by Suzie Twine
THE UNORTHODOX ARRIVAL OF PUMPKIN ALLAN
BY
SUZIE TWINE
First published in paperback 2014 Copyright © 2014 Suzie Twine
Second Edition 2015
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the author, nor be circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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Dedicated to Molly and Keith.
1
Box-file labeled ‘Honeysuckle’ clutched tight to her chest, Lois made her way from the flat, along numerous Islington side streets, to track down her car. She contemplated the checklist she had imprinted in her head repeatedly as she walked. Money transfers completed, check. Signed documents with solicitor, check. Cash from parents, with solicitor, check. Mortgage in place, check. ‘Yes,’ she thought, ‘everything should run smoothly today.’
Tom had been anxious about her dealing with all the financial details, but now she was about to prove that, despite having a naturally ‘carefree’ approach to life, she could be organised if the need arose. And, everything had gone incredibly well. Apart from thirty thousand pounds disappearing into cyberspace for several hours during that 'immediate transfer’, which had certainly sped up her metabolic rate. Oh, and the little hiccough with the money from her father, which had much the same affect.
The solicitor would ring shortly to say that exchange and completion had taken place. Lois and her best friend Mel would go and pick up the keys from the estate agent and she’d take Mel to see her and Tom’s wonderful cottage, nestling in the Chiltern Hills.
Lois climbed into her MG convertible, slinging her large handbag behind the passenger seat. She drove, stop-start, from Islington to Mel’s flat in Finsbury Park and continued to dream of the exciting day that lay ahead. Once she had shown Mel around Honeysuckle Cottage, she would make some tea. They would sit out in the stunning back garden, breath in the fresh air, admire the flowers and listen to the birds singing and the bees humming. Heaven! Then, perhaps she would go and introduce herself to some of the neighbours. Lois felt excited flutters of adrenalin flow through her. She couldn’t believe she and Tom were actually going to own a home of their own, and the cottage could not have been more perfect.
Lois had booked herself and Mel in for bed and breakfast at Harewood Manor, a gorgeous hotel, which lay only a few hundred yards from the cottage. She’d arranged for some local builder-decorators to come the following day and quote for giving the inside of the house a face lift. Yes, it had to be said, her organisation on this occasion had been practically faultless.
Mel seemed almost as excited as Lois at the prospect of the next two days, ‘in the country’. Being emphatically the more fashionable and well turned-out of the two, Mel exited her flat with a small suitcase for the overnight stay. She looked stunning as always. Her long, wavy, auburn hair, shining as if she’d just been being filmed for a L’Oreal advert. Designer dressed from head to toe. The white jeans and healed sandals accentuating her long skinny legs and making Lois feel more short and dumpy than ever.
“Blimey Mel, how long are we going for?” asked Lois, as Mel struggled to get the case onto the backseat of the MG.
“I thought I did rather well. I could have brought an awful lot more, believe me. Where’s your overnight bag then Miss Minimalist?”
“A change of undies and a few toiletries in my handbag, more than enough,” said Lois.
Mel laughed. “What about getting wet, the forecast’s terrible for tomorrow.”
“It’ll be fine, I’ve got golfing brollies in the boot. I’m perfectly prepared.”
Mel tried to persuade Lois to stop and pick up a couple of lattes prior to leaving London, convinced that quality coffee would be unobtainable outside the M25, but Lois refused. “It’ll be too much of a detour Mel. And of course you can get quality coffee in the Chilterns, we’re going to Marlow, not the Outer Hebrides!”
“Well, you know me Lo, never been a one for leaving London, unless the trip culminates in getting me to warmer climes. All about to change though me thinks, with my best chum moving to the country. I might even invest in a pair Hunters!”
“Hunters?”
“They’re three-quarter calf length waterproof boots Lo, don’t you know anything about the country?”
Lois laughed, “Mel, normal people call them “wellies" and I do already have a pair!”
A phone call came through on Lois’s mobile just as they came off the M40. She pulled over to speak, which she‘d never done before. Mel wondered what was going on. “Nothing will go wrong today,” she mouthed to Mel, as a police car sped past them. It was David, the estate agent on the phone, to say the vendors were querying whether the twenty-five pounds for the cooker had been included in the final sum. Grabbing the box file from the back seat, Lois flicked through the papers anxiously until she came to her list of figures; she surely hadn’t made a mistake. No, no there wasn’t a mistake, that money was definitely included and she reassured David to that effect. Putting the phone down, taking a deep relaxing breath and a moments thought, she turned to Mel. “Gosh, that is unbelievable. We’re paying hundreds of thousands of pounds for the house and that couple, who are about to inherit the lot, are worried about a few quid for the rubbishy old cooker, which they would have had to dump! That seems bizarre doesn’t it?”
“Greed Lo, it’s a symptom of the modern age. The more we have, the more we want. Anyway, at least you’ve done your sums right, Tom would have been most disappointed if you‘d made a mistake!”
“That’s true,” Lois said. She was pleased to have Mel’s company today. She was a very good friend and if any problems were to arise, Mel would be a great support and was always good at keeping things in perspective.
A few minutes later another call came through from the estate agency, saying completion had taken place and Lois could pick up the keys.
“YES!” shouted Lois as she slid the phone into her bag. “I knew I could do it! Mel, would you please text Tom and let him know that I am an organisational genius.” Lois thought for a moment. “Mm, actually no, don’t say that, because he’ll think that I think it’s a big deal to organise our finances. Best thing is probably to give the impression it was a piece of cake for a financial witch, like myself. Could you just text, ‘Completion completed as scheduled!’”
Arriving in Marlow, it took ages to find somewhere to park, followed by a ten-minute walk to the estate agent’s office.
“Come on fatty, the walk’ll do you good!” said Mel, linking arms with Lois and gently tugging her to a medium paced walk. “Oh my God!” said Mel, “I don’t believe it, there’s a Starbucks! Ooh, could we just nip in for a quickie?”
“Let’s get the keys first could we? Then have a celebratory little something.”
“Oh okay, if it’s really that important to you!” Mel gave Lois a nudge.
As they made their way along the high street bustling with a combination of locals and summer season tourists, Mel became increasingly surprised by the number of shops that appealed to her. “Gosh Lo, nice shops! You know this could be my kind of place after all.”
Entering the estate agency, Lois and Mel were welcomed by the assistant manager. He offered them both a seat, then left the office for a co
uple of minutes and came back with a set of keys and a hamper of goodies, including a bottle of champagne. “All the best with the move and I wish you every happiness in your new home!” Lois, grinning broadly, thanked him, asked him to pass on her thanks to Gill, the agent who had handled their purchase and they left, Mel laden down with the hamper.
Lois had begun to wonder whether this moment would ever arrive. It was almost a year since she and Tom had first viewed Honeysuckle Cottage. Problems with probate had delayed the date for exchange three times. Yet now, here she was walking up the garden path of their new home and it really belonged to them.
Lois grabbed Mel by the arm. With butterflies flitting around her abdomen, her face alight with a huge smile, she asked, “Well, what do you think?”
“Lois, it’s sweet!” The pair of them stood and admired the red brick cottage. “The garage is ghastly of course, but the cottage is gorgeous and I love the wisteria, that’ll look fab in the spring!”
Lois looked blank.
“The wisteria. That huge vine Lo, practically covering the front of your new house?” Mel felt smug. She didn’t know about the country, but she did know a bit about gardening. Her parent’s favourite hobby must have rubbed off on her a little.
“Oh, is that what it’s called? I did wonder. The garage is awful isn’t it? I can’t believe they got away with adding something so out of keeping. Anyway it’ll go when we build the extension.”
Lois beamed as she lifted the rather tarnished looking key to the lock, carefully put it in and turned. It turned perfectly. A shudder of excitement ran through her as she pushed the door …….hard, then harder, then very hard indeed. There was a loud, splintering crack, followed by a crash as Lois and approximately two thirds of the door fell headlong into the entrance porch.
Lois landed hip and shoulder on top of the door. She thought momentarily as to whether or not she was hurt, instinctively running her hand over her enlarged belly. She was, but not physically. This was really not how she had envisaged entering her dream home. “Bugger!” she muttered as tears welled in her eyes. Mel held out a hand and helped Lois struggle to her feet.
“Are you okay?”
Lois looked at her, expecting to find an expression of concern. But no, Mel, who was renowned for hysterical laughter in any crisis, was off. It started with a titter, then, when Lois allowed herself to smile, Mel lost control completely. She added snorting and a raucous fart into her performance, which resulted in the pair of them ‘creased-up’ on the threshold of the new house.
They didn’t notice the first cough from behind them, or indeed the second. In fact by the time they realised he was standing there the elderly looking man was nigh on choking to get their attention. Another woman might have been embarrassed at the thought that the man might have heard her fart, but exhibitionism being one of Mel’s specialities, she was totally unperturbed.
Lois, blushing on her friend’s behalf, did her best to straighten up and look dignified. Her stomach muscles ached from laughing. “Oh hi, Lois Shenfield,” she announced holding out her right hand to this rather glum-looking man, probably only in his mid-sixties, but aged by his stooped posture. She assumed he must be a neighbour. Both vertically and follicularly challenged, he had an extraordinarily deep-seated frown embedded in his forehead, just above where his rather ludicrously long grey eyebrows met.
“Charles Black. I’ve come to lay down a few ground rules. Where’s your husband?” There was a brief pause, Lois having been rendered speechless. “You are married aren’t you?” he said, staring blatantly at Lois’s bump. As she tried to answer that no, she and Tom weren’t yet married but would probably tie the knot before the baby was born, he just talked over her, louder and louder. He didn’t look her in the eye, but stared over her right shoulder, blinking hard every couple of seconds, screwing up his face and nodding his head slightly with each blink.
Lois was flabbergasted. He never did shake her hand. She self-consciously lowered it while Mr. Black proceeded to tell her where she could and couldn’t park, (along this idyllic, unmade road, in the middle of nowhere). He went on to demand that she must avoid Bill Riley, the farmer from the end of the lane, at all costs. “He’s an interfering busybody. Very odd and not to be trusted.” The words pot and kettle sprang to Lois’s mind. “And, if you ever consider applying for planning permission you must run it by me first, so I can object.”
Then, suddenly, the bizarre little man shuffled off without so much as a goodbye.
As soon as he was out of earshot Lois said in a low voice, “What a miserable old git!”
Mel began to snigger, but Lois was feeling a little shell shocked, what with the door needing emergency replacement and having a neighbour who was an interfering nutcase. She began to wonder if this beautiful cottage was going to be the idyllic haven of which she and Tom had dreamed.
Between them Lois and Mel pulled the broken part of the door into the garden. As they did so, Mel asked, “So, are you getting married before the baby’s born Lois?”
“Highly unlikely I would think. He hasn’t even asked me yet and there’s only nine weeks to go.”
Having cleared the threshold, the two of them walked through the small internal porch-way and into the front room. “Wow Lois, classy wallpaper. And carpets, gosh, the giant flowers are almost matching!” Mel said, smiling.
“It is quite something isn’t it? Hang-on, it’s a bit gloomy in here today, let’s put the lights on so you can get the true effect.”
Lois turned to where she expected the light switch to be. There was no switch by the porch. That seemed odd. Neither was there one by the door to the kitchen, nor in the dining room, or indeed anywhere at all. The only light switch in the whole of the downstairs was to a strip light in the kitchen. When Lois looked up at the ceilings, she realised there were actually no light fittings in the remainder of the downstairs. The only electrical sources, were old fashioned, round, two point plug sockets, into which lamps must have been plugged. How could they not have noticed this before? What’s more, how could the surveyor, who’d charged them a small fortune to conduct a full survey, not have noticed the lack of electrics, or the fact that the front door was so full of woodworm that it would cave in with one or two good shoves?
Mel offered a brief grin, but could see that Lois was now well passed the laughing stage.
“Oh God. I think we might have bitten off more than we can chew here,” said Lois. Then, suddenly, there was a yell and a crash. Lois and Mel both jumped. “What the hell was that?” The noise sounded like it had come from just the other side of the dining room wall, which adjoined the next-door cottage. As they moved closer to the noise, Mel and Lois could clearly hear two voices. A woman, yelling unbelievable obscenities at a man who was trying to placate her. Then another crash, which sounded like something large and heavy hitting the other side of the wall, which was seemingly so paper thin that Lois wondered whether, with another good smash, this pair of semi-detached cottages might become one.
Lois gestured to Mel that it was time to go out into the back garden, away from the shouting. She needed space to process the happenings of the past fifteen minutes, hopeful that the beautiful cottage garden would help her to do this.
The back door opened like a dream, “Thank God something works,” mumbled Lois as they stepped outside into the garden. “I don’t believe it! Where’s it gone?”
“Where’s what gone? Has something been stolen?”
“My beautiful garden. It’s vanished!”
The lawn resembled a small hay crop, bisected by a large, fallen tree. Flowerbeds were overrun with brambles, stingers and thistles, and a half eaten pigeon was lying on the weed-ridden patio.
Lois sat on the crumbling garden wall and began to weep.
“Oh come on Lo,” said Mel, crouching to avoid dirtying her jeans and putting a reassuring hand on Lois’s knee, “it’ll be gorgeous when it’s done, it just needs a bit of work.”
“A bit of work
?” sniffed Lois, starting to feel sick with anxiety. She had talked Tom into buying this place. It was her who was keen to move to the country, he’d wanted to stay in London. “We thought the hideous wallpaper needed stripping and perhaps a lick of paint. Not total rewiring, new front door, complete garden overhaul and soundproofing from those horrendous neighbours!” Lois stopped her spiel abruptly as she heard voices from next-door’s garden.
“Come on Stephen,” came the utter misery of the man’s voice, “your mother’s gone berserk, let’s lie low in the garage for a while.”
When Lois was sure they were out of earshot, she put her head in her hands and muttered, “What the hell am I going to tell Tom?”
2
Tom had been in hospital for three days when Lois and Mel collected the keys for Honeysuckle, and quite frankly he’d had enough. He’d broken two ribs, his left wrist and had ten stitches in his chin, all due to an incredibly embarrassing mountain biking accident.
Jim, Tom’s best buddy, work colleague and mountain-biking chum, observed from behind, as Tom cycled too fast down a steep bank, without anticipating the small yet moderately muddy ditch at the bottom. His front wheel stopped dead, causing him to summersault over the handlebars onto a muddy track, inconveniently interspersed with stones. The bike flew up in the air and crashed down, ricocheting off his chest before falling back into the ditch. “Bollocks!” he’d mumbled to himself as he lay, trying to decipher the pain messages emanating from various parts of his body.
Jim had taken a great deal of ridicule from Tom over the years for being far too much of a ‘wuss’ on their mountain biking expeditions. So seeing Tom fly through the air ‘sans’ bike, Jim, who felt Tom had it coming, immediately stopped and laughed, loud and uncontrollably. It had been one of those ungainly, slow motion spectacles that would be forever etched in his memory.