Homes and Hearths in Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  ‘It was hardly jumping into bed with her.’

  ‘No, but…’

  ‘And I warned him off.’

  ‘Well that obviously worked because Amy was full of if this morning. Apparently, he and Ella were, in the words of Amy, snogging last night, in the pub.’

  ‘Snogging? Are you sure because, as far as I know, Amy’s never met Gordon so, in which case, how on earth did she recognise him?’

  ‘She didn’t but she was having a drink with the bloke who is doing Abi’s building work and he did.’

  ‘Oh shit.’

  ‘My sentiments, exactly.’

  The two women exchanged a horrified look.

  ‘So what do we do now?’ said Olivia.

  Belinda shrugged. ‘What are our choices? I suppose we can do nothing and hope it goes away. We can warn off Gordon – but I did that before and he doesn’t seem to have paid any attention. Or I can warn off Ella.’

  Olivia nodded. ‘But do we tell Maxine?’

  ‘Maxine?! Why?’

  ‘Because if Amy knows it’s the equivalent of a splash headline on the front of a tabloid. The whole town will know in a couple of days. Word is bound to get back to her. You know what this place is like.’

  Belinda rolled her eyes. ‘You’re right. But I’m sure Gordon hasn’t actually done anything. A bit of light flirting in a public place is hardly a full-on affair.’

  ‘It’s gone beyond flirting if they were kissing. No smoke without fire,’ added Olivia gloomily.

  ‘You think?’ Belinda shook her head then added, ‘Of course Gordon and Maxine have been under a lot of strain recently what with her mother-in-law, and Abi moving back in, and now having to spend hours at the hospital on top of everything else.’

  ‘It’s no excuse though, is it? Look at me and Nigel – and I didn’t bugger off and find some toy-boy gigolo because I was feeling the strain of him almost bankrupting us.’

  She didn’t notice Belinda struggle to hide a smile. ‘No, absolutely not. If the tables were turned and it happened to be Nigel,’ said Belinda, ‘would you want to know? Especially if it didn’t turn out to be anything physical.’

  Olivia thought about it. ‘Not that he would – not that he’d dare – but, on balance, yes. Because, if I found out that the whole town knew, and I was the only one in the dark – to think people might be laughing at me behind my back…’ She shook her head. Olivia was very aware of what it was like to lose one’s standing in the town. ‘The only good thing about that business with Nigel was that I found out before the town did. By the time it was common knowledge, we’d lost almost every penny we had and I’d come to terms with the situation; I’d made a plan to sort it out. As far as I was concerned the worst was behind me.’

  ‘Given what you’ve just said, I think you need to tell Maxine – or confront Gordon and tell him to ’fess up.’

  Olivia sagged. ‘Neither option is a conversation I want to have.’

  ‘You’re sure of your facts?’

  ‘You witnessed something that made you uneasy and why would Amy make such a story up? On balance, I think the story’s got legs.’

  ‘Then, good luck,’ said Belinda.

  *

  With Gordon at the hospital and Abi and Marcus, having done the shopping, now dealing with the garden at their new property, Maxine was alone in the house. She had a list of jobs she needed to do and afterwards, if she had time, she was going to examine her paintings to sort out what she planned to exhibit at the upcoming show in the town hall. She was revelling in the deep peace the solitude was giving her; even after a week of Anthea’s absence she still loved having an empty house. She’d forgotten how much she liked her own company.

  Then the doorbell rang.

  ‘Bugger,’ she muttered as she went to open the door. She hoped it was a delivery or something else that could be dispensed with quickly. Her heart sank a little when she saw Olivia on the doorstep.

  ‘Olivia! How lovely,’ she lied. ‘Come in. Tea? Coffee?’

  ‘A coffee would be lovely. I see the cars have gone – I assume Gordon is up at the hospital and the children…?’

  ‘And the children are out too – gardening at their new house. I was just revelling in having the place to myself. Not something I’ve enjoyed for weeks.’

  ‘And now I’ve ruined everything.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ Maxine put on the kettle and got out the mugs.

  ‘And how is Anthea?’

  ‘Much the same. Very poorly but stable is the official terminology.’

  ‘Oh dear. Dare I ask what the prognosis is?’

  Maxine shrugged. ‘Who knows? She’s old, she had a bad fall recently, she’s so heavily sedated she’s out of it most of the time, hospitals are inherently unhealthy places to be… I’m not holding my breath, but I think Gordon is.’

  ‘You poor things.’

  ‘Yes, well…’

  ‘Maxine, I need to own up. This isn’t really a social call.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘No. This isn’t easy…’

  ‘I’m being sacked as the leader of the art group?’ Maxine offered.

  Olivia shook her head. ‘It’s Gordon. There’s a rumour… at least, it’s not really a rumour as Belinda seems to have some evidence.’

  ‘A rumour of what?’ Maxine’s voice was cold and hard.

  Olivia told her what she knew, about Amy and Belinda being witnesses and about Amy’s unofficial role as town crier and the concomitant implications. Maxine sagged onto a kitchen chair as she finished.

  ‘Shit,’ she whispered.

  ‘I thought you’d rather know than not.’ Olivia sat down on a chair opposite. ‘I didn’t think you ought to be the one person in the dark if this rumour gains momentum – and, given that Amy is involved, it surely will.’

  ‘I’ll take your word about Amy. She’s obviously got previous from what you’ve told me.’ Maxine leaned back in her chair and contemplated the ceiling for a second or two. ‘And Ella’s a beautiful woman. You can’t blame an old codger like Gordon having his head turned by the attentions of the likes of her. Who wouldn’t?’ Maxine stared at Olivia as a tear trickled down her cheek. Eventually she said, ‘Things are tricky between us but I didn’t think they were that tricky.’ She shook her head. ‘What should I do?’

  ‘This is outside my skill set,’ said Olivia. ‘But I think you need to talk to him.’

  Maxine shrugged. ‘Are you sure this is true?’

  ‘I think so. Belinda has seen them conversing a little more deeply than she felt comfortable with and Amy… well, she’s the most gossipy person on the planet – worse even than Susan Carter in The Archers—’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Never mind. And Amy sometimes gets the wrong end of the stick—’

  ‘Well, then. She’s talking about the wrong person.’

  ‘But this isn’t the sort of story she’d make up. And the bloke she was with – Abi’s builder – was sure it was Gordon.’ Olivia leaned forward and took Maxine’s hand. ‘I know you want to think this is all a pack of lies, and I really do think it’s just a bit of flirting, window shopping maybe, but if you have a word with Gordon maybe it’ll stop it becoming anything else.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Maxine looked bereft. ‘But what if it’s already gone beyond that?’

  ‘No. I mean when… how?’

  ‘I was away at Judith’s for days, remember. And he spends a lot of time at the pub. And then, the other evening, the night Anthea had her stroke, when I got back from Art club she told me Gordon had had a female visitor while I was out. She said it all looked a bit clandestine.’

  ‘Really?’ Maxine didn’t notice Olivia’s expression of guilty horror. ‘I’m sure it was nothing. It could have been anyone, a canvasser perhaps. And she didn’t stay, did she?’

  ‘Anthea said she didn’t, but…’

  ‘No. And regardless of anything else,’ insisted Olivia, ‘it can’t have been Ella – wouldn’t she have be
en working?’

  ‘Maybe. I have no idea what her shifts are at the pub.’

  ‘And that’s another thing. If she and Gordon are carrying on then they’re doing it at the pub so there can’t be any hanky-panky there, can there? Think about it.’

  ‘Maybe. But you know what they say – where there’s a will there’s a way.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘Not Gordon. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘That’s what my sister thought about her husband. Right up to the moment he left her for a younger model.’

  ‘I don’t know your brother-in-law but Gordon’s not like that, I’m sure.’

  ‘Funnily enough, that’s exactly what Judith said about hers.’

  ‘Talk to Gordon. It can’t make things worse.’

  ‘You think? What if everyone’s wrong and he’s innocent? Me accusing him of straying is hardly likely to make things better between us. They’re bad enough as they stand.’

  ‘Surely not.’

  Maxine sighed heavily. ‘I remember a day, back in the spring, when I thought life couldn’t be rosier; happily married, lovely house, a daughter settled with a nice partner… Well, the gods must have been having a right old laugh because from then on, it’s just been one blasted thing after another. Did the Greeks call it hubris – getting one’s comeuppance for being smug?’ She looked bleakly at Olivia. ‘We’re sleeping in separate bedrooms, we’re barely talking… Frankly, I don’t see how things might get any worse – unless Gordon does actually bugger off with that little madam.’

  ‘Where is he right now?’

  ‘At the hospital, with Anthea. Or, at least, that’s where he told me he was going.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have lied.’

  ‘Why not? – the perfect opportunity. I said that I had stuff to do; a bit of housework and then sort out some paintings for the exhibition. He said fine, so I said, take as long as you want. I couldn’t have given him more of an open goal if I’d tried.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘I’m sure he’s at the hospital.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Silence fell till Olivia said, ‘So, have you gone through your pictures yet?’

  ‘No. And now, frankly, I’m not in the mood.’

  ‘But you need to get them to Miranda by Monday at the latest or she won’t have time to get them framed.’

  Maxine shrugged. ‘I don’t know I can be bothered.’

  ‘But Max! The art club will be devastated if you don’t join in. Supposing we do it together, now. Supposing I help you choose?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘What else will you do? Sit here and imagine the worst?’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘It won’t help matters.’

  ‘Maybe not. But haven’t you got things you need to do?’

  ‘Not anymore.’

  Maxine realised she was being offered a true hand of friendship. ‘Then that’d be nice.’ She glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘No… no, it’s hopeless. It’s lunchtime and I’ve got nothing to offer you except toast and a tin of soup.’

  ‘That’d be fine. That’s settled then. While you heat the soup, I’ll go and find your sketchbooks from the studio, shall I?’ At least, thought Olivia, with Maxine being so distracted, she might not notice that there was one missing; the one that still hadn’t arrived back from London. And Maxine’s statement about the mystery visitor confirmed that Miranda had safely returned the other sketchbook. Although its return might have caused other doubts and problems. Poor old Maxine.

  30

  By two o’clock, Maxine and Olivia had shortlisted three of her paintings for the exhibition, and Gordon wasn’t back from the hospital – or perhaps, thought Maxine, the hotel room, or Ella’s bedroom or wherever he might otherwise be. Being with Olivia had kept her mind off what her husband might be up to, but now she had no such distractions. Maxine thought about worrying and pacing the carpet for the remainder of the afternoon and decided against it. She picked up her phone and dialled her sister.

  ‘You in?’ she asked.

  ‘Hello, sweetie, and yes, I’m fine, thank you for asking and yes the unpacking is going well, and yes, I’m at home.’

  ‘Sorry, Judith but this is an emergency. Can I come round?’

  ‘It’s not Anthea, is it?’

  ‘No. I’ll be ten minutes.’

  ‘Oh… but…’

  But Maxine had killed the call, grabbed her door key and was heading out of the house. The nature reserve was full of post-lunch dog walkers and their pooches, summer sunshine, butterflies and wild flowers but Maxine was oblivious to it all as she strode purposefully along the paths to the other side, then down the road that led to the town centre. By the time she reached her sister’s little cottage she was perspiring lightly and close to tears as, during her walk, she’d had nothing to think about other than her husband’s infidelity.

  ‘So what’s all this about?’ asked Judith as she opened the door. She saw her sister’s stricken face and, while she was ushering her sister into her house, she reached into the downstairs cloakroom, picked up a box of tissues from the shelf over the basin and handed them to her.

  ‘It’s Gordon,’ said Maxine after she’d blown her nose vigorously.

  Judith took Maxine by the arm and pulled her into the sitting room and pushed her onto the sofa. ‘Gordon? What’s the matter?’

  Maxine threw the box of tissues on the coffee table and dabbed her eyes. ‘I’ve heard… there’s a rumour… Olivia says that he and that new barmaid…’

  ‘Are a tad over-friendly?’

  Maxine stared at her sister, aghast. ‘So you’ve heard about it too?’

  ‘Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I’ve seen it.’

  ‘You what?!’ Judith’s ears rang from the pitch and the volume. ‘And you didn’t tell me?’

  ‘Sweetie, it was the night of Anthea’s stroke. It was hardly the moment.’

  ‘But since? It’s been ages.’

  ‘What I saw was just a bit of flirting and he can’t have been to the pub since so…’

  ‘He hasn’t had any opportunity?’ Maxine finished for her. ‘It doesn’t excuse what did happen.’

  ‘She’s a pretty woman, his home life is difficult—’

  ‘And me? What about my home life? I’m the one who did the heavy lift with his bloody mother, I’m the one who was racing around after my effing daughter and her waste-of-space partner…’ Maxine glared at her sister. ‘Well, thank you very much.’

  ‘I know, I know.’

  ‘And you, for one, should have understood what with Mike buggering off with Trina.’

  ‘But Gordon isn’t buggering off with Ella.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘He won’t.’

  ‘Oh yeah? And what makes you the great expert.’

  ‘Because he loves you too much.’

  Maxine’s tears spilled over again. ‘I don’t think he does any more. We sleep in separate bedrooms, we barely talk, he thinks I’m some sort of harridan because if I’m not tough with Abi then no one is and she just takes us for granted. I rowed with his mother just before she had her stroke so he’s blaming me for it even though he and she nearly came to blows only a few hours earlier… It’s all ghastly.’

  Judith pushed the box of tissues back towards her. ‘He’s a bloke and his daughter has had him wrapped around her little finger since the day she was born. He wants a quiet life. He wants his crossword on a Saturday, his feet up in front of the fire, a lovely wife who cooks him nice meals and nurtures him like she always has, who potters around in her studio while he potters about in the garden.’

  Maxine gave her sister a watery smile.

  ‘And now what’s he got?’ continued Judith. ‘His routine’s been disrupted, his house has been taken over by outsiders, namely his daughter and his mother, and his lovely wife is run off her feet by their demands and is the only one fighting to maintain things as they used to be. At odds with this is Gordon, the man who
loves the quiet life, who thinks it’d be easier to let everyone have their own way rather than have the confrontation because he doesn’t realise how ghastly life would become if they actually got it – which you do. And because of all of that you’re not you’re old smiley, placid, kind self.’

  ‘You’re not wrong there,’ snuffled Maxine into her hanky.

  ‘Instead, you’re ratty and tired and short-tempered—’

  ‘Gee, thanks.’

  ‘—and, well… Ella isn’t. What he hasn’t done is look at why you’re ratty and tired et cetera, et cetera. Nor has he stopped to consider why Ella is flirting with him.’

  ‘I’m not with you.’

  ‘To coin a famous line from the late, lamented Caroline Aherne who, when she interviewed Debbie McGee asked, what first attracted you to the millionaire, Paul Daniels?’

  Maxine slowly lowered her hanky and stared at her sister. ‘You mean…’

  ‘Darling, you know I’m very fond of Gordon, but he’s no spring chicken, is he? Nor is he George Clooney.’

  ‘He’s no millionaire either.’

  ‘But he’s highly desirable if you’re a very attractive, recently single, middle-aged woman, back living with her elderly parents doing a pretty crap job—’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘Because of my suspicions I’ve been chatting to her at the pub. Know your enemy was one of Mike’s favourite sayings. Anyway, as I was about to say, she’s very determined and ambitious and completely ruthless, if I’m any judge and she wants a bloke who can give her the lifestyle she wants – and Gordon is a contender if I’m any judge. To be honest, she makes Melania Trump look like a complete novice in the gold-digging stakes.’

  Maxine stayed silent for a couple of seconds, then she murmured, ‘The cow. But Gordon wouldn’t…? He wouldn’t, would he?’

  ‘Leave you for her? No chance.’

  ‘But then,’ said Maxine, ‘if you’d known about Trina you wouldn’t have thought Mike would’ve left you for her.’

  ‘No, no I was wrong there.’

  Maxine’s tears started again. ‘So, you could be wrong again,’ she wailed.

  ‘This isn’t remotely the same,’ Judith said firmly, although she didn’t explain why. ‘And Ella is deluding herself if she thinks that Gordon might leave you and I am going to make it crystal clear that if she carries on carrying on, it will be my sole purpose to make her life here utterly miserable. Belinda will sack her, no one will talk to her, she’ll be a social pariah and marked out as a scarlet woman. And that’s just for starters.’