Be Careful What You Wish For

by Vivien Brown

  ‘If I’d known there was gambling in your genes I’d have kept you away from those fruit machines!’

  ‘Pennies don’t count. And I’m sure we must be the only people to have ever walked away from one of those arcades in profit!’

  ‘It felt like a good time to stop. While we were ahead. I can’t have your mum blaming me for you losing your life savings.’

  ‘What? All fifteen quid? No, seriously though, Nan sold the block, or most of it, just before prices went sky high. If only she’d hung on, we’d probably be millionaires by now! She held on to three of the flats though – the bigger, better ones at the back – including ours, and Madi’s here.’

  ‘Ah, your nan was the mystery owner Simon mentioned to me. His uncle’s none too keen on not owning the whole block.’

  ‘I think she got quite a lot of pleasure from knowing that! Anyway, the flats were her nest egg, as she called them, and she always said they’d be Mum’s inheritance eventually. And mine, I guess. She said Grandad owed us that much, for all the good he’d been when he was alive. I don’t think theirs was the happiest of marriages, and he was away a lot working, but I guess this was her security, her retirement fund, not that she ended up with much of a retirement, running about looking after us. It was only meant to be a temporary thing at first, us living here, but then Mum had her accident and she couldn’t go out to work any more, and there wasn’t any compensation or anything, seeing as she’d caused it herself, so we’re still here. We own our flat now, of course, since we lost Nan. And the other two she’d hung onto. Mum spent ages with the solicitor, going through Nan’s papers, sorting out about the rents and everything, but she won’t sell. Or can’t. I’m not sure which. She doesn’t talk about it. But they were her dad’s after all, so there’s a bit of sentimental value attached, and she doesn’t have much else that was his.’

  ‘Quite a story.’

  ‘The true ones are always the best.’

  ‘So, Madi’s your tenant! Well, yours and your mum’s. This flat is technically yours.’

  ‘Yeah, the best flat in the block too. Mum isn’t happy about that. The penthouse, she calls it! Which is a bit of an exaggeration. Thinks we should be living in it. She never even speaks to Miss Cardew now.’

  ‘Seems a bit extreme, falling out over something like that.’

  ‘Tell me about it!’

  ‘And is it? The best flat?’

  ‘Oh, definitely. Top floor. Beautifully decorated. Nice fittings. Well, look at it. We could be in The Ritz! But it’s not something to get jealous about, is it? And I quite like our flat. I can’t see Mum moving, not any more. But Mum feels safer staying put, because she knows her way around in our place. By feel, or sixth sense or something. Never bumps into anything unless I move things about.’

  ‘Do you think she’d …?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Like to get out a bit more, get involved with my plans for the garden? I know you said she works, doing phone stuff, so she does at least get to talk to people, but still it can’t be much fun being stuck indoors on her own so much. There must be something she could help with. And, if she part owns the place, she might feel more invested in it than some of the tenants.’

  ‘Well, I could ask, but she’s not really one for other people. She does come out with me sometimes. For a walk or whatever, in the evenings when I’m not working, but it’s not like she can enjoy a film or a museum, or even read a book any more, and there’s nothing that really motivates her these days. She does a bit of cleaning in the flat, but it’s hit and miss. I usually have a quick wipe round after she’s finished and do the bits she’s missed.’

  ‘How old is she, Aaron?’

  ‘Erm, let’s think now. Forty-four, I think. No, forty-five.’

  ‘God, really? That’s way too young to be a hermit. Let’s see if we can get her out and doing something again. Does she like plants? Flowers?’

  ‘Only the ones that smell nice. Not a lot of good otherwise, are they, if you can’t see them? Or eat them!’

  ‘We could do a sensory garden!’ Where had that idea sprung from? Now it had popped into her head, she just had to run with it. ‘Wind chimes for sound. Plants with strong scents, and ones she can rub between her fingers, like herbs, lavender …’

  ‘You’re getting carried away again. You’re leaving soon, remember?’

  ‘But you’re not. Oh, come on, let’s put all that artistic talent of yours into something useful.’

  ‘What artistic talent? You make your plans if you must, and I’ll do what I can to help you, but don’t count on Mum. She’s a tough nut to crack.’

  Chapter 22

  MADI

  The darkroom was a big disappointment. It had wooden workbenches running around three sides, and a cupboard high on the back wall that dropped dead spiders all over Madi’s shoulders when she forced open its rather creaky door. There were a few old dusty chemical bottles inside, a sink with old-fashioned rusted taps, and a line of string running across from one corner of the ceiling to another, with pegs that must have once held the photos as they dried, but otherwise nothing of any interest. But if it was cleaned up a bit, it might make a useful space.

  ‘Caught you!’

  Madi felt herself stiffen, her heart rate shooting up in fear. If she hadn’t realised almost immediately that it was Tom’s voice behind her she would quite likely have jumped right out of her skin, and probably grabbed the nearest of the potion bottles as a weapon to defend herself. He had obviously come through the gate between the gardens while her attention was otherwise engaged and was now standing in the doorway.

  ‘Oh, sorry!’ Madi took a deep breath and turned round, allowing herself a moment for the panic to subside. ‘I know I shouldn’t be nosing around, but I only wanted a quick peek. You won’t tell Prue, will you?’

  ‘Depends. Have you stolen anything? Broken anything?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Nothing to tell then, is there? Come on, lock up and let’s get out of here. The cobwebby look really doesn’t suit you.’ He lifted a hand and eased a strand of something brown and sticky out of her hair. ‘And I have other plans for you today, assuming you’re free?’

  ‘And what might they be?’

  ‘I thought a trip into Norwich. I have to go to see my optician, and I could do with the company and perhaps we could do a spot of shopping and lunch, if you’re up for it. You worry me, the way you stay in so much. If you won’t fling yourself into the sea or fly to Egypt, then at least have a day away from Shelling. It may be home, and I love it dearly, but it can be a bit stifling after a while.’

  ‘Well, okay, but only if we take my car. It’s been sitting outside so long I worry it might not start if I abandon it any longer. And if you’re having eyesight problems, I’d feel safer if I drive!’

  ‘Fair enough. You’re the boss.’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘It’s what I always used to say to Barb to keep her happy. Let her believe she was the one making all the decisions, the one in the driving seat.’ He laughed. ‘Which you actually will be, on this occasion!’

  ‘When were you thinking of setting off?’

  ‘Half an hour suit you? Long enough to get changed, and to put on your face or whatever it is you ladies do.’

  ‘This face is the only one I’ve got, unfortunately.’ Madi could see Tom was about to say something, but quickly put up her hand to stop him. ‘Don’t you go contradicting me. All that soppy flattery’s the last thing I need. Let’s call a spade a spade. I am what I am. Over sixty, and not looking my best just now.’

  ‘I was only going to say that lunch is on me.’

  ‘That’s all right then. I’m sorry.’ She pulled the shed door shut and turned the key in the padlock, keeping her back to him while she swallowed back her embarrassment at misreading things again. ‘And thank you. That would be lovely.’

  Madi enjoyed the drive. She hadn’t been behind the wheel since she’d arrived and the
weather was picking up nicely, the sun throwing shadows onto the lanes as the overhanging bushes brushed against the roof of the car.

  ‘Not visiting your wife today?’

  Tom shook his head. ‘I’m taking a chores day. Optician, a visit to the bank, a spot of much-needed clothes shopping. I only seem to have five socks left with no holes in them and no two of those make a matching pair.’ He lifted his trouser leg a few inches to reveal a dark grey sock, then flashed a navy one from underneath the other.

  ‘Stop it.’ She laughed. ‘I need to keep my eyes on the road, especially until we get off these narrow lanes.’

  ‘They can be a bit scary, I suppose, if you’re not used to them. Let’s just hope we don’t meet a bloody great giant-sized tractor coming the other way.’

  ‘Now you are worrying me.’

  ‘Plenty of passing places. And we can always swap seats if you feel the need.’

  ‘I’m a perfectly competent driver, thank you.’

  ‘I’m only teasing you, Madi. I hope you know that.’

  ‘Of course. Now, is it left up here?’

  ‘Yep. Then just follow the signs.’

  ‘I must find a car wash too. Just look at the state of the windows. And you should see the wheels … yuk!’

  ‘I did notice, as I got in. Almost got mud on my socks. At least then I’d have had a matching pair. In muddy brown! Anyway, let’s not waste time in car washes. I can do it for you any time. I enjoy it actually. Messing about with a big bucket of suds and a squishy sponge. A real man’s job is that, second only to barbecuing sausages!’

  Madi gave the windscreen another squirt and set the wipers onto high speed for a couple of swipes, which seemed to do the job at least well enough to see out. ‘Okay, you’re on.’

  ‘Glad to be of service. I just wish I’d offered sooner. That mud’s probably ground in by now. I’ll probably need a fish slice to scrape it off!’

  ‘Just not the same one you use for turning the sausages, eh?’ Madi joked, feeling herself relax as they turned out onto the main road.

  Tom pointed out various landmarks as they drove along, regaling her with stories of his youth, places he’d worked, pubs he’d eaten in. It felt as if she was getting her very own guided tour, with insider knowledge only a local could provide.

  ‘You love this place, don’t you?’ she said.

  ‘What? The A47?’

  ‘No, Norfolk! It’s so clearly home.’

  ‘Has been my whole life, and I can’t see that changing.’

  ‘Have you given any more thought to young Donny and his theatrical dreams? All he needs is a bit of direction and support. An adult to take charge if need be, and help pull the thing together and sort out a bit of publicity. Find some sponsorship, even. I really think you’re the man to help him, you know.’

  ‘Something to give me an interest in life and stop me brooding at home alone, you mean?’

  ‘No, I don’t mean that at all. And I’m hardly the one to say that, considering it’s what I’ve been doing myself for the last few months. But it will give the local kids an interest, won’t it? And benefit the whole village, if you can bring a really good performance together.’

  ‘I know. And I am considering it, Madi.’

  ‘And what would your Barb say about it, do you think? She’s the boss, after all. The one who makes all the decisions, you said …’

  ‘I think she’d have been all for it actually, but she’s not here, is she? And it’ll be me in the driving seat. Without a co-driver, or even a passenger.’

  ‘You’ll have Donny.’

  Tom raised his eyes and sighed. ‘That’s what bothers me.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be mean. He seems like a nice lad. And he’s nothing if not keen.’

  ‘He’s keen on bell ringing and look how that’s turned out.’

  ‘True. But he’s very willing to learn. If only there was someone able to show him what to do.’

  ‘Are we still talking about the bells?’

  ‘Possibly not!’

  ‘Oh, okay, Madi, I give in! But before I can show him the ropes, you’re going to have to show them to me.’

  ‘But I don’t know the first thing about bell ringing. Let me loose with those ropes and I’d probably end up strangling myself!’

  ‘You know perfectly well what ropes I meant.’ Tom laughed, and Madi laughed with him. She was going to enjoy this day out.

  While Tom had his eye test, Madi set off for a wander around the shops. He would be at least an hour, he’d said, or probably longer if he had to choose new frames, so they had agreed on a place to meet up for lunch later.

  It had been a while since she had felt any need to buy new clothes. The cancer and its aftermath had left her feeling very down for a time. She had lost weight and was now slowly regaining it, so even choosing the right size would have been a challenge, and there had been no need to dress up while all she did was lie around at home, recovering from each chemo session, not at all sure how to come to terms with her new shape, let alone dress to accommodate it. The big bold colours she had always favoured seemed somehow inappropriate now that fading into the background held a lot more appeal than being centre stage. So she bypassed the fancy dresses and glittery tops and bought black, and grey, and comfy. And new boots, flatter than she was used to, but so much more suited to country life.

  The café was easy enough to find and she arrived early. She found a table tucked away at the back and balanced her shopping bags around her on the floor, ordered a coffee and picked up a menu.

  Every time the door to the street opened, she glanced up, hoping it would be Tom. After four or five false alarms, she wondered if she might look a bit needy, sitting here alone and watching the door. Like a woman stood up on a blind date. Not that anyone was watching her or would care even if they were. This was not Madalyn Cardew, semi-famous actress, out on public display. This was an almost unrecognisable version, looking plainer and thinner than she had for years, quietly minding her own business in an out-of-the-way café, with nothing about her likely to draw anyone’s attention at all.

  Only, she wasn’t minding her own business. Not any more. Because there, at a table for two in the opposite corner, if she wasn’t very much mistaken, was Prue’s ex-boyfriend, the one who had led her on and turned her down and driven her away from home because of it. The one Madi had met very briefly in the garden of the village hall just before his father had won first prize for his wine. What was the lad called again? Joe. That was it. And yes, that was definitely him. And he was not alone. She watched as his hand reached across the table and closed around the long slender fingers of his companion, a pale, thin, but rather gorgeous young man whose face he seemed unable to take his eyes from.

  Ah! Well that explained a lot, didn’t it? Not that it was any of Madi’s business, but she couldn’t help feeling sorry for Prue, who, presumably, had no idea.

  Joe looked up as the door opened yet again, and so did she. And this time it was Tom. He walked straight towards her, smiling, totally oblivious to who was sitting just a few tables away, but Joe had spotted him all right. When Madi next looked his way, Joe’s hand was very much back on his own half of the table, clutching his cup far more tightly than was strictly necessary, and he had turned his chair by a few degrees so all Tom would see if he should happen to look their way was his back view, pretty much indistinguishable from that of any other office worker taking an early lunch with a friend.

  ‘I wonder if they have any pies?’ Tom said, picking up the second menu and reading through it eagerly. ‘Oh, and I’ve ordered a new pair, by the way. Glasses, that is. Not pies! Fancied a change … so I went for bright pink, with diamante arms.’

  ‘Sorry. What?’

  ‘You’ve not listened to a word I’ve said, have you?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘So you said.’ He looked at her inquisitively, but she didn’t attempt to explain what had taken her attention elsewhere. ‘Now, what are you having
?’

  By the time they had eaten and Tom was sorting out the bill, Joe and his friend had gone. Madi hadn’t seen them leave, and presumably neither had Tom.

  ‘So, where now?’ she said as they stepped back out into the street.

  ‘Socks. And lots of them!’

  Madi laughed. ‘I wouldn’t mind a few pairs myself. I thought maybe pink, with diamantes.’

  ‘So you were listening?’

  ‘Of course. Just distracted for a moment, that was all.’

  ‘Penny for them,’ Tom said, stopping so abruptly on the pavement that Madi walked right into him.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing. Come on, we’re at M&S, so let’s do socks. Sock it to me, Tom!’

  ‘Now there’s an offer a man doesn’t get every day,’ Tom said as they entered through the big glass doors. ‘We can buy matching pairs. His and hers. But I bet mine are bigger than yours.’

  ‘Tom Bishop, you have a rather naughty sense of humour, do you know that?’

  ‘I’m only talking about socks, Madi.’ His eyes glinted with mischief and he gave her an exaggerated wink.

  ‘Were you like this with Barbara?’

  ‘Like what exactly?’

  ‘Joking all the time, going out for lunch, shopping for socks?’

  ‘Not all the time, but yes, we tended to do most things together.’

  ‘I’m just a bit worried that I might be becoming some kind of substitute, that’s all. You do know that’s not what I need right now?’

  ‘Me neither, Madi. Friends, okay? Like we said right from the start. In fact, why don’t you come with me next time I visit Barb? Meet her for yourself, put your mind at rest that I am still a happily married man. Or as happy as I can be, in the circumstances. She’d like you, you know. Okay, so she may not remember who you are five minutes after you’ve been introduced, but that’s just Barb. It’s nothing to be wary of, or scared of. She’s just Barb. My Barb.’