by Mona Marple
The two lovebirds beamed at each other and found the most secluded table they could. Sandy watched them and smiled, then grabbed two jacket potatoes from the oven and placed each one on a plate, slicing the potatoes down the middle and adding butter and cheese and a hearty side salad. She lay two slices of ham on each plate, which she wouldn’t usually do.
“Here you go.” She said, placing the food in front of the teenagers. She noted that they were still holding hands.
“Thanks, auntie Sandy,” Olivia said.
“Thanks, lady,” Derrick said.
She walked away and left them to eat, and when they stood up ten minutes later she pulled on her yellow rain mac. “I’m driving Olivia back to school, be back in a few.”
Olivia sat in the front passenger seat at Derrick’s insistence, and they made the drive to school while chatting.
“Here we are,” Sandy said as she pulled up outside the school. Teenagers were milling around making their way back on the school grounds, which told her they had timed it ok and not missed the bell.
“I’m going to walk Olivia in, thanks for the lift Sandy,” Derrick said.
“I’ll wait for you and take you where you need to go,” Sandy said, and Derrick nodded.
Olivia gave her a kiss on the cheek and Sandy watched them walk away hand in hand. The sight made her heart glad.
Derrick was back in sight a few seconds later, walking back towards the car. He sat in the passenger seat and waited for Sandy to begin the conversation.
“Where are you headed?” She asked, feeling like a taxi driver.
“I have nowhere to go,” Derrick admitted. “I’ll probably just hang around at the Manor until school finishes, then I’ll walk back down to walk Olivia home.”
“That’s very gentlemanly,” Sandy said.
Derrick shrugged. “My dad always said to treat a girl like a princess.”
“Is your dad… is he at the Manor?”
“Nah. He died.”
“I’m so sorry,” Sandy said, her eyes filling with tears.
“Mum lost the house after that. Council put her up but it’s a tiny place and she’s got the young uns, no room for me.”
“She kicked you out?”
“Nah! No way… I did her a favour and left. There’s no jobs so I were another mouth to feed and the food already weren’t feeding them. I’m big enough to look after myself.”
“How old are you, Derrick?”
“Seventeen.” He mumbled. “Olivia knows. And I know she’s underage, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” Sandy said, struck by his honesty. “Does Olivia know… everything?”
“Nah, she thinks I live out of town. Which I do… I did. It’s embarrassing, I don’t want her to think I’m some waster. All I need is a chance, I’ve been applying for jobs and when I get some money coming in I can go back home.”
“Derrick, are you any good at washing pots?”
He laughed. “Every other day for sixteen years, well, bit less, that was my job.”
“Come and work for me.” Sandy offered.
“Ya kidding?”
“It’s minimum wage and I can’t promise how many hours it would be every week, but we’re definitely busy enough now to need an extra pair of hands.”
“I don’t want no charity,” Derrick said. “Who am I kidding? I need any help I can get. Thanks, lady, if you’ve got pots I can wash them.”
Sandy grinned. “Come on then, you said you have no other plans, fancy your first shift?”
“Sounds good,” Derrick said as they pulled up outside Books and Bakes. “Can I ring my mum and tell her the news?”
“Of course you can,” Sandy said, then realised he meant with her phone. “Here, you make your call and come on in when you’re done.”
She handed him her phone and as she was climbing out of the car, heard the start of his conversation.
"Mum, it's me. I know, I know, don't cry... I've got good news..."
6
Derrick was a machine at pot washing.
His years of every-other-night training that his dad had insisted upon had paid off and it was quickly evident that he would need other jobs to fill his time. Thankfully, with so many customers to serve, there was plenty for him to do.
“How are you at changing lightbulbs?” Bernice asked him towards the end of his second day of work.
“Yeah, I can do that,” Derrick said and followed her into the men’s toilets where a customer had reported the light wasn’t working. Bernice left him to it and returned to the counter.
“He’s nice.” She said. From practical Bernice, the comment was high praise.
“I like him,” Coral said, but she was easier to win over. As long as a person acted interested in, and impressed by, her former journalist career, Coral would like them.
“I’m going to go to the Manor again later, can we sort out some more bread and meat? If there’s any jackets left, I’ll take those too.” Sandy said. She had decided that if she gave Derrick a lift back to the Manor, he could take the food in for her.
“I could rustle up some more cake too.” Bernice offered.
“Great idea.”
The door opened then, the bell announcing another customer. Poppy Sanders walked in, concentrating on a telephone conversation she was in the middle of.
“Just come and meet me now, and calm down.” She said, taking a seat at the only free table, which was closest to the counter. She ended the call and took a deep breath.
“You look like you need cake,” Coral said, whizzing across to her with her notepad.
A few minutes later, the door burst open and Poppy’s husband, Gus, stormed in. His face was bright red and his hands were shaking. “I’ve had it!”
“Just sit down, Gus,” Poppy ordered, and the man did as his wife told him.
“I'm not gonna keep putting up with this,” Gus said as he sat down and tossed the menu on the floor. Coral raised an eyebrow.
‘We’ll get a coffee each, no food.” Poppy told Coral, who nodded and walked away.
“What’s got into him?” Coral whispered to Sandy as she returned to the counter. The two sisters turned their backs on the cafe to face the large coffee machine.
“I don’t know,” Sandy said. Gus Sanders was known as a hothead. He was a drinker and had occasionally been accompanied out of The Tweed after one too many. But he was also a respected businessman; he’d run the butchers in the village square since taking it over from his father. That was how businesses worked in Waterfell Tweed, one brave person would begin one and pass it down to their children who would pass it down to their children. The thought made Sandy wonder who would take over Books and Bakes when the time came.
“If I catch them at it, they’ll be sorry,” Gus shouted.
“Gus, calm down. Please.” Poppy urged.
“It’s time to take this into my own hands!” He said as he pushed his chair back and stood up, then stormed out of the cafe.
The rest of the customers descended into quiet gossip about his outburst, while Poppy buried her head in her hands.
“Coffee and cake,” Coral said as she placed a cup of coffee and a slice of rich chocolate fudge cake in front of Poppy.
“I said no food, the cake must be for someone else.” Poppy said, pushing it away.
“Looks like you need it,” Coral said. “What’s wrong with Gus?”
“Oh, he blows up and then he’s fine again, it will blow over. He’s found more graffiti at the shop.” Poppy explained.
“I thought that had stopped?” Coral asked.
“It stops and starts. The police can’t seem to find out who’s doing it. We put CCTV up on the front so now they do the side or the back instead. Whoever it is, they’re smart.”
“And vegetarian.” Dorie Slaughter called. She was sitting at the next table.
“Vegetarian?”
“All the graffiti is about animal rights,” Poppy said as she dug a fork into the
slab of chocolate cake.
“Weird,” Coral said. “There aren’t any vegetarians around here…”
“There’s Elaine Peters,” Poppy said, with a laugh. “I can’t imagine her with a can of spray paint.”
“It’s not Elaine Peters.” Dorie Slaughter said. Elaine was dating her son, Jim. “She’s practically family.”
“Are things going that well?” Sandy asked.
“I always told him he needed a homely woman, none of those glamorous ones he was after. It’s alright having one whose nice to look at, but can she clean? That’s what I want to know.”
Coral shook her head and laughed.
“Elaine keeps a beautiful home,” Dorie admitted. “And that’s my point. The women who keep a beautiful painted face can’t be keeping a home too. You can’t have both.”
Sandy rolled her eyes. Dorie’s opinions were strong, unfounded and changed day by day.
“Pritti Sharma had both.” Poppy said. “She kept the Manor and she’s a lovely looking woman.”
“That’s different.” Dorie dismissed. “She doesn’t wear make-up, she was born nice looking. She’s just lucky.”
“Not lucky now,” Coral said. “She must drive herself mad with nothing to do with her time.”
“She’s still getting paid, I reckon,” Dorie said and a few other customers murmured their agreement. The Harlows wouldn’t disappear across the world and leave their staff without income. “She should have moved in, that’d have stopped the squatters.”
“She’s got a family.” Poppy said. “She can’t move out and leave her own children.”
“Imagine it though, watching your pride and glory be taken over by those people.”
“Can we talk about something else?” Sandy asked, wanting to change the subject before Derrick finished his repair work in the toilet.
“I’d best be going anyway,” Dorie said as she slurped the last of her tea. The old woman filled most of her days in the cafe, and in the bad months, her custom had helped Sandy pay vital bills. She liked to gossip, but she was harmless and loyal to Books and Bakes.
“Night, Dorie,” Sandy called as she walked out.
The rest of the customers seemed to look at their watches and realise it was almost closing time, and within a few minutes, most of the tables became empty.
“Thanks for listening to me moan,” Poppy said as she stood and put her own winter clothes back on.
“Anytime,” Sandy said with a smile. “Let us know if we can do anything to help Gus.”
Poppy nodded and left.
Derrick, Bernice, and Coral were all in the kitchen washing the last pots and tidying everything away, when Sandy walked over to lock the front door. She jumped when she saw a man’s face in the glass looking at her.
“Mr. Potter!” She cried, opening the door for her landlord. “You made me jump.”
“Thought you’d seen a ghost, did you?” He asked. He walked with a stick and gave off a musty smell. A single pea sat in the middle of his white beard.
“No, not at all. Are you ok?” Sandy asked. She rarely saw Ignatius Potter, despite him having been her landlord since she first moved into the shop building. He preferred to communicate with her by hand-scrawled letters delivered through the letterbox by hand overnight, and always with her name spelled wrong.
“Yes, yes. I came to find Dorothy.”
“Dorothy?” Sandy asked, used to the shortened version of her best customer’s name. “Oh, Dorie? You’ve just missed her.”
“Typical. Did she say where she was going?”
“No, she didn’t. Can I pass on a message?”
“I thought we were meeting here. I must have the details wrong.” He said, as a gust of wind almost knocked him off his feet. “Can you give me a lift home?”
“Don’t you have your car?” Sandy asked, confused by the exchange. She couldn’t imagine why Ignatius Potter would imagine he had plans with Dorie Slaughter.
“The police have it. Evidence! I don’t know what they think they’ll find.”
“I’d imagine they’ll look for signs of whether it hit Anton.”
“Well, of course it didn’t. I told them that. I was the one who found him and fetched help, and I missed my chess club.”
“Chess club?”
“Yes, chess club. You do know what chess is, don’t you?” He asked, and his breathing became laboured as he stood before Sandy.
“Come on in, Mr. Potter. We can sort out getting you home. Come and have a seat.” Sandy said, leading him inside to the nearest chair. She locked the door behind them.
“So, this is what you’ve done with the space, then?” He asked, looking around the cafe and across to the small book area at the far end of the shop. “What is it, cakes and books?”
“That’s it,” Sandy said, trying not to laugh at the idea that her landlord had no idea what she had been doing in a shop called Books and Bakes.
“People like this kind of thing, don’t they? Paying through the nose for things they can get for free!”
“Well… some people like to relax with a coffee and a book.” Sandy said.
“A library and a kettle, that’s all people need. They can’t spend their money quick enough.” Ignatius continued, then a fit of coughing took over.
“Guys,” Sandy said, poking her head in the kitchen doorway. “Ignatius Potter has just turned up. I don’t think he’s well, I’m going to drive him home.”
“I’ll sort Derrick and the food for the Manor.” Bernice offered, and Sandy gave her a grateful smile.
“See you all tomorrow.” She said. “Come on, Mr. Potter, let’s get you home.”
Sandy had never been to Ignatius Potter’s home before and didn’t even know where it was. She imagined it to be as battered and eccentric as he was.
“Keep going down this road.” He instructed from the passenger seat.
“What will you do about Dor… Dorothy? What were you meeting her for?” Sandy asked, unable to resist knowing more.
“It’s not a big deal. She left her scarf when I saw her last, that’s all.” He explained, pulling a fancy silk scarf from the inside of his jacket. It definitely belonged to Dorie; Sandy had seen her wear it many times.
“She comes in the cafe most days, I can pass it back to her.”
“Ah, now that would be useful. I do hate the trek into the village.” He said, reaching over to put the scarf on the back seat. “Keep going, and it’s the second left coming up.”
There were fields on either side of the road and no buildings in sight, which didn’t surprise Sandy. She could picture Ignatius Potter living in an isolated building where he could avoid people.
“Pass a message on to Dorothy for me?”
“Of course.”
"Tell her the gardening club isn't what it used to be but she'd enjoy the book club perhaps. They try to get me to join but I'll stick with chess." Ignatius said, as they reached the end of the small road that had been the second turning he had instructed her to take.
A large building stood before then, and the sign read The Foxglove: Waterfell Tweed Assisted Living Community.
7
Poppy Sanders arrived for the children’s book time early, as usual. She brought her teaching efficiency to the group, each week selecting a mixture of books to read and songs to sing. She knew how long the group would last and what the learning objectives would be. It was a popular free group that most of the village locals who had children attended.
“Fancy a coffee?” Sandy asked as Poppy walked in armed with a large box.
“No, I’ve got stage fright, I’d rather get myself focused.”
“Stage fright? What are you planning?”
“We’re going to sing.” Poppy said, and her cheeks flushed.
“You’ve sung before, haven’t you?” Sandy asked.
“No, I’ve avoided songs because I can’t sing. Honestly, Sandy, my singing voice is like a cat being strangled - worse than that even! But the c
hildren have been requesting a song. So, I’m going to give it a whirl.”
“You’ll be brilliant,” Sandy reassured, thinking again how lucky she was to have someone volunteer their time. The group was a highlight of the week for the children of the sleepy village, and as a teacher Poppy was committed to doing all she could to help the village children, but the group also meant that Sunday mornings were incredibly busy for Books and Bakes as parents strolled through the book aisles and bought coffee and cake to pass the time.
She watched Poppy walk over to the small book area at the far end of the downstairs, and returned to her thoughts. She could not forget about her strange interaction with Ignatius Potter since the night before.
“Penny for them?” Coral asked, emerging from the kitchen with beans on toast for a customer. She placed the food in front of the stranger and returned to Sandy’s side.
“How much do you know about Ignatius Potter?” Sandy asked her sister.
“About as much as anyone does, he’s like an international man of mystery to say how much of the village he owns.”
“Have you ever been to his house or anything?”
“No, of course not. What’s it like?”
Sandy looked around the cafe. “This stays between us, okay? He doesn’t live in a house. He lives in a care home.”
“A care home?” Coral repeated, her mouth open wide in surprise.
“Well, an assisted living community. And, I think Dorie wants to move in it too.”
“Dorie Slaughter?” Coral asked. “Why would she want to leave the village?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. Think about how much time she spends in here, she’s pretty much here every day, and that’s got to be because she’s lonely.”
“And if she lived in one of those things she’d have people around her all the time,” Coral said, nodding her head. “Do you think Jim’s paying her less attention now he’s with Elaine?”
“Well, Elaine told me that he’s been staying at hers quite a lot.”
“So Dorie’s going home to an empty house when she leaves here,” Coral said. “How sad.”
“Talk of the devil,” Sandy said, noticing Dorie walking across the village square towards the shop.