The Bells of Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  Miranda drove home, parked her car at the front of the house and let herself in. She knew she ought to go and open the garage door and put the car away but what with one thing and another she felt devoid of energy. All she wanted was to sit down for a few minutes, in peace and quiet, and breath and meditate. She was sure her chakras were all out of kilter – and not surprisingly given the morning she’d just had.

  ‘Roderick, I’m back,’ she called.

  Her husband got up from the sofa where he’d been reading the broadsheets.

  ‘How was town?’

  ‘Ghastly.’ She sniffed. ‘The flower shop didn’t have any lilies and then wouldn’t sell me the flowers they did have, the bakery was worse and I spotted some appalling food contamination issues which they really didn’t seem to care about and, to cap it all, I met that awful woman from the vicarage who positively gloated when she confirmed the bells are going to get fixed.’ She flopped dramatically onto the sofa. ‘Honestly, I sometimes wonder if it was worth moving here.’

  ‘Oh, darling, they just need educating. I’m sure everything will improve in time. And you’ve got to admit that it’s so much better here in the country away from all that traffic and noise and pollution.’

  The word traffic reminded Miranda of something. ‘Roddy, would you be a sweetie and put my car back in the garage? I really don’t have the energy.’

  ‘Of course.’ Dutifully, he trooped out to do his wife’s bidding. He came back in a minute or so later. ‘Miranda, did you have an accident in town?’

  ‘Accident? No, of course I didn’t. What are you on about?’

  ‘Come and have a look.’

  Miranda followed her husband out and round to the back of her car where he pointed to the damage. Right across the tailgate of her vehicle and all down the passenger side was a deep scratch. Someone had keyed her car – and badly.

  Miranda felt like crying. First the manure, then the attitude of the townsfolk and now this. It begged the question, what next?

  Chapter 42

  Zac sat on his bed and texted Megan. Fancy a walk

  No ta mtg soph @ playpark.

  Can I come 2

  There was a pause of several minutes. Zac guessed Megan was texting Soph to see if it was OK with her.

  Yes if u want came back the reply eventually.

  Zac trotted downstairs and slipped out of the house before Oscar could pick up on the fact that there might be the possibility of a walk in the offing. Dogs were banned from the play park and anyway, if he was going to hang out with Sophie and Megan, he didn’t want Oscar yawning and whimpering and making it plain that he wanted to walk and generally being a distraction. It was only after he’d slammed the front door behind himself that he realised it might have been wise to grab a jacket. His sweat top, T-shirt and jeans weren’t exactly suitable for the temperature.

  Ignoring the cold, Zac strolled down the road, past the station and onto the high street. It was, he thought, surprisingly busy but then he supposed that people were stocking up for New Year’s Eve parties and the impending bank holiday. Not that his family was doing anything for New Year. His mum was going to be working up at the hotel and his siblings were all going to parties or clubs up in London. He supposed he and his dad would watch the fireworks on the TV and then call it a night. Jeez – sometimes his life was the pits. Disconsolately he kicked at a stone on the pavement and sent it skittering into the road.

  He turned into the park and looked about for the girls. It seemed they weren’t here yet so he headed over to the skateboard ramps and ran up a half-pipe to sit at the top. From his vantage point he could see across the entire park and the allotments behind. In one direction was a bunch of bungalows and in the other was the council estate and behind that he could just see the roof of the comprehensive school hall. The skatepark itself was almost empty. A couple of kids were practising grinding on the kerb and another lad was trying to do wheelies on a shiny new BMX but other than that there was nothing much going on. Across at the play park there were a few mums and dads hanging about in groups, wrapped up in thick coats or jackets, watching while their kids amused themselves on the equipment. It was, realised Zac, quite more than a bit chilly – it was bloody freezing and it was made worse sitting on the cold steel of the half-pipe and in such an exposed position. He hauled himself to his feet, ran down the slope and ducked under it, intent on taking shelter out of the breeze.

  A voice from the deep shadow greeted him. ‘Hi, Zac.’

  ‘Ash? What are you doing lurking here?’ Zac hunkered down near his pal and leaned against one of the metal uprights.

  ‘I’m not lurking.’

  ‘Looks like it to me.’

  ‘I wanted some space. You know what my mum’s like.’

  Zac nodded. ‘Mums, eh? Actually, now mine works she’s off my back a lot more.’

  ‘Lucky you.’ Ashley sounded properly pissed off. ‘Mine’s not working this week because none of her ladies want their houses cleaned over the holiday and she’s always badgering me, asking me if I’m all right, or trying to tell me I don’t want to do acting or… Jesus, questions, questions, questions.’ Ashley kicked out and the metal of the skate ramp reverberated. ‘I just wish she’d leave me alone.’

  Zac sympathised. Time was when his own mum had been like that and he said as much. ‘It’s only cos mums care,’ he added.

  ‘Then I wish mine didn’t.’

  ‘Mine was worst when I was doing drugs. I think she knew something was wrong but she didn’t have a clue what it was but she thought if she asked enough questions she’d get me to tell her. Like that was going to happen.’

  ‘But she found out in the end.’

  ‘Yeah, because your mum blabbed to Mrs Simmonds.’ There was a short angry silence then Zac retracted his comment. ‘Yeah, I know she didn’t mean to.’

  ‘She didn’t. Anyway, what are you doing here?’

  ‘Meeting Sophie and Megan.’ Zac glanced over Ashley’s shoulder. ‘And here they are.’ The two boys emerged from under the ramp.

  ‘Hiya,’ said Sophie and Megan.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ asked Zac.

  ‘There’s no plan,’ said Sophie. ‘Although as it’s perishing it’s daft us staying here.’

  ‘If Dad was out I’d say we could go to mine – it’s closest,’ said Zac. ‘But there’s nowhere private downstairs for us to talk and my room’s too small.’

  ‘Same for me,’ said Soph. ‘What about you, Ash?’

  ‘No chance – Mum’s home.’

  ‘Looks like it’ll be yours, Megs,’ said Sophie cheerfully.

  The group arrived at The Beeches and Megan let them in.

  ‘Bex? Bex!’ called Megan as they trooped into the hall.

  ‘In the kitchen.’

  The children followed the source of the voice and a flurry of greetings and late Christmas wishes followed.

  ‘We’re going up to my room, if that’s OK,’ said Megan. ‘It’s too cold and miserable to hang about at the play park.’

  ‘Of course that’s fine,’ said Bex. She eyed Zac. ‘Did you go out without a coat? No wonder you’re frozen. You could’ve caught your death!’

  ‘Yeah, well. Blokes are hard – aren’t we, Ash? Well, I am anyway.’ He punched Ashley playfully on his arm.

  ‘Ow!’ Ashley scowled at Zac. ‘What was that for?’

  Zac shrugged. ‘Don’t make such a fuss – it wasn’t hard.’

  ‘You go on up,’ said Bex. ‘I made some butterfly cakes earlier – I don’t know if any of you fancy one…’

  The looks of expectancy and hope answered Bex’s question.

  ‘Good. I’ll bring up some squash and cakes in a few minutes, then.’

  The gang clattered out of the kitchen and up the stairs, up to the top of the house and Megan’s attic.

  Sophie and Megan sat on the bed and Zac claimed the armchair while Ashley sat on the floor and leaned against a wall.

  ‘Anyone got any plan
s for tonight?’ asked Zac.

  They all looked morose and shook their heads.

  ‘Coo-ee,’ called Bex from the bottom of the attic stairs. A couple of seconds later she appeared carrying a large tray which she slid onto the dressing table. On it was a big jug of orange squash and a plate with about a dozen buns on it. ‘Here you go. I wasn’t sure how hungry you’d all be, so I brought quite a few.’

  ‘Thanks, Bex,’ they all said.

  ‘Bex? Are we doing anything for New Year?’ asked Megan.

  Bex shrugged. ‘Not really. The boys are too young, your grandparents are too old and I’m too knackered.’

  ‘There’s fireworks at the cricket club,’ said Zac. ‘We could go to that.’

  ‘And who will go with you?’ asked Bex. ‘You’re too young to go on your own at that time of night. I’m sorry, Megan, but you can’t go unless there’s an adult with you, and I imagine your friends’ parents will feel the same.’

  Zac, Megan and Sophie looked at each other and then at Bex.

  ‘Not me,’ said Bex. ‘I’ll be in bed way before then.’

  ‘And my mum won’t… can’t,’ said Sophie.

  ‘And my mum’s working,’ said Zac.

  Ashley stayed silent.

  ‘Sorry, kids. Maybe next year – when you’re all a bit older,’ said Bex as she disappeared downstairs.

  Megan hauled herself off the bed and handed out the cakes but even the delicious squidginess of the butter-cream filling didn’t lift the gloom.

  ‘What about your mum?’ said Zac to Ashley. He was angry at the thought of missing out.

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Wouldn’t she have helped?’

  Ashley shrugged.

  ‘You didn’t even offer to ask her,’ continued Zac.

  ‘Why should I? Anyway, she’d have probably said no.’

  ‘She might not have done. Don’t you want to go to the fireworks? Or would it upset your delicate sensibilities? All a bit much for a luvvie like you.’

  Megan rounded on Zac. ‘Shut up, Zac. It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Why? I’m only repeating what you said.’

  ‘I… I didn’t.’

  ‘Yes, you did. You said Ash had gone all weird and poncy since the panto.’

  Megan flushed bright red. ‘I didn’t… that’s not…’

  ‘Yes, you did.’

  ‘No, I just said he talked about acting a lot.’

  ‘So? It’s the same thing,’ said Zac.

  As the two rowed Ashley levered himself off the floor and ran down the stairs,

  ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Megan shouted at Zac. ‘You’re the pits.’

  ‘Well, if you’re going to be like that…’ And grabbing another cake, Zac left too. The front door banged again.

  Sophie looked at Megan. ‘Well, that went well. Not.’

  ‘Bloody Zac,’ snarled Megan.

  ‘Text Ash. Tell him to come back.’

  ‘No, he thinks I’ve been laughing about him behind his back. Why would he even want to see me again, let alone talk to me?’

  ‘And you didn’t?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Megan sighed. ‘I did say he talked about acting all the time – but he does.’

  ‘Then apologise. It can’t make things worse, can it?’

  *

  Ashley stormed down the road, angry and hurt. Megan and Zac had been making fun of him behind his back. And he’d thought they were his mates. Moreover, he’d thought Megan understood. Ashley turned into the nature reserve and strode along the muddy paths, his fists clenching and unclenching. He kicked at a stone by the path. Rain began to fall, spattering him with cold drops intermittently. Ashley looked at the sky and saw that the high light cloud was being hidden by thick black banks rolling in from the west. He turned and began to jog back the way he’d come but the rain got worse along with the light and Ashley realised that if he headed for his own home he’d be drenched long before he reached it. He picked up his speed and raced back onto the high street and turned up the road to the station to his gran’s. A couple of minutes later he stood under her little porch and hammered on the door.

  ‘Come in, come in out of the wet,’ she exhorted when she opened the door and stood aside to let Ashley past. He got into the hall and shook his head to get the worse of the drops out of his hair.

  ‘Hey,’ said Mags. ‘I don’t want to get wet too.’

  Ashley slipped his coat off and hung it on the stairs.

  ‘And what were you thinking of – being out in this weather?’ said Mags. ‘You’ll catch your death.’ She tutted as she bustled into the kitchen. ‘Tea’s what you need. Something wet and warm. Go and sit down in the sitting room and put the fire on while I boil the kettle.’

  Ashley went into the sitting room and lit the gas.

  ‘Now,’ said his gran, bustling into the room. ‘What’s going on? You’ve come here looking like you’ve lost a fiver and found a tanner, your face is as black as thunder.’

  ‘Nothing,’ snapped Ashley.

  Mags crossed her arms across her ample chest. ‘Don’t give me that. I wasn’t born yesterday. If you ask me you’ve not been right since you took up that play-acting lark.’

  ‘What do you expect with Mum telling me I shouldn’t want to do it? You’re against it, you don’t understand – of course I’m not happy.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s all it is?’

  Ashley hesitated. Did he tell Gran that even his best mates had turned against him?

  ‘Come on, son. A problem shared is a problem halved.’

  ‘Well… it’s Megan.’

  ‘Megan?’

  ‘You know, Amy cleans for her mum.’

  ‘I know who Megan is – what’s she got to do with everything?’

  ‘She said some horrid things about me to Zac. She said I’ve gone all luvvie.’

  Mags blew out her cheeks. ‘Ah.’

  Ashley looked at her. ‘“Ah”? What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Well, your mum and I did wonder…’

  ‘Wonder what?’

  ‘If… you know… if you’re on the other bus. I mean, all this interesting in acting and make-up and dressing up…’

  ‘You and Mum think…’ Ashley’s brow furrowed. ‘What? That I’m gay?’ His astonishment was tangible.

  Mags nodded. ‘Your mum’ll get used to the idea. I mean, she still loves you. And everyone’s told her that no one minds these days.’

  Ashley’s jaw slackened and his eyes narrowed. ‘So… everyone. She’s been talking about me. Who to?’

  ‘Your mum was worried, she wanted advice.’

  ‘Exactly who did she talk to?’

  ‘How am I supposed to know? The ladies she cleans for, I expect.’

  Things were getting worse and worse. ‘Like Megan’s mother? So Mum’s told Bex I’m gay?’

  Mags shrugged. ‘Maybe. But I’m sure she’s OK with it.’

  ‘But… but…’ Oh, God… How could his mum have done that? Blabbed to the whole town about him? ‘Sorry, Gran, but I need some space. Forget the tea.’

  And stuff the rain. Ashley grabbed his coat and ran out of the house. As he did so his phone pinged. He stopped under a tree to check the message.

  Are u alright? Zacs a git. And I never called you a luvvie – honest.

  Ashley stared at the text. A picture popped up on the screen. It was of the plate of butterfly cakes which still had half a dozen on it.

  Help us with this lot

  Another picture pinged in. This one was of Sophie and Megan, their cheeks blown out and both trying to look fat.

  Save us from ourselves

  Ashley found himself grinning involuntarily. Megan was apologising. And he knew what she was saying was the truth. And these weren’t texts from someone who never wanted to see him again. Maybe the sensible thing would be to go back to the girls and make up. His relationship with his mum though… that was a whole other issue.

  Ch
apter 43

  Miranda contemplated writing another stiff letter of complaint to the council with a copy to the local rag. The noise of the New Year’s Eve fireworks had been a total abomination, even worse than the racket created by Bonfire Night but at least that firework display had been at the other end of the town. And as for the waste of money and the air pollution... Why on earth did normally sane people think it was OK to lob noxious chemicals into the sky and make them explode so the whole area got showered in poisons? And that was before anyone took into consideration the effect it had on wildlife and other animals. She assumed that the oiks were too stupid to understand the implications of such a display and what it did to the wider environment. And on another, more serious, level this was a country that seemed to pride itself on its anti-terrorist measures and yet there were times in the year when any Tom, Dick or Harriet could waltz into a shop and buy kilos upon kilos of high explosive. Where were the safety regulations regarding that?!

  On the other hand, thought Miranda, if she took a stand, there was the distinct possibility it might lead to more unpleasantness. Her protests against eating meat had only elicited curious stares and a confrontation with the butcher – oh, and a threat of arrest. Not that the local constable had carried the threat out but it had been a nasty moment all the same. Since then she’d still protested but the shock of the new had been lost and no one, not one person had asked questions about veganism or interacted with her in any way, but it had obviously upset someone. There was a slight chance that the damage to her car might have been accidental, and the incident in the florist might have been a misunderstanding… but there was no doubt the manure had been dumped spitefully and deliberately. Nor was there doubt that the townsfolk had stood around and gloated as she and Roderick had cleared up the worst of it, nor was there doubt about the way no one had seemed the least prepared to help find someone to move it off their land. And there was no doubt she wasn’t winning in the popularity stakes.

  As if she cared.

  Miranda stood up and went over to the window and stared at the view. Out of the corner of her eye she could see her wind turbine pirouetting in the breeze. And that was another issue… Amy had left her in no doubt that the locals didn’t like that either. She’d tried explaining the good it would bring to the environment in general but Amy’s eyes had glazed over. Well, no surprise there because if Miranda was any judge of character Amy might be able to follow a soap opera – well, the simpler plot lines – but that would be the limit of her intellectual capacity. Certainly the ins and outs of global warming and the benefits of sustainable energy were way outside her skill set.