Homes and Hearths in Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  She unlocked her bike from where it was hidden behind the hedge, mounted it and rode decorously down the road, over the railway line and onto the high street. As she rode into the main market square a small car swooshed past her, a bit too close for comfort, causing her to wobble slightly.

  ‘And that’s never thirty miles an hour,’ she muttered under her breath as she watched the car brake heavily before it pulled into the car park in the square. If the driver was still around once she’d parked her bike, she had a good mind to have a word. Olivia wasn’t one to let people get away with anything that she considered anti-social. To some people she was a paragon of good citizenship, to others she was an interfering old biddy who should mind her own business. Either way, Olivia didn’t care – she did what she considered her duty and that was that.

  She locked up her bike and headed towards the little car but the driver was already striding off, locking the doors with an imperious flick of her key fob. Olivia watched the woman go, aware that she recognised her – the slightly disgruntled look that spoilt an otherwise attractive face was definitely familiar. She rummaged around in the recesses of her mind… she was a friend of one of her older children. Mike? No, he hadn’t had much time for girls before he’d gone off to university. Tamsin? That was more likely. She remembered Tamsin coming home from school with gaggles of giggling girlfriends whom she would whisk upstairs to her room whence shrieks and yells and too-loud pop music would echo around the huge space of the barn conversion that had been her old house.

  Her old house… which she’d assumed would be their forever home in the days when she had been a Somebody in the town: when she and Nigel, her husband, had lived in the biggest house in town; when they had been golf club members; had had invitations to the Lord Lieutenant’s parties; when she’d been president of the local WI and an esteemed town councillor. Before Nigel had got hooked on internet gambling and had nearly ruined them. But that was in the past, and their present life and their tiny three-bedroomed house on a brand-new estate was somewhat different. Olivia sighed.

  Abigail Larkham. The name of the car driver popped into her head out of the blue. Of course, Maxine Larkham’s only child. Quite a tricky little minx, thought Olivia. She seemed to remember Tamsin complaining that if Abi didn’t get her way, she could throw a strop like no one else. Olivia often wondered where this trait came from because it would be hard to find anyone more equable or easy-going than Maxine and Gordon. Which reminded Olivia – she hadn’t seen Maxine for an age.

  That was the trouble with her job; she’d been working shifts since she’d had to take up employment to help with the family finances and that meant it was nigh-on impossible to get to things like the WI, the book club or the other groups she’d belonged to, on a regular basis, so she’d let her memberships fizzle out. But, now she was being promoted, she’d be working office hours. It was time to pick up the threads of her old social life.

  And she’d start by dropping in on Maxine for a brief chat on her way to the hotel. Fired up with hope and enthusiasm, Olivia strode into the Oxfam shop to see if they had anything that would fill her needs. Ten minutes later she exited with a perfect A-line, knee-length skirt which she put carefully in her bike basket before she remounted her trusty old cycle and rode up the Cattebury Road, past her old house, to the turning to Maxine’s house. Two minutes later she rang the doorbell.

  2

  Abigail Larkham had hoped to be in Little Woodford earlier but the M25 had been a nightmare to negotiate with stop-start traffic for most of the journey. She’d also rather hoped to bum a free lunch off her parents, but she wasn’t going to hang around for hours just to score a sandwich at the pub. She had too much to do back in her flat in Bow to waste time in Little Woodford. She slammed the car door shut and then headed across the market square to the first of the estate agents on her list. The bell pinged as Abi opened the door and a young blonde looked up from the monitor she was studying.

  ‘Good morning. Can I help you?’ the girl said breezily.

  ‘I sincerely hope so.’

  ‘Buying or selling?’

  ‘Buying. Well, buying around here, I’m selling a flat in London.’

  ‘Cool. Take a seat and would you like tea… coffee…?’

  Abi pulled out the chair on the far side of the desk and sat. ‘Tea would be lovely. Milk, no sugar.’

  The girl went to a machine in the corner, pressed a couple of buttons and returned a couple of minutes later with a steaming plastic cup. ‘Right, Miss… Mrs…’

  ‘Abi. Abi Larkham. Miss Abi Larkham.’

  ‘And I’m Marie. So what sort of property are you looking for? And what sort of budget?’

  ‘My partner and I are selling a one-bed flat in Bow – we’re hoping to get in the region of three hundred thou for it.’

  ‘Well, I think you’ll be able to get more than a single bedroom round here for that sort of money. So, what’ll be your budget?’

  ‘We haven’t spoken to our mortgage broker yet but we’re hoping that with my partner’s promotion and the equity we’ve got in the flat that we’ll be able to go for something in the region of four hundred thou.’

  ‘Very nice and we’ve got some lovely properties around that price.’ Marie stood up and went over to a filing cabinet where she pulled out several sheaves of papers. She handed them to Abi who put them on the desk without even a glance.

  ‘So… rather than waste time looking at things we really won’t be interested in, let me tell you the things that my partner and I agree are absolutely essential.’ Which wasn’t quite true as Abi’s list of essentials had been drawn up without any reference to Marcus at all.

  Marie pulled a pad of paper towards her and picked up a pen, making notes as Abi reeled off her list.

  ‘… and off-street parking and a south facing garden,’ she finished.

  ‘You certainly know what you want,’ said Marie looking at the long list of Abi’s requirements. ‘Are they all completely essential?’

  Abi stared at her. Duh? ‘I wouldn’t have included them if they weren’t.’

  ‘It’s just, in my experience, it’s rare for any buyer to get the absolutely perfect house. And you can always make alterations once you’ve moved in.’

  ‘Yes, well, I appreciate that, but my partner and I are both very busy people and would rather find somewhere that we don’t have to spend money and time on.’

  ‘Fine.’

  The two women stared at each other until Marie dropped her gaze.

  ‘Let me take some contact details,’ said Marie, all semblance of friendliness now gone from her voice. She clicked a retractable biro several times to vent her feelings.

  Three minutes later she had everything she needed and Abi stood up.

  ‘I expect to hear from you with a suitable list of available properties in the very near future,’ she said.

  ‘And I would remind you that you’ll have a better chance if you are prepared to be more flexible.’

  Abi narrowed her eyes slightly. The woman hadn’t filled her with confidence and this last comment didn’t seem to demonstrate the kind of enthusiasm and drive she expected. But never mind; there were other estate agents in Little Woodford and if this one missed out on the commission the sale of a four-hundred-thousand-pound house would bring them, then it was their tough luck.

  Abi picked up her coat and handbag and with a faked cheery ‘goodbye,’ swept out of the office leaving Marie looking somewhat irritated.

  The other three estate agents in Little Woodford received similar treatment which elicited similar uncertainty that she would achieve every goal on her wish-list. And Abi didn’t like compromise. Surely there had to be a property that was modern but not a new-build, with open-plan living, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, one en-suite, gas heating, south-facing garden, in the catchment area for a good school, shops and services within walking distance… But apparently not, if those wretched people she’d spoken to were to be believed. Where were P
hil and Kirsty when you needed them? she wondered.

  *

  On hearing the ring of her front doorbell, Maxine grimaced and put down the duster and polish. What now? She suspected it was going to be Abi back again with a list of jobs for her mother to do on the house-hunting front while she disappeared back up to London.

  ‘You don’t mind, do you, Mummy?’ was a favourite phrase of Abi’s. And if Maxine dared to protest that it might not be terribly convenient, she was invariably told sharply by her daughter that she ought to be grateful to have something to do to fill her days. She’d tried telling Abi that she and Gordon didn’t just loaf around, watching daytime TV and reading the papers, but Abi didn’t seem to understand that, even though they no longer had full-time jobs, it didn’t mean they didn’t have other responsibilities, plans and commitments. Part of Maxine could see Abi’s point of view; Abi and Marcus had relatively high-powered jobs and a hideous commute meaning they had zero spare time during the week, which couldn’t be said of her and Gordon. But it was hard not to feel a twinge of resentment when Abi’s demands upset her own plans.

  Her feeling of faint dread was replaced by delight when she opened the door and saw Olivia on the doorstep, her bicycle propped against a nearby shrub. As always, Olivia looked neat and tidy in her classic skirt-blouse-and-blazer combo, her shoes shined to a mirror gloss, not a hair out of place and her subtle make-up perfect. How, wondered Maxine, did she achieve that look and ride a bike?

  ‘How lovely! And what a surprise. I haven’t seen you for months and months. Quite possibly years. How are you? And come in.’ She threw the door wide. ‘You’ve got time for a cuppa, haven’t you?’

  ‘I’ve got time for a quick one. Got to be at work in,’ Olivia glanced at her watch, ‘about forty minutes.’

  ‘Perfect.’ Max led the way into the kitchen. She filled the kettle and said, ‘To what do I owe this honour?’

  ‘I saw your daughter in town and I suddenly remembered that, as you have so rightly said, we haven’t seen each other for an absolute age. My fault entirely but I decided to put things right.’

  Max smiled. ‘It isn’t your fault. It’s the fault of circumstance. It can’t be easy juggling everything and shift work.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘I’ve got better at it. And Nigel has finally learned how to switch on the dishwasher.’

  ‘And empty it?’ asked Maxine with a smile.

  ‘Come off it. One step at a time.’ She leaned against the counter and looked out of the kitchen window. ‘Your garden is looking so lovely. You and Gordon must work like Trojans on it.’ She turned around. ‘That is the one advantage of the new house; I can practically cut the lawn with nail scissors the garden is so tiny. But I miss the old one, even though keeping it nice was such hard work.’

  ‘Gardens are a lot of work,’ agreed Max. ‘But worth it.’ The kettle boiled and clicked off. Maxine poured the fizzing and spitting water into two mugs, added milk, proffered the sugar bowl to which Olivia shook her head and then handed her the mug.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Olivia, ‘quite apart from wanting to see you again, I also came to tell you that I’m being promoted to the management team at the hotel.’

  ‘Oh, Olivia, I am pleased. And about time too! You are wasted as a receptionist – all that talent and ability.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Olivia was genuinely touched by her friend’s words. ‘But I’m not fishing for compliments but to let you know there’ll be no more shift work. Nine to five each day and most weekends off. Of course, I’ll have to be on call now and again and work one complete weekend a month but it means that I can get to things like the book club and the WI on a more regular basis.’

  ‘That’s great. I’ve missed you at the book club. I can’t remember the last time you managed to make it.’

  ‘I know and I’ve missed being there but there was no point. Half the time, if I read the book, I couldn’t get to the following meeting when it was discussed or, if I could make the meeting, I hadn’t had time to read the blessed book first. It seemed pointless to carry on.’

  ‘But not anymore. Brilliant! So, apart from being promoted, how is everything?’

  ‘Just fine. And you? You look well.’

  ‘You know, mustn’t grumble.’

  ‘And Abi?’

  ‘Yes, she’s fine.’ Maxine gave Olivia a run-down on the reason that Abi was in town. ‘Having her close will be so much easier than having to flog right the way round the M25 to visit her,’ she concluded. ‘And your lot?’

  ‘We’ve just got Zac at home now and he won’t be with us for much longer. ‘A’ levels next year and then uni. An empty nest – which, given the size of the house, will be very welcome.’

  ‘I know. It’s welcome even with a bigger house. I shouldn’t really say as much but I love it now Abi has gone. It is so nice to have our house to ourselves, especially now Gordon has retired. I mean, I know Abi was never really underfoot what with the size of the place and everything but it’s just grand not having to think of anyone but ourselves. Does that make me sound dreadfully selfish?’

  ‘Not at all. I think it sounds perfectly wonderful. As does retirement. I’m looking forward to when Nigel can give up work too, but after…’ She paused. It wasn’t as if the entire community wasn’t aware of her husband’s past gambling problem which had resulted in the family almost being declared bankrupt, but she still found it incredibly painful to talk about it.

  Maxine put her hand on Olivia’s arm. ‘I understand.’

  ‘Thanks.’ There was another silence for a second or two as Olivia composed herself. ‘Anyway, with yesterday’s news it’s just possible that his retirement might be achievable sooner rather than later. What with that, and the extra free time I’m going to have, morale is somewhat better than it has been for a while.’

  ‘That’s great. Actually, I might have something to offer you to help you fill all those empty hours.’

  Olivia laughed. ‘All those empty hours. I wish. But it’ll be nice to have my weekends and evenings back.’

  Maxine reached behind her and pulled a home-made poster about an art club she planned to start, off a pile of papers on the work surface. She showed it to Olivia.

  ‘Art club? Oh yes, I remember now, you were an art teacher, weren’t you?’

  ‘I was and I’d like to try to inspire grown-ups to have a go. And it’ll be so much easier to teach people who want to learn rather than kids who have to.’

  ‘Goodness, yes.’ Olivia looked at the poster again and then said, ‘I used to muck around with watercolours when I was much younger.’

  ‘Well, then…’ Max looked at Olivia expectantly.

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  Maxine raised her eyebrows.

  ‘No, I mean it, truly. It sounds fun and undemanding. Calming,’ she added. ‘I like things that are calming. I’ve had quite enough of stress, thank you, to last me a lifetime.’

  ‘The plan is to meet at the community centre in the evenings on a weekly basis but to have some awaydays at weekends to try our hands at landscapes and stuff like that. And, I hope it’s going to be as much about being sociable as it is about painting.’

  ‘Sounds perfect.’ Olivia glanced at her watch and then sipped her tea. ‘Must keep an eye on the time,’ she muttered.

  ‘Yes, you don’t want to be late – not a good example for the management to set the workers.’

  ‘Heaven forefend.’

  ‘But we must have a proper catch up – over a drink or coffee.’

  Olivia nodded. ‘Before I go, when’s the next book club meeting?’

  ‘Next week. We’re reading Jude the Obscure. We’d love to welcome you back.’

  ‘Jude? Oh, yes – a laugh on every page… not. I read it at school and I might be able to remember enough of the story to make an intelligent contribution to the group. I’m not quite sure I’ve got time to re-read it properly.’

  ‘We won’t care about that. It’ll be lovely t
o see you there.’

  Olivia drained her mug and put it by the sink. ‘I ought to get going.’

  They bade each other farewell and Olivia made her way to the hotel feeling quite uplifted by the encounter. She’d forgotten how much she liked Maxine and furthermore she’d forgotten how much she’d got out of the various clubs and societies that she’d belonged to before Nigel’s catastrophic actions had so upended her world. Things were never going to be the same but they’d managed to dodge total ruination and their future was looking reasonably secure. Exotic holidays, expensive meals out and luxury cars were never going to be a part of her life like they had been in the past, but she and Nigel had a roof, they could pay the bills and they could afford to eat well and healthily. And, thought Olivia as she parked her bike at the back of the hotel, that was more than many people could say.

  *

  Maxine put her poster back on the counter and made a mental note to take it into town on Monday to get it put up on the town hall notice board. She’d already conducted a straw poll of some of her acquaintances to see what level of enthusiasm there was and she’d been encouraged. But she knew that there was a monumental gap between people expressing an interest and then actually committing themselves to paying for membership and coming along to the meetings. But, she thought, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  She returned to her dusting still feeling cheered by Olivia’s visit. There was a woman who had shown immense dignity and fortitude in the face of adversity, she thought.

  When the reason for the sudden sale of Olivia’s old house had become apparent to the locals, a mixture of schadenfreude and sympathy had washed through the town. On the one hand were those who gloated gleefully about the fall of one of the town’s most recognisable and influential residents and, on the other hand, were those who felt that it was the kind of calamity which could happen to almost anyone. But through it all, Olivia had held her head high and had refused to complain or rail against her change of circumstances and had, instead, got on with getting a job and downsizing. Maxine wasn’t entirely sure she would show quite such strength of character if the tables were turned. And who knew when tragedy or disaster might strike? The news had certainly shaken up her and Gordon and made them count their blessings. And they had plenty to count. It couldn’t, thought Maxine for the second time that morning, get much better.