Homes and Hearths in Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  The kettle crescendoed and clicked off so she made her tea and returned to the table with her mug. She wrapped her fingers around the warm china and continued with her line of thought. The hard fact was there was no particular reason for her to stay in this house. She mulled over, in turn, the idea of a swanky London apartment, or maybe a little mews house in Belgravia or perhaps a smaller place here in the village… But she’d still be lonely. She’d still be living on her own. If she had a crisis, a problem or was ill, who could she turn to?

  The answer came to her like an epiphany. Her sister. Maxine might be irritating and Gordon mightn’t be her greatest fan but she didn’t have to see that much of them and to live reasonably close might be very useful – for a start, Maxine would know all about the local amenities and tradespeople so Judith wouldn’t have to grope around in the dark, finding things out for herself. The town might be as dull as ditch water, but the spa at the local hotel would pass muster at a pinch and it had great train links to London. Maybe the city wasn’t thirty minutes away but it was still less than an hour. Yes, as a plan it worked.

  *

  As Judith was considering her options and her future, her sister was staring at her mobile. Should she? Shouldn’t she? Maybe it would be easier to text? Less intrusive. Besides, as her sister had very forcefully pointed out only a week ago, the reason for Mike’s departure was no one’s business but Judith’s. Which was undoubtedly true but didn’t do a single thing to allay Maxine’s curiosity. With a sudden burst of determination Maxine picked up her phone and hit the button to call her ex-brother-in-law.

  ‘Max?’ Mike sounded incredibly wary.

  ‘Hi, Mike. I’m just ringing to say how very sorry I am about you and Judith.’

  ‘Yes… well…’

  ‘And I want you to know that Gordon and I don’t have an axe to grind with you.’

  ‘Really?’ He sounded sceptical.

  ‘Look… I know Judith can be quite demanding. I am her sister when all’s said and done and I know jolly well she’s always been quite high maintenance.’

  ‘She likes nice things.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘And if you’re worried about me doing the dirty on her… well, you needn’t. I’ll make sure she gets everything she ought to.’

  ‘That’s very noble of you. But what about…? I mean, you’ll have enough left for…’

  ‘Enough left for my new family, you mean?’

  Family? That made it sound like there were kids involved. Maybe his new bird had a child or two from a previous relationship. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about your…’ Shit, what did she call this woman? Mistress? Bit on the side? Girlfriend?

  ‘My fiancée,’ said Mike firmly, ‘is called Trina.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Maxine again. ‘Judith didn’t tell me her name.’

  ‘That sounds like Judith. She was a great one for ignoring things she didn’t like in the hope they’d go away. Only this time it didn’t work.’

  ‘No.’ Obviously not.

  ‘Anyway, I’ve moved into Trina’s flat and we’re going to marry just as soon as the divorce comes through.’

  ‘Gosh.’ Not hanging around then.

  ‘I’m hoping Judith isn’t going to cause problems. I’m letting her divorce me, I’m the guilty party in all this. I won’t make any difficulties about the finances involved. I want this all over as quickly as possible. Call me old-fashioned but I want my baby born into wedlock.’

  ‘Baby?!’ Maxine couldn’t help herself.

  There was a pause. ‘Judith didn’t tell you about that, either.’

  ‘Er, no.’

  She heard a dry laugh. ‘No, well… I suppose I never thought I wanted children. Jude convinced me they were a dreadful expense, they’d ruin our life-style, we were happy with just each other, we didn’t need anyone else in our marriage; the excuses went on and on. And then I met Trina and she is everything that Jude isn’t.’

  ‘Jude has her good points.’ Maxine felt duty bound to defend her own flesh and blood.

  ‘She has. Loads. But Trina is just so different. She’s so passionate about the planet and wildlife and she puts her money where her mouth is. She’s utterly committed to recycling, to reducing the use of plastics, to living sustainably—’

  Which no one could ever accuse Judith of doing. ‘And she’s pregnant,’ said Maxine.

  ‘Well… yes. And that’s the key issue; that’s the ultimate reason why I’m leaving Jude. It absolutely wasn’t planned – Trina’s pregnancy is a complete accident but it’s a miraculous accident. When Trina told me she… we… are having a baby it was like I was hit by lightning. Suddenly I knew that this was the one thing in my life that would make me happy. That right up to that moment all the things, all the consumerism, all the travel and trips and hedonism were all just stuff I was using to fill my life with, because the one thing that would have made me complete – a child – was the one thing I didn’t have. And which I wanted more than anything.’

  The cynic in Maxine wondered if Trina’s pregnancy had been quite as accidental as Mike believed. Really? In this day and age with modern contraception? ‘Well, I’m glad you sound so happy,’ she said. I hope it lasts, she added mentally. She had her doubts. He’d certainly made his bed and now he was going to lie in it. He obviously thought it was one of roses. Nasty things roses, though, despite the pretty flowers and delicious scent they had all those thorns and a tendency to greenfly and other parasites. ‘Just one thing, Mike, don’t tell Judith I phoned.’

  ‘God no. Consorting with the enemy? No, don’t worry about that.’

  Maxine disconnected. Part of her wished she’d never made the phone call because it was going to be bloody difficult pretending she didn’t know about the baby when she spoke to Judith.

  6

  Having finished talking to Mike, Maxine decided to make the most of Judith’s departure and the decent weather by sitting in the sun with her book. Ah, the bliss of not having visitors. Her enjoyment was cut short by her phone ringing. Abi.

  ‘Hi, darling, how are things? How’s the house buying and selling going.’ She half-wished she hadn’t asked the question as she listened to her daughter’s rant about the buyers who had pulled out and then felt her heart sink as Abi told her about their planned visit to see the doer-upper. So much for your long list of non-negotiables, thought Maxine.

  ‘And we thought we could stay over on Saturday night and go back to London Sunday afternoon. That’s OK, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s lovely, dear,’ said Maxine.

  ‘Good. We’ve got a viewing at two; we’ll come to yours afterwards. Oh… and what have you got planned for meals?’

  ‘I don’t know, I hadn’t really thought,’ she lied.

  ‘Only Marcus and I have gone vegetarian.’

  ‘Vegetarian?’

  ‘And it wouldn’t do you and Dad any harm to cut back on your meat consumption. Do you know how much grain goes into producing a kilo of meat? And as for industrial abattoirs.’

  ‘Well, dear I’m sure not all of them are—’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, they’re all the same. So, food… something yummy and veggie would be nice, only not quiche or pasta – we eat a lot of that.’

  Maxine felt her blood pressure rising. ‘Of course, dear, Anything else?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ It was apparent from Abi’s airy tone that she hadn’t picked up on her mother’s irritation.

  ‘Good. What time can we expect you on Saturday?’

  ‘About three. See you then.’

  Maxine put the phone down and wondered what the hell she could feed them. Gordon was very much of the meat-and-two-veg school of dietary requirements. She didn’t think he was going to be thrilled about a meat free weekend. The back door clicked open and Gordon came in, toeing off his wellingtons as he did so. He logged the expression on his wife’s face.

  ‘Bad news?’

  ‘Abi and Marcus are coming to stay at the w
eekend.’

  ‘That’s nice.’ He saw Maxine wasn’t in complete agreement. ‘And?’

  ‘And they’ve gone veggie.’

  ‘Bugger me. What are you going to give them?’

  ‘I haven’t the first idea. I suppose I’d better get busy with the internet.’

  ‘It’ll be nice to see Abi, though.’ He paused then added, ‘I wish I had more in common with Marcus. I always find him such hard work to talk to.’

  ‘I know, dear.’

  ‘I mean, what do I know about accounting?’

  ‘He’s not that bad.’

  Gordon’s face perfectly reflected his disagreement. And Max could see his point of view. He and Marcus were never going to be soul mates. All his life Gordon had worked surrounded by out-doorsy types who were weather-beaten, swore, drank and took whatever life threw at them on the chin, while Marcus’s complexion indicated that he loathed fresh air and his attitude to life was quite timid. Maxine often wondered what Abi saw in him given how strong her personality was – but maybe she liked having someone to boss around. She sometimes wondered how long it would be before Marcus got fed up with being ordered about, or Abi got tired of always having to make the decisions.

  *

  ‘God, this place is even worse than it looks in the pictures,’ said Abi, as she and Marcus drew up outside Wisteria Cottage. The gravel drive was covered in weeds and the grass either side was waist high.

  ‘But you can’t say it was mis-named,’ said Marcus as he stared at the pale mauve climber that covered the front wall of the Georgian style house. It was, according to the particulars, older than it looked with a facade added in the eighteenth century. It had two sash windows either side of the front door and three above. In the roof there were a couple of dormers and at each gable end there was a tall chimney stack. It looked like a classic doll’s house. To the right-hand side was a large single-storey extension which had been fairly sympathetically done and blended in with the original building pretty well.

  The noise of another car approaching spurred them to get out of theirs.

  ‘Hi,’ said a smooth man in a suit. ‘Miss Larkham, Mr Stockwell? I’m Tim.’ He pulled some keys out of his pocket with one hand as he proffered his other one for them to shake.

  ‘Abi and Marcus,’ said Abi. ‘Let’s get on with it, shall we?’

  ‘So,’ said Tim, ‘as you can see this is a period cottage, set in a large plot—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Abi, ‘let’s cut to the chase shall we and see what it’s really like?’

  Tim gave her a hard stare but headed for the front door. It creaked loudly as he opened it. ‘Nothing a bit of WD-40 won’t fix,’ he said.

  Abi stepped into the house onto a flagged floor and sniffed. ‘Well, it doesn’t smell of damp.’ She sniffed again. ‘Or vermin.’ They looked at the big hall which ran the depth of the house, with stairs to one side leading up to the first floor and which had two windows overlooking the back garden. The walls were wainscotted up to a dado rail about waist height in dark oak. ‘This is a lot of wasted space,’ she said then she pointed at the panelling. ‘And that’ll have to go. Far too dark and old-fashioned.’

  ‘The previous occupant used it as a dining room.’

  ‘Still a waste of space if you ask me. Dark, wasted space.’ She swept through it to the door on the right-hand side. She opened it and peered into the kitchen. ‘God, this is a disaster – and more panelling.’ She went in and Marcus and Tim followed her. She stared at the cracked lino on the floor. ‘This’ll have to go too. Quite apart from being hideous, it’s a health hazard.’

  ‘New units, a range cooker… It’s very big,’ said Tim. ‘You won’t get anything this size in a new-build,’ he added. ‘And here,’ he added, throwing open a door, ‘is the pantry, and here,’ he took a couple of paces to his left and opened another, ‘is the boot room.’

  ‘Or we could knock those rooms into this and have a massive open-living space,’ said Abi, thoughtfully.

  ‘Let me show you the drawing room.’

  After thirty minutes the pair had seen every square inch of the house, including the attics and, despite Abi’s dislike of the decor, she could see it had huge potential.

  ‘And, as you have no doubt deduced, it’s vacant possession,’ said Tim. ‘No onward chain.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. We’ll let you know.’ They left Tim to lock up and went to sit in their car.

  ‘What do you think?’ said Marcus.

  ‘Superficially, it’s got a lot going for it but all that work to strip it out…’ Abi sighed. ‘Are you sure it’ll only take a couple of weeks?’

  ‘The stripping out will be quite quick and I can’t think it’ll take more than a couple of weeks to fit a new bathroom and a kitchen. The alteration upstairs might take a bit longer… maybe three weeks, four tops.’

  *

  While Abi and Marcus enjoyed a lie-in on the Sunday morning, Maxine was pottering around her kitchen, emptying the dishwasher. As she worked, she thought about her daughter’s enthusiasm for the house they’d viewed. Maxine decided she needed a second look at the details, in the cold light of day and without the benefit of a glass – or two – of wine. She put down a handful of clean cutlery and went into the sitting room to retrieve the estate agent’s particulars. She read through them again as she returned to the kitchen and sat down so she could concentrate properly.

  On the face of it, Abi and Marcus were right – it had huge potential. The rooms were all much bigger than you’d get in a modern build and there were quite a few nice period features: the stable door from the kitchen to the garden; the big fireplace in the sitting room; the antique balustrades with the polished chestnut banister; some pretty cornicing… But it was old and had been empty for a while. However, the estate agent had assured them that the house was sound – well, he would, wouldn’t he? – and Marcus was sure there would be a massive profit to be had from doing it up. And Abi was full of ideas for how to get the most out of the spacious rooms. Turning the massive kitchen into a huge open-living space was a no brainer and making the little sitting room into a study also seemed sensible but some of Abi’s other rather grandiose plans…

  ‘The attic is huge, it runs the whole length of the house so it would be perfect to make it into some sort of giant rumpus room – maybe a home cinema,’ she’d said.

  At least, thought Maxine, with giant screen TVs being widely available and modern speaker-technology making surround-sound fairly run-of-the-mill, this idea wasn’t as completely outrageous as it first sounded.

  As Max looked at the pictures and the estate-agent-speak words, she recalled that neither her nor Gordon’s parents had been encouraging about them buying this house. You’re over-stretching your finances and think of the work, had been a couple of comments, and why on earth do you want a big house like that? had been another. She and Gordon had ignored them and had pig-headedly gone ahead and, in retrospect, it had been absolutely the right decision. Most of the work on their house had been done by themselves and the house had been totally sound structurally so, although it had cost a great deal in time and effort, it hadn’t been financially draining. To counsel her daughter against buying a house that needed love, attention and hard work – exactly like her own house had done – would be hypocritical in the extreme, except that Maxine was sure it was going to need a lot of cash as well. Marcus and Abi couldn’t possibly do very much of the work themselves and professional tradesmen didn’t come cheap. Still, Marcus was the accountant and if he thought the sums stacked up, they probably did. What Maxine didn’t stop to consider was that Marcus’s knowledge of anything practical was absolutely zero – as was Abi’s.

  7

  ‘I was talking to the estate agent today,’ said Abi on Monday evening as she and Marcus walked back from the Tube station to their flat, their arms linked.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Selling our flat.’

  ‘And?’ Marcus sounded cautious.
>
  ‘He suggested it would have a better chance if we were to move out; put our stuff in store, give the flat a good going over, maybe a lick of paint, make it into a blank canvas so anyone viewing it can see what a lovely place it is.’

  Marcus stopped in his tracks, jerking Abi to a halt too. He frowned at his partner. ‘Storage? That’s going to cost. And we’d have to rent somewhere here for a month and it’s hardly likely anyone will give us such a short-term deal, not without a massive bill attached. I mean we’re looking at Airbnb here, or a hotel,’ he said. ‘I thought you wanted to save as much as possible of the relocation money.’

  ‘I do. But the clock is ticking – we’ve got to move up to Cattebury by July, so going a bit early isn’t going to make a massive amount of difference. Look, I asked my boss about the chances of us getting a spot of gardening leave, and he didn’t say no. Plus if we take some of our annual leave we could have as much as four weeks.’ She looked at Marcus for approval. ‘If we move up in June, we’ve got the whole month to get everything sorted, the new house fixed, the old one done up and sold – which I’m sure we will, once it’s empty. The estate agent was really positive, says empty ones get snapped up in no time.’