Acts of Kindness

by Heather Barnett

  ‘I don’t want to seem rude,’ Bella said, ‘but I don’t even know your name.’

  ‘Maggie. Maggie Thatcher.’

  Zoe and Bella looked at each other.

  ‘Well… Maggie, it’s lovely of you to bring the knickers and everything, but—’

  ‘The thing is, you see, with Acorns, they can’t be trusted. They take people and tell them lies to suck them in. And if you don’t like it…’ She used the banana to mimic a knife cutting her throat. ‘That’s what happened to my Teddy.’

  Maggie’s silent buzzer went off again and she sprang out of her chair. Stuffing the remaining half of the banana in her mouth, she gave the skin to Bella with one hand and grabbed the paper bag with the other.

  ‘I’ve got to go now,’ she mumbled through the banana. ‘Be careful, dear. Very careful.’

  The front door slammed behind her.

  ‘Bloody hell.’ Zoe shook her head. ‘Bloody hell! And people say London’s dangerous.’

  The next afternoon, after dropping Zoe off at the station, Bella rang the doorbell of the house next door.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, Angela, is this a bad time?’

  The woman paused for a moment, one hand resting on the door jamb, the other holding a very fine paintbrush tipped with pink. The penny dropped as she associated the young woman on the doorstep with the new arrival she’d welcomed with the gift of a peace lily some days previously.

  ‘No, no, come in!’

  She led Bella through to the kitchen where an easel was set up, a rough outline of the garden beyond beginning to take shape on the canvas. Curled up on the bare wooden table was a silver tabby cat. Angela put the kettle on and gestured to one of the comfy-looking armchairs pulled up next to the open fire which made Bella’s cheeks glow after the cold air outside.

  ‘Make yourself at home. Tea? Coffee?’

  ‘Coffee would be lovely.’

  ‘Settling in okay?’ Angela asked, reaching for the mugs.

  ‘Yeah, really well thanks. Everyone’s friendly, unlike back in London. When I was in Acton, we lived in a converted Victorian house and I probably said five words to the people in the other flat the whole time we were living there. In the week I’ve been here, I’ve met nearly all the neighbours. David and Pauline in number five even invited me to their drinks party next month! Are you going?’

  ‘Absolutely. If it’s anything like the last one it’ll be a hoot. Arthur Price got trolleyed and gave us a demonstration of Irish dancing. Not easy on a Zimmer frame.’ Angela’s eyes twinkled. ‘It’s a shame there’s no one nearer your age here. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you brought some friends along.’

  ‘Yes, they said I could bring someone. My friend Zoe was here from London this weekend actually. She loved the house, all the nooks and crannies. Including the fact that the eaves cupboards have a gap that goes right the way through to your house! Did you know that? I found out when I was putting boxes away.’

  ‘I do remember something about that now you mention it,’ Angela put the mugs down on the table with a smile. ‘I won’t sneak through in the night, promise!’

  ‘Ha! Well, speaking of unexpected visitors… do you know a Maggie Th—’

  Before she could get any further Angela’s hand flew to her mouth.

  ‘Oh… bugger! Sorry! I knew there was something I meant to do when I came to see you that first night. I was going to warn you about Maggie.’

  ‘That’s really her name then? Maggie Thatcher?’

  Angela nodded. ‘Unbelievable as it sounds, yes. So, she came round to see you?’

  ‘This was her second visit. She wanted to know how I was getting on at work. I’ve just started at Acorn Consulting.’

  Comprehension swept across Angela’s face.

  ‘Oh, dear. You poor thing. That’s a double whammy then; you’ve stumbled on her two obsessions. Strangers in the village and Acorn Consulting.’

  She pushed a plate of biscuits in Bella’s direction.

  ‘It’s a very sad story. Maggie’s husband, Teddy, worked at Acorn Consulting. Had done for twenty years. They don’t have children and Maggie’s never worked, she stayed at home and looked after Teddy. Anyway, one day in the run-up to Christmas he disappeared. Went off to work in the morning and never came home. The police were called but according to his colleagues, he never arrived at the office. Maggie was distraught, as you might imagine. It was all over the local news. They had search parties out in the woods; they even dredged the lake. But he’s not turned up and they haven’t found his car. They were hopeful about that as it was quite distinctive, a little yellow kit car.’

  ‘Poor Mrs Thatcher.’

  ‘Yes. Maggie was already… idiosyncratic, but she’s got worse since he disappeared. In the first few days, she’d go out walking for hours on end, looking for Teddy. She’s still out looking for clues and calling the police to tell them about suspicious characters. I think coming to check out any new arrivals is her way of keeping tabs on the community.’

  Bella sipped her coffee. She was ashamed that she had mentally ridiculed the poor woman.

  ‘There was no indication that Acorn Consulting was involved though, right?’

  ‘No,’ Angela replied. ‘I mean, not that I know of.’

  The first month went by and Bella started to feel like less of an outsider in the office. People weren’t standing on ceremony as much and she relaxed enough to respond in kind to Oscar’s deadpan delivery, often earning herself one of his characteristic single ‘Ha!’s of appreciative amusement. Lauren was starting to come out of her shell, chatting over lunch about her gruelling triathlon training and even suggesting an after-work drink one evening when they were both in the office late. By six o’clock on the Friday of her fourth week, only she and Lauren were left in the office. It was Valentine’s Day. Unusually, Ben had left on time, perhaps for a date, or an evening with his girlfriend – or boyfriend – if such a person existed. Bella had so far gleaned nothing about his personal life. Oscar was driving down to Devon for the weekend to visit friends.

  Bella had been caught up in what she was doing, but her eyes were starting to feel dry against her contact lenses. Time to call it a night and head home to a planned evening of indulgence – fish and chips from the chip shop in the village, gin and tonic and something from her Hitchcock collection. She started shutting down her laptop, then, on the spur of the moment turned to Lauren.

  ‘Hey, I’ve been invited to drinks with the neighbours tomorrow night and they said I could bring a friend. Do you fancy it? If you’re free, that is.’

  Lauren blinked uncertainly. Bella charged on.

  ‘I mean, they’re all our parents’ kind of age so I’m not saying it’ll be very exciting. I just…’

  She could see Lauren was trying hard to make eye contact and stopped to let her speak.

  ‘I’d like to come. Thanks. I’m not doing anything on Saturday.’

  Bella smiled. ‘Great! I’ll text you the address. Do you want to meet at mine at seven thirty-ish?’

  She looks gorgeous, Bella thought as she opened the door on Saturday evening. Lauren was wearing skinny jeans with heels and her normally severely coiffed hair was loose in a very cool-looking afro. The rather middle-aged trouser suits and polo necks she wore at work hadn’t prepared Bella for such a glamorous weekend look.

  As they crunched across the gravel between the houses, Bella said in a low voice, ‘If it’s too dull we can always make our excuses. Give me a nudge or something if you’re desperate to leave.’

  ‘I’m sure I won’t be.’

  The door opened and Bella was sure she wouldn’t be desperate to leave either. Looking down at her was the face of an Adonis. Very possibly joined to the body of an Adonis but it seemed rude to do a full top-to-toe pat-down before being introduced.

  Bella hesitated. ‘This is number five, isn’t it? David and Pauline’s?’

  ‘It is.’ The voice matched the face. Bella wound a strand of hair arou
nd her forefinger so tightly it started to cut off the blood supply. ‘I’m James, their son.’

  Untangling the finger, Bella introduced herself and Lauren, then followed him through to the large open-plan living area. She glanced at Lauren, wondering if she felt equally dazed, but Lauren smiled back at her as if it was an everyday occurrence to meet the human incarnation of a Greek god in the house next door. Pauline tottered over to greet them, her pink face looking shiny with the effort of entertaining – and perhaps a few glasses of wine. Bella went through the introductions again.

  ‘And I see you’ve met James! I was so chuffed when he called this morning and said he was coming for the weekend. I thought, thank goodness there’ll be someone for our new neighbour and her friend to talk to instead of a load of old fogeys! It’s such a shame Anna couldn’t make it too, isn’t it, James?’

  James agreed it was a shame, but she was on call this weekend. Oh, thought Bella. Anna. Dr Anna, by the sound of it. Who couldn’t make it down today with James. Then she saw the wedding ring. Typical. She should have known better than to think she would stumble across an outrageously attractive single man at a middle-aged drinks party in the wilds of Wiltshire. Zoe’s advice to sleep with unsuitable men was all very well, but she had her moral code, enforced by the invisible eyes of What Others Might Think of Her. She wouldn’t go for a married man, ever.

  The three of them – she, Lauren and James – naturally gravitated together during the evening, occupying a corner of the kitchen near the drinks. Lauren became as animated as Bella had ever seen her. She and James discovered a shared love of mountain biking, much to Bella’s chagrin as she found herself excluded from discussions of suspension forks and disc brakes. At one point they were so engrossed in a comparison of the same endurance bike ride they’d both done in New Zealand that Bella sidled off to say hello to Angela.

  Angela jerked her head in James’s direction. ‘Bet you weren’t expecting that?’

  Bella feigned ignorance. ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, come on. Him. James! Shame he’s married. I hope your friend’s picked up on that?’

  Bella shook her head. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure she has. I’m sure it’s all perfectly…’ She waved a hand towards them and then realised she was indicating empty space. James and Lauren were nowhere to be seen.

  An hour or so later, as she and Angela were drunkenly debating the various merits of mojitos versus Singapore slings, with much material evidence to draw upon, she got a text from Lauren.

  Sorry to disappear. James wanted to show me his bike and I lost track of time. Thx for a lovely evening, going home now. See you Mon x

  Bella snorted to herself. Show you his bike indeed. Showing you his something no doubt… It seemed that some people didn’t share Bella’s strict moral code when it came to married men.

  In the office on Monday, Lauren looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Bella had misjudged her. She’d assumed that shyness was a sign of timidity, but perhaps not. She was a dark horse, that was for sure. She tried a couple of broad hints, but Lauren wouldn’t take the bait – James’s name never passed her lips, and in the end, Bella was forced to resign herself to silent speculation.

  Chapter Four

  The weeks flew past and almost before Bella knew it the end of her probation period was upon her. On that Friday she dressed with particular care. She knew that whenever possible Isadora Faye herself would conduct a new employee’s induction to the OAK Institute. Bella hadn’t met Isadora, who by all accounts was something of a recluse.

  Her mouth was dry as she entered the building. She hadn’t been told what to expect, just that if she passed her probation she would be inducted to OAK. Crossing the hall, she said good morning to Kelly, who leapt up and sprinted over with a smile.

  ‘Bella! So. The big day.’ The teeth were as dazzling as ever. ‘If you wanna go up to the top floor, room 157, they’re waiting for you there. Good luck.’

  Kelly threw her arms around her and Bella’s Britishness shot up to eleven on the scale as she reciprocated with a couple of feeble pats on the other woman’s back. Released, she headed for the stairs, her stomach turning over. She was dying for a cup of tea but it seemed inappropriate to arrive at such a portentous meeting holding a mug.

  Room 157 was long and narrow, with a gleaming mahogany boardroom table down the middle. On one wall a tapestry had been raised in gathered loops to reveal a big screen. Catherine and Ben sat side by side at the table, unsmiling. Ben indicated that she should take the chair at the end nearest the door.

  ‘Morning, Bella. Tea? Coffee?’

  His tone was more formal than usual. Neither he nor Catherine had a drink, but they each had a printed report laid in front of them on the glossy tabletop. Taking the chair indicated, Bella shook her head. Ben picked up the report and glanced through a couple of paragraphs before proceeding.

  ‘We’re here today to discuss your probation period. Catherine has pulled together this report based on input from myself and the team, and other sources.’

  Other sources? Like what – or whom? wondered Bella.

  ‘I’m delighted to say that on the whole, you’ve performed extremely well,’ Ben said.

  When Bella was twelve, she’d had a school report including a summary section from her form teacher. The teacher had propounded at great length Bella’s achievements through the year, her excellent qualities and the fact she was a pleasure to teach. If he had to pick out one area for improvement, he said, it would be that she should raise her hand more often in maths lessons. Bella had taken in nothing from that report other than that she hadn’t done well in maths. She had continued, throughout her life, to root out the tiny negatives in a field of positives, like a pig hunting truffles. Ben’s use of the phrase ‘on the whole’ struck fear into her soul. ‘On the whole’, meant there were some areas she hadn’t performed well in.

  He put down the report and picked up a remote control.

  ‘In fact,’ he continued, ‘I would be offering you a permanent contract right now if it weren’t for one thing.’

  Something cold dropped into the pit of her stomach. She knew what he was going to show her. Security footage of when she went nosing around the building during the OAK meeting. Oh God. The screen came alive and sure enough, there was a shot of her walking down one of the corridors. Something was odd though – she was holding her phone up in front of her. She hadn’t had her phone with her when she’d done her reconnoitre that day.

  ‘Why,’ asked Ben, scrutinising her, ‘were you taking pictures of the building in your first few days here?’

  ‘Oh!’ Was it worth trying to make something up that would make her seem less of a moron? No, best to be honest. ‘Oh, that! I’ve… sorry, this is ridiculous. I’ve got a terrible sense of direction. As Catherine knows, in fact – she had to rescue me one morning, didn’t you, Catherine? I thought if I took pictures of landmarks on the route to the office, I’d be able to get there without people having to shepherd me all the way from the entrance hall.’

  Comprehension swept across Catherine’s face and she said, in deprecating tones, ‘I can certainly confirm that Bella got lost on her second day. She was over in Human Resources, with no idea how she’d got there.’

  Ben’s shoulders relaxed. ‘In that case, Bella, I’m delighted to offer you a contract as a permanent employee of Acorn Consulting. Congratulations. Would you like to accept?’

  Bella grabbed the outstretched hand and shook it so hard Ben flinched. ‘I’d love to. Thank you.’

  ‘Excellent. Cup of tea to celebrate?’ While he went over to the cabinet in the corner and poured out the drinks, Catherine pulled a bell-rope that dangled against the wall.

  Ben handed round cups and saucers and they sipped in silence, waiting.

  A muffled bell chimed at the other end of the room and Ben strode to the door. Catherine stood up and Bella hastened to do the same. In the doorway, a small, immaculately coiffured woman appeared. Bella resist
ed the urge to curtsey. Isadora Faye crossed the room and paused at the opposite end of the table before sitting, and gesturing for the others to do the same.

  ‘Good morning, Bella,’ she said. ‘It is my great pleasure to introduce you to the Organised Acts of Kindness Institute.’

  Until Isadora had spelt out OAK’s name in full, it had never occurred to Bella that it was an acronym; she’d never seen it written down. The Organised Acts of Kindness Institute. It sounded as unlikely as the Monster Raving Looney Party. But at least, unlike at her interview, she had the benefit of having got to know these people for three months. She was excited to find out more, rather than unsettled and anxious. Even the obscure warnings of Maggie Thatcher had faded into the background in the face of the day-to-day normality of her job and colleagues.

  Isadora nodded to Ben, who pressed a button on the remote. A portrait of a woman appeared on the screen. She could have been straight out of a Jane Austen novel with her empire-line dress, understated string of pearls and pink and white complexion.

  ‘My ancestor, Emma Faye, established the Organised Acts of Kindness Institute over two hundred years ago. She also incorporated Acorns & Company, both to conceal and financially support the work of the Institute. She was an heiress. One of the wealthiest women in England. Like many of her female contemporaries, she was frustrated by the limited role society afforded her.’ Isadora paused to take a couple of sips from the glass of water in front of her. ‘After the early death of her husband she began to look for a philanthropic outlet. She took seats on the boards of several charities, but her ambition was to do more.’

  Ben and Catherine must have heard this story a hundred times but they showed no sign of it. Catherine leaned forward, chin in hand, eyes gazing at Isadora in what looked very much like adoration.

  ‘Emma had three children: John, Edward and Beatrice. When John, the eldest, was seven years old, he was playing with the local farmer’s son in the farmyard. The two were leaping from a hayrick onto the ground. On one particular jump, John landed on a nail sticking out of a piece of wood, which had been hidden under loose hay. He screamed. His playmate screamed also. The men were out in the fields and the farmer’s wife at the market. A stranger, passing by the farm on his way to the nearby market town, came to their aid. He removed the nail from John’s foot, which bled profusely, bathed it and bandaged it with his handkerchief. John, by then, had calmed enough to tell the man where he lived. Despite it being quite out of his way, the man put John on his pony’s back and led him home.’