The Bells of Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  ‘How do you know it’s me? Brian used the bathroom this morning and all.’

  Heather closed her eyes and counted to three. ‘Jade, I have been married to Brian for almost thirty years and never once in that time has he used two towels at once or talcum powder.’

  Jade looked sullen.

  ‘I have been patient. And so has Brian, but I am giving you notice, young lady, that one more episode like this and I’ll ask you to leave. You can go back to your folks or you can find somewhere else to live – frankly I don’t care. But I am not – not – putting up with your mess any longer. Do I make myself clear?’

  Jade looked as if she might cry. ‘But you can’t throw me out.’

  ‘Oh, yes I can. I’ll give you a fortnight’s notice and then you’re out on your ear. Shape up or ship out. And you can start shaping up by cleaning the bathroom.’

  ‘But I’ve just got back from work.’

  ‘No, you haven’t because you’ve had time to make toast, take a bath and trash my home in the process. Sort it.’

  Feeling purged by her outburst Heather stamped down the stairs and flung herself on the sofa. ‘Wretched child,’ she muttered.

  Brian came out of his study. ‘Well, she paid no attention to me. Maybe she’ll listen to you.’

  ‘You heard my outburst.’

  ‘Difficult to miss. It needed saying.’

  ‘I mean it. I’ll tell Olivia she’ll have to take her daughter back.’

  ‘Poor Olivia.’

  Heather snorted. ‘Her daughter, her problem.’

  ‘Heather,’ admonished Brian.

  ‘Sorry. It’s just… it’s just…’ She sighed. ‘Maybe I was a bit harsh.’

  ‘Would a sherry make it better?’

  Heather nodded. ‘I think it rather might.’

  Fifteen minutes later as she and Brian had just refilled their glasses a contrite and bashful Jade appeared.

  ‘I’ve done the bathroom. Do you want to check if it’s OK?’

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Brian. Two minutes later he returned and gave Heather a thumbs up from the door.

  ‘And I’ll get on with the kitchen, shall I?’ said Jade.

  For a second Heather almost caught herself saying, ‘Don’t worry dear, it wasn’t that bad. It’ll only take two ticks to sort,’ when she realised that if she did she’d be making matters worse.

  ‘Yes, please,’ she said instead. Adding, ‘And make sure you deal with the crumbs on the floor too.’

  ‘Yes, Heather.’

  Brian came into the sitting room and pushed the door shut with his foot. ‘By George, I think she’s got it.’

  ‘Humph,’ said Heather. ‘Time will tell.’

  *

  The following week Megan and Sophie trailed out of school, their backpacks slung over one shoulder, and feeling happy that school was over for two whole weeks.

  ‘What are you doing over Easter?’ asked Megan.

  Sophie shrugged. ‘Not a lot. You?’

  ‘I’d hoped we might be going to Cyprus – to see Granny and Grandpa – but Bex hasn’t mentioned anything. Besides, it’d be a bit awkward taking Miles along.’

  ‘That’d be weird.’ They walked a few paces in silence before Sophie asked, ‘What’s it like, now he’s actually moved in?’

  ‘It was strange at first but he cooks some well-lush food and it’s nice for Bex because he takes the boys to school in the morning so she can have a bit of a lie-in. She’s been getting really tired.’

  ‘Maybe we can make some plans for things we can do together – go shopping in Cattebury maybe. Or do you think our mums would let us get the train to London? I mean, we’re sixteen and you know your way about. You understand how the Tube works.’

  Megan stared at her friend, excited by the audaciousness of the idea. ‘I suppose… I mean if we promised to only go to Westfield and be home by six…’ The two girls stared at each other, their eyes bright with excitement at the idea.

  ‘But what about your mum?’ asked Megan.

  ‘She’s OK during the day. We have a carer who pops in at lunchtime every day. Just as long as I’m back to cook supper and get her to bed.’

  They heard the sound of feet pounding behind them.

  ‘Megs, Soph, stop,’ panted Ashley. ‘Can I walk home with you?’

  Megan and Sophie exchanged a glance. ‘I suppose,’ said Sophie. The girls shelved further discussion about their planned trip – they tacitly understood that they wanted this to be an outing just for them and they didn’t want hangers-on tagging along too.

  The threesome ambled along the pavement. ‘How’s the theatre group?’ asked Megan.

  Ashley’s face lit up. ‘Oh, it’s so brilliant. Even Mr Johnson isn’t the git he is in school – he can be quite nice when he’s not teaching. I love it and I’m learning so much – all the backstage stuff and tips about techniques with make-up and wigs and… oh, everything.’

  ‘Mum was saying that she might be able to do something for the theatre,’ said Sophie.

  ‘Really?’ Ashley’s bafflement was plain. ‘I don’t see—’

  ‘Not acting, but she could prompt, or do make-up. Something where she doesn’t have to be too mobile. She’d love to get involved with a company again.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘The thing is,’ continued Sophie, ‘in the past it hasn’t really been an option – she wasn’t keen on me going out alone late in the evening to help her get back from the theatre. But as you’re there already, you could give her a hand to get home.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Well, don’t be too enthusiastic,’ snapped Sophie. ‘I mean, after all the help she gave you at the panto…’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… well, what sort of help would she need?’

  ‘It’s just getting up and down kerbs and steps and that sort of thing. It’s nothing difficult. Why don’t you come back to mine and talk to her about it?’

  ‘Now?’

  Sophie began to lose patience. ‘No, in a month. Yes, now, of course now, why not?’

  ‘OK,’ said Ashley.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Megan hitching her backpack higher onto her shoulder.

  ‘I’ll come round to yours later,’ said Sophie. ‘You know… to ask Bex about…’

  ‘That’d be nice,’ said Megan. ‘She might say no way.’ Ashley looked at her curiously. ‘None of your business, Ash – this is girl stuff.’

  He and Sophie strolled through the town to the side road that led to Sophie’s house. She let them in.

  ‘Mum, I’m back,’ she called. ‘Ashley’s come to have a word.’

  ‘Hiya,’ came Lizzie’s cheerful acknowledgement from the sitting room.

  ‘You go through,’ instructed Sophie. ‘I’ll make us all a cuppa.’

  Ashley sidled into the sitting room. ‘Hello, Lizzie.’

  ‘How’s things?’

  ‘All right, I guess. I think Mum might have a new boyfriend.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I’ve not met him yet.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Her last bloke was a total loser.’

  ‘It doesn’t mean this guy will be too.’

  Ashley shrugged. ‘My dad didn’t hang around and Billy – her ex – was a lowlife.’ He gave Lizzie an ironic smile. ‘Her track record ain’t good. Anyway, let’s not talk about that; Soph was saying you were thinking about joining the theatre company.’

  ‘It depends if they want me. What do you think?’

  Ashley wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t his call and besides, being a newbie, he really didn’t know how the old-timers would react.

  ‘It’s all right, you don’t have to answer that,’ said Lizzie, sensing his unease.

  ‘And Soph said you might need a hand getting home again, after rehearsals.’

  ‘Getting around in this thing,’ she patted the arm of her chair, ‘can be a right pain in the backside. In an old town like this there a
ren’t as many dropped kerbs as there ought to be. And then there’s getting in and out of the theatre itself; two steps at the front door and several at the back, so I’ve been told.’

  ‘I think they’ve got a ramp.’

  ‘They might have but I haven’t got the upper-body strength to get up it. I haven’t got the upper-body strength to do lots of things. That’s why I’ll need a hand. So maybe if you can take me along to one of the rehearsals…’

  Ashley nodded. ‘Why not? You say when.’

  ‘Maybe the next one?’

  Ashley nodded.

  ‘Anyway, enough about me, how are you getting on there?’

  ‘I love it.’

  ‘You’ve found your tribe.’

  ‘I have. I so fit in. I just know this is how I want to spend my life. Even if I don’t earn a living I want to be a part of acting somehow.’

  ‘I completely get that. It’s how I felt. And if I can do anything to help you get there, I will.’

  ‘Would you?’

  ‘No problem. You can repay me by giving me a hand to the theatre next Tuesday.’

  ‘Deal.’

  *

  Bex and Megan eyeballed each other in the kitchen and Soph stood by the door, looking embarrassed. The pair looked like a couple of cats, squaring up for a fight. If they’d had tails, they’d have been all fluffed up like bottlebrushes.

  ‘No,’ said Bex. ‘Which syllable of that word don’t you understand?’

  ‘But, Bex, that’s so unfair.’

  ‘I don’t think so. London is a long way off, and I’m not prepared to let the pair of you go there on your own. Cattebury yes, London no. Understand?’

  ‘We’ll only be going to the Westfield Centre.’

  ‘I know, but you’re barely sixteen. What if something happened? What if you got mugged… or worse.’

  ‘Oh, come off it, Bex. That could happen in Cattebury.’

  ‘I agree. But at least I’d be close enough to be able to help. No, I’m sorry, no means no and I’m not budging.’

  ‘Miles would let us go.’

  ‘I very much doubt that. And if you ever try and play him off against me you’ll find yourself in very hot water.’

  Megan glowered and Sophie went even redder.

  ‘Come on, Megs,’ she said quietly. ‘Going to Cattebury will be fine. There’s lots to do there.’

  ‘Huh,’ was all Megan gave as an answer.

  ‘Now, if you’ve quite finished shouting at me,’ said Bex, ‘I’ve got a splitting headache.’ She sat down at the table and rubbed her forehead with her hand.

  ‘Can we get you a painkiller?’ asked Sophie.

  ‘That’s very sweet of you, my dear, but I think I’ll go for a lie-down for a few minutes. Tell the boys that if they need me I’m on my bed, having a rest.’

  Megan and Sophie watched Bex make her way out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

  ‘You shouldn’t have shouted at her,’ said Sophie.

  Guilt made Megan defensive. ‘I didn’t.’ Sophie gave her a look. ‘Well, not very loudly. Not enough to get a headache.’

  ‘Does she often get headaches?’

  Megan shook her head.

  ‘We ought to tell the boys, like your stepmum said. Where are they?’

  ‘In the garden. Miles built them a den out of old pallets – they have almost moved in there, full time.’

  ‘Sounds fun.’

  ‘I suppose – if you’re their age.’

  The girls passed the message to the two lads and then returned to Megan’s bedroom to remake their plans for a shopping trip now that London had been ruled out.

  ‘Shit,’ said Sophie, catching sight of Megan’s alarm clock after a while. ‘I need to run – got supper to make.’

  Off she dashed with plans only half-made and leaving Megan with a faint sense of resentment that Sophie had to put her mother’s needs first. She knew it wasn’t Sophie’s fault but she wished it were otherwise.

  *

  As Miles pulled into the pub car park he saw Sophie close the gate to The Beeches then sprint down the road towards her house. He glanced at the clock on the dash and saw it was later than he thought. Damn – he’d meant to be back in time to give Bex a hand with the kids’ supper before he started at the pub. And he still had to unload the shopping from the cash and carry. He jumped out of the car and unlocked the back door to the kitchen and then began to ferry in the giant jars of mayonnaise, pickled onions and the like, the catering packs of paper napkins, bacon and sausages and sacks of frozen chips. He dumped the frozen goods in the huge freezer, put the meat in the fridge but everything else he left stacked tidily in a corner of the kitchen. Ten minutes later he was scooting over the gravel and in through Bex’s front door.

  The house was quiet. Not a sound.

  ‘Hello?’ No reply.

  Surely Megan had to be in; her friend, Sophie, had left only minutes earlier. Miles raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He got to the bottom of the attic flight. ‘Megan,’ he shouted.

  A second later she was at the top. ‘Yeah, what?’

  ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘Oh, Bex had a headache and is having a lie-down and the boys are in the den in the garden.’

  Miles felt a whoosh of relief. ‘Oh, fine.’ And then he felt a bit shamefaced for having a panic. But for some reason, even though he’d only been a member of the household for a ridiculously short time, he felt strangely responsible for them all. Now he lived with them he was becoming more and more besotted with the little family. God help him, he thought, when the baby arrived. If he felt like this about kids he had no actual physical connection to, what would he be like when he had his very own son or daughter to take care of? ‘Sorry to have bothered you,’ he said and made his way to the bedroom he now shared with Bex.

  He pushed open the door and in the gloom – the curtains had been drawn – saw her, spark out, on the bed. He tiptoed across the room and felt her forehead. Well, she wasn’t feverish. He wondered what had made her feel poorly.

  Bex opened her eyes. She yawned and then sat bolt upright. ‘Hell’s bells – what’s the time?’

  ‘It’s OK, it’s not six yet.’

  She began to scramble out of bed and then stopped. ‘Shit.’ She held her head.

  ‘Still got a headache? Megan said you weren’t feeling well.’

  ‘Hmm.’ She took stock. ‘Yes and no. Yes, I’ve still got a head but it’s a lot better.’

  ‘Then you stay here. I’ll get Jamie in to do the prep for tonight and I’ll cook the kids’ supper and make something light for you.’

  ‘No, no, I’m not hungry.’

  ‘You’ve got to keep your strength up.’

  ‘Missing one meal won’t matter.’

  ‘How about scrambled eggs on toast?’

  ‘How about I take a paracetamol and man up?’

  ‘Paracetamol? Is that OK? It won’t do any harm…’

  ‘I’ve done this before, Miles. How many times do I have to tell you I am pregnant, not ill.’

  ‘Apart from the headache.’

  ‘Yes, apart from that.’

  ‘So, what brought it on?’

  ‘I had a bit of a niggle this afternoon when I got back from the pub and then Megan and I had words on the subject of her and Sophie going up to London on their own to go shopping in the Easter holidays.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘It wasn’t really a row. Just a difference of opinion.’

  ‘Even so.’

  ‘Even so, I don’t think the argument was responsible. I’m just getting to that stage in a pregnancy when I don’t sleep that well because the baby is doing gym, or I’ve got heartburn or I just can’t get comfortable. It’ll all be better in June when it’s here.’

  Miles kissed her on the nose and stroked her hair. ‘You’re the expert. And, June! Not long now.’

  ‘Eleven weeks – give or take.’

  ‘I can’t wait.’

&nbs
p; ‘I’ll remind you of that when we’re both sleep-deprived and wading in nappies.’

  Chapter 48

  Bert and Brian stood in the nave and looked at the space that had appeared now the bells had been hoisted back into the bell tower. All that was left as a reminder of their recent presence were the six pallets they’d rested on.

  ‘Pete will be pleased they’re back in their rightful place in time for Easter,’ observed Bert.

  ‘I think we all are. It’ll be wonderful to have them ring out on Easter morning for the first time.’

  ‘Well, I hate to disappoint you, Reverend, but they’re going to have to do some bell-ringing practice first. Easter Sunday ain’t going to be the first time the bell-ringers get to swing ’em.’

  ‘Yes, but you know what I mean.’

  ‘It’s been a long time since they last rang out.’

  ‘Seven months. Services haven’t been the same without them. Heather and I thought we’d have an informal party at the community centre on Easter Monday – to thank all the people who supported the bell fund. Nothing elaborate and there’s no budget so it’ll be bring and share. But we’ve asked the bell-ringers if they would ring the bells again for us and maybe take some of the party-goers up the bell tower for a guided tour – Pete and the others were very keen to do that. I think they see it as an opportunity to have a bit of a recruiting drive. Heather’s made all the invitations. There’s one for you and Joan, naturally.’

  ‘That sounds like a right good idea, Reverend. My Joan’ll be delighted. I expect she’ll make one of her pork pies if we ask her nicely.’

  ‘That would be splendid. And if I can ask you to take a couple of other invitations to drop off at your end of town…?’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  *

  A few days after the start of the school holidays, Bex was sitting with her feet up while rain lashed at the windows and the boys watched Cars yet again when she heard the letter box clatter. The post had already been, it wasn’t the day for the local rag so it was probably some flyer for the local pizza parlour or someone advertising gardening services. But even so, Bex’s curiosity got the better of her so she swung her feet off the sofa and padded out into the hall to see what had been delivered. A cream envelope with handwriting on it lay in the middle of the Victorian tiles. Bex bent down with an audible ‘oof’ to pick it up. Now she was into her third trimester, bending down was getting progressively harder but at least her head hadn’t thumped, as it did sometimes when she moved suddenly. And her ankles, she noticed, while she was down there, were getting puffy. Maybe, now she had more time to take it easy, now she was no longer working at the pub, they’d revert to the slim lines they’d once had rather than trying to emulate small beach balls. She scanned the envelope. The Millar Family (and Miles!). Bex grinned and opened it.