Homes and Hearths in Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  Maxine dumped all her painting kit by the front door – she’d deal with it later – and hooked her handbag over the newel post. ‘What? In case you had to cook supper?’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘I needed time to calm down, to take stock… a bit of me time.’

  ‘You could have left a note,’ he grumbled.

  ‘I told Anthea I was taking a day off.’

  ‘I know but…’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But I wondered if it was more than that.’

  Maxine headed into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. ‘More than that? You didn’t think I might have done something dramatic – like left home?’

  ‘I dunno.’ He sounded a bit sheepish.

  ‘Come off it – and gone where?’ She switched the kettle on.

  Gordon shrugged. ‘Your sister’s?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So you’ve forgiven me?’

  Maxine turned around, leant against the counter and sighed. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I was very angry last night. More so because you sided with Abi.’ Gordon looked as if he was about to speak again. ‘Shh.’ She held up her hand. ‘You want a quiet life? So do I and you not backing me up won’t help. Why do I always have to be the bad cop where Abi is concerned? Abi needs to pull her weight around this house. If I wasn’t coping with your mother as well, I might just be more loving and giving but Abi and Marcus can both cook, they are capable of going to the supermarket, of pegging out their own washing or even cleaning the bloody bathroom, but do they? No, it’s muggins here. And I’m tired of it.’

  ‘I see that.’

  ‘And you could help out.’

  Gordon’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I do. I help with the dishwasher and I do the garden.’

  The kettle clicked off. ‘You do. And you also play golf twice a week.’ She made a cup of tea for herself ignoring Gordon’s pained look. If he wanted tea, he knew how to make it.

  ‘But I like playing golf.’

  ‘I liked my day at the charity shop. I liked painting in my studio.’

  ‘Come off it, Max, you went painting today.’

  Max shook her head. ‘You really don’t get it, do you?’ As she said it the front door crashed open and Marcus and Abi piled in. They toed off their muddy boots in the hall leaving clods of earth scattered over the tiles and clattered into the kitchen.

  ‘What’s for sups, Mum? I’m famished.’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Whatever you fancy cooking. I’m tired too and I’m going to read a book on my bed. Let me know when it’s ready.’ She picked up her mug and headed upstairs leaving her husband and daughter looking bewildered.

  A couple of hours later Abi called everyone to the dinner table.

  Anthea took her seat and looked disdainfully at her plate of over-cooked, rubbery-looking omelette, bread and butter and some salad. ‘Honestly, Maxine, is it fair that just because you’re in a mood we all have to suffer?’ Then she turned to Abi. ‘Is this really the best you could do?’

  ‘I didn’t get much notice,’ snapped back Abi.

  ‘Someone of your age should have the gumption to be able to rustle up a decent meal from store cupboard ingredients. You didn’t teach her very well, did you, Maxine?’

  ‘Apparently not. Still, I did a better job on Abi than you did on Gordon. He can’t even spell cooking let alone do it.’

  ‘Enough,’ said Gordon, slapping his hand on the table. ‘Abi’s done her best and we should all be grateful.’ He glared at his wife who glared back.

  Like the previous night’s supper this one was also largely eaten in silence and at the end, Maxine pointedly left her plate on the table when she finished and stamped upstairs to the box room. She had considered moving back into her own bedroom that night but that plan was off the agenda now. Half an hour later she heard the front door slam so she peered out of the window and saw Gordon stamping down the drive. She made a private bet that he was off to the pub – again.

  While he was out, she moved her clothes across to the spare room. Until Gordon began to support her in her battle with their daughter and his mother, she wasn’t going to move back.

  *

  On the Tuesday of the following week Judith left the solicitor’s office in West Myring and resisted the urge to give a little skip. She also resisted the urge to go for a celebratory drink as it was a bit early in the day – even for her. She was chuffed because, having sold her old house, she’d now managed to complete on her new one and soon she would be moving to Little Woodford. For a while she’d been slightly unsure of her decision – Little Woodford was slightly further from London’s West End and had rather fewer facilities than her current place of residence but, on the positive side, she’d have company in the form of her sister who would also give her an introduction to the local social scene via the medium of Maxine’s large group of friends. And having explored it properly, whilst house-hunting, she had discovered its charm. OK, she wasn’t moving there for the shopping but the pub was great, there was a high-class butcher, a bookshop, a decent cookware shop and some nice little independent stores that sold all sorts of quirky bits and pieces.

  Rather than skipping down the high street or heading for the pub she restrained herself to pulling her mobile out of her handbag and ringing her sister.

  ‘Hiya, Sis,’ she said when Maxine picked up. ‘How’s things?’

  ‘You don’t want to know,’ was the response.

  ‘That sounds ominous. The family getting you down?’

  ‘In a nutshell.’

  ‘What? All of them? Even the sainted Gordon?’

  ‘Especially the sainted Gordon.’

  Judith had to repress a giggle. What on earth could a dull old stick like Gordon have possibly done to piss off her big sister? ‘Want to talk?’ Oh, please do. Judith longed to know what was going on.

  ‘Not really.’

  Bugger. ‘Well, as you obviously need cheering up, I’ve rung to tell you I’ve exchanged,’ said Judith. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘You could sound more enthusiastic.’

  ‘Sorry. No, it is great. Really. I’ve just got a lot on at the mo; Anthea is shit-stirring, Abi is being a complete pain and Gordon… Oh, never mind.’

  ‘Is being a bastard?’ Judith offered.

  A loud sigh whistled over the airwaves.

  ‘Come on, spill,’ prompted Judith. ‘A problem shared is a problem halved.’

  ‘Gordon seems to find the easiest way to deal with things is to go to the pub or the golf course. And he certainly won’t take my side against Abi and tell her to pull her finger out around the house because – and I quote – he wants a quiet life.’

  ‘And Abi is daddy’s little girl and the apple of his eye.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Which leaves you to deal with everything—’

  ‘—And Anthea who is as tricky as ever.’

  ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘No, it’s not. Even if he was around it wouldn’t make much difference. Anthea has set views on the sort of jobs a man should do and looking after her doesn’t feature. Pearl is wonderful, a treasure, but she can only do so much.’

  ‘But Anthea must be getting better.’

  ‘The bruises have gone, her ankle is mending although she still can’t put much weight on it but at least she is semi-mobile and she’s stopped needing me to get her on and off the loo.’

  ‘Even so…’

  ‘Even so, it’s a lot of extra work – talk about fetching and carrying – and Abi and Marcus won’t help citing the renovations to their cottage mean they are too busy. And even when I do persuade them to lift a finger, the atmosphere and bad feeling it causes makes it not worth the effort.’

  ‘Oh, dear. You do sound a bit put upon.’

  ‘I am. Very.’

  ‘Come to mine. If you’re not around Abi and Gordon will have to pull their fin
gers out. It’ll be a bit chaotic while I sort and pack and do shit like that but you’re more than welcome.’

  ‘I could give you a hand with the packing.’

  ‘Nice offer, but what you need is a rest not more work.’

  ‘Seriously, it’s the perfect excuse to leave them to stew for a day or two. I can’t come before Thursday because of my art club so, maybe Friday, for a long weekend?’

  ‘Really? Another pair of hands would be fab but what you need is a spa day not playing at being Pickfords.’

  ‘What I need is to get away from my family before I lash out with the carving knife.’

  ‘As long as you don’t include me in family members you’d like to murder, then be my guest.’

  *

  Maxine waited until Gordon came in from the garden where he’d been tidying up the veg patch. He had mooted the idea of going to the golf course to play nine holes because the weather was glorious but when he saw the look on Maxine’s face, he rapidly changed his mind. She offered both Anthea and her husband some late elevenses and when she’d carried the tray of mugs and the plate of biscuits into the sitting room, she broke the news.

  ‘My sister is about to move house and I’m going to hers to help her pack. I’ll be gone a couple of days – maybe more.’

  Anthea opened and shut her mouth and then frowned. ‘But… but…’

  ‘But?’ asked Maxine. ‘But you’ll have Pearl, or her stand-in, as always and you don’t need me that much during the day. I’m sure Gordon can run up and down stairs for you and Abi can take over on the domestic front.’

  Anthea snorted. ‘That’ll be interesting given her lack of any culinary skills.’

  ‘Then Gordon will have to help.’

  It was Gordon’s turn to snort.

  ‘Really,’ said Maxine. ‘If it had been me involved in an accident you’d have to cope. None of you are completely helpless – not even you, Anthea, not anymore. And I’m going to take the car.’

  Gordon looked horrified.

  ‘Sorry, love, but the train journey to Judith’s is the pits. Besides, as you’ll be looking after Anthea you won’t need it to get to the golf course and I’m sure Abi and Marcus can do any shopping that’s needed on their way home from the cottage.’

  ‘But they’re going back to work next week.’

  Maxine rolled her eyes. ‘Then they can do the shopping on their way home from the office. It’s what we used to do. Or they can order it on-line. Jeez, Gordon, anyone would think I’m the only person on the entire planet who can do these basic things.’

  ‘No… but…’

  ‘And if all else fails, get take-aways.’

  ‘Must we?’ asked Anthea faintly, appalled by the idea.

  ‘If Gordon and Abi can’t be bothered to cook then you’d better get used to the idea,’ said Maxine, knowing she sounded callous. But really, they were all grown-ups, they weren’t completely incapable so why were they behaving like they were?

  She then dropped her final bombshell. ‘I’m off out. My friend Olivia has got a day off and she and I are meeting for lunch at the pub.’

  ‘The pub?!’ said Anthea.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But…?’ she spluttered.

  ‘What? I’m a woman so I shouldn’t be seen in such a place without my husband? Is that what you mean? It’s OK for him to go on his own but not me?’

  ‘I suppose it’s the modern way,’ conceded Anthea.

  Maxine stood up and picked up her handbag. ‘There’s cold chicken and salad in the fridge and plenty of bread in the bin. I’m sure, between you, you can come up with something for lunch. I’ll see you later.’ And she swept off leaving Gordon looking somewhat shocked.

  19

  ‘No Gordon?’ asked Belinda as Maxine ordered a glass of red wine.

  ‘I’m meeting Olivia for lunch.’

  ‘That’ll be nice.’

  ‘It will, won’t it? Of course I see her at the art club and I used to see her at the book club, when I had the time to read the wretched books, but they’re not things where we get to have a proper chat.’

  ‘You and Gordon always used to come together but I haven’t seen you here for weeks.’ She put Maxine’s order on the counter. ‘Is everything OK – I mean, I know your place is a bit… crowded.’

  Maxine sighed and leaned in closer. The bar wasn’t full and the noise level was low and she wasn’t sure she wanted any of the punters to be able to indulge in a bit of casual eavesdropping. ‘To be honest, it’s been getting a bit heavy.’ She thought about telling Belinda she and Gordon had separate bedrooms but that would be over-share.

  ‘Because of the family?’

  Max nodded. ‘You know that ditty – Lizzie Borden took an axe and gave her mother forty whacks—’

  ‘And when she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one,’ finished Belinda, gleefully. ‘It’s not that bad, surely?’

  ‘I’ve been tempted. Anyway, I’ve got a chance to escape for a few days so I’m going to stay with my sister.’

  ‘That’ll be nice. Six pounds, please.’

  ‘I think it may be a case of frying pans and fires but I’m prepared to risk it.’

  ‘I hope the risk pays off,’ said Belinda as Olivia pushed open the door to the pub.

  ‘Hello,’ said Olivia kissing her friend on the cheek. ‘What risk? I’m agog.’

  ‘I’ll tell you over lunch,’ said Maxine. ‘Now, what can I get you to drink?’

  The pair had ordered their food and Maxine had updated a sympathetic Olivia as to the ups and downs of her family life when the door to the pub opened again and Amy sailed in.

  ‘Hi, Belinda,’ she called before she caught sight of her employer. ‘Oh, hiya, Mrs Laithwaite. Skiving again?’

  ‘No, Amy, I don’t skive. I’ve taken a few days leave to enjoy this lovely weather we’ve been having, and to catch up with some personal admin.’

  ‘That’s nice.’ She turned her attention back to Belinda. ‘I’ll have a large white, please. My Ryan’s off shift so he’s meeting me for lunch. Got just enough time to fit in a quick bite between the Post Office and cleaning for Miranda. Anyway, Miranda probably won’t mind if I’m a minute or two late.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘She’s a lot better than she was when I started for her.’

  ‘I suppose. Want to start a tab?’

  ‘Yeah, that way Ryan might pay the whole bill.’

  Belinda grinned, passed the wine over and entered the amount in the till.

  Amy wandered over towards Olivia’s table and chose a seat at the one next door. ‘Lucky old you being able to pick and choose your days off.’

  ‘It doesn’t quite work like that.’

  ‘Now I do for you, I have to get all my stuff done at the weekends. No days off for me. I’m not grumbling, mind, I like the extra cash.’ She stared at Olivia’s companion and Olivia took the hint.

  ‘Amy, I don’t think you know Mrs Larkham. Maxine, this is Amy.’

  ‘You work in the Post Office, don’t you?’ asked Maxine.

  Amy nodded. ‘Maxine Larkham? You must be Abi’s mum.’

  It was Maxine’s turn to nod. ‘I didn’t know you and my daughter know each other.’

  ‘Oh, no we don’t. I know of her. My bloke Ryan’s got a friend who’s a builder.’

  ‘Steven?’

  ‘That’s the guy. He was telling us it’s a big old job he’s taken on for your daughter’s house.’

  ‘Oh? Big old job? I thought it was mostly cosmetic – doing it up, putting in a new kitchen, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Cosmetic? Where did you get that idea from? No, he’s going to be there for months. Mightn’t be finished till the autumn, he says. There’s a cellar full of problems. He mentioned something about dry rot. Sounds like rubbish to me – rot’s caused by damp, everyone knows that. Anyway, from what he’s told Ryan, he’s almost having to rebuild the place from the foundations up. Didn’t you know?’
/>   Maxine took a very large gulp of wine before she answered. ‘Let’s just say, I do now.’

  *

  As Maxine walked home, she used the time to contemplate the implications of exactly what Amy had told her. Having quizzed Amy further, she understood that the problems with the house had come as much of a shock to her daughter as it had to her but it didn’t explain the deception to her parents. Why hadn’t she told her and Gordon? Although Max had a bloody good idea. Abi was worried about her parents’ reaction – as well she might be. They were at daggers drawn now so what would they be like by the end of it? And this was assuming that Steven didn’t find anything else wrong with the place.

  She opened the front door and went to find Gordon. Anthea was fast asleep on the sofa in front of some mindless TV game show. Maxine took the remote off the arm of the sofa and turned it off. Anthea didn’t stir. In the silence that followed she listened for clues as to Gordon’s whereabouts. Nothing. She headed for the garden and found Gordon contemplating his compost heap, leaning on a fork.

  ‘Did you know about the cottage?’ she asked.

  ‘Hello, dear. Nice lunch?’ He smiled at her, possibly hoping for some sort of rapprochement.

  ‘No, not really and you haven’t answered my question – did you know about the cottage?’

  ‘What about the cottage?’ asked Gordon, patiently.

  ‘About the cellar, about the rot, about the fact it’s going to be months and months before Abi and Marcus can move.’

  Gordon’s smile faded. ‘Months? Are you sure?’

  ‘Not entirely – I heard the news via a friend of a friend. Well, a friend of the builder. I think we should get over there and see for ourselves.’

  ‘What, now?’

  ‘Yes, now.’

  ‘What about Mother?’

  ‘She’s asleep on the sofa. I am sure she can cope with being on her own for an hour or two.’

  Gordon nodded and Maxine went to wake Anthea and tell her they had to go out urgently.

  ‘Here’s my mobile number,’ she said, putting a Post-It on the coffee table.

  ‘But what if I have a fall and can’t get to the phone.’

  ‘Try not to.’ Maxine was a bit sharper than was necessary but Anthea coming over all frail and helpless was the last thing she needed right now. ‘We’ll be back as soon as we can.’