The Telephone Box Library

by Rachael Lucas

  ‘You’d be surprised what I remember – I’m not senile yet.’ She cackled with amusement. ‘Oh, I was desperate to get out of Walthamstow and do something with my life. All I could see ahead of me was ending up married to a nice boy and getting trapped in a two-up, two-down like my big sister, Ethel.’

  ‘How did you escape?’

  ‘I got on a train out here. Just as well I did, given what happened to Ethel and Jack.’

  Sam raised his eyebrows enquiringly.

  ‘Blown up. A bomb dropped, and the whole house was gone. The whole terrace, in fact.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ Bunty was brisk. ‘It was years ago. A lifetime, in fact. Anyway, about these hedgehogs. You will pop in? I can’t bend down that far. Or if I did, I can’t be sure I’d ever get back up.’ She laughed again.

  ‘Of course I will.’

  ‘And how’s your love life? Any young ladies on the scene?’

  ‘I’ve told you before, I’ve got enough on my plate with Freya.’

  ‘Hrmm.’

  ‘Don’t you hrmm me. I’ve got that one –’ he motioned towards the house with a nod – ‘on a mission to prove herself. I’ve got enough hassle keeping the lads at work on the straight and narrow. I don’t need any complications in my life.’

  ‘I’m not talking about complications, I’m talking about sex.’

  Sam felt himself redden. He was almost certain Bunty did it just to get a rise out of him.

  ‘Gosh, you young things are such prudes.’ Cackling once again, Bunty turned around and headed back to her cottage. One hand on the gate, she turned around. ‘There’s a matchmaking programme on the television tonight. You should go on it. Might meet a nice girl.’

  ‘I’m fine, honestly.’

  ‘You should watch it anyway. It’s splendid viewing. Makes me laugh, anyway.’

  When Sam finally finished preparing for the next day, he went inside. Noting the time, he pinched the remote control from Freya, who was parked in front of the television in a heap of dogs and cushions with a sea of crisp packets on the floor at her feet.

  ‘Bunty says there’s a programme on I should watch. God knows what she’s doing watching dating programmes at her age.’

  They both burst out laughing when they realized the show was Naked Attraction. The idea of Bunty sitting with her feet up watching a naked dating show was hysterical. Freya was still sniggering about it after dinner – they had cheese on toast in front of the television – when they nipped up to the shop just before it closed.

  ‘Imagine Bunty sitting there with a cup of tea, watching all those people with no clothes on.’

  ‘Shush, you.’

  He left Freya outside the shop holding the dogs, promising to get her a Magnum, and headed inside.

  ‘Evening, Sam.’

  ‘Beth.’ Could he get out without the ten-minute rundown on everything that had been going on in the village? He grabbed milk, cereal and cheese – almost forgetting Freya’s ice cream in the process – and plonked them down on the counter.

  ‘There’s a meeting at the village hall tomorrow night, don’t forget.’

  He glanced at the A4 sheet taped to the wall beside her till.

  ‘I’ll try and make it.’

  ‘We need all the help we can get,’ she began. ‘The thing is—’

  ‘I’ll see you at seven.’

  He pulled the door open. It was easier to just agree than to get a lecture on the need for community spirit and village improvement and God knows what else. Beth had been in his class at school and she’d been in charge of every committee she could find there, too. Now she held court from her position behind the counter, keeping an eye on everyone and everything that was happening. There wasn’t a thing that happened in Little Maudley that Beth didn’t note down.

  ‘How’s Bunty doing?’

  He paused with his hand on the half-open door. ‘She’s good.’ Bunty would never forgive him if he let anything slip that could be misconstrued. She was convinced that her daughter-in-law was on a mission to get her shipped off to a home, and just looking for an excuse.

  ‘Poor thing. You are kind, keeping an eye out.’

  ‘She doesn’t need looking after. She’s tough as old boots. Made it through the war in one piece, and she’s seen off most of the old folks in this village.’

  ‘She’s getting on, though.’ Beth gave a little moue of sympathy. ‘I hear you’ve got a new neighbour?’

  ‘I have?’

  Beth tipped her head, a knowing smile on her face. There was nothing she liked more than being the first to impart gossip.

  ‘I hear someone’s taken the cottage next to Bunty’s place – you’ll be able to wave to her from across the road.’

  ‘Why would I want to do that?’

  ‘Dunno,’ Beth shrugged. ‘Anyway, keep me posted. I haven’t seen her yet. Wonder what she’s like?’

  ‘What are you looking cross about?’ Freya unwrapped the ice cream and shoved the wrapper in the bin.

  He tutted. ‘Just Beth. You know what she’s like. Giving me the third degree about Bunty. Something about a new person across the road in the empty cottage.’

  ‘Why would Beth care about that?’ Freya hauled one of the dogs back from a gate. They really needed a decent walk, and he’d been flat out with work all week.

  ‘Beth? She wouldn’t. She’s just naturally nosy. She’s been the same since primary school.’

  Freya bit the top of her Magnum, deftly catching a piece as it cracked and fell off.

  ‘Not surprised Lauren is the same, then. She gets it from her mother.’

  Lauren was one of Freya’s sworn enemies. They’d been best friends at nursery school, then fallen out at some point and for as long as he could remember they’d been at daggers drawn.

  ‘Does Lauren still think she owns the place?’

  ‘Totally.’ Freya rolled her eyes.

  ‘It’s clearly genetic.’

  ‘What you staring at?’

  ‘Just thinking. Love you,’ he said, nudging her with his elbow. She might be impossible to get out the door in the morning, and definitely getting a bit teenager-ish, but she was still his little girl. And maybe he was doing okay on his own.

  ‘You too,’ she said, tucking her arm through his. She pushed a stray hair away from her forehead in a motion that was so reminiscent of her mother that he had to look away and swallow, hard. He felt the old, familiar twinge of bitterness. If only he could brush that away as easily. Even after all this time, she still had the ability to get to him.

  ‘I thought I’d come round and see what you might need.’

  It had sounded better when Lucy had rehearsed it in her head before knocking on the door of Wisteria Cottage. She’d looked at the advert again while drinking her coffee, Hamish sitting curled up at her side on the sofa. ‘Shopping, tidying and daily company,’ it said. Bunty hadn’t looked as if she’d been particularly keen on either the tidying or the company. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to start with the shopping.

  Bunty had opened the door and looked at her for a long, uncomfortable moment before she stepped back.

  ‘I suppose you had better come in, then.’

  Lucy followed her into the kitchen. A kettle was beginning to whistle on the top of the Aga, and the grey cat was curling round Bunty’s legs in a slightly alarming manner. It looked like an accident waiting to happen.

  ‘Shoo, you menace,’ said Bunty, waving an arm. The cat looked up at her, blinked slowly, parked himself in the middle of the flagstone floor and started washing his ears.

  Lucy put a hand down, wondering if he’d come and say hello. He looked at her for a moment, one paw hovering in mid-air, then trotted over with a little chirp. She rubbed him behind the ears and he started purring like a jet engine, hopping up onto the bench beside her.

  ‘Well, you’ve passed the first test.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Mr Darcy is a good j
udge of character.’

  ‘Mr Darcy?’ Lucy looked down at the cat and he blinked sleepily in greeting.

  ‘His good opinion –’ Bunty began, reaching down to run a gnarled hand along his back.

  ‘– Once lost, is lost forever,’ Lucy finished.

  Bunty gave a chuckle. ‘Well, you’ve passed the second test with that one. Now then, young lady. Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Lucy opened her mouth again to offer to make it, but closed it rapidly.

  ‘I’ve got some shortbread biscuits in the cupboard in the sitting room. Just a moment.’

  Clearly Bunty was more than capable. Lucy got the distinct feeling that being patronized was the one thing most likely to rub her up the wrong way. Instead, she took another opportunity to gaze at the pictures on the walls, piecing together the history of Bunty’s life here in the village. The small boy on the pony in the black-and-white photographs must be her son – Margaret’s husband. There were countless framed photographs of cats and dogs, and several of the same shaggy-haired pony. And then, as her eyes travelled over the images, Lucy felt a prickle down her spine and the sensation that she was being sized up by something altogether more carnivorous.

  Sitting opposite her on the dresser, his small, beady eyes fixed on her, was Stanley the snake. He was coiled in a neat circle, but he was definitely watching her. Bunty had said she’d be back in a moment, but she’d already been gone for what felt like ages. Time seemed to pass very slowly when there was a boa constrictor giving you the eye. Lucy looked at the paperwork on the kitchen table – she’d been reading up before she came on the signs that an elderly person wasn’t coping whilst living alone, and chaotic piles of unanswered correspondence and unpaid bills was one of them. Not that she was supposed to be acting as a carer; but she’d always been the sort of person to make sure she knew what she was getting into. Walking out of one life and into another on a whim (albeit a temporary one, with a guaranteed return to reality at the end of it) was the most spontaneous thing she’d ever done.

  So she eyed the envelopes discreetly, looking for signs of disorder and disorganization, but she quickly realized they’d been sorted into stacks. There was a pile of old newspapers, and a stack of brochures. The utility bills were opened, and PAID was scrawled across the top in a spidery copperplate. Bunty seemed pretty organized by anyone’s standards.

  ‘I knew I had a tin of the nice ones left.’ Bunty returned with a colourful box under her arm. ‘Now, tea.’

  A movement in the corner of Lucy’s eye made goosebumps prickle on her arm. Stanley had lifted his head and was looking in their direction.

  ‘I – I think Stanley’s woken up,’ she said, trying to sound casual. She edged along the bench surreptitiously, hoping Bunty wouldn’t notice.

  ‘Ah, yes. It’s time for his breakfast. They should be defrosted by now.’ Bunty went over to the sink and opened a battered-looking Tupperware tub.

  Realizing that Stanley’s lunch was two very dead yellow chicks, Lucy looked the other way, peering out of the window as if she’d just seen something absolutely fascinating. Her stomach lurched.

  ‘I have to remember to defrost them. He doesn’t like it one bit if they arrive still iced.’

  Bunty brought over the pot of tea and sat down at the table, drying her freshly washed hands on a towel.

  ‘I’ll be mother, shall I?’

  They sipped the tea in a slightly uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Lucy rather wished that Margaret was there. It was strange to go from the world of school – where she was in control of everything and knew exactly what she was doing, and precisely how little time she had to do it – to this new life, where time seemed to stretch on in front of her. She’d been up for what felt like hours, and it was only half past ten.

  ‘So, Margaret said that you might want some help with tidying?’

  ‘Did she, now?’ Bunty made a noise of disapproval. ‘We don’t all want to live in a show home. She keeps her place looking like it’s in a For Sale brochure at all times. I’d far rather a house looked lived in. Anyway.’ She shifted the pile of brochures out of the way. ‘These can go straight in the recycling bin on the way out, so that’s a spot of tidying for you.’ One of them slid off the top of the pile and landed on the floor. Lucy picked it up, noticing as she handed it back the wording on the front: Bright Meadows Elderly Care. There was a photograph of a large Victorian house set in neat gardens, with some striped deckchairs on the lawn.

  Bunty saw her looking at it. ‘Margaret is trying to ship me off.’

  ‘She didn’t say anything about that to me.’

  ‘I’m sure she didn’t.’ Pressing her lips together, she looked at Lucy with sharp blue eyes. ‘But these have been arriving through the post at a rate of knots. I’m sure she’s signed me up for some sort of geriatric mailing list. I am not ending my days in a home full of old people.’

  She was so indignant that Lucy had to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling as she nodded agreement. She picked up the heap of brochures.

  ‘I’ll get rid of these for you, then.’

  ‘That sounds like a jolly good start.’ Bunty put down her teacup and gazed out of the window, across the path. Two women were standing talking beside the faded telephone box. One of them opened the door and peered inside for a moment before closing the door with an expression of distaste.

  ‘I feel you have been brought here under false pretences. I don’t know what Margaret has told you, but it is probably a load of nonsense.’ Bunty’s mouth pursed as she looked down at her gnarled hands, which were dotted with age spots. The only jewellery she wore was a plain watch with a leather strap. No rings, Lucy noted. ‘I am quite happy with things the way they are. I don’t understand why Margaret feels it necessary to organize me when I’ve survived quite happily this long.’

  ‘I think she’s trying to be helpful.’

  ‘Well, she’s getting on my nerves.’

  Lucy’s expression must have given away how uncomfortable she felt, for Bunty surprised her by putting out a hand and touching her gently on the arm.

  ‘Not your fault, dear. But I’m quite happy here, just getting along.’

  ‘So what would be the most helpful thing I could do for you?’ There had to be some sort of compromise.

  ‘Well.’ Bunty thought. ‘Perhaps – I’ve been to the village shop already, and completely forgot these.’ She passed Lucy some letters. ‘You could pop them in the post? Save me going out again?’

  ‘Of course. And I’ll be going to the supermarket later, too – is there anything you need?’

  ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ said Bunty.

  Lucy kept quiet.

  A moment later, she changed tack, thinking that perhaps it might be easier to get Bunty to open up if she got to know what made her tick. And it was clear from what she could see, and what she’d heard from Margaret, that animals were Bunty’s priority.

  ‘So how long have you had Stanley?’ Please don’t ask me to hold him, Lucy thought, trying to look interested rather than alarmed.

  ‘Five years.’ Bunty brightened, almost instantly. She pushed herself up from the chair and made her way across towards the dresser. She was small and had a curve to her spine, but moved with a quiet, self-possessed dignity that reminded Lucy of the Queen. Her back was clearly stiff, and her step was slightly uneven – she put out a hand to steady herself on the dresser, and it took her a while to get there. But when she did, Bunty put her hand on the top of the snake’s raised head and smiled at him fondly. Lucy could feel her heart thudding against her ribs in perfectly justifiable alarm.

  ‘You’re a nice old boy, aren’t you?’

  Stanley looked back her with narrowed eyes.

  ‘I adopted him,’ said Bunty. ‘A couple who lived in the little house by the church were moving abroad and they couldn’t bring him along, for obvious reasons. Gordon and Margaret were appalled, of course, but if one can’t surprise people at my
age, when can one?’

  Lucy’s heart was beginning to settle back to a normal rate. She was going to have to get used to Stanley, one way or another. Kill or cure, she thought.

  ‘And you’ve never worried that he might . . . eat you?’ She wasn’t exactly sure how big a snake would have to be to eat a whole person, but Stanley was alarming enough.

  ‘Heavens, no.’ Bunty chuckled at the prospect. ‘No, snakes are much maligned. He’s quite a comfortable sort of character to have around.’

  ‘You’ve always had lots of animals?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Bunty got up, taking down a photograph album from the shelf. This was definitely the way forward, Lucy thought. Thankfully the rest of Bunty’s animals were far easier to admire.

  ‘Finny, the pony, he was Gordon’s when he was young. We used to take him to shows, Len and I. He was always in the ribbons.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Oh, sorry – winning rosettes.’ She waved an arm towards the array of faded prizes that hung above the Aga. ‘Finny was a sweetheart. When Gordon gave up riding, he was passed from one village child to another – kept going for donkey’s years. He was thirty-four when he went.’

  ‘He looks lovely. And are these your dogs?’

  Bunty took her through pages and pages of photographs. In amongst the dogs, cats, guinea pigs and horses, Lucy caught a glimpse of the woman Bunty had been when she was younger. She could see the same direct stare and sharp cheekbones, but when Bunty had been younger she’d been very beautiful in a Forties sort of way – hair set in dark waves, and an hourglass figure which suited the nipped-in waist of the houndstooth checked coat and neat trousers she seemed to spend most of her life wearing.

  ‘When I was growing up, I always wanted a house full of animals,’ Bunty said, closing the photograph album. ‘But we lived in the middle of Walthamstow, with a tiny patch of garden, and my mother didn’t like mess.’

  ‘It must have been a bit of a change moving out here, then?’

  Bunty nodded briefly, but turned the tables on Lucy. ‘And what brought you to the village?’ She adjusted her cardigan, pulling the sleeves down and dusting off the cover of the album before pushing it out of reach.