Heart in the Right Home

by Lisa Hill

Lottie beamed. ‘How?’

  ‘Money.’ If Pamela had gauged one thing about Jean it was that she was highly motivated by money. And she felt certain she knew just how to lure the bee to the honey pot.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘I think we really should wait for Thomas to return before we go as far as organising a meeting with the village and the local planning officer,’ Hilary Preston-Jones said, in her most authoritative voice, oozing a tone of try to defy me.

  ‘Thomas?’ Johnnie queried.

  ‘Mr Thorpe.’ Hilary smiled, looking over the top of her gold-rimmed spectacles to the others around the table.

  Louise slumped down in her chair, folding her arms, silently regretting the decision to come along to the weekly VOCAB meeting to support Johnnie. They were in the little room at the back of the village hall. The hot summer weather continued, and the thick, dark navy curtains were closed around the room to stop the sun beating down on them. Louise concentrated on the dust particles dancing in and out of the slits of light shining in between the curtains. It was the only energetic thing happening in the room. Everything else had been particularly dull.

  So far, they’d spent forty-five minutes coming up with questions to ask the planning officer and bickered over methods of protest. Johnnie favoured social media whereas Adrian Morris, who lived up in Rosefields, was more in favour of posters on lampposts and placards with a slogan to wave about outside the proposed land. Louise was sitting next to Jack, who looked bored to tears – she highly suspected he was only here to spy on proceedings on behalf of James Hardwicke – as did Betty Wilmanshaw, Jude’s mum, who Louise also suspected was only here to represent Tom, until he returned from their honeymoon. The only individual who appeared to be enjoying the lively debate was Philippa Morris, Adrian’s wife, who Louise imagined had come along for an evening’s entertainment, while her mum babysat their two young boys. The whole thing reminded her of an episode of the Vicar of Dibley, which she had adored in her teens, where they would have a weekly parish council meeting, and no-one had a clue what was going on.

  Hilary was definitely the meddlesome David Horton.

  ‘I’ll take your silence as a resounding agreement to my proposal,’ Hilary said, jotting down something in her notebook.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ Louise said, raising her hand, then remembering she wasn’t actually at school and lowering it again. ‘Won’t you need to involve the Hardwickes too?’

  ‘Pah!’ Hilary started making a succession of odd, yet clearly disgruntled noises. ‘What for? We need to know the planning officer’s take on this; they will provide further information on what the Hardwicke family—’ Hilary paused and eyed Jack suspiciously, ‘—are proposing.’

  Louise took a deep breath and considered what she was going to say next. She had come here to support Johnnie. Mainly because her encounter last week with Duncan had scared the life out of her and she felt she needed to invest more time into her relationship with Johnnie. But she was also here to participate, and it wasn’t fair to be totally against the proposed development without assessing both sides of the argument.

  ‘Surely, they should be given the opportunity, at a public meeting, to air their side of things? Why they feel the village would benefit from extra houses and amenities?’

  Adrian Morris tutted.

  The room fell silent and Louise could feel her pale, freckled face flaming.

  ‘Louise,’ Johnnie said quietly, ‘you’re not helping.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ Jack said, sitting forward, resting his arms on the table. ‘I think Louise makes an excellent point.’

  A faint smile clung to the corner of Louise’s lips.

  ‘Well, Jack, you would say that, being related to the Hardwickes. Not to mention living in sin with one.’

  Louise had noticed this about Hilary Preston-Jones. It was an unattractive quality; one which Louise had seen trotted out on several occasions when Hilary was left with little else in her armoury; the fear of God.

  ‘I don’t see Reverend Eckersely kicking me out of his sermons on Sunday, do you?’ Jack said, calmly. ‘Louise is right though; you need to listen to what James is proposing—’

  ‘Why Jack?!’ Johnnie erupted. ‘It’s all there for everyone to view on Harrogate District Council’s website! One hundred houses and four commercial units. There’s barely that number of houses in the village as there is; it will double the population!’

  ‘You’re looking at what they’re proposing. You need to open your mind to why they’re proposing it.’

  ‘We all know why they’re proposing it,’ Hilary snapped. ‘To make money! That’s their sole reason for buying that land in the first place.’

  Jack nodded. ‘I’m not denying they’re in the business of making money but think about what benefits a larger population could bring to the village.’

  ‘All it’s going to do,’ Adrian Morris chipped in, in his thick Yorkshire accent, ‘is put more pressure on the roads, more burden on the school for places and depending on the type of houses proposed – which include social housing – and the types of business which occupy the commercial units, could make our village overrun with antisocial behaviour.’

  Jack rolled his eyes. ‘And do you know that’s going to happen?’

  ‘Well, no, but…’ Adrian shrugged, clearly losing cause for his argument.

  ‘So, listen to Hardwickes’ side of the story; find out what they are proposing. Did you know over eighteen pubs per week close down in this country? Village pubs, like ours. More houses would mean more footfall and the heart of our village will stay alive—’

  Louise felt a twinge in her stomach at the thought of Duncan shutting up shop and leaving the village.

  ‘—Johnnie, more footfall, means more customers for you. A higher population means the local bus company might increase the number of routes to and from the village, or at least the frequency of stops on their timetables—’

  Betty and Phillipa nodded their heads and mumbled their agreements.

  ‘—there are benefits to us having these new houses in the village; we should look to embrace them, not protest against them.’

  ‘Do you think the Library Bus might come out to us, Jack, if we had more residents?’ Betty asked.

  Jack rubbed his hand over his chin. ‘There’s every possibility.’

  ‘This is all very well,’ Adrian angrily interjected, ‘but none of you will have the population of these houses, which could be over one hundred cars, driving past your house every day, will you?’

  ‘Yes, Jack,’ Johnnie agreed, ‘this is Villagers of Clunderton Against Bureaucracy, not for it!’

  ‘Yes, so use your cause to your advantage!’ Jack’s voice was raised, and his face was becoming red with anger, not embarrassment, like Louise’s had done. ‘Use your powers of negotiation; if the development is likely to be approved, negotiate what is reasonable! The Hardwickes’ are likely to have over-egged the pudding, asked for more than they really want in order to get what they actually want.’

  Hilary Preston-Jones frowned. ‘So, what do they want?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Jack said, sounding frustrated. ‘If you invited them along to a village consultation, perhaps you’d find out! But I’d put money on it being less houses than they’ve put in planning for and maybe one or two commercial units.’

  The room burst into chit-chat as everyone took in Jack’s lecture. Johnnie started talking animatedly to Hilary across the table while Louise just sat there.

  Jack sighed. ‘I’m done with this lot; I’m going. They’ll be here all night. Good for you though, girl, standing up to them.’

  Louise looked at Johnnie who was oblivious to her presence.

  ‘Thanks, Jack,’ she said distantly, her brain racing.

  He patted her on the shoulder. ‘Good luck if you have to stay here any longer and listen to much more of this drivel. Right, I’m off,’ he tucked in his chair and with that he silently slipped out the door.

>   Louise looked around the room at everyone talking energetically, leaving her feeling like a spare part. Johnnie broke off from Adrian and Hilary and turned to her.

  ‘Look, if this is boring darling, why don’t you go?’

  ‘I’m happy to stay.’

  ‘Think this might go on for some time.’ He rested his hand or her forearm and squeezed it. ‘But thanks for your contribution, that’s really sparked-off some much needed debate. I think instead of being opposed we need to be open-minded to negotiate a bare minimum, in case planning is approved.’

  ‘Okay,’ Louise said, standing up, feeling wounded.

  ‘Yes, get off home and check on the girls and have an early night. It’s hot, you’ll want to get up even earlier to do the baking tomorrow, I expect.’

  Oh, yes, I can’t think of anything I’d like to do less.

  She pursed her lips and nodded. She didn’t dare speak for fear of bursting into tears. What was wrong with her? All she wanted to do recently was to burst into tears. Perhaps she should go to the doctors. Was she perimenopausal?

  Before she knew it, she’d left the room without saying her goodbyes and was storming down the steep driveway of the village hall which led onto the high street. Directly opposite the Clunderton Arms.

  She bit her bottom lip.

  Should she?

  Could she?

  ‘Stuff it; I could do with a drink,’ she whispered, hurrying across the road as quickly as her flowery pumps would carry her, before she changed her mind.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Pamela rapped the door knocker of Church End.

  ‘You can do the talking,’ Lottie said, looking like a truculent teenager with her arms folded and her jaw jutting out.

  ‘Ahem, this was your idea.’ Pamela retaliated, fluffing up the back of her bob. It had been another scorcher of a day and the humidity was taking all the oomph out of her blonde locks.

  ‘No, it’s not, you’re the one who wants Jean at your wedding!’ Lottie, still wearing her work attire, a summery shift dress and killer heels, suddenly felt quite intimidating to Pamela’s petite frame.

  ‘Yes, but you’re the one who came up with the idea about the summer fete; I think Mum will take it better coming from you.’

  ‘Nope.’ Lottie shook her head vehemently. ‘This is your harebrained scheme, I am merely the facilitator. You can tell Audrey what you’re cooking up and if she’s—’

  ‘I take it this is about Jean?’

  So engrossed in their bickering, neither woman had heard the door open. Audrey was standing there in a crisp, white, short-sleeved blouse, lemon pleated skirt, her uniform moccasin slippers and her hair in rollers. She looked like a twenty-first century version of Elsie Tanner; a gritty northern woman not to be messed with.

  Pamela swallowed hard. ‘Um, hello, Mum, we were just—’

  ‘Arguing on my front doorstep about who was going to give me the bad news and it must be serious because Lottie only ever uses the back door.’

  Out of the corner of her eye, Pamela could see Lottie sniggering.

  ‘You’d best come in,’ Audrey said, a faint glimmer of smile around her lips, which put Pamela at ease.

  They filtered into the living room.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ Audrey asked.

  ‘I’ll make it,’ Lottie said, quickly disappearing before Pamela even had a chance to offer.

  Pamela sighed.

  ‘Take a seat, love, and tell me what’s troubling you. I take it, it’s about Jean?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Pamela, sinking down into Audrey’s sofa with an equally heavy sinking feeling in her stomach. It had seemed like a good idea when she’d talked it through with Lottie. Jack had disagreed; he thought it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. Which is exactly why she’d waited for him to take himself off to that VOCAB meeting before instigating her plan.

  ‘Jack know you’re here?’ Audrey asked, lowering herself into her armchair.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Pah!’ Audrey cackled. ‘I can read you like a book, Pammie. If this is about Jean, I hope you’ve at least got your priorities sorted and started divorce proceedings by now.’

  ‘We saw a solicitor this morning; I’ve got lots of forms to fill in.’ Pamela nervously cleared her throat. She was still trying not to think about Edward. The Jean thing was a welcome distraction.

  ‘Best focus on that, then.’

  ‘Focus on what?’ Lottie asked, reappearing with a tray of steaming mugs. She set them down on the coffee table, nestling in the middle of the three-piece-suite, and took a seat next to Pamela on the sofa.

  Pamela’s stomach clenched. With Lottie sitting next to her, she really felt like they were like a couple of naughty school girls being lectured by the head mistress.

  ‘Pamela starting her divorce proceedings.’

  ‘Oh,’ Lottie said, picking up her mug and blowing on her tea. ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to focus on that either; who wants to poke at the lion in his den?’

  Pamela laughed nervously, feeling like this wasn’t the good idea it had felt like on the walk through the churchyard from the Old Rectory.

  ‘Are we talking about Edward or Jean?’ Audrey asked.

  Both women burst into laughter. Pamela remained tight-lipped.

  ‘I’m glad you can see the funny side to all of this,’ she said, in clipped tones.

  ‘Oh, Pammie, don’t be like that. You must be able to see it too; Jean and Edward are quite alike, in some respects.’

  ‘Yes, stubborn, domineering and motivated by money,’ Lottie said.

  ‘Which leads neatly into our plan,’ said Pamela.

  ‘Your plan,’ Lottie corrected.

  ‘Well, you started it; you came up with the idea about the summer fete.’

  ‘Oh, don’t start bickering again you two.’ Audrey sounded frustrated. ‘I suppose you’re hoping I’m going to get Jean along to the summer fete? I will remind you again, Pammie, that I haven’t spoken to her since last August. Goodness knows, I’ve tried.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’ve been thinking about that.’ Pamela reached for her tea, trying not to meet her mother’s gaze. ‘I wondered if you might consider helping me, by approaching her?’

  ‘Didn’t you just hear what I said?’ Audrey kicked her recliner out and her feet shot up. ‘I’ve sent birthday cards, Christmas cards, I’ve left messages on their answering machine, but have I heard back? Not a dickybird. But then, we hardly ended on amicable terms and I still haven’t forgiven her for insisting I went to live at Countryside.’

  ‘To be fair, Audrey, you might not have been reunited with Pamela if you hadn’t gone to live there and met Jude,’ Lottie interjected.

  Audrey nodded. ‘Fair dos, although for some crazy reason, I still don’t really fathom, Jean and Mike had marketed the property with Hardwickes, so I guess our paths were destined to cross anyway.’

  Lottie nodded and sipped her tea.

  Silence filled the room. Pamela felt paralysed. Perhaps she didn’t really want to be reunited with Jean as much as she thought.

  ‘Go on then, we’re waiting,’ Audrey said, eventually.

  ‘Well, now that Oak Acre’s sold, I wondered if you could approach Jean on the basis you needed to talk about your will.’

  ‘You what?!’ Audrey’s recliner slammed backdown, as she sat bolt upright. ‘You know nothing about my will; how do you know I’m leaving anything to either of you? I might leave it all to Lottie and Drew to help them with their business.’

  Pamela turned to Lottie. ‘Have you discussed this with Mum already?’

  ‘No!’ Lottie sounded incredulous. ‘May I remind you that jumping to quick conclusions and making such hurtful accusations led to me almost losing the sale of Oak Acre?’

  Pamela’s face flamed. It was true that she did make assumptions and judge people too quickly. Too many years of living with Edward. She was trying to mend her ways now she was with Jack and clearly failing.

  ‘So
rry,’ she said, quietly, ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

  ‘It’s okay but just for the record, we haven’t discussed inheritance, have we, Audrey?’

  ‘No.’ Audrey clasped her hands together. ‘But it has been on my mind. I didn’t change my will after Brian died. He had insisted that everything was left to whichever one of us went first, then everything be left to Jean after the other passed away.’ She looked up at Pamela with a sorrowful expression. ‘I’m sorry, Pammie, it was how he felt; we’d heard nothing from you in over three decades. He said you were either dead or didn’t care—’

  Pamela stifled a sob. To think her father had been cross with her until his dying day.

  ‘But that’s not how I felt then or now, Pammie. I should have got on and changed it when he died, but everything was a bit overwhelming at the time.’ Audrey reached across the coffee table for Pamela’s hand and squeezed it.

  ‘Thank you,’ Pamela whispered.

  ‘And since I’ve managed to break out of Colditz and come to live here, it means that the sale of Oak Acre won’t be swallowed up in retirement home fees, so I should hopefully have a healthy sum to pass on. I wish Jack would let me pay rent though.’ Audrey shot a reproachful look at Lottie.

  Lottie stopped blowing on her tea. ‘Nothing to do with me; he’s his own man. Well, he does what Pamela says now anyway.’

  All three women laughed.

  ‘So, in answer to your request Pammie, then, yes, I will go and see Jean. It’s probably time I sorted out this checkmate situation. And if she doesn’t want anything to do with me, then I might take your father’s approach and cut her out of my will.’

  Pamela and Lottie exchanged a worried look. If Audrey’s meeting didn’t go well, there was no way Pamela was going to get her reconciliation with Jean. On the other hand, Pamela, mused, perhaps it was time to inherit some of her mother’s tenacity, when it came to divorce negotiations with Edward.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Thanks,’ Louise said, taking the receipt from the cashier and filing it away in her purse; it would need to go in the business accounts file. She had come to the wholesalers in Starbeck, on the outskirts of Harrogate, mainly to clear her head, marginally to get away from Johnnie and definitely not because they were running short on any supplies. Plus, Johnnie had announced this morning that he’d given Audrey a couple of regular shifts in the tearooms on Fridays and Saturdays, their busiest periods, for the rest of the summer. Louise had been both surprised and encouraged by his thoughtfulness, until he mentioned Audrey might come in handy to help if he had important VOCAB matters to attend to on Friday mornings after the Thursday evening meetings. Instead of losing her rag, Louise had opted for grabbing the van keys and telling him they were short on consumables for the tearooms for the weekend and, with that, had taken off her apron and exited via the garden to where the van was parked on their drive, forgetting to even check if Audrey would be okay in her absence.