by John Booth
Len had a dig at me when we entered his shop with the comment. ‘And how are the idle classes these days? It’s all right for some’
Len stocks a fine selection of take away food. In the tourist season, this probably accounts for most of his profits. When Kylie admitted she liked pork pies, I put three in the wire hand basket on the assumption she would eat two of them. Then we raided the snack section.
When we returned to his till with a full basket of food and drinks, I knew I was going to get some more verbal stick. However, I had a secret weapon to deploy when the moment was right.
“Joined the tourists, now we have so much time on our hands?” asked my erstwhile boss. Len is a big man, well on the way to going bald. He’s generally easy going and has been a good friend to me. But I knew my absence from the paper round was causing him all sorts of problems.
“I think you’re losing weight, Len. Have you been exercising or something?” Two could play at this teasing game.
“My bunions are killing me, but you can’t get the help these days. Too busy injuring themselves while playing hero.”
“I understand the usual suspects are looking for jobs,” I volunteered. “And I hear Sally Heatley knows where exactly all your stock is, better than you do from all accounts.”
“You cheeky blighter.” Len tried to cuff me round the ear. I’d been expecting it and moved out of reach. I had worked for this man since I was twelve years old and could read him like a book. “You’ve come to torture an old man in his hour of need,” he moaned.
“Actually, I’ve come to tell you I can deliver the papers again from Monday, assuming I still have a job?”
Len’s face broke into a massive smile and he tried to hug me before he remembered the state of my arm. Kylie had put all the things we bought into a plastic shopping bag and I had my money out to pay, but Len waved the money away.
“You two have a good time,” he said. And then as we left the shop, “And keep him out of trouble this time, Miss Brown. I won’t last through another week of delivering those papers. I need Andrew in one piece.”
Kylie laughed and promised she would wrap me in cotton wool for the rest of the weekend.
There’s a place not far from the center of the village where the Fell runs past the village green, a glorious chunk of ancient meadow. Tall willow trees shade the stream from the sun as they dip the ends of their branches into the swiftly running water. If you go under the branches of the willows, you can find a place where the bank of the stream has worn away to create a deep clear pool. I like to sit on the grassy bank, dangle my feet into the pool, and watch the frogs, newts, and sticklebacks. It’s a private place where no one can see us. At this time of year, there was no one around to disturb us.
Kylie laid out the food on the top of the plastic bag and we ate leisurely. It was a hot sunny day, but here in the hidden bosom of the willow, it was deliciously cool. With our feet dangling in the water, it was even a little chilly.
“We have to go and see Peter,” Kylie said as she lay back on the grass and admired the patterns the sunlight made through the branches.
“It’s worse than that,” I said reaching over her for the bottle of lemonade, “I thought this spell book was some new age rubbish, but it’s obviously a book written locally. A village secret Peter should never have been able to find. It raises questions I’m not sure I’m ready to find the answers to.”
“Peter’s mother and father are…?”
“Peter’s father is Peter Hetherington. He runs the village petrol station, which is the other source of snack food in the village. I daren’t shop there because if Len ever found out I’d never hear the last of it. Lucy is Peter’s mum and she’s a housewife who also does voluntary work manning the library bus.”
“What’s a library bus?”
“Sometimes called the ‘mobile library’, it comes to the village from the nearest real library in Sutton on Wednesday’s and Saturday’s. I use to live for its visits, as I can never get enough stuff to read. I’ve been too busy with homework and other things in the last few weeks though.”
“Is that what I am to you then, an other thing?”
“If the cap fits…”
I grinned. Kylie responded by snatching the last pork pie as I reached for it.
“We other things have to keep up our strength.”
We stayed there for an hour before Kylie became restless and insisted we go and see Peter. I’ve had my fill of the usual suspects, but Kylie’s like a force of nature and I gave in eventually.
Once again, I found myself in front of a door I would normally have avoided like the plague. Kylie, after knocking, was back in her usual position, safely behind me.
Peter opened the door as far as the security chain would allow and looked out suspiciously. If I didn’t mention it before, Peter’s twelve years old and hasn’t started his growth spurt, so he still looks like an innocent little boy. Looks can be very deceptive, I’ve found.
“What do you two want?” he asked sullenly.
“You owe us, Peter,” Kylie reminded him and pushed forward. Adults in the village might give her pause, but the kids she could walk all over. “We want to come in and talk.”
“I’m grounded. I’m not allowed out.”
“What part of ‘come in and talk’ didn’t you understand?” Kylie asked.
“If mum and dad find out I let you in, I’m in big trouble,” Peter grumbled as he closed the door and slipped the chain off.
“If you don’t, you’ll be in even bigger trouble,” Kylie said as she pushed past him into the house
Peter Hetherington’s home is one of the nicer cottages in the center of the village, small but comfy, with a large stone fireplace dominating a compact lounge.
Peter was an only child, which has become a trend in the village these days. I miss not having any older or younger siblings and I’m sure he did too. We sat down and it was clear he wasn’t going to offer us a cup of tea.
“What do you want?”
“Tell us all about the book of spells you found?”
“It was an old book in the loft. Mum threw it out the other day.”
“How would you like it if we told your parents we found you tossing yourself off in the woods in front of Sally and Jane?” Kylie asked him and Peter’s face went pale.
“That’s a lie!”
“Just like the one you just told us. I’m a very good liar, Peter. I had to be when I was younger. Now tell us the truth.” Kylie looked him straight in the eye and Peter trembled. She frightens me sometimes too.
“It’s in a safe. Mum keeps all the spell books locked in a safe for them.” He put a lot of emphasis on the word them.
“And who are ‘Them’?” I asked feeling this was a bit of the interrogation I could handle. I discovered straight away that I was wrong.
“You should know. It’s your mother who runs them,” Peter said, taking obvious pleasure in telling me.
“The Women’s Association?” I asked in disbelief. I’d long wanted to believe they were a coven of witches, but now my wish had come true I was wishing I never thought of it.
“Yeah, them,” Peter was enjoying having a moment of control, but Kylie wasn’t going to let that last for long.
“You’re going to give us that book right now or we’re going to wait right here for your parents. Believe me, when I finish telling them my lies you’re going to wish you were dead.”
“I can’t,” Peter wailed. “I told you, it’s in the safe.”
“Then how did you get it in the first place?” Kylie asked relentlessly. I was discovering the usual suspects were habitual liars and believing them if they told you that they had five fingers on each hand was probably a mistake.
“I took it during a meeting. Mum opens the safe before they come around. I sneaked up to the loft and nicked it. I put it back at another meeting after we did the spell.”
“Why did you do that particular spell?” This question had been
bothering me ever since I found out the book wasn’t some kind of mass produced thing.
“It was the only good one. Who wants to banish wolves or turn away Viking raiders? Freeing banished souls sounded much more fun. There was one for keeping it up all night, but Jane said I take too long as it is.”
Once again, I found myself in contact with an alien world. It was clear Jane and Sally weren’t virgins from the things Kylie had said, but Peter was only twelve years old, for God’s sake. Was I the only virgin in the village?
“That’s because you’re no good at it. If you were, she’d have suggested the spell herself.” Kylie has a way with words, I admire her the way you might admire an assassin. Provided she wasn’t aiming her words at you, it was fantastic to listen to. It certainly took the smirk off Peter’s face.
“When’s the next meeting of the Women’s Association?” she snapped.
“Tonight at seven thirty,” I answered for Peter. I have Mum’s schedule memorized.
“Then you,” Kylie’s finger poked Peter in the ribs, “Will steal the book for us tonight and give it to me tomorrow morning.”
“But I’m grounded.”
“You will bring it to my door between seven and eight o’clock tomorrow morning when I will be waiting for you. Or you know what the consequences will be. An experienced boy like you will have no trouble sneaking out of the house.”
Kylie stood up and made for the door and I had to hurry to catch up with her.
As we walked down the street, Kylie turned to me, “Don’t look so downcast, Peter’s lying. He’s still a virgin. He’s too young for either Jane or Sally and the other girls in their group are just too young - period.”
I continued to look a little low as we walked back up the hill.
“If it’s that important to you, we can go into the woods and end your problem now.”
Kylie had got ahead of me and now blocked my path, “Is that what you want?”
That was a difficult question and I had to think carefully. One part of my body had already cast its vote and I could tell that Kylie had spotted the bulge in my jeans.
“Yes, but not like this. It has to be a mutual thing”
Kylie snorted in disgust, “Then go to your room and jerk off. I’m going home.”
She turned and started walking back down the hill to her aunt’s house. Part of me wanted to run after her and kiss her and the rest of me wanted to lie down and die.
In the end, I decided to go back home and carry out her instructions.
13. Lies and Despondency
I am writing this on Sunday night, the world looks a little darker tonight, and my life has become a lot emptier since yesterday. I started this journal with the idea that I would be totally honest in it. I intend to stick to that whatever happens, so here goes.
I woke up early this morning at around five o’clock. Being June, the sun was already up and it seemed pointless to stay in bed. The only fantasies I might have had were ruined by the way Kylie and I had parted the day before, and I was still foolishly hoping all of it would be forgotten by then.
When I got downstairs and had breakfast, it was just about the time I would normally have left for work. I was feeling good and there was nothing else to do, so I decided to head down to the Post Office and help out.
Sunday papers reach the village at six in the morning and though Len doesn’t open the shop that early, he still has to be up sorting and marking the papers for delivery.
Sunday is a big day for newspapers. We have a large number of national papers and each of them goes mad in quantity terms on Sunday. Nobody could possibly read their way through every section of some of those newspapers. To make it worse the people in the village who don’t bother having daily newspapers delivered always have a Sunday paper. Sometimes they have two.
It’s important to get the papers organized into the sack before you start, as the last thing you want to do is rummage for a specific paper every time you reach a house. Len has no idea how to do this, as I’ve been doing it for him since I was thirteen.
I unlocked the Post Office door (I have a set of keys) and walked in on a scene of total chaos. Len looked up from piles of newspapers scattered across the floor and broke into a broad smile. “If you have come to help you’re welcome, but if you’re planning to watch and snigger you can just naff off.”
“I was planning to help you, but now I see the wonderful job you’re doing, I think I’ll go back home.”
Len threw a plastic wrapped copy of the Sunday Times at me. Which can be a lethal weapon if it hits because of its weight, but I dodged it and shooed him out of the way. Ten minutes later, I had the first two sacks sorted and ready to take out.
Len gave my arm a pointed look.
“’Appen I’ll take these while you stay here and put the kettle on.”
I flexed my left arm, trying hard not to wince. “It’s almost back to normal. I’ll take them out if you want?”
“I wouldn’t think of it, and your mother would kill me if I did. A dangerous woman to annoy, your mother.”
“How about we take one each?”
Len frowned, obviously tempted.
“If I have any trouble I’ll come straight back.”
Len smiled. “Okay then, but best we don’t say anything to your mother.”
“Deal.”
An hour later, we had delivered the papers and settled down for a cup of coffee in the shop. Len dug out cereal and milk from the fridge and we relaxed on the only two chairs in the shop.
Seeing how much Len had struggled without me was making me feel guilty about the future.
“Len, I’ll have to quit this job in the autumn. I have my ‘A’ levels coming up next year and I don’t have the time to do both.”
“You’ll be off to university after that, I suppose. Do you have anywhere in mind?” Len didn’t seem surprised or upset at my announcement. I guess he must have worked it out for himself a long time ago.
“York, studying Pure Mathematics; if they’ll have me.”
Len nodded as if that was no surprise either. I don’t remember announcing my intentions to anyone, but villages are closed communities and the locals are good at making deductions from what they hear.
“It’s a rum do, all these things Jane and Sally are doing. I know they’re tearaways and should have been properly disciplined years ago, but I’d never have thought these things of them.” Len looked enquiringly at me. That was a question believe it or not. The older generation of the village have their own subtle ways of asking things.
“If I said they weren’t responsible, would you believe me? And either way, their parents are making up for any previous lack of discipline from what I’ve seen.”
“Yes,” said Len taking another sip of tea, “But you didn’t take your chance to show one of them what’s what yesterday, from all I hear.”
My face flushed bright red. When I recovered, I made a point of slowly surveying every corner of the room, “Is every room of every house in this village wired for sound? How do you know about that?”
“Jenny has told everybody what happened, and those she hasn’t will have heard it from those she told. According to her, you were going to spank her sister for all the insults she has ever given you when you suddenly lost your nerve and walked out.”
“I didn’t lose my nerve. I just remembered I don’t spank children.”
Len laughed, “She’s more a young woman than a child these days. A hundred years ago, she’d likely have been looking to marry within the year and already have picked out her man. Don’t you worry yourself about it, Andrew. Anne said to let you know you have her permission to finish what you started, anytime you want. She knows how much Sally and Jane have teased you over the years, and she thinks they have it coming.”
Anne was Anne Heatley, Sally’s mother. I didn’t know where to look or what to say. My view of my village was changing beyond all recognition. I’d grown up here and now the people in it were t
urning out to be very different from who I thought they were.
“Anyhow,” Len continued, as he got up and stretched, “My understanding is Sally and Jane have been told to walk and talk carefully around you, as you have their parent’s permission to sort them out whenever you want.”
“I’m confused, Len. What exactly is going on?”
Len paused for thought as he considered my question. He knew exactly what I meant, that was for sure.
“There aren’t many children born in the village anymore and the usual suspects are turning bad on us. This village is going to die if the generation after them turns out the same. You’ve set a solid example for them and they haven’t lived up to it. If you have to make an example of them for the younger children, we will all cheer you on. None of us wants this place to turn into a holiday village for rich town’s folk. We trust you to do the right thing.”
Len walked out of the room and left me thinking. There were a number of young children and toddlers in the village, but those in my generation had all left over the last five years and there was three years between me and the oldest of the usual suspects. Maybe I had let them down by not including them in my life. Maybe that’s why they had turned out the way they had.
I shouted my goodbye’s to Len and made my way back home, where I started my art homework. I didn’t really think about the time until my mum shouted up that she needed to speak to me. As always these days, she sounded angry about something.
My Mum is a pretty lady despite having turned forty this year, which sounds awfully old to me. She’s normally easy going, but for the last few months, she has been hell to live with, so I do my best to avoid her. Dad ignores her moods and if she shouts at him, he just says ‘Yes dear’ and carries on doing whatever he was doing.
I think it must be something to do with being the president of the Woman’s Association, though when I ask her about it she says that it’s the best thing that ever happened to her.