Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

‘Of course not.’ Dear God, a cock would be crowing three times in a moment, thought Olivia.

  ‘Only I don’t hold with that.’

  ‘What?’ Olivia tried not to snap but thought she might have failed.

  ‘Buying to let.’

  ‘No, neither do I.’ She escaped out of the room and headed for the stairs.

  She checked out the bedrooms again. She supposed they could use the third bedroom as a walk-in wardrobe or maybe Zac would agree to it being his room. Or maybe not. She was mulling over Zac’s likely reaction to losing his beautiful big room at The Grange for this poky box room when she heard someone puffing heavily up the stairs. Mags.

  Olivia shot into the family bathroom and hid behind the door. She peeked through the crack at the hinge end and saw Mags disappear into the master bedroom. Olivia tiptoed out of her hiding place and headed for the stairs.

  ‘Glad I caught you.’

  She jumped. It was the sales girl.

  ‘I brought you that paperwork I promised. Just in case.’

  ‘I... I didn’t...’

  ‘And remember what I said about not leaving it too long; these houses are going like the proverbial hot cakes.’ The woman thrust the papers into Olivia’s hands and out of the corner of her eye she saw Mags peering around the bedroom door, a knowing smile on her face and obviously adding up two and two.

  Bugger. Olivia knew full well the result Mags would come to and then, so would half the town.

  31

  The violent anger and fear that Olivia had first felt had largely evaporated as she walked home through the town. She was still livid, she still wondered how she was going to be able to talk to Nigel without giving in to the urge to hit him, but, at least, she was now able to think straight. No matter how difficult and painful it was going to be, she had to know exactly where they stood financially, how big the debts were, how much had to be paid off each month and how much that would leave them to live on. One of the first things she had to know was, would Zac be able to continue at St Anselm’s? Much as she didn’t think she even wanted to be in the same room as Nigel right now, she and he were going to have to have a conversation.

  She was about to walk past the coffee shop in town when she decided that treating herself to a large cappuccino wasn’t going to make the family finances any more precarious and it would also delay going home for a few more minutes. She felt she deserved that little indulgence, given the morning she’d just had.

  She went in, went to the counter and placed her order.

  ‘Two sixty,’ said the barista.

  Olivia opened her wallet purse and looked for a bank note. She could have sworn she had a twenty. Just as well she had enough in change. When her coffee was ready, she took her drink to a corner table. She sipped her coffee then extracted the Beeching Rise sales brochure from her bag and flipped it open.

  ‘Can I join you?’

  Olivia’s coffee slopped onto the page she was looking at. ‘Heather! You made me jump.’

  ‘So I see. I’ll go and get a coffee. Back in a tick.’

  Olivia mopped the shiny page with a tissue and then slid the bumph into her handbag.

  A couple of minutes later Heather returned with her latte and a large slice of cake and two forks. ‘You look like you could do with cheering up and I certainly could.’ She handed a fork to Olivia. ‘Tuck in.’

  ‘I spoke to Nigel.’

  Heather put her fork down. ‘Oh... And?’

  ‘And he’s not having an affair.’

  ‘Oh, Olivia, I am so relieved for you. Thank goodness.’ She went to attack the chocolate gateau again.

  Olivia rolled her eyes. ‘It’s good news and bad news.’

  Again the fork went back on the plate. ‘Oh goodness. He’s not ill, is he?’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘In a way.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know how to tell you this...’

  Heather pushed the gateau towards Olivia who dug her fork in. Heather followed suit.

  ‘I’m listening.’

  Olivia took a mouthful, chewed it and swallowed. She took a deep breath. ‘Nigel has gambled all our money away.’

  Heather choked, crumbs spraying over the table. ‘What?’

  Olivia nodded. ‘All of it.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ whispered Heather. ‘Well, that puts my problems in perspective.’ She snarfed another lump of chocolate goo.

  ‘Oh, Heather, I’m sorry. Me, me, me. I should have asked why you felt like you needed cheering up,’ said Olivia.

  Heather reached across the table and patted Olivia’s hand. ‘No, you shouldn’t. And not with what you’ve got going on. Goodness, if I had a bombshell like that to contend with I don’t think I’d even be functioning, let alone taking an interest in other people. No, the last thing you need right now is anyone else’s problems. Honest.’ She ate another forkful of cake.

  Olivia gazed at her. ‘Brian still a worry?’

  Heather sighed. ‘Not like Nigel. Or at least I don’t think he is. He won’t talk to me and I want him to, because something’s really worrying him. He says it’s a parishioner but...’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, it’s not important.’ She smiled. ‘Some wives might be delighted to have such a taciturn husband.’

  ‘No... not talking isn’t good. I know that.’

  Both women ate some more cake.

  ‘Poor Brian, poor you.’

  ‘Poor you,’ said Heather. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know. Not till I know how bad things are. After I’ve had this I’m going to head home and have a talk to Nigel – a proper talk. After he told me... well, I lost the plot a bit and had to go for a walk to calm down.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’

  ‘He says we’ve got to sell the house. He seems to have an idea that if we sell ours and move into a place like Beeching Rise we might be OK.’ Olivia tapped the brochure. So that’s where I’ve just been. And I ran into Mags Pullen while I was there so the whole town will know by now.’

  ‘You can’t keep secrets in a small place like this.’

  ‘No. Only she thinks I am about to join the ranks of bloated plutocrats and we’re buying to let. I don’t know which is worse – the shame of being threatened by bankruptcy or Mags telling the world I’m the local Rachman.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Oh, he was a slum landlord in the fifties, the original buy-to-let guy. Had a shocking reputation.’

  Heather smiled.

  ‘OK, I am exaggerating but if... when we move out of The Grange, rumours are going to be rife and I don’t know if I can bear it – especially if the truth gets out. As you said, you can’t keep secrets in a place like this. The easiest thing would be to move away, but Little Woodford is my home. I love this town.’

  ‘I know. And you’re a real asset to the place. You do so much.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She pushed the plate back towards her friend. ‘You finish this, I need to get back to Nigel. And thanks for the cake and the chat.’ She stood up.

  ‘You know you can come and talk to me at any time,’ said Heather.

  ‘I know, and the same goes for you too. Husbands, eh?’

  ‘Indeed.’

  As Olivia left and headed for the cash machine to fill up her wallet the first spots of rain began to fall.

  *

  Heather let herself back into the house, unable to shift out of her mind the awful news that Olivia had told her. She was surprised to hear the sound of humming as she hung her damp jacket up on the newel post.

  ‘Brian?’

  ‘Yes, dear.’

  She followed the sound of his voice. He was in the kitchen, making tea and toast.

  ‘How was town?’ he asked.

  ‘Much the same as it always is. I had coffee with Olivia.’

  ‘Oh yes, how’s she?’

  ‘She’s had a bit of a shock.’

  ‘Oh, glory. Poor Olivia. What’s happened?’

  Heather relayed the gist of Olivia’s predic
ament.

  Brian looked stunned. ‘Nigel? I find that hard to believe. To be honest I’ve always had him down as the kind of dull stick who wouldn’t do anything risky.’

  ‘And gambling is certainly that.’

  The toaster popped. ‘Do you want some?’ offered Brian.

  ‘I had cake in town.’

  ‘How nice.’

  ‘I wanted cheering up.’

  Brian began to butter his toast. ‘Why on earth?’

  ‘Because I’ve been worried sick about you.’

  Brian put his knife down. ‘I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately.’

  ‘A bit! You’ve been a nightmare. You’ve been moping around, as miserable as sin, and every time I tried to reach out to you I got batted away.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve hurt you.’

  Heather nodded. ‘Yes, you have. I felt shut out. Brian, we’ve been married for nearly thirty years and if you can’t confide in me, lean on me, then what use am I as a wife?’ She stared at him. ‘I’m your wife, Brian, not the live-in housekeeper.’

  ‘I know. Anyway, the problem has been resolved.’

  ‘Good, and I’m glad and, I must say, you seem much happier.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘So, are you going to tell me what the matter was?’

  ‘One day, maybe.’

  Heather shook her head. ‘I suppose I’d better be grateful that you’re feeling more chipper. Let’s hope it lasts.’

  Brian went back to buttering his toast. ‘I think it will.’

  ‘Good.’

  32

  Olivia approached her house, hurrying to get out of the shower. Nigel, she noticed, had mown the lawn. Obviously he was trying to curry favour – like cutting the grass was going to make things better. She stamped up the drive to the front door and let herself back in. Nigel was still sitting on the sofa, the paper lying on the table in front of him. If it hadn’t been for the mown lawn she’d have thought he hadn’t moved.

  ‘You’re back,’ he said.

  ‘Why? Were you expecting me to leave? Tempting though it is, I don’t think it’d help matters.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed.

  ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘What about?’

  Olivia stared at her husband in utter disbelief. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself. ‘For starters, can Zac stay at his school, how much will we have left when we’ve sold this house and paid off your debts, just exactly how bad is the situation...?’ She wrapped her arms around herself, whether to try and comfort herself or to ward off the awfulness of the situation she didn’t know. ‘And you need to tell Zac. He has a right to know what’s going on, seeing as how it’s going to affect him too.’

  ‘Zac?’

  ‘Yes, you know, your son. Even if we can afford to keep him at St Anselm’s, he will have to leave this house, the place where he grew up, and he’s going to be affected. He has a right to find out the facts first. We can tell the other children as and when – they’re pretty much self-sufficient anyway so they’ll be the least affected. We can’t wait till we get everyone together to break the glad tidings en masse. It wouldn’t be fair on Zac. We can ask him not to tell the others.’

  ‘But what if he does?’

  Olivia looked at Nigel coldly. ‘I’d have thought you’d prefer that – saves you the bother of having to own up to what you’ve done.’

  ‘That’s a low blow.’

  ‘Do you know something? I don’t care. So... where do we stand? I want to know everything, Nigel. Every detail.’

  Nigel got up and went to the filing cabinet by his desk in the corner of the living area and pulled out a file from the back of one of the drawers. He spread the papers on the desk and Olivia came over and joined him.

  ‘I saw a debt specialist. He gave me some options.’

  ‘Which were?’

  ‘The easiest thing is to file for bankruptcy.’

  ‘As you mentioned. Us... bankrupt.’ She looked utterly defeated.

  Nigel nodded.

  ‘And the other options?’

  ‘Consolidate the debt, pay a chunk off every month. It’d leave us with very little to play with but it might be better in the long run.’

  ‘Bankruptcy or penury,’ said Olivia. ‘Oh, dear God.’

  ‘My bonus will help. It might even cover Zac’s fees next year.’

  ‘And if it doesn’t?’

  Nigel shrugged.

  Olivia gave Nigel a long, cold stare. ‘Do you know, if I thought I’d be in a better place if I walked out right now, I’d be sorely tempted.’

  ‘Don’t leave me, Oli... Olivia. Please.’

  ‘Shut up, Nigel. You’ve got absolutely nothing to bargain with. Right, time to break the news to Zac.’

  ‘He’s out.’

  ‘Where?’

  Nigel shrugged. ‘He said he was going to Cattebury on the bus and he mightn’t be home for lunch.’

  Olivia checked the wall clock. ‘In which case, I’m going to have a look at our finances, in detail.’ She sat down at the desk and pulled the pile of documents towards her. To start with she found it almost impossible to concentrate; all she could think about now was how quickly her feelings for her husband had changed. Now she knew what the situation was, how much he owed, she realised that she actually felt loathing for him. After the best part of thirty years of marriage she hated him: she hated him for what he’d done to the family, their future, their security... and as for his selfishness in using their money to indulge his addiction... Olivia stopped. He had an addiction. He was ill. He wasn’t entirely to blame. But he was to blame for not telling her, for not seeking help earlier. A lot earlier. But, she told herself, this wasn’t helping her get to grips with their new situation. She forced herself to start looking at the figures properly.

  It was gone two when Zac came in and loped up the stairs. Olivia, not entirely trusting the debt adviser, was still going through all the figures and trying different combinations and permutations to work out a strategy that would enable them to pay off the debt as quickly as possible whilst not being left completely penniless. She was concentrating so hard that she didn’t notice his reappearance until the sound of his music began to thump down the stairs from the mezzanine. She tried to zone out the irritating beat but after a while she gave up, threw down her pencil and climbed the stairs to Zac’s bedroom. She knocked on the door. No reply. Up here, on the landing, the techno-thump from his sound system was even louder. It seemed to her as if the actual wood of his door was vibrating. Dear God, did he have to play it so loud? No wonder he hadn’t heard her knock. She banged even louder.

  ‘Yeah, what?’ said Zac as he opened the door and stood slumped against the door jamb.

  ‘Stand up straight, darling,’ said Olivia, automatically.

  A fug of Lynx wafted out of the room, carried into the rest of the house by the breeze from his wide-open windows. Olivia wasn’t surprised he had to have the windows open given the ratio of body spray to breathable air in the room. She could almost feel her eyes stinging.

  ‘What?’ repeated Zac.

  ‘Your father wants to have a word.’

  Zac stared at her, his eyes heavy-lidded as if he hadn’t slept in several days. ‘Why?’

  Olivia lost it. ‘Jesus, Zac, for once in your life just do as you are bloody well told!’ He shook his head, apparently startled by the vehemence of her tone but without looking any more inclined to obey her. If he hadn’t been several inches taller than her, Olivia might have been tempted to slap him. ‘Now!’

  Zac ambled out of his room, slamming the door as he went.

  Olivia reached past him and opened it again. ‘And turn that racket off.’

  Zac gave her a withering look, but returned to his room and a couple of seconds later silence replaced the awful bass beat and electronic wailing. Olivia had no idea what it was that Zac listened to but she wasn’t going to dignify it by calling it ‘music’.

&nb
sp; Olivia returned downstairs with Zac trailing after her. He threw himself on the sofa opposite his father so he was lying full length with his feet on the cushions.

  ‘So?’ he said.

  ‘Get your feet off the furniture,’ snapped Olivia.

  Sulkily Zac swivelled round and put his feet on the floor.

  ‘Zac...’ said Nigel.

  Zac crossed his arms and eyeballed his dad. Olivia thought he looked quite shifty, guilty even. She wondered what he had on his conscience.

  ‘Zac, I’d rather this wasn’t repeated outside these four walls but we’ve had a bit of bad luck.’ Olivia nearly choked and Nigel glanced in her direction before he amended his statement to, ‘That’s not entirely true. I’ve made a massive mistake and it’s cost us money.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘A lot.’

  Zac shook his head and flicked a glance from one parent to the other. ‘So it’s nothing I’ve done?’

  ‘Why did you think that?’ asked Olivia.

  Zac shrugged. ‘I get the blame for everything.’

  Well, he did get blamed for quite a lot by his father but usually because neither Zac nor his father were prepared to see each other’s point of view; the alpha male thing. But this time he definitely looked as if he had a guilty conscience.

  ‘No, it’s nothing you’ve done,’ said Nigel.

  Unlike your father, Olivia was tempted to add.

  ‘So, why you telling me?’ asked Zac.

  ‘Because there are some serious implications.’

  Zac looked more engaged. ‘Like?’

  Nigel took a deep breath. ‘For a start, there’s a chance you may have to leave St Anselm’s after this term. You may have to start at the comp in the autumn.’

  ‘You’re kidding me. I am not going to that dump.’

  ‘There may not be a choice.’

  Zac got to his feet. ‘I’m not going.’

  ‘Sit down!’ roared Nigel. ‘Sit down,’ he repeated in a more conciliatory tone.

  Zac sank back on the sofa.

  ‘You may not get a choice. At sixteen you can go to a sixth form college or leave or do whatever the hell you like but, until then, you have to go to school.’

  ‘Lots of your friends from primary school go there,’ said Olivia, trying to soften the news.