Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage

by Milly Johnson

  ‘I can’t stand it,’ said Linda, pacing up and down her lounge carpet. ‘How dare Rebecca deprive that little boy.’

  ‘Look love, he’ll enjoy the presents when Andy takes them over. It’ll be like a second birthday for him,’ said Dino, sounding diplomatic, but it was killing him, too.

  ‘It won’t be his birthday though. He should have his presents on the actual birthday,’ said Linda. ‘Kids remember stuff like that.’

  Iris looked at her daughter brushing the tears away from her cheeks and she felt awful that she’d further soured relations between the Hewitts and the Pawsons.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Linda. I’m just an interfering old bat.’

  ‘Yes you are, Mum,’ said Linda, wagging her finger at her mother, ‘but you did what you thought was right and I’m not blaming you. In fact, I wish I’d done it myself instead of waiting for any scraps they chose to throw us from their bloody table. They were never going to play ball so I might as well have done. In fact . . .’

  Linda marched out of the room and came back with her jacket. ‘ . . . Dino, get me a carrier bag. Mum, get your shoes on. We are going to see our lad for his birthday. Freddie is having his presents today and if that pair of bitches decide to take them away from him then I’d rather he remember that than not getting them from us at all.’

  Linda had her do not argue with me face on. Dino got the carrier bag and Iris put on her shoes.

  Linda’s face was set in steely determination as she drove to Maplehill. She pulled up on the quiet, leafy Tennyson Lane and whilst Dino helped Iris unfold herself from the car, Linda grabbed the huge bag of presents from the boot.

  ‘Steady now, love,’ warned Dino. ‘Enid’s liable to call the police on us.’

  ‘Let her,’ said Linda. ‘Let Freddie see the police drag his nana away for the crime of loving him.’

  She swaggered up the path and hammered on the front door with her closed fist. There was no response. In her mind’s eye, Linda saw Enid Pawson sitting tight until her unwanted visitors went away. Well, they weren’t going to. Whatever had pulled Linda Hewitt here today would keep her here until she saw Freddie. Linda tried the door but not surprisingly it was locked. She battered on the glass panel with the side of her hand until it hurt.

  ‘You’re going to break that bloody thing in a minute,’ said Dino.

  ‘Good, she might come out then. I would have thought she’d have made an appearance by now, if only to stop the neighbours talking.’

  ‘Last time I went round the back,’ said Iris. ‘She wasn’t expecting that.’

  ‘Dino, get round to the back,’ barked Linda. She stepped over something horrid and prickly in a plant pot in order to look through the front window. Snagging her tights on it didn’t help her mood. She shielded her eyes from the sun and peered in.

  ‘The side gate’s locked,’ said Dino.

  ‘Huh. They’ll have done that in case I ever came back,’ huffed Iris.

  ‘Can you climb over?’ asked Linda.

  ‘Linda, it’s six foot high. There’s no chance of me doing it, love.’ Dino was off work with sciatica as it was. He could barely lift his foot to get up a step.

  ‘Not you specifically, but you in general. I mean: can it be climbed?’

  ‘Yeah, by Edmund Hillary.’

  Linda adjusted position to make sure that what she could see through the window wasn’t a trick of the eye.

  ‘Dino, I think Enid’s lying on the floor.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I can see a part of her leg, I’m sure.’

  ‘Part of it? Has she been cut up?’ enquired Iris, then she sniffed. ‘Hope so.’

  ‘Something isn’t right,’ said Linda, brow furrowed in escalating concern. ‘I felt it this morning. Dino, let’s err on the side of caution. Ring an ambulance.’

  ‘Linda . . .’

  ‘Just do it. Where the hell is Freddie?’

  Iris’s hand leaped up to her throat. She went to the side gate and shouted his name.

  ‘Shit. That bloody French door is open,’ yelled Linda. She stepped back over the snaggy plant and laddered her other leg. ‘I’m going to have to climb over that gate.’

  ‘How the hell are you going to do that? No, no, you can’t,’ Dino protested but Linda was insistent. She might have been eighteen stone but she had to get into that back garden.

  Iris’s cry alerted them. ‘Linda, Freddie’s here, on the other side of the gate.’

  ‘Oh thank God,’ said Linda trying to see through the wooden slats, but there were no gaps. ‘Freddie, are you all right, love?’

  ‘Nana’s fallen,’ said Freddie. ‘I can’t wake her up.’

  ‘It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s Nana Hewitt. I’m here to help her. Freddie, do you know where Mummy keeps the key for this gate?’

  ‘Hello, can I order an ambulance . . .’ Dino was saying into his mobile. He sounded as if he was ordering a Chicken Bhuna from Edwina’s Curry House, thought Linda, as she scouted around for something either to bash down the gate or enable her to climb over it.

  ‘I know keys,’ Freddie said, his voice shrill with excitement. ‘Shall I get them?’

  ‘Yes please, my lovely. Then I want you to try and throw them over.’

  ‘There’s a step-ladder resting against next door’s wall,’ said Iris, pointing over the hedge.

  Linda strode as fast as she could down the path, out of the gate, up next door’s path and back again with the ladder.

  ‘They’re sending an ambulance,’ replied Dino, coming forward to take the ladder. He propped the ladder against the gate and said to his wife, ‘How the bloody hell are you going to get up there?’

  ‘Freddie,’ Iris called. There was no response. Then a picture loomed in her head of that hideous gnome, and what he was holding . . . ‘Oh, please, no,’ she said.

  ‘What’s up, Mum?’

  ‘There’s a statue in the middle of that pond. A big ugly gnome with a set of keys in his hand. You don’t think that—’

  ‘Dino, hold that ladder,’ shrieked Linda.

  ‘Freddie, don’t go near the pond, will you, love?’ Dino thumped on the gate.

  Linda started to climb up the steps.

  Dino groaned. ‘You’ll break your bloody neck.’

  ‘Good job there’s an ambulance coming then,’ said Linda, as she managed to haul herself over somehow and scraped down the other side. ‘Stand back. I’m throwing a brick over. Bash the bloody gate in, Dino.’ She picked up a loose brick from a stack and threw it as gently as she could over to her husband then hurried round to the back of the house, scanning for Freddie. He wasn’t in the garden, thank goodness. He must be looking for keys somewhere inside. Enid Pawson was lying on the kitchen floor unconscious. Linda dropped to her side and checked for a pulse in her neck. She found it and it was strong. And so was the smell of alcohol on her breath.

  Behind her Dino and Iris poured into the kitchen.

  ‘She’s pissed,’ growled Linda, checking Enid for immediate signs of damage.

  Enid’s eyes fluttered open but she couldn’t seem to focus.

  ‘Where are you, Freddie mate?’ Dino went to the bottom of the stairs and called for his grandson. When there was no answer, Iris scurried back outside to double-check that Freddie wasn’t there.

  ‘Bloody hell, Linda, come quick,’ cried Iris, ‘There’s something out here in the water.’

  Linda was on her feet like a flash and running past her mother. She pushed her way through the plants and headed towards the pond, heart in her mouth, blood pounding in her ears. There at the base of the statue was Freddie, floating face down, arms resting on the water at either side of him.

  She couldn’t remember jumping in, but she must have done because she was wet through when it was all over. Suddenly Dino was there too, helping pull their precious little Freddie out and laying him on the grass. Then Linda set to work.

  Pulse. Check airways, sweep mouth, tilt to side. Some water comes out – n
ot much. Angle neck, seal mouth with her own, blow. He was so cold, so pale. She still couldn’t feel a pulse. She’d performed CPR on many patients in her life, but never had to pull one back from drowning. This is my little boy. Commence chest compressions. Count to thirty. Check pulse. An ambulance siren. A pulse. Thank You God. Freddie was retching, crying. He was alive.

  Dino was talking to someone behind her. ‘She’s a matron at the hospital. If anyone could save him, she could.’

  Iris’s voice. ‘She’s pissed on cheap gin and in charge of this boy on a daily basis. And no, I don’t know where his bloody mother is, but his father’s a decorated war hero serving his country. Now you tell me, officer, which side of the family would you give the babysitting to?’

  The police were here as well, it seemed. Linda thought that a better person wouldn’t have relished her mother’s indiscretion, but today . . . sod it. Rebecca had gambled with her son’s life and nearly lost him because of it. No, Linda would have no compunction at all about using what had happened today as leverage if it would mean that Freddie was safe. Life wasn’t fair – as Rebecca so often said, and some words just came back to bite you on the bum.

  Chapter 71

  Stel had been feeling awful all day. The headache had been cured with two lots of ibuprofen and copious amounts of water but it couldn’t take away the shame of behaving as she had in front of Ian. She believed his recollection of events more than her own. There were too many holes and inconsistencies in her memory for it to be relied on. She promised herself that she would never let him see her like that again and set about the process of making amends. She cooked a one-pot chicken stew for their tea which she hoped he’d like. He returned home from work with a bunch of flowers cut from the hospice garden and a bottle of Lucozade. He’d given her a big kiss and told her that he hoped they could put the last day behind them because the last thing he wanted was for them to split up. He had worried himself stupid all day that she thought badly of him.

  How could Stel have doubted such a considerate man?

  *

  Hugo rang at 5 p.m. just as Viv was refilling Wonk’s water trough. His call confirmed what she already knew, really. He said he would email her all the technical jargon but filled her in verbally on the main points. She’d tried to talk matter-of-factly, which she managed, until she put down the phone. Then she’d thrown her arms around the little grey donkey’s neck and she had cried because now it was all real and she had a choice to make. And whichever one she picked would hurt her.

  *

  That night Ian got into bed, said goodnight to Stel and rolled over.

  ‘No goodnight kiss?’ Stel had asked, blinking back tears of disappointment.

  ‘I’m not being funny, Stelly,’ he said over his shoulder, ‘but I don’t think I’d be able to raise a smile tonight. Being accused of rape doesn’t do much for the libido.’

  He was asleep in minutes. It took Stel much longer than that.

  Chapter 72

  Viv wouldn’t have thought it would be possible to function as normally as she had on the Saturday.

  She had seen to the animals, collected the eggs and done two loads of washing. She had walked Pilot up the hill, food shopped, conversed normally with Mrs Macy and complimented her on her new hat. She marvelled at her body’s ability to mask the activity sparking in her brain, but Ursula had picked up on her stress. She would not fly to Viv’s glove. Not even for a chunk of her favourite venison.

  Viv felt like a Dalek, as though a different person was driving her outer shell with levers and buttons: wash those plates, delete that spam from the mail file, talk politely to Mr Wayne about the nice weather we are having. She was the same person she had been only one day before, but also she was very different because she knew now and there could be no undoing of that.

  Viv picked up the knitted toy bee from her bedside table. She wished she had never opened the box and lifted it out. She wished she had never cut the seam when she felt the paper inside it. But she had made the decision to do so. And each of the choices that spun from that moment had been harder and bigger and more complicated than the last.

  Chapter 73

  ‘Are you ready to go then?’ asked Ian.

  Stel looked round from brushing her hair in the kitchen mirror. She checked the time on the wall clock. She didn’t usually set off to meet the Old Spice Girls until quarter past five. Why would she set off at quarter to?

  ‘Bit early,’ she replied.

  ‘It’s not. It starts in half an hour.’ Ian lifted his jacket from the back of a chair and put it on.

  Stel was confused. ‘What does?’

  Ian rolled his eyes. ‘The film.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The film,’ he repeated the word but increased the volume. ‘I told you that I was taking you to the cinema.’

  Stel couldn’t remember him mentioning it at all. Besides, she wouldn’t have agreed to go on a Sunday early evening. That was her Old Spice Girls slot.

  ‘When did you say that?’

  Ian looked at her with open-mouthed disbelief. ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Stel. ‘I’m going to Linda’s. I always go to Linda’s on Sunday. It’s set in stone.’

  Ian laughed dryly. ‘You are joking. We could have gone yesterday but I thought you might need a rest after the . . . incident. You said we’d go today instead.’

  Stel shook her head. ‘I didn’t. I wouldn’t have said that I’d go on a Sunday.’

  ‘Stel, trust me, you did. You really did. We had a whole conversation about it. You said you wanted to see that new Tom Hardy film – I said I’d take you tomorrow. You said great, you couldn’t wait, remember?’

  ‘I remember saying I wanted to see the new Tom Hardy film . . .’ Stel did. But she couldn’t recall them arranging anything. She was sure of it. Or was she?

  ‘So what are you saying?’ Ian’s hands-on-hips stance was one of clear annoyance.

  ‘Well, I’m going to Linda’s.’

  Ian threw up his hands. ‘I honestly think you’re losing it, Stelly.’ He ripped his coat off and threw it across the kitchen. ‘Right, you fuck off to your friend’s then,’ he said with no veil drawn over his anger.

  ‘Ian, don’t be like that. I go there every Sun—’

  ‘I bend over backwards for you, Stelly. I bring you flowers, I clean your sick up, I forgive you when you gouge half my face off and then accuse me . . .’

  Stel clamped her hands over her ears. She couldn’t bear to hear what a mess she was. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t remember,’ she said, tears threatening. ‘Look, we’ll go and watch the film. I’ll text Linda and tell her I don’t feel very well.’

  ‘I mean, who spends Sunday evenings with their friends every week?’ asked Ian with a mirthless laugh.

  ‘We’ve done it for years,’ said Stel, wiping her running nose. ‘We let off steam.’

  Ian handed Stel a tissue and put his arms around her. ‘You shouldn’t have any steam to let off. I don’t want you to be stressed. And if you are, you can talk to me now, okay?’

  He lifted up her chin, despite her protest. She didn’t want him to see her with red eyes and a snotty nose. He’d seen enough of her imperfections in the past few days, but he held her face firmly and stared fixedly at her as if she were beautiful.

  Then he said, ‘Go and brush your teeth because they look a bit yellow and we’ll go.’ And he kissed the tip of her nose.

  Chapter 74

  In Linda’s party room, Gaynor was filling everyone in on the arrangements for the funeral. No one said it, but she looked happier than she had all year.

  ‘One o’clock at St Jude’s Church and then on to the crematorium. Then refreshments at the Farmer’s Arms. I’m expecting a good turn-out.’

  ‘You coming with us, Caro?’ said Linda. ‘There’s not a lot of parking at the church so we might as well go together. I’ve texted Stel and told her to be here for just after half-past twelve.’

  �
��Thanks, Linda. Did Stel say what was up with her exactly?’

  ‘She’d been sick and was going back to bed,’ replied Linda.

  ‘Probably be one of those twenty-four-hour bug things. There’s something going around,’ said Iris. ‘They do a good spread at the Farmer’s, Gaynor. That’ll have cost you a bob or two.’

  ‘Well, nothing but the best,’ said Gaynor, giving a sniff, although she didn’t feel like crying one bit. The knowledge that Mick missed her and had never stopped loving her would carry her through the rest of her life like a warm current of air. ‘He’s left me well provided for. House is paid off now and we had a couple of life insurance policies. She did all right as well. A bloody house and a fat bank account. And God knows what else.’

  ‘Stop thinking about her now,’ said Caro. ‘Mick was coming back to you. We all knew he would in the end. He had a mid-life crisis and regretted it. You’d have got over it and had many happy years together.’

  ‘You should go to one of them mediums,’ said Iris, spraying egg mayo on her lap. ‘Mick might send you a message.’

  ‘They’re all rubbish, Mum,’ scoffed Linda. ‘I don’t believe in any of that psychic bollocks.’

  ‘You can laugh but Joan Fleetwood went to see one when her Judd passed over because she couldn’t find his wallet. Pat Morrison in Horcroft, she’s called. And he came through for her.’

  Linda rolled her eyes. ‘And did he say where his wallet was?’

  ‘No, but he said she should buy a new fridge freezer.’

  Caro coughed to cover up her involuntary giggle. Linda threw up her hands in exasperation. ‘And?’

  Iris looked at her as if she were daft. ‘And what? That’s it. She bought a fridge freezer.’

  ‘What about the bloody wallet?’ said Linda impatiently.

  Iris shrugged. ‘I don’t know, I forgot to ask her.’