Homes and Hearths in Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  ‘It’s not easy,’ he admitted.

  Ella came over to their end of the bar and Judith asked for her bill.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Ella asked as she tapped a code into the till.

  ‘Just delish, darling.’ She handed over her credit card and completed the transaction. Ella handed her the receipt and then went to serve more customers.

  Once she was out of earshot, Judith turned back to her brother-in-law. ‘Frankly,’ she said, giving him a hint of a conspiratorial wink, ‘I’m amazed you don’t spend more time here, rather than saving your forays to the pub for when Max is away painting.’ She nodded at Ella and lowered her voice further. ‘Quite apart from the beer, the view’s not bad.’ She snorted a dirty laugh that was a dead ringer for one of Patsy Stone’s phnaar-phnaar guffaws.

  A flush shot up from Gordon’s neck to his hairline.

  ‘Not that you’ve probably noticed,’ she added. ‘Not an old married type like you.’ His discomfort was almost tangible. She was about to twist the knife further when Gordon’s mobile rang.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said as he fished his phone out of his back pocket. ‘Hi, Abi. What’s up?’

  Judith saw the colour drain from his face.

  ‘Shit. Yes, I’ll come right back.’ He ended the call and looked up at Judith, a stricken expression masking his face. ‘It’s Ma,’ he said. ‘She’s had a stroke.’

  27

  Judith was pushed to keep up with Gordon as he strode across the well-worn paths of the nature reserve towards his house and every few steps she had to half-break into a run. The sense of urgency increased as they reached the hill that led to the gate into their road and saw blue lights flashing eerily off the trees.

  Gordon crashed into the house and was met by an ashen and crying Abi. In the background lurked Marcus looking uncertain. Judith felt sympathy towards him – she felt uncertain too. What was she doing here? What on earth could she do to help? This was a family tragedy and she was virtually an outsider.

  ‘How is she?’ Gordon demanded as he hauled his key out of the lock.

  Abi shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Mum’s upstairs with the paramedics.’

  Gordon took the stairs two at a time as Judith gave her niece a big hug. ‘Anthea’s in good hands now. Paramedics are miracle workers,’ she said as she stroked Abi’s hair.

  Abi snuffled into her shoulder. ‘I suppose,’ she said indistinctly.

  ‘Marcus,’ said Judith. ‘Be a love and put the kettle on.’ If nothing else it’d give him something to do for a minute or two; stop him looking quite such of a spare part. She pulled Abi into the kitchen and pushed her down onto a chair before handing her a roll of kitchen paper.

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ asked Marcus.

  Frankly, after that race across the reserve, Judith wanted a brandy. ‘Coffee, please.’

  ‘Tea,’ said Abi. ‘Do you think Granny is going to…?’

  ‘Live?’ said Judith as robustly as she could. ‘Knowing your granny as I do, I should think there’s every likelihood.’ Although, as they all knew, she was old and frail and there was no guarantee, but Abi needed reassurance right now. Positivity. They lapsed into silence. Marcus dispensed mugs of tea and coffee and they sat around the table, clutching their hot drinks and listening to the noises upstairs. Finally, there was some much louder clattering and the paramedics began to transport their kit out of the house.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Judith waylaying one of them as she came down the stairs for the second time.

  ‘Yes?’ said the woman who was clad in a green coverall which sported lurid dayglow bands round the arms and legs.

  ‘How is Anthea?’

  ‘Very poorly.’

  ‘Will she be all right?’

  The young woman smiled. ‘It’s a bit early to tell,’ she said. She hefted a large carry bag of kit higher onto her shoulder and took it out to the ambulance before she came back and ran back up the stairs. The two ambulance crew then manoeuvred Anthea from the first floor, strapped to a special sort of wheelchair. Her skin was candle-wax pale and, if she was conscious, she gave no sign. Gordon and Maxine followed and behind them was a stranger –Anthea’s carer, presumed Judith.

  ‘Gordon, you go in the ambulance with your mother,’ said Maxine, ‘I’ll get Abi to drive me to the hospital in a minute. And Pearl,’ she continued, ‘thank you for being such a rock till the ambulance got here. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

  Through the open front door Judith saw Anthea being transferred onto a proper stretcher as Gordon jumped into the back of the vehicle. She turned her attention back to the conversation in the hall.

  ‘No worries, Max. It was a pleasure to help,’ Pearl was saying.

  ‘You must be so late for your other charges.’

  ‘The agency sorted out cover for them. The old ducks don’t like their routine being too messed about with.’

  ‘That’s good. I don’t suppose we’ll be seeing you again for a while.’

  ‘No.’

  There was a momentary awkward pause before Judith saw her sister give the carer a big hug. ‘Thanks for everything. I know she wasn’t the easiest of patients but you were a star.’

  ‘It’s all part of the job. Don’t you worry. Now, I’ll get off and you get yourself to the hospital.’ Pearl left, skirting the ambulance that was still parked outside the front door, before she jumped into her little car and headed off.

  Maxine shut the front door and slumped against it, her eyes shut.

  ‘Max? Are you OK?’

  Maxine opened her eyes. ‘Judith? What on earth…?’

  ‘I was having supper at the pub. I was there when Gordon got the call. I came over in case there was anything I could do.’ She walked along the hall and held her arms out to her sister. Maxine fell into them, the tears starting to flow.

  ‘Oh, Jude. I feel so guilty because this is all my fault.’

  ‘There, there,’ soothed her sister. As she comforted Maxine, they saw the flashing blue lights that were visible through the leaded window in the front door, move away. Then, as the ambulance joined the main road, the ululation of the siren started.

  ‘I came back from Art club and she was being difficult and all I could think was that I wished she would just leave us. Go away. But I didn’t mean it to be like this, not ill, not in an ambulance. You believe me, Judith.’

  ‘Oh, Sis. Don’t be silly. Of course you didn’t want it to be like this. We all know that.’

  ‘But if I hadn’t thought it, if I hadn’t wished her gone…’

  ‘She’d still have had a stroke,’ said Judith with conviction. ‘She’s old, she’s frail, she’s not in the best of health—’

  ‘And she and Gordon had an awful row.’

  ‘There you go. Nothing to do with you.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Maxine blew her nose and dried her eyes. ‘This isn’t getting me to the hospital. Abi?’

  Abi stood up, her car keys already in her hand. ‘Come on, Mum. Let’s get going.’

  ‘And both of you,’ said Maxine. ‘Don’t say anything about me saying I wanted his mother gone. It won’t help matters.’

  ‘Of course not. Anyway, why would I?’

  After they’d gone the house seemed empty and quiet. So many people, so much drama and then … nothing.

  ‘I’d better make tracks too,’ said Judith.

  ‘I’d run you home,’ said Marcus, ‘only Abi’s got the car.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. And the walk’ll do me good after all that excitement.’ Actually, Judith was putting a brave face on things. In the light of the lack of a lift, her second preferred option would have been to be beamed back to her cottage by a crew member of the starship Enterprise. Thank God, she was wearing trainers. No point in smart shoes on a day when you’re moving house, had been her rationale earlier in the day. She hadn’t expected it to have paid off quite so well.

  *

  Miranda was entertaining Olivia in her kitchen when
they heard the ambulance siren wail. Their conversation paused momentarily at the sound – an uncommon one in Little Woodford.

  ‘You know, when I lived in London no one paid the least attention to blues and twos,’ mused Miranda. ‘I suppose it’s a good thing that they’re so unusual here that when an emergency vehicle goes past, half the population stops and gawps.’

  ‘One of the many advantages of not living in a heaving metropolis,’ agreed Olivia. She flicked through the pages of her notebook before she snapped it shut. ‘I think we’ve pretty much covered everything. You’ve got the town hall, and our chief judge organised, the art club are all on board and they’ll get their pictures—’

  ‘Maximum of three.’

  ‘Maximum of three to you a fortnight before the show, ready for you to get them framed.’

  ‘And everyone’s happy with the style – a single white mount and a plain black frame.’

  Olivia nodded. ‘It’s up to them to choose something that won’t get lost with a pale background. Heather is going to get the WI to provide tea and cakes, and that, I think, is that. Oh, and well done for getting that sketchbook back into Miranda’s studio.’ She picked up her notebook and slid it into her handbag.

  ‘Excellent. That’s that then.’ She smiled at Olivia. ‘And before you go, I rang Dominic earlier and asked about the other sketchbook. He’s promised to courier it back to us shortly then all we have to do is get it back into the studio like the other one. After that we just have to persuade her to allow Dominic to see the rest of her work so he can make overtures about exhibiting her properly.’ She made it sound so simple.

  *

  Gordon was pacing the corridor outside the Resus unit when Maxine arrived.

  ‘How is she?’ she asked as soon as she reached him.

  ‘Being assessed. Apparently, because the paramedics arrived so quickly things are a lot better than they might have been, but she is still very ill. She’s in a bad way; it’s touch and go.’ He gave his wife a bleak smile. ‘She’s in good hands and they’re doing their best.’

  ‘That’s what I told Abi. I told her to go home, by the way. There’s no point in her having a sleepless night as well.’

  ‘No. Although I don’t suppose she’ll sleep much anyway.’

  The pair lapsed into silence as they both gazed at the door to Resus, both wondering quite what was going on behind it.

  ‘Let’s take a seat,’ said Max, taking Gordon by the hand and leading him over to some rows of blue padded chairs. ‘There’s no point in pacing up and down. It won’t make things happen differently. I’m sure they’ll tell us as soon as there’s any news.’

  He nodded. ‘I shouldn’t have rowed with her.’ He slumped onto one of the seats.

  ‘It probably didn’t help matters that she and I had an argument too.’

  Gordon looked at his wife and sighed. ‘What about?’

  ‘She said I drink too much and I pretty much told her she’d driven me to it.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘And your point is? And what’s more, when I suggested she might like to take issue with your drinking habits, she said it was different for a man. For God’s sake, which century is she from?’

  ‘The last one,’ said Gordon. ‘She’s got different standards.’

  ‘I’ll say so.’

  ‘I know you two don’t see eye to eye but you should make more of an effort to cut her some slack.’

  Maxine could feel her blood pressure rising. ‘Why me? Why am I the villain of the piece?’

  ‘Because she’s old and frail.’

  Maxine bit her tongue.

  ‘And you do drink quite a bit.’

  ‘Jeez, Gordon that’s pots and kettles. You’re down the pub almost every night.’

  ‘Only for a pint or two.’

  Maxine narrowed her eyes. ‘Says you.’

  ‘Anyway, this doesn’t change the fact that you had a go at my mother.’

  ‘It was self-defence. I’m sorry Gordon and I’ve said this before, but I am not going to be belittled and ticked off in my own house by a bloody visitor.’

  ‘That’s my mother you’re talking about.’

  ‘And I’m your wife.’ She glared at Gordon. She didn’t trust herself to stay calm and reasonable and besides, as Gordon seemed to be blaming her for his mother’s condition, it was probably better if she didn’t stay where her presence might make things worse. She picked up her handbag from the floor and walked away. Gordon, she noticed didn’t ask her where she was going or offer any sort of apology. Sod him, she thought as she headed for reception. When she got to the automatic doors, she pulled out her phone and rang the number of a local taxi company. Both he and his poisonous mother could shove it.

  28

  By the end of the following week Anthea was still clinging on to life in a high dependency unit and Gordon seemed to be spending most of his waking hours at the hospital by her bedside. Which suited Maxine fine because she was still angry with him. She tried telling herself that he had been stressed and frightened about his mother’s condition but now things seemed to have stabilised he’d had lots of opportunities to apologise and yet, to judge by the way he looked at her, he was waiting for her to say sorry. Well, he could bloody wait.

  Judith’s house was getting straighter by the day but there was a finite limit to how much sorting and unpacking she could do in a day. She would have spent some of her spare time with her sister, but Max seemed to be in such a constantly filthy mood it was easier to keep out of her way. Judith put it down to worry about her mother-in-law although she found it a bit surprising that Maxine didn’t visit along with Gordon. Maybe there were restrictions about the number of visitors patients in intensive care could have at any one time. With time on her hands and her curiosity about Gordon and the luscious Ella unsatisfied, she decided to do a spot of detective work to find out if her suspicions were right about what the woman was up to. Besides it wasn’t much of a hardship to while away the odd lunch hour in a welcoming pub with a decent selection of gins. It took three visits to the pub before she managed to find Ella working behind the bar on her own. She was sure that Belinda might tell her about her new barmaid but there was every possibility that Belinda might also want to know why Judith was taking such an interest. Before she shared her suspicions with anyone else, she wanted to be sure of her facts.

  Judith was no fool and didn’t think Ella was attracted by Gordon’s youth, looks or charisma. On the other hand, his house and his bank account might be quite a draw. A woman of her age without an engagement ring or wedding band and who worked in a pub might well consider her life to be in a bit of a rut. What better way to solve the problem than with a meal ticket out of it? And one of the pub’s regulars – with the right sort of encouragement – might be the person to supply it. A part of Judith didn’t blame her. After all, she’d been a kept woman almost all of her life; she’d never done a day’s work, had hardly ever lifted a finger for herself and yet had had a husband who had been more than happy to fund her lifestyle for the best part of twenty-five years. Even when he’d lit out, she’d hardly been left a pauper. No, finding a well-heeled man wasn’t to be sniffed at – except when that well-heeled man belonged to someone else.

  Judith hitched herself onto a bar stool, ordered a large G and T, and smiled at Ella as she was handed the drink.

  ‘And one for yourself?’ she offered.

  ‘Thanks, I’ll have a tomato juice.’

  Ella rang up the drinks and Judith passed over her card to be tapped on the machine. ‘Cheers,’ she said as she raised her glass. Then, ‘It’s quiet today.’

  ‘It always is on a Thursday.’

  ‘Do you do a lot of shifts here?’

  ‘It’s the day job. Well, and the evening job too, quite often.’

  ‘It must be quite nice being able to lean on a bar, chatting to the locals.’

  ‘Belinda says if I’ve got time to lean, I’ve got time to clean.’


  Judith laughed. ‘As it’s her pub then I suppose it’s her rules. Is she a good boss?’

  ‘I’ve had worse.’

  ‘And the locals?’

  ‘Some of them are OK.’

  ‘Then I hope I fall into that category.’

  ‘You’ve been all right so far. But didn’t you say you’re new to the area?’

  ‘Only moved in recently.’

  ‘Lucky you to be able to afford somewhere.’

  ‘I downsized, but yes I am. The house prices are pretty massive, aren’t they?’

  ‘Tell me about it. And as for renting… How are the likes of me supposed to afford anything?’

  ‘It must be difficult.’

  ‘It’s impossible.’

  ‘So where do you live?’

  ‘With my folks. I ask you, at my age.’ Ella sighed theatrically. ‘I mean, I haven’t always but… well… circumstances changed; he lit out, I couldn’t afford the rent, you get the picture.’

  ‘I do indeed and I sympathise. I had to move for similar reasons. Men, eh?’

  Ella rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink. ‘Men,’ she agreed.

  ‘Still, there must be a few good sorts out there.’

  ‘If you can find ’em.’

  ‘But, if you don’t mind me saying so, I’d have thought you’d have a whole slew of blokes to choose from.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Ella preened slightly and then tossed a brunette curl over her shoulder. ‘The thing is, picking the right one. Once bitten twice shy and all that. I want the right sort of man who’s going to treat me in the right sort of way so I can live in a nice house in a nice area with nice things around me.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with setting your sights high,’ said Judith while she actually thought Ella needed a massive reality check. ‘And how do you plan to get that?’

  ‘I need to find Mr Right, that’s how,’ said Ella. ‘In the meantime I’m picky about who I date. I mean, I don’t want to be tied to some loser when the right bloke does rock up. It’s all about being ready to grab the opportunity when it comes along.’