Homes and Hearths in Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  ‘Nothing like being focused,’ said Judith. Nothing like being a piece of scheming work either, but she made herself smile at Ella. ‘Anyone on the horizon?’

  Ella smirked. ‘There might be. Got to play my cards right, that’s all.’

  ‘Good luck.’ But if it’s my sister’s husband I hope you burn in hell. ‘Cheers.’

  *

  The one good thing about Anthea being in hospital, Maxine decided, was that with Gordon being so preoccupied with visiting her in the car, Abi and Marcus were forced to shoulder more of the shopping burden. Maxine could pop out and bring home the occasional pint of milk or a loaf of bread but a big shop for four adults was out of the question with only Shank’s pony for transport. Naturally the downside was a certain amount of grumbling but, for once, Abi had the sense to tone down her chuntering when her parents were around.

  When they weren’t, Abi let rip.

  ‘It isn’t as if we’re not working full time,’ she complained to Marcus over Friday lunch in the staff canteen at work, a week after Anthea had been admitted into the stroke unit.

  ‘And we’re dealing with our own house. I mean, we really don’t have enough hours in the day to earn a living and project manage and do all the bloody shopping. And we’ve got to do another massive shop again tomorrow.’ She shovelled in a forkful of baked potato and cheesy beans. ‘What about us having a weekend off, that’s what I want to know? Seriously, Marcus,’ she said indistinctly before she chewed and swallowed, ‘I’ve got better things to do with my Saturdays than tramp around the effing Tesco in Cattebury.’ She sighed before she ate another forkful. ‘I think it’d be an idea if we move into the cottage just as soon as there’s heating, lighting and running water. Stuff the mess and everything else – if we’re there, Mum can’t expect us to run around after her and Dad.’ She ate some more.

  ‘I don’t know, Abi,’ said Marcus. ‘Won’t it be easier for Steven to work without having us and our possessions underfoot?’

  ‘We only need to take a few bits and pieces.’

  ‘But cooking and washing and all that sort of stuff…?’

  ‘We should go over and have a good look at the house. We’ve not looked at it in that sort of light – we’ve only concentrated on having it properly completed and when that’s likely to happen.’

  ‘I don’t know—’ Marcus started. He took a deep breath. ‘And you said, and I quote, I couldn’t live in a place that was over-run with builders.’

  ‘That was then, this is now. Besides, don’t you want to be independent again, because, frankly, I can’t wait?’ She stabbed the air with her fork to emphasise her point. ‘A bit of mess and muddle is nothing compared to what we have to put up with at the moment; being treated like skivvies – worse, unpaid skivvies.’

  ‘It’s not that bad and your mum and dad are in a pretty stressful situation.’

  Abi rolled her eyes. ‘Dad’s sitting by her bed, listening to the machines beeping, reading the paper to her in case she can hear what’s going on and Mum’s swanning around at home doing bugger all from what I can see. Neither of them is hardly rushed off their feet, are they?’

  Marcus kept quiet.

  ‘So that’s a plan then, we’ll go over to the house after work and see if it’s possible to move in. Mum and Dad will have to fend for themselves tonight. I’ll text them and tell them that we’ll be too busy to cook supper. And you and I can grab a bite somewhere so we can make plans without them interfering.’

  ‘Come off it, Abi, you’re making it seem like your mum and dad are out to thwart us. And, let’s face it, when we moved in, you were upset because you felt they didn’t want us there. Now you’re cross because they do.’

  Abi scraped up the last few beans off her plate. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Marcus. I don’t know where on earth you got that idea from.’ She stood up, picked up her empty plate and glass and put them on the tray. ‘Finished?’

  Marcus had to grab the last of his sandwich off the plate as Abi whipped it away.

  ‘Apparently, I have,’ he mumbled as he stuffed the last morsel into his mouth and followed her out of the canteen.

  ‘I’ll meet you in the car park at five and we’ll go straight to the house,’ she ordered as she peeled off the main corridor towards her office.

  ‘Yes, dear.’

  *

  ‘We’re going to have to have another go at the garden,’ said Abi as they got out of the car at Wisteria Cottage. ‘That’s if we’ll be able to find the time, given all the jobs Mum wants us to do for her.’ She surveyed the length of the grass and the weeds which seemed to have over-run all the flower beds again. ‘That was the one good thing about living in the flat – we only had to worry about inside stuff, not the outside stuff as well.’

  ‘But it’ll be lovely to have somewhere to sit out on nice summer evenings, to have barbecues and maybe to have a kick-about with the kids when they come along.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that won’t be for a while. We can’t possibly afford kids with all this to pay for.’ She ignored Marcus’s look of disappointment.

  ‘We could always increase the mortgage when it’s finished. The house’ll be worth a heap more than we paid for it.’

  Abi’s snort of derision told Marcus what she thought of that idea.

  ‘Let’s go in and see what’s left to be done,’ she said marching to the front door and getting her key out ready to unlock it but the door was already open. The place smelt of glue, dust and something pungent like white spirit.

  ‘Coo-ee,’ called Abi as she strode in. There was no reply. ‘Good job we came round if Steven has left this place unsecured. We could get squatters. What was he thinking of?’ she said as she made her way into the kitchen where she stopped and stared about her. The transformation from the bomb site to what almost looked like a proper house was striking. Most noticeable was the floor in the kitchen – the boards were back down, the gaping hole had gone although a proper trapdoor had been installed which, when Abi pulled it open, revealed a real set of steps leading down to the cellar.

  ‘Coo,’ said Abi, dropping the door back into place as she heard the sound of heavy boots clattering around in one of the outhouses joined to the kitchen. ‘Steven? I didn’t see your van.’

  ‘It’s round the back. Easier to load and unload my kit rather than drag it through the rest of the house.’

  ‘But you should have finished half an hour ago. We can’t afford overtime, you know.’

  ‘Just finishing up for tonight. And don’t worry, it won’t go on the bill.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘So, what do you think?’

  ‘The kitchen’s looking good.’

  ‘It’s coming together.’

  ‘When will you be able to start fitting the units?’

  Steven laughed. ‘There’s a way to go yet. We’ve got to get all the rest of the timbers treated, including all the new stuff and what’s in the roof, then we’ve got to get the wiring done, and as you know I’ve only just made a start on the upstairs plumbing to get in your new en-suite… As I said, you’ll be lucky to get away with moving in before the autumn.’

  ‘That’s the point. We want to move in before then.’

  Steven stared at her in astonishment. ‘But you’ve just said you can’t afford the overtime.’

  ‘That’s right, but we want to live here while you do the work.’

  Steven’s look of astonishment morphed into one of horror. ‘No. No way.’

  ‘This is our house, Steven so I don’t think it’s up to you.’

  ‘Fine, if you want it that way, but you’ll have to find another builder.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘I’m serious, Abi. You can live in a caravan in the garden but I can’t have you here in the house with everything else going on. Quite apart from any health and safety issues, working round your living space will be a nightmare for me and my sub-contractors.’

  Abi’s lips were clamped together so hard they went wh
ite. ‘I see,’ she said eventually.

  ‘Steven has a point,’ ventured Marcus.

  Abi glared at him. ‘We need to talk,’ she snapped. ‘We’re going,’ she said, stating the obvious as she swept out. ‘There are plenty of other builders around. I’ll phone you tomorrow,’ she shot at Steven as she left with Marcus trailing after her.

  *

  ‘A pint of bitter,’ said Steven as he leant wearily on the bar of the Talbot. Thank God it was Friday – two days off.

  ‘You sound like you need it,’ said Ella as she poured the drink. ‘And we don’t see you in here that often, either. It’s Steven, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, it is.’ He smiled at her. ‘Good memory. And you are?’

  ‘Ella. And that’s three ninety, please.’ She handed the pint through the beer pumps as Steven fished in his pocket for the cash. ‘Cheers,’ he said as he made his way over to an empty seat in the window and slumped onto it.

  God, he thought, that bloody Abi was a piece of work and no mistake. Spoilt little cow. Every time she came over to the house, he ended up feeling like he’d done nine rounds with a prize fighter. He took a long draught of his beer and wondered if it would be all that bad if he did get sacked from the job? The money was good, it was a long-term project and the security was great but was it really worth it? He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling as he weighed up the pros and cons. The phrase que sera, sera popped into his head. True, he acknowledged and, if Abi sacked him, so be it. He lowered his eyes and looked towards the bar as he gave up contemplating his future employment prospects and turned his attention to Ella. If she were a bit younger, he could fancy asking her out. On the other hand, if roles were reversed, he wouldn’t think twice about asking out a woman who was his junior by a few years. Would it be so bad to be a toy boy? He watched her covertly as he sipped his drink and was rather disappointed when her face lit up as a new customer, a bloke of about sixty or so, went to the bar. She hadn’t smiled at him like that when he’d asked for a drink. Her father, maybe, mused Steven. The new guy turned around and scanned the customers in the relatively empty bar before he met Ella at the open hatch through the counter and dipped in to give her a kiss – on the lips, and although it wasn’t a proper snog it wasn’t a peck either. So, no way he was her father – totally over-affectionate for a greeting between relatives. As he stared, he realised, with a physical jolt, that he recognised the man – Abi’s dad – so definitely not a relation. What the fuck…? And him a married man and all. The randy old goat!

  ‘Wotcha, Stevie-boy.’

  Steven turned in the other direction. ‘Ryan! Nice surprise, buddy. And Amy. Let me get you both a drink.’

  ‘No, you’re all right. My round and let me get you a refill.’

  ‘No, can’t. I’ve got the van in the market square.’

  ‘Leave it parked there overnight and walk back to your place. The traffic warden’s never out before nine and even then, you get two hours grace.’

  ‘That sounds like a plan. I could seriously fancy drowning my sorrows,’ Steven said gloomily. ‘I may not have a job come Monday?’

  ‘Not have a job? Bloody hell. Seriously?’

  ‘Seriously.’

  ‘Now look, I want to hear all about it but let me get the drinks in first.’

  And when Ryan returned with two pints and a large Chardonnay he and Amy were regaled with the trials and tribulations of working for his current employers.

  ‘I mean,’ said Steven, ‘he’s not so bad but her…’ He took a slug of his second pint.

  ‘So,’ asked Amy, ‘are you still working on that big old job at that cottage? The one with the dodgy cellar?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘I met the mother the other day. Maxine Larkham?’

  ‘That’s her and, funnily enough, her old man is at the bar. I recognise him because him and his missus came over to see the place shortly after I started work on it. I thought they’d been happily married for ever but I’ve just seen him snog Ella, so what’s going on there?’

  Amy stared at the oldish bloke Steven had indicated. ‘If he’s snogging the barmaid his wife’s not going to be a happy bunny. Poor cow, because no way can she compete with that.’ Amy shot a vitriolic glance at Ella who was still flirting shamelessly.

  29

  The next morning Amy was pottering through town, on her way to the Co-op to get some essentials like milk and bread. She was scanning her shopping list, trying to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, when she nearly bumped into another pedestrian.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said automatically as she side-stepped out of the way. She glanced up and saw Olivia Laithwaite. ‘Mrs L. Sorry,’ she repeated. ‘Nearly bashed into you, there.’

  ‘It’s all right, Amy. I could see you weren’t looking where you were going.’

  ‘How are you, Mrs L? I hardly never see you now you work proper hours like the rest of us. I bet you don’t miss the shift work. My Ryan was on nights this week.’

  ‘Poor man.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not so bad,’ said Amy airily. ‘He gets a proper night’s kip if there isn’t a shout. It’s not like being a copper when they have to be out and about patrolling.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘When I left to come out he was home making himself and my Ashley brunch – a proper fry up.’

  ‘How very domesticated.’

  ‘He is.’ Amy beamed. ‘Hey, while I think about it… your mate, Mrs Larkham…’

  ‘Maxine? What about her?’

  ‘I saw her old man at the pub last night.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So – and you mustn’t breathe a word of it…’ She paused as she considered whether she should go on. Maybe not. ‘No, there’s probably an explanation,’ she said out loud.

  ‘For what?’ Olivia sounded mildly irritated.

  Oh, what the heck. ‘Well, old man Larkham was snogging the new barmaid and—’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Amy, Gordon wouldn’t do something like that.’

  Amy raised her eyebrows. ‘You didn’t see it, I did,’ which she knew wasn’t strictly true but Steven had and why would he lie? ‘Anyway, as I said, it’s probably something and nothing. Forget I said anything.’ The town hall clock chimed and Amy looked up at it. ‘Blimey, is that the time? I must fly. See ya.’ Amy belted off into the Co-op leaving Olivia staring after her.

  *

  While Olivia was feeling utterly dumbfounded in the centre of town, so was Abi – only she was in the car with Marcus as they drove to the big supermarket in Cattebury. They’d been discussing Abi’s ultimatum to Steven the previous evening.

  ‘And you’re not,’ said Marcus, ‘going to ring him and tell him we’re moving in because we’re not looking for another builder. That’s not going to happen and that’s that.’

  ‘I don’t get it. I don’t understand why you won’t back me up.’

  ‘Because I don’t agree with you.’

  ‘You can’t like living with Mum and Dad any more than I do. I mean, look at us now – being made to do a shop for them when we’ve got far better things to do with our weekend.’

  ‘I think you’re being unreasonable; we’re going to eat this food too.’

  ‘I am not being unreasonable. Besides, it’ll be much easier for everyone if we move into the cottage – and we can keep a proper eye on Steven.’

  ‘If we move into the cottage Steven will down tools. And we’ll still need to buy food.’

  ‘Not as much.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Abi, buying four pints of milk instead of two is hardly difficult.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean.’

  ‘And your mum cooks most of the meals which means we don’t have to.’

  ‘That’s not the point. I don’t know why you’re arguing with me when you know I’m right.’

  ‘You’re not.’

  Abi swivelled in her seat to stare at her partner. ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘If
you move in and Steven goes, I’ll go too.’

  Abi went white. ‘You wouldn’t,’ she whispered.

  Marcus risked a quick glance at her before he looked at the road ahead again. ‘I love you to bits, Abi, but right now you’re making it very difficult to like you. Steven is a brilliant builder and, if we lose him it could be weeks – months – before we find someone as good to take his place, which will put the whole project back so it might not be finished before the winter. Is that what you want, to be camped out in a place with precious few facilities and probably no heating, for months and months?’

  ‘That won’t happen.’

  ‘Huh.’

  Abi looked at Marcus and saw a look of determination on his face which she didn’t recognise. She opened her mouth and closed it again. ‘It was only an idea,’ she said.

  ‘But not one we’re going to use. Now phone Steven and tell him.’

  Abi simmered but did as she was told then threw her phone back into her handbag. ‘Satisfied?’ she snapped and glared through the windscreen, missing the look of utter relief on Marcus’s face.

  *

  As Abi and Marcus drove into the supermarket carpark in an angry silence, Olivia was ringing the bell on the Talbot. Inside she could see Belinda hoovering the carpet. She waved at her friend through the bullseye glass panes in the door.

  ‘Desperate for a drink?’ asked Belinda with a grin as she opened the door.

  ‘Certainly not,’ said Olivia.

  ‘Joke.’

  ‘I know, but this is serious.’

  Belinda shut the door and shot the bolt. ‘What is?’

  ‘I’ve just heard something really, really disturbing.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘About Gordon Larkham and your new barmaid.’

  ‘Oh.’ Belinda’s smile vaporised. She didn’t look surprised either which spoke volumes.

  ‘Oh? You know?’ Olivia was aghast.

  ‘No, no I don’t, not really, except…’ Belinda paused.

  ‘Except what?’

  ‘I caught him making sheep’s eyes at her a while back.’

  Olivia sat down on a nearby chair. ‘He was what?’