‘Splendid. See you about two. We’ll still have plenty of time to hit the estate agents. Byeee,’ she trilled as she killed the call. Really! She was only asking for a bed for a couple of nights, not a kidney donation.
9
‘This is glorious,’ said Olivia, cradling a mug of coffee as she stood on the veranda of the big summer house that was Maxine’s studio. ‘I love May. I think it’s my favourite month.’
Beside her Maxine leant on the rail that fenced the front of the summer house like an old-fashioned American stoop, and in the corner were two rattan arm chairs with cream cushions and a small glass-topped rattan table. They looked over the low hedge and across the wild flower meadow at the centre of the town’s nature reserve, to the big stand of trees on the other side. They were all coming into leaf and the vibrant shades of the new foliage were stunning. ‘I bet you’ve painted this view in all the seasons.’
Maxine nodded and pointed to a big stack of canvasses in a corner by the door. ‘And I’ve got a whole heap of watercolour studies as well. I really ought to think about doing something with them but I never seem to find the time or the energy.’
‘Like hold an exhibition?’
‘Not really my style. It’s a bit look at me… look at how good I am.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Olivia put her mug down and moved over to the painting. She chose one and pulled it out of the pile. It was a view of Maxine’s garden in full bloom with the trees in the reserve making a backdrop. ‘Gosh, this is glorious. I love the flowers but I love the background. All those greens.’
‘And all those greens have some splendid names – chartreuse, citron, emerald, mint, aquamarine, turquoise… well, maybe not those last two; too much blue for leaves. No, I never tire of the view. Of course, I am so very lucky to have this place – but not for much longer.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Its loss will be temporary but irritating all the same: Abi and Marcus want to store all their furniture in here. Abi told me that, as it’s summer, I can paint outside.’
‘Cheeky minx.’ Olivia put the picture back. ‘Now then,’ she said as she sat in one of the chairs. ‘While we’re talking about Abi… let’s talk ground rules.’
‘Hang on a tick.’ Maxine dived through the door and came back a couple of seconds later with a notebook and pencil. ‘Shoot,’ she said as she sat down next to Olivia.
‘Just because you’re retired and they are working doesn’t mean you are here to look after them. The jobs must be shared. They managed to do their own cooking and housework in London; they can manage it just as well here.’
Maxine scribbled as Olivia spoke.
‘Your bills are going to go up. They can pay half of the utility ones – it’s only fair especially as they’ll be saving money; no council tax, no water rates, probably a cheaper commute as they’ll be driving to Cattebury not taking a train into London. Laundry – have set days when they can use the washing machine – or, if they need a few things done urgently, ask them to liaise with you about sharing loads. There is nothing more irksome than having an overflowing laundry basket and a nice drying day to discover that your machine is being used to wash a couple of pairs of smalls and a T-shirt.’
Ten minutes later, Maxine’s hand was starting to ache as Olivia said, ‘And finally, have an agreement with everyone that if anyone does things that start to annoy them it needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later. That’s things like where cars are parked on the drive, leaving lights on, taking stuff out of the fridge without checking if it’s needed for a recipe…’ She paused. ‘I think that’s about everything.’
‘Wow,’ said Max. ‘That’s quite a list.’ She flicked back several pages and wondered if she had the courage to share the tips with Abi. In her heart she knew that every word Olivia had said was totally right but she had a feeling that Abi might take a different view. Not that Abi was moving in for a bit so she had time to think about it. ‘Another coffee?’ she offered as she put the notebook on the table.
‘No, you’ve got your sister coming and I’ve got my old cleaner coming round to pick up a set of keys as my promotion means I can afford to employ her again.’
‘That’s a real bonus for you. I bet you’re happy about that. And I’ll let you know about how my happiness quotient fares although I suspect, despite your cracking advice,’ she patted the notebook, ‘it may not be quite as positive as we’d both like.’
*
Abi finished taping up a box of possessions, got out a large marker pen and scribbled ‘kitchen utensils, various’ on the side and heaved it onto a pile of similar boxes stacked in the corner. She then pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and consulted her list.
‘Right,’ she muttered, ‘winter clothes next.’
She pulled another flattened cardboard box towards her and swiftly and efficiently assembled it into a cube. She went into the bedroom where Marcus was taking down the pictures on their photo wall and putting them on the bed. The wall was covered in an abstract pattern of white rectangles, studded with picture hooks, against the grubby paintwork.
Abi looked at the mess. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time,’ she observed. ‘Maybe in the new house we ought to cut back on banging nails into the wall.’
‘I don’t think it’ll take that much to make good. A few dabs of Polyfilla and a lick of paint…’
‘But it’s another job on top of all the others.’
‘We don’t have to get it done over the weekend we move out. We’ve got gardening leave – we can always come back to finish off. We’ll have to come back anyway to hand over the keys to the estate agent.’
‘I suppose. It just seems such a waste of time to be thundering up and down the road to London and back when we’d be better off there, keeping an eye on the builders and doing what we can ourselves.’
‘We can’t do that much.’
‘We can start on the garden, get carpet fitters in to measure up and give us quotes, choose kitchen and bathroom fittings… there’s masses we can do.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do. Really Marcus, we need to be on top of this every step of the way otherwise the project will balloon in terms of time and money.’ Marcus didn’t respond. ‘You’re not having cold feet, are you? You were the one who was so keen on the house in the first place.’
‘No, no, of course not. Except…’
‘Except what?’ Abi snapped.
‘You read the surveyor’s report. He couldn’t examine the roof timbers because of the false ceiling in the attic, nor could he look at the floors because of the fitted carpets, nor the state of the walls because of the wainscotting.’
‘It’s a bit late to have doubts now. You said the surveyor’s overall conclusion was the house is structurally sound.’
‘Yes. Good solid stone walls and no missing slates on the roof.’
‘Well?’ Abi still sounded irritated by his cautiousness.
‘I don’t know. The builders’ quotes were all rather more than I hoped and not one of them would commit to a fixed fee. They all wanted wiggle room in case of unforeseen circumstances.’
‘I know that but if the house is solid…? And, let’s face it, we’ve been offered a mortgage so the building society can’t think it’s dodgy.’
‘Yes, you’re right. I’m just being overcautious. But we need to make our mind up which builder we’re going to go with. Everything being well, we’ll be completing soon.’
‘It’s all going to be fine, you’ll see.’
*
‘Right,’ said Maxine at midday. ‘If I’m going to have the patience to traipse round estate agents with my sister this afternoon, I need a swift trip to the pub beforehand.’
‘Is that wise?’ asked Gordon, dubiously.
‘Too bloody right it is.’ Maxine picked up her handbag and her coat. ‘I know she’s my sister and I know blood is thicker than water but she can be totally demanding and difficult and I just
know I’m going to be squirming with embarrassment by the time we’ve finished this afternoon.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do.’
The pair reached the pub shortly after opening time and pushed open the door to find they were the first customers of the day.
‘Hi, Belinda,’ they chorused as they approached the bar. They noticed a very pretty forty-something brunette standing next to her. Or, at least, she looked forty-something till they got up to the bar. Maxine, with her artist’s sharp, observational eye, noticed a slight crêpiness of the skin on her neck and crow’s feet around her eyes. But the paint job, she had to admit, was good – right up there with Judith’s standard. Maxine was reminded of Catherine Zeta- Jones – all tumbling dark curls, a Hollywood smile, smouldering eyes and cheekbones to die for. Her eyes flicked down to the woman’s hands which were resting on the counter. No wedding ring. Which begged two questions: why wasn’t such a lovely looking woman married; and why was she working part-time in a bar? Maxine’s thoughts were interrupted by Belinda.
‘Hello, you two. This is my new assistant – a replacement for Bex.’ Bex had been the previous part-time barmaid who had married Belinda’s chef and then produced a baby – a sister for her other three children.
‘But Bex has been gone an age,’ said Max. ‘Must be a year since she left to have little Emily.’
‘I know. Sheer laziness on my part that I didn’t get around to advertising before. Anyway, Ella is here now so, Ella meet Maxine and Gordon, Maxine and Gordon meet Ella.’ The three shook hands through the beer pumps.
‘The usual?’ asked Belinda.
‘Please,’ answered Maxine. Gordon seemed to have lost the power of speech.
They watched as Ella was coaxed through the process of pouring the drinks and then entering the order into the till. ‘Nine pounds fifty,’ she announced finally.
As Maxine and Gordon took their drinks over to a window table Max muttered to her husband. ‘Put your tongue away, darling. It’s hanging out so far you’re going to trip over it.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ he said. But he was blushing.
Busted, thought Max. She didn’t blame him. Ella was a stunner and anyway it was only window-shopping. Besides, despite the fact Max loved her husband to bits she reckoned he could window-shop all he liked because there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of a reciprocal interest – not with Ella looking the way she did and Gordon looking… well, much more ordinary.
‘What time is Judith arriving?’ He took a slurp of his beer.
As a topic for changing the subject it was pretty lame. ‘Two, as you well know.’
‘And will you be going to all the estate agents?’ Little Woodford boasted four.
‘More than likely.’ Maxine sighed heavily. ‘Why she needs her hand holding beats me.’
‘It’s because she values her big sister’s opinion.’
‘Huh.’
*
Judith stood in the middle of the market square and looked at the pretty Georgian town hall, at the lamp-posts decorated by hanging baskets trailing petunias in every shade and fronds of ivy, at the planters which were neatly spaced along the pavements and filled with colourful bedding plants and at the higgledy-piggledy roofline of the shops along the main street. It was quite charming, she thought. A bit chocolate-boxy but there was a buzz and a bustle and an air of cheerful prosperity. All the shops were occupied, the town had all the amenities she might want – a bank, a pub, a little supermarket and, of course, the railway link to London. It even had a hairdresser, although Judith would want proof of their skills when it came to colouring hair; her stylist in East Myring did a wonderful job and would be a hard act to follow. She had to admit that she could see why her sister liked the place.
‘So,’ she said to Maxine. ‘Where to first?’
Maxine pointed to the estate agent across the road. ‘Let’s see what they have to offer.’
She led the way in. ‘Hi,’ she said to the young lady sitting behind the desk. ‘My sister is hoping to move here. She wants somewhere central and not too big. Can you help?’
‘Hi,’ said the girl, ‘I’m sure I can. I’m Marie, by the way.’
‘And I’m Maxine Larkham and this is Judith Crowther.’
‘Larkham?’ Marie’s eyes widened and her smile became forced.
‘Yes.’
‘I think your daughter was a client.’ She sounded wary.
‘Abi? Yes.’
‘And do you have a list of requirements?’
‘Darling,’ said Judith, and she winked at Marie. ‘I’m very easy-going, trust me. A couple of bedrooms, one en-suite, and a bit of garden so I can sunbathe in the good weather, somewhere in the town – it’s all I want. After that…?’ She shrugged to indicate how easy-going she was. ‘I’ve got a wad of cash to spend and I’m not in a chain – show me what you’ve got, eh?’
Marie visibly relaxed.
10
‘Today’s the day,’ said Maxine, a week after her sister’s visit. Her face was as gloomy as her voice as she toyed with a piece of toast and butter. ‘The big move.’
‘It won’t be so bad. And it isn’t forever.’ Gordon barely looked up from the morning paper as he spoke. ‘Let’s face it, you survived your sister and it’ll be nice having Abi nearer.’
‘I suppose. But at least Judith knows she’s a visitor. Abi still thinks this is still her home – even though she’s got one of her own.’
‘She’s not that bad. You’ve just got to be firm from the outset. You’ve got all that advice from Olivia, which you know makes sense – and so will Abi. Set out the boundaries then everyone knows where they stand.’
‘Hmm.’ She stared at Gordon across the big table in the kitchen – would he enforce the boundaries with the apple of his eye? ‘I just worry it’s going to end in tears.’
‘Now you’re being a drama queen.’ He put the paper down and gave his wife his attention. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘Huh. It wouldn’t be so bad if they were going to be at work all day but they’ve got gardening leave till July.’
‘I expect they’ll be over at the cottage most of the time, supervising the builders and trying to tame the garden.’ He returned to the leader column.
‘Giving the builders hell, more likely,’ muttered Maxine.
The phone rang and stopped further speculation from Maxine about the future. She got up from her chair and picked the handset off the counter.
‘Hello,’ she answered.
‘Hi, Max, it’s Dot.’
Max’s heart sank. Why would her mother-in-law’s cleaner phone at the weekend? It had to be bad news. ‘Morning, Dot.’ Gordon looked up from the paper. ‘What can I do for you?’ she asked as she hoped it was something trivial.
‘Anthea’s had a fall. The ambulance is on its way.’
‘Ambulance?’
Gordon got to his feet. ‘Ambulance?’ His worry was almost palpable.
‘Look, it might be easier if you talk to Gordon,’ said Max as she handed over the phone.
She listened to his end of the conversation with an increasing sense of doom. It didn’t sound good. Finally she heard Gordon say, ‘Yes, yes, you must go and let the medics in… Yes, I’ll come immediately and meet you at the hospital. And thank you. Thank you for letting me know and for looking after Mum.’
He put the phone down. ‘Sorry, Max.’ He sounded contrite but Max forgave him. It wasn’t his fault his mother had had a fall.
‘How bad is she?’ she asked.
‘It’s not looking great. She must’ve fallen last night, carrying her supper tray into the sitting room and she’s been on the floor all night. It was just luck that Dot had agreed to go over this morning to help Anthea put away a supermarket delivery that was due first thing. If it hadn’t been for that…’ Gordon shook his head as the prospect of ‘what might have been’ hit home. ‘She could have been there till Monday. Dot doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong with
Mum but she’s unconscious – Max, this is really serious.’ He stopped and gulped. ‘I know we both joked about it being better if…’ Gordon swallowed again and shook his head. ‘It’s not so funny now. Anyway, Dot called 999 before she called us and the paramedics were at the door as I rang off. They’ll know what to do.’ He looked close to tears.
Max put her hand on Gordon’s arm. ‘Your poor mum. Go and pack. Don’t worry if you can’t get back tonight or tomorrow or next week for that matter. We’ll cope without you.’
‘But—’
‘No buts. Your mum needs you. Stay up there as long as you have to. I’ll ring Abi and tell them what’s happened. She and Marcus may have to cope with redecorating the flat with just me to help – not that I’m much good at that sort of painting.’
Gordon went to grab an overnight bag and enough clothes for a few days.
‘Give me a ring when you get there,’ said Maxine when he’d returned downstairs. ‘Let me know how your mum is and send my love. Now, go.’ She handed Gordon his car keys and almost pushed him out of the door.
After Gordon had gone Max sat on the bottom step of the stairs and thought about the implications of the news. Anthea, tough though she was, was still well-over eighty and spending a night unconscious on the floor would have been very serious even for a person half her age, let alone someone so old. But this fall really underlined the fact that her house was totally unsuitable for her to live in on her own. Something would have to be done. This was absolutely the last straw. And if Anthea was going to move out of that ridiculous house she might as well move to Little Woodford.
So, thought Max, Abi was about to move into the area, as was Judith and now, very possibly, Anthea. She wasn’t sure whether she was happy or terrified of the prospect of almost all her entire family living on the doorstep. She might end up as unpaid carer for both her mother-in-law and any grandchildren that might appear. Talk about being piggy in the middle. So much for a peaceful retirement. And then she felt a twinge of guilt for being selfish.
*
Homes and Hearths in Little Woodford Page 8