The Bells of Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  The pair got back under the covers as Miranda outlined her plans to contact the council and the emergency services on the grounds that it was a toxic health hazard and needed to be moved instantly.

  ‘I think,’ said Roderick, ‘that it’ll be entirely our problem. I’m pretty certain that if this constitutes fly-tipping, and I think it might, the council will wash their hands of any responsibility. The ball is in our court.’

  ‘But we’re the victims here. That can’t be right. No, the council must do it.’

  Roderick shook his head. ‘Even if I’m wrong about whose responsibility it is, it’s Christmas Eve.’

  ‘So? It’s not a bank holiday. As soon as the town hall is open I shall order them to sort this out.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ murmured Roderick under his breath. In a louder voice he said, ‘I expect the staff are off for the holiday now. And even if there’s a skeleton team on duty they won’t have the wherewithal to deal with that.’

  Miranda’s brow creased and a horrified expression crossed her face as she realised that her husband might have a point. She shuffled out from under the covers and leaned on the window sill again. Her husband followed suit. The pair stared at the steaming midden that blocked their drive. Miranda remembered the house guests they had invited to spend Christmas with them.

  ‘And how are the Clifton-Prices going to get to the house?’ said Miranda as another realisation struck her. With their drive comprehensively blocked no one would be able to get a car in or out.

  Roderick sighed. ‘They’ll have to park on the road and try and walk past it.’

  ‘But… but… But their first impression of this place will be ruined. Ruined!’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll understand.’

  ‘Understand what? That we’ve been the butt of some vile local practical joke? Roderick, Valentine is a high court judge. We can’t subject him or Candida to having to negotiate that.’ Miranda pointed dramatically at the manure. ‘No, you’re going to have to find someone – anyone – to shift it.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I don’t know. A local farmer. A builder. Anyone.’

  ‘Do you know any local farmers?’

  Miranda looked close to tears. ‘Of course I don’t. Why on earth would I? But someone must. We must ask around.’

  ‘Who?’ said Roderick, reasonably. ‘Who have you made friends with?’

  ‘I… I… There’s that woman from the vicarage. I’ve spoken to her. And Amy – the cleaner.’

  ‘Then perhaps you ought to talk to them. It would be better coming from you. After all, I’ve never met either woman.’

  Miranda contemplated the prospect of asking that frumpy mouse Heather or her cleaner – the cleaner, for God’s sake – for help. Christ, how demeaning. But Roderick was right; he’d never spoken to them so it would have to be her.

  ‘OK, I’ll do it.’ She gritted her teeth. ‘But I need some tea first. I’m going to have a cup of hibiscus and mulberry; my blood pressure needs it. How about you?’

  ‘I think I’ll have a chai – I need the stimulation.’

  She slipped on her dressing gown and slippers and went downstairs to make their tea. It only took seconds with the boiling water tap and she carried their drinks back into the bedroom where she picked up her phone off her dressing table. She settled back in bed before she accessed her contacts list and then hit the icon for Amy.

  The phone rang and rang and went to voicemail. Miranda disconnected and rang again. This was an emergency. Why didn’t the bloody woman answer? She had to repeat the procedure twice more before she finally got though.

  ‘Wuh… Mrs Osborne?’ came Amy’s sleepy voice down the line.

  ‘Amy. I need your help.’

  ‘Wha… why? It’s Christmas Eve.’ She sounded a tad more alert.

  ‘I don’t care about that. I need a farmer.’

  ‘Do you know what the time is?’

  ‘I don’t care about that either. I need a farmer. Or someone with earth-moving equipment. Do you know any?’

  ‘Mrs Osborne, it’s Christmas Eve, it’s…’ there was a pause while Amy obviously checked the time, ‘it’s seven fifteen and the answer is, no I don’t. Goodbye.’

  ‘Wait!’ shrieked Miranda.

  ‘What?’ Amy’s voice was unmistakably sullen.

  ‘Amy, I’m sorry, but this is an emergency.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Someone’s… someone has dumped tons of manure on my drive.’

  Amy’s gale of uncontrolled laughter exploded into Miranda’s ear. She waited for it to subside. ‘It’s not funny.’

  There was another snort then, ‘No. No, it isn’t.’

  ‘So, can you help? I need to get it moved.’

  ‘Yeah, I can see that. But the answer is still no. I don’t know anyone that fits the bill.’

  ‘Do you think the vicar’s wife might?’

  ‘Dunno. You’d have to ask her.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I will. I just don’t have her number. I don’t suppose…’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. I’ve got it.’ Amy reeled it off. ‘But I wouldn’t ring her right now. She might have more Christian charity than me but I still wouldn’t piss her off. Know what I mean? Leave it till later, eh?’

  Miranda snorted in disgust as she threw her phone down on the bed. She’d sack Amy if she wasn’t such a good cleaner. Dreadful, common little baggage.

  Chapter 38

  Heather was making tea in the kitchen for herself and Brian when Jade appeared, tousle-haired and yawning.

  ‘Morning, my dear. All set for tomorrow?’

  Jade yawned. ‘Kind of. Got a text from Mum yesterday wanting me over early tomorrow morning to help with the cooking. And I’m going round for supper tonight so I’ll take all the pressies and put them under the tree then.’

  ‘That’ll be nice – you and your mum working together to produce a lovely family feast.’ And good luck with that, Olivia. A bit of Heather longed to be a fly on the wall – she doubted if Jade would be a help… more of a hindrance if she was any judge.

  Jade gave her a look that suggested she wasn’t quite so enamoured with the idea of helping either.

  ‘And as the kettle is on, can I make you tea too?’ offered Heather.

  ‘Please.’ She got out her phone and looked at the screen while Heather bustled round with the mugs and the milk.

  ‘Hey… have you seen this?’ said Jade.

  ‘Seen what?’

  Jade passed over her phone in return for a steaming mug of tea.

  Heather looked at the screen. ‘Is that…? Oh my goodness.’ She giggled as she read the caption. ‘No, I mustn’t laugh.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Jade. ‘I bet the rest of the town is. My mum hates her.’ She saw the look of disapproval on Heather’s face. ‘Well, she doesn’t hate her, but you know what I mean.’

  Heather remembered her own encounter with Mrs Osborne. ‘I do indeed. She’s not a woman who is easy to actually like.’

  The phone rang.

  ‘Hello, the vicarage.’

  ‘It’s Miranda Osborne here.’

  ‘Mrs Osborne?’ Heather had to make an effort not to say ‘talk of the devil’. Instead she winked at Jade who looked at her, curiosity writ large on her face.

  ‘We met – when I first arrived here,’ Miranda said.

  ‘Yes, I remember. I remember it very well indeed.’ And not for the right reasons.

  ‘Amy Pullen thought you might be able to help me. She gave me your number – I hope you don’t mind?’

  ‘Mrs Osborne, this is a vicarage. We tend not to keep our number a secret.’

  ‘Yes… well… I was wondering if you knew of any farmers.’

  ‘Do I know any farmers?’ repeated Heather for the benefit of Jade.

  ‘Yes, I need… I need something moved. I need someone who might have a digger, or a bulldozer.’

  Heather winked again. ‘So what exactly do you need moving?’

 
‘Some manure.’

  ‘Manure? How much?’

  Jade’s shoulders stared to shake with laughter.

  ‘Tons. It’s been dumped in our drive. A prank, no doubt.’ Miranda’s voice was very clipped.

  ‘Oh dear. How very unpleasant.’

  Jade had tears rolling down her face.

  ‘Well, the thing is, Mrs Osborne, I don’t think I can help you. Not this side of Christmas. As you can imagine this is one of our busiest times of year and I really haven’t time to put out feelers on your behalf. Not on top of everything else. But good luck with your search for a friendly farmer. Goodbye.’

  Jade let her bottled up laughter out. As she calmed down she said, ‘Oh, that was priceless. And even if she does find a farmer it’ll probably be the same one that dumped it there in the first place. I hope he charges her a mint to sort out the mess.’

  ‘Now, now, Jade… we mustn’t gloat.’

  ‘Really?’

  Heather’s mouth twitched. ‘No, we really mustn’t.’ Then she burst out laughing too.

  *

  Zac, grasping Oscar’s lead, let himself out of the front door and set off, down the road, over the railway bridge, towards the nature reserve. He breathed a sigh of relief as he got away from the house. His mum was getting all stressy about Christmas and was crashing around the house with the hoover. Like anyone would care if there was fluff on the carpets or a cobweb in the corner. OK, so things were going to be bonkers with the rest of the family arriving and the house would be completely overcrowded but Jade would go back to the vicarage to sleep and Mike had said he’d bring an airbed and sleep on the sitting room floor which left the spare room for Tamsin, so it wasn’t going to be impossible to put everyone up. And then there was the way his mum banged on about doing Christmas and a job… It wasn’t like millions of other people didn’t manage both. Zac really didn’t see what she was on about; how hard could it be to cook what was basically a big chicken and wrap a few presents?

  He wandered along the high street which was manic with shoppers getting last-minute gifts or food and found himself wondering, even more, what all the fuss was about – surely Christmas couldn’t be so hard to organise, and it wasn’t as if it came as a surprise; same day every year, same meal, same people to buy presents for, same tree, same decorations…

  Oscar kept tucked in close behind him, out of the way of the forest of legs, as they pushed their way through the crowds. As they reached the pub things thinned out considerably and Zac walked another few yards before he stopped on the pavement, outside The Beeches, and glanced over the gate. He hadn’t seen Megan for ages. Maybe she’d like to go for a walk with him. On impulse he unbolted the gate and let himself into their garden. He pressed the doorbell.

  ‘Oh…’ he said to the elderly woman who answered the door. ‘Er… I was hoping to see Megan.’ From behind the half-open door he could hear the completely overexcited shrieks and squeals of Lewis and Alfie.

  ‘Who shall I say it is?’ said the woman, whom Zac assumed must be a relation of sorts.

  ‘Zac. I’m a friend.’

  She left Zac on the doorstep as she wandered back into the house. A minute later Bex appeared out of the kitchen wiping her floury hands on an apron. ‘Hi, Zac. I think she’s upstairs in her room. Want to go on up? It’s chaos here.’

  Zac nodded. ‘It’s the same at mine. Mum’s going a bit bonkers so I thought I’d take Oscar out for a walk; get him out from under her feet.’ He didn’t add that it would also prevent him from getting roped in to any chores she might want to divvy up.

  ‘Well, if you would like Megs and the boys for company… I’d completely understand if you’d rather not take the boys but anything which might either wear them out or calm them down would be welcome.’ She smiled. ‘See what Megan says. She might prefer to fry her own eyes.’ Bex’s eyes widened. ‘Oh – I mean about taking the boys… not going for a walk with you.’

  Zac chuckled. ‘’S all right, Bex. I knew what you meant.’ He shortened Oscar’s lead, wiped his feet and headed up the two flights of stairs. At the bottom of the second flight he stopped and called Megan’s name.

  She answered. ‘Zac? Come on up.’

  Zac emerged into Megan’s attic. Megan was sitting on a bed with a pile of gifts and two rolls of wrapping paper.

  ‘I’m escaping from my mother,’ said Zac. ‘She’s going mental with Christmas arrangements and preparations. I thought I’d take Osc for a walk. Wanna come?’

  Megan looked at her pile of presents. ‘I meant to get this done this morning.’

  ‘I could give you a hand.’ At Zac’s feet, Oscar yawned prodigiously and flopped onto his tummy.

  ‘OK. That’d be nice. So much easier with two pairs of hands.’

  So Megan cut the paper and Zac handed her lengths of sticky tape as she needed it and soon the pair had the presents wrapped and stacked in the corner of her bedroom.

  ‘Right,’ said Megan, looking at the result. ‘Walk time now.’ Oscar’s ears pricked.

  ‘Your mum asked if we’d take the boys with us.’

  ‘I don’t see why not, if you don’t mind. But let’s go to the reserve via the Cattebury road.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  Ten minutes later the four kids and the dog were walking up the hill on the Cattebury road. Alfie and Lewis were taking it in turns to hold Oscar’s lead and were, for once, walking sensibly because they’d been told that if they made Oscar excited he might run into the road. Both Zac and Megan knew this was completely unlikely because Oscar was nothing if not well trained. But the boys didn’t know that.

  A waft of something strong and very agricultural hit them.

  ‘What on earth is that smell?’ said Zac as they neared one of the entrances into the nature reserve.

  ‘So it really is true.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Poo!’ shrieked Alfie.

  A few yards up the road they could see the pile of dung steam gently in the cold air.

  ‘That’s exactly what it is,’ said Megan, her face wrinkled in disgust. ‘Mum said it was on Facebook that someone had blocked the drive to your old house with a pile of manure.’

  ‘When Mum was on the council,’ said Zac, ‘I know she put a few backs up.’ He grinned. ‘She probably still does, you know what she’s like, but no one ever did this to her.’ He stared again at the dung heap. ‘These guys must have done something really bad.’

  ‘I wonder what?’ said Megan as they turned onto the path to the reserve.

  Zac unclipped Oscar’s lead and released the dog to bound off and the boys shot off too.

  ‘Not too far,’ shouted Megan at their retreating backs. ‘So, how’s things? I haven’t seen you for ages.’

  ‘No. You were busy with the play. How’s Ashley?’

  ‘Boring. Since the panto he’ll only talk about acting and the stage and shit like that.’

  ‘So he’s gone all luvvie, has he?’ Zac hooted.

  ‘Kind of, only don’t say I said so.’

  ‘Why not? It’ll be a laugh.’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t.’

  ‘Just because you’ve got no sense of humour.’

  ‘Just because you’ve got no sense of loyalty or decency.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be such a killjoy.’

  ‘Just stop it. Stop being a git or I’ll take the boys and go home.’

  So Zac shut up. But he wasn’t going to forget about the ammo he had against Ashley. He wondered when he might use it.

  Chapter 39

  Christmas in the town came and went with varying degrees of excitement, quiet contemplation, overindulgence or loneliness depending on who was celebrating and whether or not children were involved.

  At the vicarage, everything revolved around the services that Brian conducted, with an early breakfast before Holy Communion. Heather dashed back from that, got the turkey into the oven and the vegetables prepared before she was back in church with h
er two boys in time for the eleven o’clock family service. Once the family had returned from that she could think about roasting the potatoes and making the bread sauce so they could sit down to eat at two. It was only when lunch had been cleared away and everyone was feeling sleepy and sated that they got on to the business of distributing the presents from under the tree.

  At The Beeches it was all anyone could do to keep Alfie and Lewis under control for the early part of the morning until everyone was ready to settle down after breakfast and open their gifts. Once the two boys had seen the huge pile of brightly coloured packages under the tree, the contents of their stockings lost their allure and they were almost beside themselves with excitement when everyone trooped into the sitting room and the boys were finally allowed to see what Santa had brought them. Miles had arrived in time to join in the present-giving and to help cook the lunch and was introduced to Bex’s parents, who took to him immediately.

  While Miles was helping Lewis and Alfie build a huge Playmobile pirate ship – a present from their grandparents in Cyprus – Belinda opened up the pub at eleven thirty for a couple of hours for the diehard regulars, before toting two bottles of decent champagne over to Bert and Joan’s who had invited not just Belinda, but a few other waifs, strays and singletons from the pub, to theirs for a slap-up feast.

  Over at Amy’s Mags arrived pushing a wheeled shopping basket containing her presents for Ashley and Amy and a bottle of sweet sherry which she and Amy managed to polish off before lunch, after which Amy cracked open the cava.

  Across the road, at Olivia’s house, the morning had been rather more decorous, sober and organised with carols playing on the radio as she, Jade and Tamsin prepared the vegetables to go with the turkey, and Mike, Zac and Nigel sat around in the living room discussing the state of the economy, the condition of the government and other non-festive subjects. Olivia, hot, flustered and certain she’d forgotten some vital ingredient or other and that Christmas lunch would be ruined, longed to ask them to lend a hand and do something useful, like lay the table, but didn’t want to wreck a rare moment of harmony amongst the men in her life.