Secrets and Scandals in Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  ‘Lots of your friends from primary school go there,’ said Olivia, trying to soften the news.

  Zac shot her a look. ‘They’re not my friends any more.’

  ‘Ashley is.’

  Zac ignored her. ‘It’ll be rank.’

  ‘And, maybe more importantly,’ said Nigel, ‘we’ve got to sell the house.’

  Zac flopped backwards. ‘Move?’

  Nigel nodded.

  ‘Where?’

  Nigel shrugged. ‘Somewhere smaller, cheaper to run.’ He sighed. ‘So, given the size of this place, what the heating bills are, almost anywhere in town.’ It was a poor joke.

  ‘Let’s face it,’ said Olivia, almost as much to convince herself than her son, ‘we don’t need five bedrooms, not now you’re the only one actually living here full-time.’

  ‘But what about when the others come home?’

  Your brother and sisters have their own places, pretty much. Tamsin’ll be finishing her master’s this year and with any luck she’ll walk into a job and be self-sufficient just like Jade and Mike.’

  ‘And if she doesn’t?’

  ‘Let’s not meet trouble halfway.’

  Zac slumped. ‘So let me get this right, Dad makes a massive mistake and no one shouts at him. I fail to put my plate in the dishwasher and you all get on my back.’

  ‘Don’t be childish,’ snapped Olivia.

  ‘It isn’t just the house,’ said Nigel. ‘We’re going to have to tighten our belts all round; no more foreign holidays, no more expensive TV packages, we’ll probably have to get rid of one of the cars, your allowance will have to be cut.’

  ‘My...’ Zac went white. ‘You can’t.’

  ‘I’m afraid we’re going to have to.’

  Zac looked close to tears. ‘So what did Dad do?’

  There was silence. It wasn’t for Olivia to answer this one. The ball was in Nigel’s court.

  Zac looked at him. ‘Well? I think I’ve got a right to know – given that your crappy mistake means I’m going to be skint all the time and you may have cost me my place at school.’ There was a catch in his voice and Olivia was surprised. She didn’t know his school meant so much to him.

  Olivia half-expected Nigel to yell at Zac for his cheek but he remained silent.

  ‘Come on, Dad.’

  ‘I lost the money gambling,’ Nigel muttered.

  Zac sat bolt upright. ‘You did what?’

  ‘You heard.’

  ‘Fucking hell,’ breathed Zac. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

  ‘Language,’ said Olivia.

  Zac looked from one parent to the other and snorted. ‘I don’t think either of you have got the right to lecture me about anything any more.’ He stood up. ‘What a pair of losers you two have turned out to be.’ And with that he slammed out of the house.

  ‘That went well,’ said Olivia as she stared at the front door and tried not to cry.

  *

  Ashley sat on the swings at the park and swung, morosely, to and fro as he mulled over the arrival of Billy into his home. Even though there was the threat of another rain shower he didn’t care. He didn’t feel like he wanted to be in the house with Billy – no way. He supposed he’d always known that his mum might hook up with someone and maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to have someone to help with the bills. And Billy had a car... but... but he didn’t like the man. He didn’t actively dislike him but he felt wary of him. If he’d wanted a father-figure and he had to pick from a line-up, Billy would be amongst the last on his list. Frankly, he thought, Homer Simpson had better parenting skills than Billy probably did. He knew he was being unfair; Billy wasn’t ever going to be his parent but, selfishly, if his mum had to hitch up with someone, he’d have liked her partner to be someone who might want to have a kick-around with him or who would take him to a match. He couldn’t see Billy wanting to do anything like that – he’d be too worried about messing up his designer kit or scuffing his Nike Air Max trainers.

  And he didn’t like the way Billy had taken over in the house from the instant he’d arrived. He’d taken charge of the remote, he sat in the chair that had been his, he hogged the bathroom and he’d even ticked Ashley off for leaving his shoes in the hall. What right, thought Ashley crossly, had he to say anything about how he and his mum behaved in their house? He was the guest and yet he acted as if he owned the place – and worst of all, his mum either didn’t notice or she didn’t care. Well, he did. Ashley kicked at a stone and sent it skidding over the wet rubberised play surface.

  Movement next to him caught his eye and he stopped staring at his shoes and glanced up.

  ‘Hiya, Zac.’

  ‘Hi.’

  Ashley looked at Zac and saw he looked thoroughly miserable. ‘You all right?’

  Zac shook his head.

  So, what is it? Your dealer getting heavy?’

  Zac shook his head again.

  ‘Want to talk about it?’

  Ashley could see Zac was struggling with an answer.

  ‘No, well... if you change your mind.’ Ashley pushed back and let the swing rock forward before he jumped off. ‘I suppose I ought to be getting home. Mum’s expecting me back.’

  ‘No... wait.’

  Ashley sat back down on the swing.

  ‘It’s my dad.’

  ‘He’s found out about your habit, has he?’

  Zac shook his head. ‘No. No, he’s...’

  ‘He’s what? Ill?’

  ‘Ha. If only.’ He twisted the swing round on its chains so it was facing Ashley. ‘He and Mum have just told me he’s gambled all our money away.’

  Ashley could feel his jaw slackening and his eyes widening. ‘No. He couldn’t have done. All of it?’

  Zac snorted. ‘It’s not the sort of thing you joke about, is it?’

  ‘But all of it?’

  ‘It’s what he and Mum said.’

  ‘Blimey,’ whispered Ashley under his breath. It put his irritation with Billy in perspective.

  ‘They said we’re going to have to move – somewhere smaller.’

  ‘Hey, living in a small house ain’t the end of the world. Just saying.’

  Zac looked at Ashley. ‘Yeah, I know. Sorry.’

  ‘Welcome to my world.’

  ‘It’s all such a mess. And they’re going to cut my allowance.’

  Ahh, that was probably the thing that worried Zac the most, thought Ashley. Without that, how was he going to fund his habit? Maybe he’d have to quit, although everything Ash had ever heard about drugs seemed to indicate that coming off them was no picnic. Ash wanted to feel sorry for his friend but it was hard. It seemed to Ash that all Zac’s problems were entirely avoidable and it was hard to feel sympathy for people who couldn’t resist the self-destruct button – like father, like son.

  ‘I wish I could help you, Zac,’ he said. ‘Maybe you could get a job to earn some cash? Do a paper round or something?’

  Or maybe not, thought Ashley, when he saw the look of disgust pass over his pal’s face. His feelings of sympathy waned further.

  33

  ‘Coo-ee,’ said Mags as she opened Amy’s front door and shook droplets off her umbrella.

  ‘And who the hell are you?’ said a thirty-something man, standing in Amy’s kitchen.

  ‘I think I’m the one who should be asking that,’ said Mags, drawing herself up to her full five foot one and pushing her sleeves up her arms.

  ‘I’m Billy. I’ve moved in with Ames.’

  ‘So you’re Billy.’ Mags eyed him up and down. ‘Well, I’m Amy’s mum. Glad to meet you – at last.’

  Mags turned at the sound of footsteps running down the stairs.

  ‘Hiya, Mum. This is Billy.’

  ‘I know,’ said Mags. ‘Or I do now.’ She turned back to Billy. ‘Is that your car outside?’

  Billy nodded.

  ‘Nice. Must have cost a bundle.’

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘Just asking,’ said Mags, unf
azed.

  ‘Since you ask, yeah. And?’ countered Billy.

  ‘Not sure I’d want to leave a smart set of wheels like that parked around here. There’s been a lot of burglaries in the town lately.’

  ‘It’s all been houses, though,’ said Amy.

  ‘So far,’ muttered Mags. ‘There was another break-in I heard about last week.’

  ‘Another?’ said Amy.

  ‘Yeah, one of those houses over behind the cricket club.’

  Amy shook her head. ‘I never thought I’d say it but there’s advantages to living this end of town. Whoever is doing the break-ins knows that us lot, down here at the cheap end, don’t have nothing worth stealing. Ain’t that right, Billy?’

  ‘I dunno,’ said Billy. He pointed at the TV in the sitting room. ‘That’d be worth a bit if you knew the right person.’

  ‘Don’t say that, Billy. I’ll be having sleepless nights.’

  Billy winked and patted Amy’s bottom. ‘I thought that was the whole reason for me moving in here.’

  Mags frowned and shuddered. She decided to ignore Billy. ‘Do you know what I saw yesterday?’ Amy shook her head. ‘Your Mrs L—’

  ‘Olivia?’

  ‘Her. Anyway, you know I’ve been thinking about giving up the business.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, when I sell up I’ll have a bit of spare cash and I’ve been thinking I might buy myself somewhere to live. The housing association says I might be eligible.’

  ‘Really? Get you!’

  ‘Anyway, I was up at the show house, and there was Mrs L. And she said she wasn’t thinking of buying but then she got given all the paperwork. So why, when she’s got that huge great barn of a place, would she want another house?’

  ‘Search me,’ said Amy. ‘I suppose when you’re loaded like them you have to spend it on something. I can’t imagine having that much dosh.’

  ‘I can,’ said Billy.

  Mags looked at him. ‘I can tell – what with that flash car and all.’ She turned back to Amy. ‘And I also came round to ask if you wanted to come round mine for roast lunch tomorrow but I can see you’ve probably got other plans for the weekend.’ She sniffed.

  ‘Nah, you’re all right,’ said Billy. ‘I’m going to treat Ames and Ash to a meal at the pub.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Mags. It obviously wasn’t. ‘I’ll see you around, Amy.’

  ‘Yeah, bye, Mum.’

  Mags let herself out again and shut the door with a smidge more force than was entirely necessary.

  ‘You know,’ said Amy, after she’d gone, ‘it would have been nice if you’d invited Mum to the pub too.’

  ‘She wouldn’t want to play gooseberry though, would she?’

  ‘Ash is coming.’

  ‘Yeah, but he’s a kid. He’ll ignore us and spend all his time on his phone. Your mum would have wanted to talk to us.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, I can tell she can’t half rabbit and maybe I’d rather talk to you than her. Besides, if I’m paying I think I get to say who gets invited – not you. Savvy?’

  *

  The next morning Heather was relieved and pleased to see that Brian’s mood from the day before was still upbeat. He hummed ‘Rock of Ages’ as he shaved, which, she thought, was a good sign. She dressed ready for church and then pottered downstairs, collecting the Sunday paper from the letter box as she passed the front door, and went into the kitchen. She plugged in the kettle before she opened the fridge and got out the eggs, tomatoes and bacon. She scanned a couple of the headline stories on the front page. Gloom, doom and misery, she thought, while she grilled the bacon and fried the eggs and tomatoes. At least the worst that this little town had to cope with was a few burglaries and some under-age drinking. OK, maybe there was worse going on than that behind people’s front doors but, on the whole, Little Woodford had to be one of the safer places in the world.

  She flicked on the radio and the sound of some theological discussion on the Sunday morning religious programme got half-drowned by the sizzling of the tomatoes in the pan. No, too dreary. It wasn’t in tune with her mood and she wanted something happier than the highs and lows of life for Coptic Christians. She opened her laptop and found a music station on the internet and replaced voices with jolly sixties pop. She jiggled in time to the music as she cooked.

  ‘The smell of bacon and a happy wife,’ said Brian. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world.’

  Heather smiled. Her world was all right. She wasn’t sure about Olivia’s, and Jacqui’s could be a bit rocky but, after the trials and tribulations of recent weeks she felt she could indulge in a few minutes of unadulterated selfishness and ignore other people’s problems.

  ‘Put the toast on and make the tea, there’s a love,’ she said to Brian.

  The pair worked as a team for a few minutes until their breakfast was ready and they sat at the table. How different the atmosphere was, thought Heather as she tucked in, from the past couple of weeks. She longed to know what the initial problem had been and what had caused this total turn-around but years of being a vicar’s wife had taught her to be patient and to know that if Brian wanted her to know something, she would eventually find out and that if he didn’t, she never would. It didn’t stop from her being curious but she’d learned to curb it sufficiently that her inquisitiveness didn’t drive her potty.

  Brian read the main bit of the paper while Heather flicked through the Sunday supplement, looking at glossy pictures of fashion accessories for people with more money than sense and recipes that seemed to need ridiculous amounts of preparation. What’s wrong with a good old shepherd’s pie, she thought as she looked at a concoction which needed... she totted them up... twenty-four separate ingredients. She flicked the magazine shut and looked at the clock.

  ‘Nearly time to go,’ she said. She stacked their plates in the sink and then ran upstairs to put a comb through her hair and slap on a bit of lippy. She glanced out of the window. It might be May but she’d need a coat. Besides, the heating in the church had been switched off at the start of April and it was going to be blooming cold in there, as it was most of the year.

  ‘I’ll head off,’ she heard Brian shout up the stairs.

  ‘OK, sweetheart,’ she called back down. ‘I’ll be over in a few minutes. Knock ’em dead.’

  The front door banged shut and the house was silent apart from the distant noise of the pop music jingling from her laptop in the kitchen.

  Heather pattered downstairs again, switched off her computer and then went into the sitting room to find her handbag. She then checked the doors were locked before she followed Brian out of the front door and to the church.

  As usual she was caught at the door by parishioners who wanted to chat. Quite a few of the congregation were older members of the parish and their weekly trip to a service was, pretty much, their only social interaction. Heather understood their need to talk, to gossip, to catch up and she was happy to provide a sympathetic and listening ear. It was, she always told herself, what was expected of her in her role as ‘vicar’s wife’.

  ‘Is the vicar better?’ asked one.

  ‘Yes, thank you. It was just a dizzy spell.’

  ‘And what’s that I’ve heard about another huge housing estate?’ said another.

  ‘I don’t think it’s huge and we need the houses. Our children and grandchildren will all need homes and there’s already a lot of homelessness.’

  ‘I don’t hold with it. Let them all go and live somewhere else. Little Woodford doesn’t need any more houses. And where will they all park when they come into town, that what I want to know?’

  Heather moved away before she got riled. ‘And how are you, Joan?’

  ‘Can’t complain. Not happy about them there burglaries, though. Where will it all end?’

  Heather shook her head and, out of the corner of her eye, saw Olivia come in. ‘Excuse me.’ She dashed off, trying t
o damp down her feeling of relief that she’d escaped from the old ladies. She drew Olivia to one side.

  ‘How are you?’

  Olivia seemed to sag. ‘Nigel is sunk into gloom, Zac isn’t speaking to me and I’m thinking I ought to apply for a job but who is going to want a fifty-something woman who hasn’t been in employment for the best part of thirty years?’

  Heather put her hand on Olivia’s arm. ‘This is so tough for you. It’s a real trial.’

  Olivia blinked rapidly. ‘Don’t be kind to me, Heather, or I’ll cry.’ She dabbed at her nose. ‘One moment I was feeling pretty content with my lot, and the next...’ She dabbed her nose again. ‘What’s that Chinese curse? “May you live in interesting times”? Well, they couldn’t get any more interesting round at our place. The only positive thing is that the house is worth a mint so we should be able to clear most of the debts when we’ve sold it. I spent yesterday afternoon doing sums to see where we stand. It’s pretty horrific but it’s not quite as bad as I feared when Nigel first told me the situation.’

  ‘That’s something.’ Heather glance around the church. ‘I think we ought to find a pew.’

  They walked towards the front and slid into an empty one.

  After they’d both said their prayers, Olivia sat back up on the hard bench and said, ‘And Brian?’

  ‘I got home from having coffee with you to find a changed man.’

  ‘That’s wonderful.’

  Heather nodded. ‘Let’s hope it’s not like what you get with hurricane – you know, the eye bit, where the weather clears but then it becomes terrible again.’

  ‘I’m sure not. I reckon whatever was causing him to be so upset and worried has been resolved.’

  The organ struck up the introit and the two women stood. Olivia glanced behind her to watch Brian process down the aisle. He certainly looked OK, quite cheerful, in fact. She was glad that someone seemed to be happy with their lot because she certainly wasn’t. As Brian approached the front of the church Olivia’s gaze slid off him to Bert, standing next to Joan. He was looking at his wife with undisguised concern, a worried frown creasing his leathery skin. Was there anyone, wondered Olivia, who was having an easy time of things at the moment?