Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  ‘This is lovely.’

  Belinda laughed. ‘Don’t sound so surprised!’

  ‘I’m not, but I’ve come from London and the pubs around us were more...’ she searched for the word, ‘more functional. This is a bit like being in someone’s house.’ She looked about. ‘Coo, that makes a change – no fruit machine.’

  ‘No fruit machines, no jukebox, no TV, no piped music... Peaceful, isn’t it?’

  Bex nodded. ‘It’s lovely. Perfect.’

  ‘Thank you. So, this is the bar, obviously. We don’t have a saloon and public bar, only this.’ Belinda opened up the flap on the bar and led the way through. ‘The kitchen is through here.’ She rested her hand on a swing door.

  ‘Kitchen? There’s food to cope with as well?’

  ‘Nothing too fancy: sandwiches, pasties, salads, egg and chips, that sort of thing. Bar snacks really.’

  Belinda pushed the door fully open and Bex saw a small but highly functional kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances. ‘And this is my partner, Miles.’

  A man busy slicing tomatoes with lightning dexterity stopped chopping and looked up. The first thing that Bex notice were his incredibly blue and smiley eyes. Lucky Belinda, she thought. Good-looking and a cook! She gazed at him and realised that this was the first time since Richard’s death that she’d felt any sort of attraction to a member of the opposite sex. It had been nearly a year since he’d died – maybe she was starting to get over it. People had said that she would and she’d tried to believe them, but for months and months she’d felt sad and desolate. Being busy, finding things to do and, more recently, moving house had helped keep the worst at bay but it was always there in the background. But suddenly, here she was, staring at a strange man and thinking how attractive he was.

  ‘Hiya,’ he said. He smiled at her and she smiled back before he began chopping again, reducing the last whole tomato to half a dozen slices in a couple of seconds.

  ‘This is Bex,’ said Belinda.

  Miles reached for a stainless steel bowl and swept all the neatly sliced tomatoes into it.

  ‘Hiya, Bex.’ He wiped his hands on a damp cloth and held his right one out. ‘And to what do I owe this pleasure?’

  Bex shook his hand. ‘Belinda is trying to persuade me to come and work for you.’

  ‘Is she now?’ He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. ‘Take my advice, don’t. She’s a slave driver.’

  ‘Oh, shut up, Miles. That’s not helpful.’ But she was laughing. ‘Right, we’ll leave you in peace.’

  Belinda led the way back to the bar and unlocked a door next to the Ladies. She flicked on a light switch and Bex saw stairs leading downwards. ‘And this, pretty obviously, is the cellar.’

  She led the way down the steep wooden stairs where a row of eight barrels were lined up against the wall. There were also piles of cases of wine and trays of soft drinks and mixers covered in shrink wrap. In a far corner were huge boxes of crisps. A draught came through the metal trapdoor that presumably allowed the delivery men direct access to the cellar from the street. But other than that, the cellar was spotlessly clean and dry. No smell of damp, no mustiness, no beaten earth floor like her own one under the kitchen.

  ‘So, what do you think?’

  ‘It’s a lovely pub but I’m still not sure I’m the right person for the job. I really won’t be able to work weekends and I couldn’t manage evenings either – not with the kids. And then there’s the school holidays... I’d better come clean, I’m a single mum... well, a widow if I’m honest.’

  ‘I know, Amy said.’

  ‘Ah... Amy.’

  Belinda gave her a rueful smile. ‘I didn’t like to say anything in case Amy had got it wrong.’

  Bex sighed. ‘Not this time, sadly.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Yeah... well...’

  ‘But not being able to work late or in the holidays won’t be a problem. The thing about running a pub is that it’s not only about pulling pints and chatting to customers over the bar – there’s the VAT returns, stock control, ordering, the accounts... it all takes time and that’s what I don’t have at the moment, not since my last barmaid went off to have a baby. It’s all I can do to keep the place clean and tidy.’ Belinda smiled at Bex. ‘If you do a shift at lunchtime I can get on with the admin, instead of having to do it before we open or when we shut in the afternoon. Trust me, working from nine in the morning till closing time is quite knackering.’ She smiled. ‘That’s an understatement, by the way.’

  Bex grinned back.

  ‘I pay the living wage – in case you wanted to know.’

  Bex felt a bit of a fool; for many people the hourly rate would have been a key question and she hadn’t even thought about the wages.

  ‘Please think about it. It’s a great way to meet people, honest,’ said Belinda.

  ‘OK, I will. I’ll let you know later. Promise.’

  ‘That’d be great. And just think, it’s a doddle of a commute.’

  Bex laughed. ‘You’re not wrong there.’

  15

  Megan picked up her bag from where she’d slung it on her chair and put it on her desk so she could sit down for afternoon registration. Life at the school was definitely getting easier. She’d made some friends in the class and she knew her way around but, on the downside, Lily was still sniping and sniggering and giving her knowing looks, whispering stuff to her sidekick, Summer. Sure, with the exception of Lily and her little gang of acolytes, the others were all right but most of the kids had been pals since primary school and, even though they were nice enough to her, she couldn’t call anyone a ‘best friend’. Everyone already had their bessies and they didn’t need her tagging along like a gooseberry. And, moreover, most of the kids lived at the other end of the town, on the housing estate near the school. As Ashley had told her, the people in the posh houses, on her side of the town, went to St Anselm’s in Cattebury so there was no one near her to hang out with after school. Ashley was nice, he always waited on the corner of his road to walk the last bit to school with her but, as it wasn’t the done thing for the boys to be seen with girls in school hours, they barely spoke to each other once they got through the gates. And she hadn’t gone to the play park for ages because the weather had been too shit to bother so, if she was honest, their friendship was pretty embryonic. And she certainly didn’t yet have a close girlfriend in Little Woodford who she could have a giggle with, confide in about boys she fancied, listen to One Direction with, or shop with. Bex kept telling her it was early days yet, but it didn’t stop her from feeling lonely.

  She pulled her timetable from her bag and checked what was on the menu next; food tech, then maths. Great. She put the timetable back and got out a comb and a handbag mirror and checked her hair.

  ‘Yeah, like that’s going to make you look better,’ hissed Lily in her ear.

  Megan swivelled round in her chair to face her. ‘Piss off, Lily.’

  ‘Oo-oo-oh, hark at her.’ Lily’s group sniggered as Lily sauntered forwards a couple of steps and parked her bum on Megan’s desk. ‘You want to watch it, you do. My dad’s a governor of this school and he could get you expelled. Just like you were from your last place.’

  Megan reeled. She hadn’t been expelled. That wasn’t why she’d left. ‘I wasn’t.’

  Lily looked over to her friends. ‘She would say that, wouldn’t she?’

  ‘But...but...’ Megan was so bowled over by the enormity of Lily’s accusation she was unable to react. She glanced across the room to see if she could catch Ashley’s eye but he wasn’t there. He must have left the room for some reason – gone to fetch something from the cloakroom perhaps – but his absence made Megan feel totally vulnerable. She always felt that when he was around, because he was a friend, if Lily really kicked off he might be her knight in shining armour.

  ‘There, you see – she doesn’t deny it. How could she when it’s true.’ Lily laughed. ‘So... gypsy’s warning, as my
old gran would say – you’d better be nice to me and my friends or you won’t have a happy time here.’

  Megan felt Lily, more than likely, could deliver that threat. She stared back at her tormentor. ‘Really,’ she said with a bravado that was entirely false.

  Lily nodded. ‘Yeah, really.’ She put her hand on Megan’s unzipped backpack and flipped it off the desk. As it fell it turned upside down so that everything tumbled out onto the floor, including the ingredients that Megan had brought in for food tech. The container containing the flour hit the top of the pile and the lid came off, sending flour everywhere.

  ‘Oops,’ said Lily before she sauntered back to her group. ‘Clumsy old me.’

  A second later, as Megan was staring at the mess at her feet, Mrs Blake walked in.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Megan, what a mess. Pick up your things at once and then get a brush. What were you thinking about?’

  Behind her, Megan heard the other girls snort and splutter.

  I will not cry, Megan told herself. I won’t.

  *

  On the school bus that took the kids who lived in the villages surrounding Little Woodford home, Lily was sitting next to Summer and toying with her phone.

  ‘Is it true, then?’ said Summer.

  ‘About Megan getting expelled from her last school?’ Summer nodded. ‘Well, my dad said there had been “an incident”.’

  ‘What kind of incident?’

  ‘Dunno, I overheard Dad talking to Mum about her but then he shut the door so I didn’t hear all of it – but something deffo went on there, that’s why she had to leave. It stands to reason it had to be something serious if they had to move, and I intend to find out.’

  ‘How?’ Summer swivelled round in her seat. ‘Hey, do you suppose Ash knows? I’ve seen him and Megan walking to school together.’

  ‘He does what?’

  ‘He walks with Megan.’

  Lily frowned. ‘Has she got her nasty little foreign hooks into him?’

  Summer shrugged. ‘They only walk together.’

  Lily chewed on a fingernail. She wanted Ashley to be interested in her, not Megan. All the boys fancied her so why didn’t he? And, if Ash fancied Megan instead, he’d totally overstepped the mark. Megan must have been giving him the eye, encouraging him, otherwise why would Ash like that jumped up little incomer instead of herself? Lily acknowledged that Megan was pretty but only if you liked that sort of thing. She wasn’t English. Well, that was it, Megan had gone too far. Lily decided it was time to put her in her place once and for all. She opened her Facebook account and tapped a few icons.

  ‘Hey,’ she said to Summer. ‘I’ve just asked Windy to be a friend on Facebook.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘You heard.’

  ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘Because, if she accepts we can friend her other friends – if she’s got any.’

  Summer sniggered. Then she frowned. ‘Why d’ya want to do that?’

  Lily rolled her eyes. ‘Because, thicko, there’s stuff Windy isn’t telling us and I want to find out. Maybe she wasn’t expelled but something happened at her old school. Bet there’s kids at her old school who know and if we get pally with them on Facebook...’

  Summer’s jaw slackened. ‘Fucking hell, Lil,’ she said, her eyes wide with admiration.

  Lily smiled smugly.

  *

  ‘Megan? Megan!’ Bex hollered up the stairs. Much as she loved this house, having three floors could be a serious pain, especially as Megan seemed to spend a lot of her time, when she was home, up in her eyrie. Bex waited for a reply, wondering if she’d have to yell again.

  ‘Yeah?’ came Megan’s voice, floating down the stairwell.

  ‘I’m popping out. Can you look after the boys?’

  ‘What?’

  Oh, God, she couldn’t keep yelling like this; it set a bad example to the boys. The last thing she wanted was for the entire family to shout from one room – or one floor – to another instead of talking in normal tones, face-to-face. Bex began to climb the stairs. As she got to the first landing Megan appeared at the bottom of the attic stairs.

  ‘Sorry?’ she said.

  Bex stared at her. Her long eyelashes were spiky and stuck together. Had she been crying? ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Fine,’ said Megan.

  ‘You look like you’ve been crying.’

  Megan shook her head. ‘Of course not.’

  Did she pry – demand the truth? ‘OK. I’ve got to go out. Can you keep an eye on the boys? They’ve done their homework and I’ll be back in plenty of time to cook supper. I’m only going to be a short while.’

  ‘No problem.’

  Bex went back downstairs and told Lewis and Alfie, who were watching cartoons, that if they needed anything they were to ask their big sister, before she let herself out and walked the few yards to the pub.

  She pushed open the door and saw that there were a number of people enjoying a swift post-work drink. The occupants looked at her with curiosity – a stranger? In their pub?

  She saw Belinda behind the bar, hanging up a new display of bags of pork scratchings.

  ‘Hello, Belinda.’

  ‘Bex! Good to see you. So... what’s the decision?’

  ‘Yes, yes I’d like to take the offer.’

  ‘That’s brilliant. Hey, guys.’ A dozen pairs of eyes swivelled towards the bar and conversations stilled. ‘This is Bex – the new barmaid.’

  There was a friendly chorus of greetings and Bex felt oddly pleased and embarrassed at the attention. She waved shyly at the locals.

  ‘I won’t bother introducing them to you at this stage but you’ll get to know each other over the next few weeks or so. When can you start?’

  ‘When do you want me?’

  ‘Honestly? Right now! But I understand about you only being available at lunchtimes. Tomorrow?’

  Bex took a deep breath. Crikey, this was all happening fast. But she thought about it; seriously, why not? The kids would all be at school, most of the unpacking had been done, what else did she have to do? She’d set herself two goals of making friends and getting a job – wasn’t this the ideal way to go about it?

  ‘Yes.’ Although she’d have to make some sort of arrangement with Amy as she wouldn’t be there to let her in on the next Monday afternoon. She’d talk to her cleaner when she came to ‘do’ for her on Friday.

  ‘We open at twelve so get here for eleven and I’ll show you the ropes. And don’t worry, I won’t let you manage on your own to start with.’

  ‘You break her in gentle-like,’ heckled a voice from by the window. ‘I know what a tough cookie you can be, Belinda.’

  ‘We all do,’ said another customer. ‘Likes the whip hand, so I’ve heard.’

  A bellow of laughter greeted that comment.

  ‘And you mind your own business, Bert Makepiece,’ chided Belinda. ‘It’s hard enough getting good staff without you scuppering things.’

  ‘How do you know I’m good?’ said Bex quietly.

  ‘I don’t, but I’ll take a chance on you if you’ll take a chance on me and Miles. Deal?’

  ‘Deal.’

  16

  ‘Let’s try that again,’ said Belinda, patiently.

  Bex took a deep breath and stared at the touch screen of the till. ‘I enter my ID number... then I press wine, then I press Merlot, then I press large, then I press return, then I press beer, then I press pint—’

  ‘No! Then you press Guinness.’

  Bex sighed. ‘Maybe you’d be better off with someone else.’

  ‘Honestly, you’ll be fine. It takes everyone a little while to learn how to operate the till.’

  ‘But we haven’t even started on spirits and mixers and I dread to think what I’ll be like when we get onto food.’

  ‘And I won’t leave you on your own behind the bar until you get the hang of it.’

  ‘Then you’ll be holding my hand till I draw my pen
sion.’

  Belinda heard the pub clock chime. ‘Never mind that now. Opening time.’

  Bex felt her heart-rate increase. Stage fright, she thought. Supposing she got everything wrong? Supposing she really pissed off Belinda’s customers? As if her employer guessed her feelings, Belinda put her hand on Bex’s and gave it a reassuring squeeze before she went to the front door and unbolted it. And... nothing. If Bex had expected people to be waiting, gasping for refreshment on the doorstep, she was disappointed. She looked questioningly at her boss.

  ‘Give it a few minutes,’ said Belinda. ‘The regulars don’t like to look too keen – smacks of being the town drunks.’

  Bex carried on with trying to ring up practice rounds of drinks for another five minutes or so before the first customer opened the door.

  ‘Afternoon, Harry,’ said Belinda.

  ‘Morning, Belinda.’

  ‘It’s gone midday,’ corrected Belinda.

  ‘I ain’t had my lunch yet, so that makes it morning. And a pint of the usual, please.’

  ‘And Harry, meet Bex. She’s going to be working here.’

  ‘Morning, Bex. A pint of London Pride, please.’

  Bex reached for a pint glass and carefully pulled the pump forward a couple of times till the amber liquid reached the mark on the glass. She passed the drink to Harry, carefully avoiding the beer pumps, then she painstaking entered Harry’s drink into the computerised till.

  ‘Three pounds sixty, please, Harry,’ she said.

  Harry handed over a fiver and Bex took a deep breath before she began tapping on the screen of the till. ‘Forty-six pounds and forty pence change?!’ she squawked.

  ‘At least you recognised it as the wrong amount,’ said Belinda. ‘I’ve had bar staff who’ve cheerfully handed over that sort of money. You got the decimal point in the wrong place. Cancel the transaction and try again.’