Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  The pair strolled along the high street towards the pub in the warm evening sunshine, Billy’s sour comments about her food forgotten. The town was busy with people also enjoying the summer weather.

  ‘Shame the pub’s not got a garden,’ said Amy. ‘It’d be nice to sit out to eat on a day like this.’

  ‘Yeah, and get skin cancer.’

  ‘Gawd, you’re a right misery-guts, ain’t you. What’s rattled your cage?’

  ‘I’ll tell you what, watching that layabout son take you for granted.’

  ‘He’s not a layabout,’ protested Amy. ‘He works blooming hard.’

  ‘No, he doesn’t. Like I said, schoolwork isn’t proper work.’

  ‘Don’t let’s argue, let’s not spoil things.’

  ‘You’re the one who’s arguing,’ said Billy.

  Amy almost told him it took two to argue but, once again, she bit her tongue.

  ‘What you drinking?’ said Billy as they turned into the pub.

  ‘White wine and lemonade,’ said Amy. ‘Lots of ice too. Thanks, darling.’

  ‘See if you can get a table – I’ll bring the drinks over.’

  A few minutes later Billy pushed his way through the other customers, who were crowded into the little bar enjoying a start-the-weekend drink, towards Amy who’d managed to find a table in the corner. With him he also brought a couple of menus which he plonked down along with the drinks.

  ‘Cheers,’ said Amy, clinking her glass against his. She perused the menu as she sipped. ‘Cor, this is nice. What are you thinking of having?’

  ‘I think I might have the chicken and chips. You?’ Billy took a long slurp of his drink and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Amy considered the choices for a few more seconds. ‘I might have that too.’

  Billy went to the bar to place the order and returned with more drinks.

  ‘I’ve not finished this one yet,’ protested Amy.

  ‘Saves queuing again in a minute, doesn’t it.’

  ‘Are you trying to get me tipsy?’

  ‘Maybe.’ He grinned at her.

  ‘You don’t have to. I’m yours for the taking, you know that, Billy?’

  ‘And talking about being mine...’ Billy put his hand in his pocket and brought out a small box. ‘I bought this at a car boot. It’s a pukka bit of kit, mind. Worth a bit, if I’m any judge, and I thought you might like it. It’s not an engagement ring or nothing, but, I thought that seeing as you’re my girl now, you ought to wear something to show you belong to me. I don’t want other men sniffing around you... know what I mean?’

  Amy’s heart, which had begun to beat wildly at the sight of the ring-box, settled down at the words it’s not an engagement ring or nothing. And dropped still further at the notion that he was chaining her to him. She knew she ought to be pleased that he cared about her that much but there was a faintly sinister and threatening undertone that she didn’t much like.

  He opened the box and showed her the ruby eternity ring.

  ‘That’s pretty,’ she lied. It was the sort of thing her gran had worn and she thought it was clunky and old-fashioned but hey, Billy said it was worth a bit. Shame she wasn’t going to be able to flog it – she’d rather have the cash.

  ‘Go on then, put it on.’

  Amy took the ring and slipped it on her middle finger on her right hand. It was a bit tight. That wouldn’t be coming off again in a hurry.

  ‘There.’ She held her hand up to admire it and then showed Billy. ‘Thanks, babe.’ She leaned over the table to give him a kiss and managed to topple over one of her glasses of wine. It deluged over him in a tidal wave.

  ‘You stupid bloody cow,’ he yelled at her as he leapt to his feet, his shirt and trousers drenched and dripping. He raised his hand and for a second Amy was convinced he was going to hit her. The pub fell completely silent as everyone turned to see what the commotion was. Belinda rushed over with a towel from behind the bar and handed it to Billy. His face was thunderous as he mopped himself.

  ‘Cancel my order. I’m off.’

  ‘Billy!’

  ‘You can stay and eat if you want. I need to get changed. Stupid bitch,’ he spat as a parting shot before he shouldered his way through the silent drinkers and stormed off.

  Amy began to cry and slowly the conversation level in the bar began to crank up again.

  Belinda put her arm around Amy’s shoulder. ‘What do you want to do, hon? Shall I cancel your order too? I can give Billy his money back next time he comes in.’

  Amy nodded. ‘Don’t feel much like an evening out on my own, now. Yeah, please do.’

  ‘It was an accident. These things happen.’

  ‘Maybe. And he’d just given me this, an’ all.’ She showed Belinda the ruby ring. ‘Not that we’re engaged, but he wanted me to have it. Well... he did.’

  ‘That’s lovely.’

  ‘I suppose he’ll want it back now.’

  ‘I’d wait till he calms down to see which way the wind blows.’

  ‘He was ever so cross, wasn’t he?’

  Belinda nodded. ‘It may take a while for him to get over it, yes.’ She went to the kitchen to cancel the food while Amy drained the drink she hadn’t spilt and then made her way home.

  *

  Bex had enjoyed the half-term week and it was hard to get back into the routine of getting the kids out of bed and off to school. Furthermore, she wasn’t entirely looking forward to running into Miles – not after pissing him off. But she couldn’t let Belinda down and, besides, she liked it there. She liked listening to the regulars, chewing over the town’s goings-on, she liked the buzz of the place if it got busy, she liked working for Belinda, she liked Miles... No, she didn’t.

  She finished making the beds and tidying up the boys’ toys before she locked up and took herself next door to start her shift. Regarding Miles, she told herself to pretend nothing had happened and to be cool, calm and collected. Don’t apologise, don’t explain, she told herself firmly as she knocked on the pub door and waited for Belinda to unlock it and let her in.

  ‘Hi, Bex,’ her boss greeted her as she locked the door again. ‘Did you have a nice break with the kids?’

  ‘Yeah, it was grand. We were lucky with the weather, I suppose, so they spent most of their time out in the garden or at the building site watching the diggers.’

  ‘What is it with your youngest and heavy plant?’

  ‘Search me,’ said Bex. ‘At least he can’t try and wander down there on his own – not since Miles fixed my gate. Right, what do you want me to do first? Bottling up?’

  ‘Sounds great. I need to change a barrel; one of the beers ran out a couple of minutes before closing time and I couldn’t be bothered to do it last night.’

  Belinda went down to the cellar while Bex checked the stock of mixers under the bar and in the fridges before following her to collect more of the things they were low on.

  ‘You missed a bit of a kerfuffle on Friday,’ said Belinda as she pulled up the lever on the coupler.

  ‘Really? What happened?’ Bex started putting a selection of bottles into an empty crate, ready to lug back up the steps

  ‘Your Amy had a row with her bloke.’

  ‘Is that Billy?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s a car mechanic at the garage out on the Cattebury road. I think him and Amy have been an item for a bit. Anyway, on Friday they came in for supper and she managed to tip a large spritzer into his lap. He went ape. A couple of the regulars thought he was going to belt her one.’

  Bex stopped moving the bottles. ‘It doesn’t sound as if he’s much of a catch.’

  Belinda shook her head as she reconnected the coupler to a new barrel. ‘I’ve never liked him. I’ve always thought he’s a bit shifty – a bit fly, if you know what I mean. But I suppose he must be fond of Amy because she told me that before she managed to throw her drink all over him he’d given her an eternity ring. Now, I don’t know much about jewellery but
this was obviously worth a bit.’

  ‘Lucky old Amy.’

  ‘Yeah, only I’m not sure the ring is worth being stuck with Billy.’

  ‘So they’re engaged?’

  ‘She says not.’

  Bex picked up the crate with an oof. ‘And he may not be as bad as you think.’

  ‘I suppose – except you hear of people that get stuck in abusive relationships and I’m fond of Amy. I’d hate to think of her being in that position.’

  Bex began to climb the stairs. ‘On the other hand, it’s not really our business, is it?’

  ‘No, you’re right. And maybe Billy’s reaction was a heat-of-the-moment thing.’

  ‘I sincerely hope so.’

  44

  When Bex finished her shift and returned home, Amy was busy mopping the kitchen floor.

  ‘Hi, Bex,’ she said in her usual cheery way.

  ‘What’s this I hear about you trying to drown your boyfriend?’

  ‘Oh, that... Yeah, bit of a disaster. Who told you?’ Amy didn’t sound thrilled that, for a change, she was the subject of gossip, not the purveyor.

  ‘Belinda.’

  Amy concentrated on her mopping and didn’t respond.

  ‘She says your bloke was really cross.’

  ‘Who wouldn’t be, getting a half pint of wine and lemonade dumped in their lap? He had every right to be cross – I made him look like he’d wet himself.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Bex suppressed a grin. ‘These things happen, though.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘Has he forgiven you?’

  Amy looked up sharply and dumped the mop in the bucket. ‘I wouldn’t know, would I? He didn’t stay around at mine like he was supposed to this weekend.’

  ‘Oh, dear.’

  Amy wrung out the mop. ‘It might’ve been for the best if he was going to be arsey about what happened.’

  ‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder,’ murmured Bex.

  ‘Yeah, and out of sight out of mind,’ shot back Amy. ‘On the other hand, I thought he was going to want this back.’ She put out her hand for Bex to admire the ring.

  ‘Blimey.’ So that was the ring. Bex was genuinely impressed.

  ‘But as he wasn’t around to get it back I’m hoping it’s mine for keeps. He says he bought it at a car boot. No idea what it’s worth.’

  Bex took Amy’s hand and had a closer look. ‘If those are rubies and not garnets I think you should get it properly valued and insured.’

  ‘You reckon?’

  ‘I would.’

  Amy looked at her new ring again. ‘Do you think whoever sold it to Billy knew it’s worth a bomb? Cos I can’t imagine Billy spending hundreds, can you?’

  ‘Not ever having met Billy...’

  ‘And maybe I shouldn’t wear it to work but it’s probably safer on my finger than at home, what with all these break-ins. Anyway, I can’t stand here gassing if I’m going to finish everything, and you ought to be off to get the kids.’ She returned to her mopping.

  *

  Olivia was, once again, going through the bank statements and the credit card bills, trying to balance the books. The first of the estate agents had been round that morning to give her a valuation and had been full of gloom and doom about downturns in the market and a slump in the price of houses and negative equity. She suspected the guy was preparing the ground for them getting less than what she hoped for – or needed; less than the sum he’d told her the house might be worth. Which left her trying to work out what was the minimum she and Nigel could accept and still manage to pay off his debts and afford another house in Little Woodford.

  Her eyes began to glaze over as she studied the figures and she threw down her pen. Sod it, she needed a walk to clear her head. Oscar was in his basket, his head resting on the edge of it, his eyes closed, the epitome of a happy dog – a dog that knew he had fallen on all four paws when they’d selected him from the dogs’ home. Mind you, he hadn’t had a hard life before, since he’d had a very loving owner – but an owner who’d had to go into a nursing home and had been unable to take Oscar with him.

  ‘Walkies,’ called Olivia.

  The dog reacted in a split second; out of the basket, eyes open, tail wagging.

  How could any living thing go from sleep to lively in that space of time? wondered Olivia as she grabbed the lead and her keys from the hook behind the front door. It was something Zac could do with copying – although he was better than he had been, when it came to being prised out of bed in the mornings. She clipped the lead to Oscar and the pair set off into the sunshine towards the nature reserve. As she walked down the hill she thought about other changes in her son, changes that were now a sign of his recovery, and wondered how she’d missed the other, sinister signs that he’d been on drugs. He still suffered from mood swings – one moment he’d be reasonably normal and then, at the least thing he’d be raging and angry and almost out of control, and he was still a grouch first thing in the morning, but he didn’t look half asleep most of the rest of the day. And his room didn’t smell of that revolting body spray now he wasn’t trying to disguise the smell of weed. Once again she asked herself how she could have been so naive. She also wondered why the school hadn’t spotted anything but she didn’t think it would do Zac any favours by confronting them, retrospectively, over their failure – given their zero tolerance, it wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility that they’d take punitive action, which was hardly going to help matters. It was one thing if they had to take Zac away from St Anselm’s for financial reasons; it would be quite another thing if he got expelled for drug-taking.

  Once they reached the open space Oscar was released and he bounded off into the long grass. Olivia strolled along a path and followed the black and white feathery tail that was all that was now visible of the dog. Unusually, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the reserve. Olivia supposed it was because the stay-at-home mums were busy with the school run, everyone else was at work and the regular dog-walkers had taken their pooches out first thing and it wasn’t yet time for the last walk of the day. Maybe she ought to come down at this time more often – it was certainly very pleasant.

  She crossed the stream, taking time to gaze into the water and see what aquatic species she could see. Not a lot, as it turned out, and then she strolled up through the meadow to the little copse to check if the council was keeping the littering under control there. Oscar lolloped along, bouncing through the grass, revelling in the smells that only his nose could detect while Olivia listened to the twitter of numerous birds including a lark, high in the sky and out of sight, which was singing its little heart out. Butterflies flitted around the spikes of rosebay willowherb and clumps of ox-eyed daisies and it was, thought Olivia, an English summer meadow at its best.

  She approached the coppice. She could hear voices – two men, by the sound of things. And also, as she got closer, two men who were arguing.

  ‘Come off it. What do you know about risk? You’ve had keys to half of them.’

  ‘Two, Billy, two. I’ve had the keys to two places.’

  ‘And I’ve had to get rid of the gear. It’s risky.’

  ‘Risky? No one checks where the stuff comes from at a car boot sale. When was the last time you saw the fuzz prowling round the pitches?’

  ‘But if they do, I’ll be the one who gets nicked. Which is why this is all I’m going to give you. The rest – I’m keeping that as danger money.’

  There was a pause and silence as Olivia strained to work out what was going on.

  ‘Two grand? Is that all?’

  ‘It’s all I’m giving you.’

  ‘In which case, Billy-boy, I might have to change my fence.’

  ‘Do that, Dan, do that. And good luck, because I don’t think anyone else will touch your stuff with a ten-foot bargepole. Not around here.’

  Olivia backed off, her heart thumping like crazy, then she turned and headed swiftly back towards the stream. That was a conversation
she was sure she shouldn’t have overheard. When she was a good fifty yards from the trees she turned and looked round and saw one of the men heading off in the opposite direction to her, either ignoring her presence or oblivious to it. She breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed she’d put enough distance between them and her to be dismissed as a middle-aged dog-walker and not someone who had been earwigging their very dodgy conversation – a conversation she thought Leanne Knowles might want to know about.

  Billy and Dan – she mustn’t forget those two names. She repeated them to herself and wondered who they were.

  *

  Brian was on his knees but not praying – this time he was leaning over the beds in the vicarage garden and pulling up weeds from between the flowering plants and shrubs. The soil was warm under his fingertips and the mid-afternoon sun hot on his back and beside him a robin hovered around hopefully, darting in now and again to snaffle some little trifle unearthed by Brian’s trowel. Above him, the same skylark that Olivia had heard was soaring and singing, filling the air with its beautiful, warbling trill. Brian eased his back and sat back on his ankles. He felt, he realised, content.

  ‘God’s in his heaven and all’s right with the world,’ he murmured to himself. Beside him, the robin cocked his beady black eye at him as if in agreement.

  ‘You think that too, do you, fella?’ He stared at the robin, which, unconcerned and emboldened by the supply of food Brian had been unintentionally supplying, eyeballed him back. Brian looked at the rest of nature that surrounded him: the spikes of the foxgloves with a couple of fat bumblebees crawling in and out of the pink bells; the campanula, buzzing with honey bees; a couple of red admirals basking in the sun on the ivy on the fence, lazily opening and closing their glorious wings; the roses – blowsy and heavy with petals, and suddenly he wanted to give thanks for it all.

  He hauled himself to his feet, making the robin flutter off a couple of yards, and brushed down the knees of his trousers before he set off, purposefully, down the path to the church.

  A minute later he’d pulled his heavy bunch of keys from his pocket, unlocked the ancient oak door and pushed it open. The deep peace of the empty church enveloped him but this time he didn’t feel as if he was in a vacuum but wrapped in a blanket. He could have sworn he felt warmer in the cool air of the church than in the heat of sunshine outside. It was... comforting. Very comforting. He walked up the aisle and took a seat in the choir stalls and let his mind drift as his thoughts ranged from the beauty of nature to the mystery of creation and, as they did, so too came the realisation that he had reconnected with his certainty about there being a God. He shut his eyes and leaned back against the hard oak of the pew. Bizarrely, he had the feeling someone was resting a hand on his shoulder. The feeling of being at ease, of being loved and cared for, grew.