by Rosie Howard
‘Why?’
‘Because, as far as I’m aware, in all the time I was studying here, she never actually saw or spoke to him directly. Sure she asked me whether I’d made contact, and she asked me how he was … things like that. I told her she should give him a call. Offered his number, but she always said “no”, that there was “too much water under the bridge”, that sort of thing.’
‘Okay,’ said Ben, piling up their now-empty cups and tidying the table, ‘on that note, I think we’d better go and see how they’re doing, don’t you?’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The tension was palpable in the ward. Patrick, with barely a monitoring device left on him but with the top end of his surgery scar in view above the neckline of his pyjamas, was sitting in the chair next to his bed. Helen was sitting bolt upright on the edge of the bed with her arms folded tight against her ribcage and her lips pursed.
‘So,’ said Ben, rubbing his hands together encouragingly, ‘how are you both getting along?’
Patrick shot him a desperate look. ‘We’ve been talking over old times, sharing memories …’
‘Sharing memories?’ snapped Helen. ‘Don’t recognise your version of events.’
‘Okey-dokey,’ said Ben brightly, rubbing his hands together again, this time with a degree of desperation. ‘Time is getting on,’ he continued, ‘and we’re expected for supper at six, so I think we’d better get going, don’t you?’
‘Bit early for supper?’ queried Maddy.
‘Yes … well … I thought your mum might like an early night,’ said Ben, slinging his arms over Helen’s and Maddy’s shoulders. Tossing a peremptory goodbye at Patrick over his shoulder, he marched the two women from the ward. Looking back, Maddy saw Patrick sink back in his chair with a sigh of relief and a smile for the ward sister who was bearing down on him from the other direction carrying a cup of tea. That must be the delightful Hetty, thought Maddy, wondering again at the wisdom of taking Patrick out of the comfortable, ordered hospital and plonking him down back in the maelstrom that was currently his home.
Ben had booked a table in the snug at the Havenbury Arms, although Tuesdays were rarely busy enough for booking to be necessary. Maddy had found and reinstated the cook and waiter who usually helped during the busy summer season but who were happy to have a bit of extra work and help Patrick while he was ill.
‘Nice menu,’ commented Ben, as he examined the card, with a carefully edited and much shorter set of options than the one it replaced.
‘Not too brief?’ Maddy asked, anxiously. She had spent a lot of time persuading the cook, Trevor, that the public didn’t want twenty options as main courses, most of which were bought in and microwaved straight from the freezer.
‘Not at all,’ Ben reassured her. ‘No one will miss all the deep-fried stuff. Half the time you couldn’t tell one from the other.’
‘Exactly,’ she enthused. ‘Trevor makes a mean curry so I get him to do a big batch of that once a week. And then as time goes on, we will put on a couple more choices depending on what’s in season and locally available. Obviously the baked potatoes and toppings are always popular, and you have to offer chips, of course …’
‘You’re loving this,’ observed Helen with surprise. ‘I’m really impressed, darling. Well done, you.’
‘Thanks,’ blushed Maddy. ‘I do love it, actually. When I was working here in the college holidays I’d always thought we should do things this way. I suggested to Patrick we should update stuff but …’ Her voice faded away. And then she observed, ‘I’m really beginning to see that it’s because he’s getting old and tired. I know he’s only in his early sixties, but he ought to be able to wind down a bit after all these years. Running a pub’s a tough old game and a heart attack’s a heart attack, isn’t it?’
‘I doubt he can afford to retire,’ said Helen acidly. ‘He’s never been one for planning ahead. Although I suppose he could sell this place. Must be worth a fair bit by now.’
‘A fortune, but unfortunately it doesn’t belong to Patrick,’ chipped in Ben, filling Helen in briefly on the situation with Top Taverns and the impending lease renewal. ‘He not only doesn’t own the building or the business, they insist he owes them about fifty thousand pounds for repairs so, if the lease doesn’t get renewed, they’ll end up billing him for that too.’
‘But surely they’ll want him to renew his lease and keep paying them rent?’ said Helen, shaking her head as she tried to take it all in. ‘Especially if they have a chance to put the rent up – the greedy grasping bastards,’ she added, pulling a face. ‘Looks like business is booming to me,’ she went on, waving a hand at the growing crowds in the main bar.
The room was filling and the noise level was rising, even though it was a weekday, with a mix of after-work drinkers and those coming in for an early supper like themselves.
‘We are making money,’ Maddy agreed. ‘Patrick was worried about takings but, honestly, I’ve been keeping an eye, and they’re not bad, especially for this time of year. Dare I say it, but he could even afford to pay the “greedy grasping bastards” quite a bit more rent, if they asked for it.’
‘Do you think they actually want him to stay, though?’ asked Ben. ‘I’ve got the impression from the delightful Dennis that they’d rather close it down and flog the building with change of use on it. House prices are going up and up. An awful lot of pubs have been converted to residential now.’
‘This town doesn’t need another house half as much as it needs its pub,’ said Maddy crossly. ‘If the Havenbury Arms closes, that’s it,’ she went on. ‘It’ll be gone for ever. Okay, so there’s the bar at the college – although half the students treat this place as the student bar; I always did – and there’s the nightclub on the quay … This Johnny bloke, I haven’t met yet, opened last year – dunno what Patrick makes of him but the competition doesn’t help.’
‘Jonno, actually,’ said Ben. ‘He’s a decent bloke. I can vouch for him.’
‘Didn’t realise you knew him,’ said Maddy.
‘He’s a mate,’ Ben explained. ‘We were in the army together, many years ago. Lost touch ’til I came down here a couple of years ago.’
‘So you’ve been here a couple of years,’ interjected Helen. ‘And no girlfriend? Wife? Significant other?’
‘Mum!’ exclaimed Maddy. ‘Remember we had that chat? About asking inappropriate questions … ?’
‘Nope,’ Helen replied calmly. ‘Can’t say I do,’ she added, turning back to Ben. ‘I’m a bit surprised, that’s all, hunky, fit bloke like you. Are you gay?’
Maddy groaned in disbelief.
‘Because it doesn’t bother me if you are,’ continued Helen unabashed. ‘Just be a shame, that’s all. What with Maddy being here and available – and you do look good together, if you don’t mind me saying so …’
‘I don’t mind you saying so at all,’ he laughed.
‘I mind you saying so,’ protested Maddy.
‘Oh look,’ he said, to distract them both, ‘here’s our supper at last. I’m starving …’
By the time they had all despatched their food and Ben had also demolished a large portion of sticky toffee pudding with custard, pledging to go for a long run the next morning to atone, he had sneakily settled the bill under cover of returning their glasses to the bar. There he was amused and diverted to note that Kevin made him wait to pay, fussing about with restocking the shelves before eventually turning to him with a scowl.
By the time he returned, Maddy’s head was drooping with fatigue and her entire leg had started up a relentless throb.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘time for bed.’
Helen grinned naughtily. ‘There, you see. I said you made a good couple.’
‘Ha, ha,’ retorted Maddy. ‘That old chestnut. Pass me my crutches, would you?’
‘Hold onto them,’ Ben told Helen as she dragged them out from under the table where Maddy had stowed them earlier. ‘Fatigue, crutches and narrow staircase
s don’t mix. I’ll carry her.’
‘At least let me walk out of the bar under my own steam.’
Ben hovered until she had manoeuvred herself to the bottom of the stairs. Even that short walk was exhausting and painful.
‘Right,’ he said, when he had laid her back on her little narrow bed again, leaning her crutches nearby so she could reach them. ‘You’ll be alright now you’ve got your mum here, won’t you? I’d better get back home and catch up with some work. Lectures and tutorials tomorrow.’
‘Of course,’ said Maddy, feeling she had been a little ungracious. ‘Thanks so much for all your help over the last couple of days.’
He gave her a relaxed salute and made to leave.
‘Wait!’ said Maddy urgently. ‘When – I mean … when will I see you again?’
‘Really soon. We’ve got things to discuss, remember? Although actually asking you to “remember” is probably a bit of an unfortunate turn of phrase.’
‘Oh yes, that. Did I agree?’
‘You sort of did, yeah.’
She was surprised at the flood of relief that she had a genuine reason to see him again soon.
‘I must call Simon,’ she blurted, feeling guilty at her keenness to see Ben.
‘Not now. Time enough for that tomorrow. Give the guy my regards. Tell him I admire his taste in women.’ He made for the door again, and then turned: ‘By the way, you remember I said I was going to watch Kevin in the bar?’
She nodded, stifling a yawn.
‘He doesn’t always close the till between customers. Can’t see why that would be dodgy. Just looked slightly weird having the till drawer open …’
She shook her head, wearily. ‘I don’t know either. Can’t imagine it being a problem around here but it’s not a great idea. Someone could reach in when your back’s turned …’
It was the doorbell that woke her the next morning.
‘Yikes,’ Maddy said, looking at her watch. She swung her legs out of bed, and was quickly reminded of her injury with a breathtaking stab of pain. Damn. That was probably the postman with the materials Simon was sending her to work on. She would never get down the stairs in time, which probably meant the parcel would end up in the sorting office for collection – another logistical nightmare, which made her sob with frustration, Then she heard voices.
Thank goodness. Her mother was at the door, chatting amiably with the postman and quickly returning with a large Manila envelope.
‘Love letter from the delightful Simon?’ she said, tossing the envelope onto the bed.
‘Ta. Sorry to sleep so late.’
‘Glad you did, darling, it’ll have done you the world of good,’ Helen replied. ‘But I was just about to wake you up, anyhow. Pancakes for breakfast …’
‘Fab,’ said Maddy. Pancakes for breakfast had been their regular weekend and holiday treat when she was growing up. She felt a rush of childish relief that her mum was really there with her, tears pricking her eyes, which she brushed impatiently away, but not before Helen had seen them.
‘Come on, lovie,’ she said, putting her arm around Maddy’s shoulders. ‘It’s all going to be fine. Mum’s here now.’
Over breakfast Maddy nervously confessed her conversation with the discharge nurse, naming Helen as Patrick’s main carer when he came out of hospital.
‘It’s just a formality,’ she quickly added. ‘Not like they’re going to check or anything. I just needed a name to put on the form, once she saw my leg … She caught me yesterday – you were talking to Patrick – and I panicked, basically …’
‘Hmm,’ said Helen, unconvinced. ‘I’m not prepared to leave the old bugger in the lurch, not least because it’ll make your life hard. I’m not happy seeing you here, darling. I want you back in London away from all this. And I’m not going to put my life on hold for him. I did it once …’ she said quietly to herself, staring out of the kitchen window.
‘Pirate’s going to be awfully pleased to see him,’ said Maddy. The poor parrot had been noticeably depressed in the last few days, refusing, most of the time, to leave his morose perch on the curtain rail, despite Maddy’s and Ben’s attempts to lure him down with his favourite snacks. She had started to worry the little bird was entering a terminal decline. She knew parrots had a long lifespan, but he had been around for years.
‘Was Pirate already there when you knew Patrick before?’
‘Yes, amazingly enough,’ said Helen. ‘A memento of an old love affair, from what I can gather,’ she added. ‘An ex-girlfriend left him with Patrick when she went off travelling. She didn’t return in all the time I knew Patrick,’ she recalled, ‘so – as he’s still here – I assume she never did.’
Pirate was sitting on Helen’s shoulder, bobbing his upper body up and down and crooning happily to himself. Every now and then he would reach over and give her earlobe a tender nibble, signalling for her to pick another sunflower seed out of her muesli for him, which she obediently did, holding it up for Pirate to delicately extract it from between her fingers.
‘He’s got you where he wants you.’
‘Oh yes,’ answered Helen sourly, ‘him and his master, both.’ She gave Pirate’s head an affectionate scratch, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
There was a knock and, seconds later, heavy footsteps coming up the stairs to the flat.
‘Morning,’ said Ben, coming into the kitchen and immediately making it feel cramped.
‘Who let you in?’ said Maddy.
‘You keep leaving the door open,’ said Ben. ‘Really, your security’s shockingly lax. Anyhow, I am instructed to take you to Serena’s,’ he explained, politely declining Helen’s offer of coffee.
‘Ah,’ said Maddy. ‘Now? I’ve got a conference call with Simon and a client in half an hour.’
‘Ah, indeed,’ said Ben. ‘Tricky.’ He pretended to think. ‘Cancel Simon?’
‘Not helpful. Try again.’
‘Get her to bring the stuff here?’ suggested Helen.
‘No can do,’ said Ben. ‘She’s got it all set up in the barn. I’m under strict instructions,’ he said, fixing Maddy with a look.
‘To do what?’
‘To drive you up there.’
‘Mm, not great,’ said Maddy doubtfully. ‘Sorry, I mean it is great, thanks – but it doesn’t solve the problem with the call …’
‘Does he always do that?’ he asked, distracted by Pirate, who was now delicately exploring the workings of Helen’s inner earhole with his beak.
‘It’s a sign of affection,’ explained Maddy, grabbing her laptop and opening it up to check her emails.
‘I think I’m relieved he doesn’t like me,’ commented Ben.
‘Aha,’ said Maddy, skim-reading an email from Simon. ‘Turns out I’m free after all. Client’s cancelled. Simon’s not best pleased.’
‘I am, though,’ said Ben. ‘And Serena and Flora will be positively thrilled. Come on,’ he said, handing Maddy her crutches. ‘Your carriage awaits.’
‘When are you going to take me for a whizz in your sports car,’ said Maddy grumpily.
‘I didn’t think you’d be able to get yourself into the MGB,’ Ben explained as he helped her up into the Land Rover.
‘I’m not ninety,’ she snapped.
In deference to Maddy’s bad mood, which clearly amused him, Ben drove her in silence and, despite being stuck behind a tractor, they were soon drawing into the courtyard of the farm.
Serena came out to greet them. ‘No MGB?’
‘Ben thought I wouldn’t be able to get in and out of it,’ said Maddy crossly. She was trying to get out of the Land Rover with grace, but even that was difficult.
‘At my school,’ Serena reminisced, ‘they were dead keen on teaching us silly things like how to get out of a low sports car in a short skirt without showing our knickers.’
‘Really?’ There had been no social graces on the curriculum at her own school, thought Maddy. ‘So, how do you avoid showing your
knickers?’
‘Don’t wear any,’ said Serena over her shoulder as she headed for the barn.
‘Wish I’d been at your school,’ laughed Ben.
‘So do I,’ she shot back, giving him a sultry look.
‘Anyhow, I should be off,’ he said, looking at his watch.
‘Perhaps you should,’ snapped Maddy, feeling unaccountably cross at the banter between them. ‘Hang on, how am I going to get home?’
‘I’ll collect you at lunchtime.’
‘I can drop her back off home if you’re busy?’ said Serena.
‘No bother,’ answered Ben. ‘I’m taking her to lunch with a friend of mine.’
‘Oh?’ intervened Maddy. ‘First I’ve heard of it.’
They were both ignoring her. Which was annoying too. She was just working herself up into a steaming heap of self-pity when Serena chivvied her to the wrecked barn making up the fourth side of the farmyard quadrangle.
‘Now,’ she exclaimed, throwing open the door. ‘Whad’yer think?’
Maddy took in the scene in silence. ‘You. Are. So. Clever.’ she said, her bad mood forgotten.
‘You like?’
‘I love,’ she confirmed, moving forward awkwardly on her crutches to examine the display from a new angle.
‘Mads!’ shrieked Flora, making Maddy jump out of her skin, before enveloping her in the usual, all-encompassing hug.
‘Isn’t it completely and utterly brilliantly fab?’ she asked, breathlessly, waving her arm at the display. ‘I did the blankets,’ she added. ‘I think they look especially cool …’
‘We’ve got some stuff set up in the farmhouse as well – the kitchen, mainly,’ said Serena. ‘Most of the ceramic and glassware stuff works better in there …’
‘It just all looks so pulled together,’ breathed Maddy, shaking her head in awe.
And it did. Serena and Flora had piled some hay bales to make a display area and had draped the handspun and woven wool blankets artfully as a backdrop to some of the smaller items. The sheepskin booties and hats looked adorable. To give it all more of the rustic, country context, Serena had even hauled some of the old farm machinery lying about in the barn around so it set off and contrasted with the products on display.