The Bells of Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  ‘Thank you,’ said Olivia, finally, pulling out a dressing table stool and sitting down. Heather drained her now stone-cold tea, leaned against a chest of drawers and wished Olivia’s taste in clothes wasn’t so distinctive. There were a couple of things that were destined for Oxfam that she would have dearly liked to have snaffled for herself. She knew Olivia would have gladly given them to her. But it was bad enough being poor, she thought, without shamelessly advertising it to all and sundry.

  Chapter 4

  As Heather finished helping Olivia sort out her surplus clothes Bex finished her shift at the pub, went home and apologised to Amy for the state of her house, before she made her way back up to the primary school to collect her two boys. She’d barely got into the playground when the bell jangled to signal the end of lessons and a couple of minutes later dozens of children, chattering and shrieking like starlings, tumbled out of the doors and began searching for their mums or dads. The ones outside the reception class looked both relieved and delighted to see their offspring returned. The parents of older children took the lunch boxes, damp paintings and coats that their kids thrust at them with barely a greeting, and then resumed their conversations with other mums and dads while their children ran off for a last game of tag or football before it was time to go home.

  She felt someone tugging at her sleeve. ‘Oh, hi, Lewis, sweetie.’

  ‘Mum, Mum, can Noah come and play?’

  Bex looked down and saw a lad with bright carroty hair standing next to her son. ‘I suppose – if it’s OK with Noah’s mum.’ She bent down to talk to her son’s playmate. ‘You’ll be very welcome to come to our house, Noah, but I need to check it’s OK with your mum. Can you take me to her so I can meet her?’

  Wordlessly Noah took Bex’s hand and led her across the playground. As she walked Bex cast about her for Alfie and finally spotted him on the climbing frame, looking as happy as Larry.

  ‘This is my mummy,’ lisped Noah, stopping in front of a stoutish redhead with a beaming smile.

  Bex liked her at first sight. She stuck out her hand. ‘Hi, I’m Bex – Lewis’s mum. My son’s asked if Noah can come and play for a while. I’m more than happy if you are. I can drop him back to your place in a few hours if you’re OK with that?’

  ‘If you’re fine with that. I’m Janine, by the way. I don’t suppose you’d fancy taking the rest?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I’ve got three other kids. They’re a right handful.’ As Janine spoke several other red-headed kids swarmed up to her. Bex was reminded of the Weasleys.

  ‘No offence but maybe just Noah today.’

  ‘I live in hope. That’s fine, though. I live just down the road from here – those houses on the Cattebury road, number seven.’

  ‘I know the ones. If I drop Noah back about six, I can feed him if you’d like – it’ll only be something like spag bol.’

  ‘Really? You sure? He’ll eat anything, honest.’

  Bex nodded.

  ‘Noah’ll be your friend for life. He loves anything with mince. Here…’ Janine pulled a scrap of paper and a pencil out of her handbag and scribbled down a number. ‘Just in case you need to get hold of me.’

  Bex took the scrap and got her mobile out. She rang the number. ‘Now you’ve got mine.’

  ‘Ta. See you later.’

  Bex collected Alfie from the climbing frame, made sure all the children had their coats, lunch boxes, school bags and reading-book folders before she herded them out of the playground and down the hill, taking a note of where Noah’s house was en route. When they reached The Beeches she closed the gate, told the two oldest to make sure they didn’t leave Alfie out of any games they might play, and left them to it. The boys all ran into the garden to make a den and Bex let herself into the house then flopped, exhausted, onto a kitchen chair.

  Five minutes rest, she thought, before I make the kids’ tea. Just five minutes.

  She heard the front door bang open.

  ‘Hello, Bex,’ said Megan as she clattered into the kitchen. ‘I’ve brought a friend home. Hope you don’t mind.’

  Bex saw a blonde with huge blue eyes behind her raven-haired stepdaughter. Disney could have used the pair as models for Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, she thought.

  ‘Bex this is Sophie, Sophie this is Bex.’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind. Hello, Sophie.’

  ‘Hello, Mrs Millar.’

  ‘Call me Bex, please.’

  Sophie smiled shyly.

  ‘I said she can stay to supper. She can, can’t she, Bex?’

  Bex made a rapid calculation as to how much mince she had and reckoned she could stretch it to feed five children – but she’d probably have to find something else for her own evening meal. She had bread, she had beans, she had eggs… ‘Of course, as long as Sophie’s family are OK with that. Anything you can’t eat – don’t want to poison you or make you ill?’

  ‘No, nothing. I mean, I’m not a huge fan of liver…’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to give you that. And your mum won’t mind?’

  Megan jumped in before Sophie could reply. ‘Yeah, we texted earlier. Soph’s mum was cool. Right, come on, Soph – let’s go up to my room.’ Megan whirled out of the kitchen followed by her new best friend and a minute later the sound of feet thundering up the stairs to the top of the house was replaced by a One Direction hit wafting down them. Bex felt even more drained. Still, it was great her kids had got off to such a flying start this term. At the beginning of the previous summer term, when they’d just arrived, she’d been assailed by doubts about moving to this little town: was it the right thing to do following the death of the children’s father; would they make friends; would they settle in? No two ways about it now – definitely the right call.

  Bex leaned back in her chair and shut her eyes as tiredness and contentment flooded through her in equal measure. From the garden the boys’ happy shouts, yells and squeals drifted in through the open front door. Bex got out of her chair to go and shut it – there was a distinct draught nipping her ankles. And while she was at it she’d check that the boys weren’t doing anything silly or dangerous.

  She looked into the garden and saw the three lads hiding behind a tree using sticks as guns to battle it out against an unseen enemy.

  ‘Bang, bang,’ they yelled, as they ‘shot’.

  ‘You got me.’

  Bex spun round. There was Miles, by the gate, staggering, clutching his heart, before he did an elaborate pirouette and slumped to the ground.

  The boys ran out from their hiding place and jumped on him.

  ‘Hey, careful,’ he said grinning and pushing them off. He levered himself up onto an elbow. ‘Howdy, Bex.’

  ‘Howdy, partner,’ she said. ‘What a nice surprise.’

  ‘OK, boys, I want to talk to your mum now. Maybe we’ll have another gunfight later.’ He walked over to her, dropped a friendly kiss on her cheek as he followed her into the kitchen then sat down opposite her. ‘Who’s the redhead?’

  ‘A friend of Lewis’s. Some kid called Noah. And upstairs with Megan is another stray called Sophie and both have been invited to tea and I am a tiny bit worried about making the mince I bought stretch to feed five.’ She led the way back into the house.

  ‘Got any loaves and fishes?’

  ‘It’s not funny, Miles.’

  ‘So, if you haven’t got loaves and fishes in your fridge, what have you got? Can I?’ He headed towards the fridge.

  ‘Be my guest.’

  Miles had a rummage.

  ‘I could always pop up to the Co-op – leave Megan in charge.’

  ‘No need.’ Miles drew out a punnet of mushrooms. ‘This’ll bulk up any mince nicely.’ He also picked out an onion. ‘What were you planning on doing with the mince?’

  ‘Spag bol.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Miles had another look in the fridge. ‘OK if I use this?’ He held out a tub of crème fraîche.

  ‘Of cour
se, but if I were you I’d check it’s not gone green and fluffy. I’m not quite sure how long it’s been there.’

  Miles took the lid off and sniffed. ‘It’s fine. Perfectly OK.’

  ‘So what are you planning instead of spag bol?’

  ‘I thought a minced beef stroganoff. I’ve never known it not to be popular.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘You sound doubtful.’

  ‘I think I’ll just check with Noah’s mum that he doesn’t have any allergies – like lactose or mushroom. She said he’d eat anything but… I asked Sophie and she assured me that she is fine with everything but I’d better be safe than sorry with Noah.’

  Miles picked up a chopping board and got a knife out of the block while Bex made the call.

  ‘No, he’s fine,’ she told Miles a minute later, by which time the onion and most of the mushrooms had been reduced to tiny, neatly chopped morsels. ‘And you shouldn’t be cooking for my kids and their friends.’

  ‘Why on earth not? Besides, at the risk of sounding a bit personal, you look dead beat.’

  ‘Do I?’

  Miles nodded.

  ‘I shouldn’t be. But you’re right, I do feel quite knackered. I think it’s the shock to the system of getting back into the old routine.’

  Miles stood behind Bex and gave her shoulders a rub.

  ‘Hmmm, that’s nice,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, well, this isn’t getting supper cooked.’ Miles went back to chopping the veg, leaving Bex feeling a little bereft.

  ‘I’ll make a salad, shall I?’

  ‘Please.’

  The pair worked in silence for a couple of minutes until Miles asked where Bex kept her pans and the cooking oil. A few moments later the onions and mushroom were sizzling on the hob.

  ‘I do love the smell of frying onions,’ said Bex.

  ‘One of the main reasons I became a chef.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No, I’m joking. But it’s a perk of the job.’

  Bex thought about the perk of her job; the one she’d admitted to enjoying when she’d chatted to Olivia earlier – that of working with Miles. ‘Yup, a job with a perk is always a bonus.’

  ‘So what’s the perk of working at the pub?’ asked Miles.

  Bex was glad she had her back to him because she could feel her cheeks burning. ‘Oh,’ she said, trying to keep her voice light, ‘I don’t think there is one. Maybe it’s not necessary when the job is only part-time.’

  ‘Maybe. Or maybe I should make sure there are a couple of perks in your contract.’

  A couple of totally inappropriate ones flashed through her mind. Should she tell him? Out loud, she said, ‘I have a contract?’

  Miles laughed. ‘Obviously not – unless it’s some kind of zero hours one.’

  ‘That’s more like it.’

  Miles swept the mince into the pan and stirred the mix vigorously while the meat browned before adding the crème fraîche. He tasted it and then switched off the gas. ‘That can sit there till you’re ready to cook the rice and dish up. You can heat it through in a matter of a couple of minutes.’

  Bex stopped slicing tomatoes and turned around. ‘Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.’

  Miles pushed the pan to the back of the hob. ‘Hey, cooking is like breathing to me – no effort at all and, besides, I rather like it. I’m never happier than when I’m knocking up a meal.’

  ‘Even so…’ Bex smiled at him.

  Miles stared at her and the atmosphere got slightly heavier. For a second Bex wondered if he might kiss her.

  ‘Mum, Mum, come and look what we’ve found.’ Lewis, tousled, dishevelled and more than a little grubby, crashed into the kitchen.

  ‘What? What have you found?’

  ‘A snake. And it’s this long.’ Lewis stretched his arms as far apart as he could.

  ‘A snake? Really?!’

  ‘Really, really, Mum. Come and look.’ Lewis grabbed his mother’s hand and dragged her out of the kitchen, followed by Miles. When they got to the corner of the garden where Alfie and Noah were standing Bex could see that her son wasn’t lying – something large and coiled was lying on the grass. As her heart thumped, she approached the creature. A grass snake – or at least, she was pretty sure it was. No zigzags so definitely not an adder and unless it was some non-native pet that had escaped she couldn’t think what else it might be. The feeling of relief was quite strong.

  ‘OK, boys. It’s a harmless grass snake but he’s probably quite scared of you lot so how about you all play at the other end of the garden and let this chap find somewhere quiet to go and hide away.’

  ‘But I want to keep him, Mummy,’ said Lewis. ‘Please. I found him. I’d look after him properly, honest I would.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s fair,’ said Miles. ‘This is a wild creature and he wouldn’t like to be in a cage.’

  ‘O-oh.’ Lewis frowned and stamped his foot. ‘But it’s mine.’

  ‘It’s no one’s,’ said Bex firmly.

  ‘And what would you feed it on?’ said Miles.

  ‘Grass?’ he said hopefully. ‘You said it’s a grass snake.’

  Bex tried not to laugh. ‘No, I don’t think so. They eat other critters, like frogs. Alive.’

  Lewis wrinkled his nose. ‘That’s yuck.’

  ‘It’s the way nature is,’ said Bex.

  Lewis stared at the snake which began to uncoil and move towards the herbaceous border.

  Miles whipped out his phone and took a picture of it. ‘I’ll send this to your mother and then you can take a copy to school and show your friends. Lewis Millar – snake charmer extraordinaire.’

  Lewis cheered up at this. ‘Cool,’ he said.

  The snake disappeared and Bex looked at her watch. ‘OK, boys, another half hour of playtime and then I’ll do supper. Miles has cooked up something special as a treat.’

  ‘Is Miles your boyfriend?’ said Noah, staring at Bex.

  ‘Good heavens no,’ said Bex. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ But she couldn’t look at Miles and rather wished she hadn’t sounded so completely dismissive.

  It was an hour or so later, long after Miles had returned to the pub to start the prep for evening service, when Bex called her children and their friends to sit at the table for supper. She dolloped the mince stroganoff and rice onto their plates and put a large bowl of salad in the middle.

  The kids, all chattering ten to the dozen, fell on the food. Sophie and Megan helped themselves to the salad – ‘I’ve heard it’s dead good for your skin,’ said Sophie – while the boys shovelled in forkfuls of meat and rice and ignored the one-of-your-five-a-day option.

  Bex caught Megan’s attention. ‘Can I ask you and Sophie to keep an eye on Alfie while Lewis and I take Noah back home?’

  ‘I suppose,’ said Megan. ‘When?’

  ‘After supper.’

  The girls nodded.

  ‘And if you could be downstairs rather than up in your room, Megan…’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘If you’ve got music playing you won’t hear if Alfie does something silly.’ Which he’d done before, namely climbing on the furniture, falling off and cutting his head open.

  ‘That’s fine, honestly, Mrs… Bex,’ said Sophie.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Bex?’ continued Sophie.

  ‘Yes, sweetie?’

  ‘Can Meg have a sleepover at mine at the weekend?’

  ‘Please, Bex,’ pleaded her stepdaughter.

  Bex looked at Sophie. She seemed a nice enough kid and Megan liked her but… but she knew nothing about her family. Sophie’s parents might be awful. Yes, it was unlikely but you couldn’t be too careful these days. There were some dreadful stories in the papers…

  ‘Tell you what, after I’ve taken Noah back home, why don’t I walk with Sophie to her house and check that it’s all OK with her mum?’

  Sophie and Megan exchanged a look. ‘I suppose,’ said Megan.


  Half an hour later, after supper had been demolished, the dishwasher stacked and Noah delivered back to his home, she walked Sophie back to hers.

  ‘Is it far?’ Bex asked as they headed towards the high street.

  Sophie shook her head. ‘Nowhere’s far here, is it?’

  ‘No, that’s true.’

  ‘Megan said you used to live in London.’ Bex nodded. ‘I’ve never been. It must be well fun.’

  ‘It’s noisy and dirty but there’s a lot to do – museums, cinemas, theatre…’

  ‘Not like this place then.’

  ‘Maybe. But this place is a lot safer. I let Megan take the boys to the play park here. I wouldn’t have let her do that where we used to live. The roads were a nightmare and there were some seriously odd types who used to hang around.’

  ‘Yeah, but Little Woodford is sooo boring.’

  Bex laughed. ‘When you get to my age you’ll find that boring can be rather nice.’

  Sophie gave Bex a look which clearly implied that she thought she was off her rocker, then she turned down a side road.

  ‘We live along here.’

  Bex looked at the houses – a row of nice 1930s semis with tidy front gardens. Sophie opened the garden gate to one of them, got out a key and let herself in. ‘Come in,’ she said, holding the door wide. ‘Come and meet my mum.’ She let the way into the sitting room and there in the corner was a woman in a wheelchair.

  ‘Mum, Mum, this is Bex. Bex, this is my mum.’

  Bex looked at Sophie’s mum. ‘Lovely to meet you.’

  ‘Likewise. I’m Lizzie. Sorry I can’t get up.’

  ‘No, that’s fine.’ She couldn’t help staring at the wheelchair.

  ‘It’s all right – it’s nothing catching. It’s MS, which is a bit of a sod for poor old Sophie, especially as I’ve got bugger all upper-body strength these days so I find it tough to wheel myself about. I don’t know what I’d do without Soph.’ She smiled at her daughter. ‘And talking of Sophie – I hope she behaved herself.’

  ‘She was the perfect house guest.’

  ‘Mum, can I have Megan for a sleepover on Saturday?’

  ‘If you don’t mind making up the spare bed,’ said Lizzie.