were hedgehogs, a ferret and mice.
The crates spilled over into the kitchen leaving just enough space for Bella to prepare the animals’ food. A small area was set aside for a pair of scales to weigh her patients and keep notes on their progress.
Henrietta, the chicken, marched in and out of the house as she pleased. In the front garden, her mother’s carefully tended flowers were neglected and the weeds allowed to take over. The easy chair from the living room sat rotting. The once neat picket fence had slats missing and leaned drunkenly.
Bella shared her bedroom with an assortment of rescued cats and two litters of kittens. Apart from her late parents’ bedroom, which remained untouched with the door firmly closed, the house was full to bursting.
There wasn’t a label for the condition in those days, but Bella had become an animal hoarder. Her whole life was taken up by caring for the animals.
Bella threw herself into the job of nursing her patients and tending the orphaned and abandoned creatures.
At least I have no time to think about Mum and Dad, she thought as she ladled dog food into bowls. These animals depend on me.
Mr Dodd, the bank manager, was not so sympathetic. His expression was severe as he stared at Bella over the top of his horn-rimmed spectacles.
“Miss Tait, you must curb your spending. If you carry on at this rate, you’ll use up all your inheritance in no time.”
Bella stared back at him.
“But I have to feed the animals,” she said.
Mr Dodd blinked.
“Miss Tait, there’ll be no money to feed yourself if you don’t cut back.”
“Sign here,” said the prison warder.
Christine scrawled her name on the dotted line.
The warder handed her a plastic bag containing an opened packet of cigarettes, a lighter and some small change, Christine’s belongings before she had been admitted to Holloway.
“You know that you must report to your probation officer? If you don’t, you’ll be straight back in here.”
“Yes, I know.”
As if I’m gonna bother with that!
“Right,” said the warder wearily, “here’s your allowance, a gift from Her Majesty the Queen. And here’s your probation officer’s phone number, and the address of the halfway house. They’re expecting you.” She unlocked the metal door and pushed it open. A blast of cold air swirled in. “Off you go then, good luck.”
Christine stepped out into the street and sucked the grey London air into her lungs. The prison gate clanged shut behind her. There was nobody to meet her but she didn’t care.
Freedom! At last!
With a spring in her step she walked down the street, heading for the bus stop. The money in her pocket wasn’t going to last long so she’d better top it up. And where was a sure-fire place to acquire some? On the platforms of the good old London underground, of course.
A bus approached just as she reached the bus stop.
“Where you goin’, Miss?” asked the conductor.
“Caledonian Road, please,” she said.
Yes, just one underground stop away from King’s Cross, on the Piccadilly line. A nice busy platform. Perfect!
14
Bella sat hunched on the d
oorstep of her cottage with her head buried in her hands. Behind the closed front door she could hear thumps and yaps from inside. The puppies, adorable as they were, had become adolescent wreckers. The inside of the cottage was ruined, even Bella acknowledged that. Her mother would turn in her grave if she could see how her cottage looked now.
Tears trickled from Bella’s eyes. She was so tired. Worrying kept her awake most of the night and even when she slept, nightmares tormented her.
How had it got so bad?
The event that Mr Dodd, the bank manager, had predicted, was nearly upon her. She had almost run out of money.
Who will look after the animals if I can’t? They’ll starve!
Fresh tears sprang from her eyes. She shuddered and sobbed into her hands, shoulders heaving.
“Bella?”
Bella was too wrapped in her own misery to hear the voice or see the figure in front of her.
“Bella? Is that you? Whatever is the matter?”
Bella paused. Choking back a sob, she tilted her head slightly and peeped through her fingers. Who was this tall, slim man with a thatch of deep auburn hair? He was a stranger, yet he looked familiar. She gasped, and her hands fell away from her pale, tear-streaked face.
“Red?”
Red smiled into her bloodshot eyes.
“Yup! It’s me all right! I think I came back just in time, didn’t I?” He plonked himself down on the doorstep beside her and draped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m here to help.”
Bella gaped at him.
“Now, before you tell me what the tears are all about, explain to me what’s causing the thumping and barking behind us in the house. Has a circus moved in?”
“It’s the puppies,” wailed Bella and, burying her face into his chest, renewed her sobbing.
Red held her and stared over her head, waiting for her to quieten. He didn’t show it, but he was shocked to see the tumbledown fence and the unkempt front garden. But only when Bella’s sobs turned to hiccups did he speak.
“Bella, before you tell me everything, I want to tell you some stuff you need to know.”
Bella was silent, listening. Only an occasional hiccup escaped her.
“When my family moved to Scotland all those years ago, I was miserable. I’d lost my best friend and nobody could take your place, Bella. I used to watch the postman like a hawk, in case he brought me a letter from you. Then one day, it struck me. If you felt the same as I did, you would be miserable, too. So I forced myself to write less and less often. I was trying to help you to move on, you understand? Then, one black day I wrote unknown at this address on your envelope and posted it back to you.”
Bella stared at him.
“I never wrote again after that,” she whispered.
“I know,” he sighed. “I thought I’d done it for the best.”
“Did you go to university?” asked Bella.
“No. My parents wanted me to, but I fought it. I’m afraid I became a rebellious teenager and got myself into a lot of trouble. I started drinking.”
Bella drew away from him in order to stare into his face.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, absolutely serious. I found it was a good way to hide from life. I started drinking because I wanted to escape, and now I drink because I need to.”
“You… You’re an alcoholic?”
“I believe I am. Then, a couple of days ago, I was sitting drinking, and I thought of you. And I felt as though you were in trouble. The impression just wouldn’t leave me. I tried drowning the feeling but the whiskey tasted horrible on my tongue. Eventually, I lost patience. I decided I had to travel down and see you for myself, put my mind at rest.”
“Two days ago?”
Bella recalled the fitful night she’d had two nights ago, robbed of sleep by worry. Help me! she’d sobbed into her pillow, not knowing who she was calling upon.
“Yes. I stopped fighting the feeling and packed up my worldly goods. They are in that holdall over there by the gate. I told my landlord that I wouldn’t be coming back, and I caught a train to London, then another to Yewbridge. Then I walked from Yewbridge to Sixpenny Cross. And here I am, at your service, ma’am.”
Bella stared at him anew, still shocked to the core.
“It’s your turn,” he said gently. “I’ve told you all my secrets.”
Bella swallowed. She had no idea where to start.
“How are your parents?” asked Red, trying to be helpful.
Bella’s face crumpled.
“They’re dead!” she whispered, “They drowned in Italy.”
Christine was in her element, the adrenalin rushing. It was five o’clock on the Piccadilly line, and the underground platform was crowded.
Lights flashed and the dull, distant rumble of an approaching train grew in volume. The train slid to a halt by the platform and its doors whooshed open. The crowds surged forward, jostling and pushing, and Christine was in the thick of it.
Nobody noticed Christine’s skinny arm snake out and dip first into a commuter’s pocket, then into a shopper’s bag. In a split second, light fingers found what they sought: a wallet and a purse.
The doors closed and the train rolled away leaving nobody on the platform but Christine and new passengers just arriving.
Christine locked herself into a public toilet and stripped the wallet and purse of cash.
Lovely! Enough money for a nice meal, a bottle of wine and a decent room in a hotel.
She threw away the plundered wallet and purse and stuffed pound notes into her pocket.
Too easy!
She was enjoying herself. She’d get some more money together, then, when she felt like it, she’d head south to Sixpenny Cross and look up a few old ‘friends’.
Christine hummed to herself as she tipped the lavatory attendant and returned to the platform to target more victims.
The sun dipped behind Sixpenny Woods and bats flitted round the street lamps snatching dizzy moths. Bella and Red were oblivious to the world as they talked.
“And now I have all these animals to look after…”
“What animals?”
“Well, there’s Hattie of course. And the mice and guinea pigs. But...I…I seem to have set up a kind of animal rescue centre.”
Red stared at her, waiting.
“I have dogs, a whole litter of puppies! Stray cats and their kittens, wildlife like hedgehogs and birds… I even have a chicken. And a ferret.”
“That’s a lot of animals, Bella.”
“I know! And I can’t cope. I’ve run out of money, but if I don’t look after the animals, who will?”
The light from the street lamp blanched her face, drawing all colour from it. Her cheekbones, invisible behind plump cheeks for so many years, were now high and pronounced.
“Nessun problema. I told you, I’m here to help.”
Bella smiled into his eyes, then stopped.
“But you have your own problems. What about the drinking?”
“I told you, I haven’t had a drink for two days. I know it’s not going to be easy for either of us, but I want you to help me stop.”
“Nessun problema.”
“It’s a deal then. May I stay? I can sleep on the couch.”
“Of course. But I’m afraid it’s covered in dog hair. And cages… Perhaps you’d be more comfortable in my parents’ room.”
Suddenly, it didn’t seem so important to keep her parents’ room exactly as they’d left it before they took that fateful trip to Italy.
They stood up and Red picked up his holdall. Bella found herself shaking as she opened the front door. For the first time, she was seeing the state of the cottage through somebody else’s eyes. The last time Red had been here, the house was clean and tidy, smelling of furniture polish and fresh Italian cooking.
What now lay behind the front door would shock anybody.
15
If the stench of dogs, cats and urine shocked Red, he didn’t allow hi
mself to show it. Neither did he flinch when Sadie’s puppies hurled themselves at him in exuberant welcome.
“Hey! Down guys!”
His eyes darted around, missing nothing. He drank in the broken furniture, the cages, boxes and crates stacked on top of each other, some with occupants that either slept or regarded him with frightened eyes.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” said Bella, as she scooped up a passing kitten and hugged it to herself. “I’m afraid these are only some of my cases. There are more in the kitchen and wherever I could find space.”
“Yes, I’m not going to lie to you, it’s bad. But, like I keep saying, I’m here to help. Now, what needs doing tonight? Tomorrow is a brand new day and I’ll have stopped drinking for three whole days. I give you my word, Bella, I’m going to help you sort everything.”
That night, Bella slept soundly, and no little boats on turquoise seas sailed into her dreams.
Restoring the cottage to its former self was not going to be easy. Alone in Bella’s parents’ room, Red made plans for the renovations in an effort to chase away his own demons. He forced himself not to imagine tipping a bottle and watching the contents splash into a glass before raising it to his lips and drinking himself into sweet oblivion. Instead, he thought about mending fences and reglazing windows.
At last, he slept.
It was lucky that Red was so good with his hands. He took over Bella’s father’s workshop which had remained untouched since his death, with the tools hanging in neat rows and timber stacked in the rafters. Now the sound of hammering and sawing could be heard once more. When Bella heard it, a little ripple of happiness washed through her.
Red’s first job was to fence off an enclosure for Sadie’s puppies in the backyard which successfully removed them from the overcrowded cottage. Bella brought him out a mug of tea and admired his handiwork.
The Sixpenny Cross Collection Page 13