Riverflow

by Alison Layland

  She might earn less than Lauren and her other mates, but it would be enough and it was local. Most possible Saturday jobs would be town-based, and her mum, keen to get her out of the house since Philip had been on the scene, would be bound to suggest she spent more time at her dad’s. That would mean weekends away from her mates and the Horseshoes, now with the added attraction of… She told herself not to even go there. She didn’t stand a chance.

  As she entered the post office, her heart did a small somersault as she saw Silvan’s artfully spiky hair and dark eyes across the shop. It sank to her boots when she saw he was talking to Lauren and chatting up Megan Shaw. Typical. She might not stand a chance, but didn’t need the evidence right in front of her. She paused, wondering if she could reach the counter without being noticed. Too late. Lauren beckoned her across.

  ‘Hey!’ Tamsin walked over, all outward confidence. Silvan actually smiled, but her pleasure was immediately deflated when Megan opened her mouth.

  ‘If it isn’t the Cider Queen.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Tamsin said, hating herself for rising to it.

  ‘Oh, nothing.’ The older girl grinned. ‘Well, I can’t hang around. See you guys in the Shoes tonight.’ She looked directly at Silvan as she said it, then turned to Tamsin. ‘Silvan’s going to bring his guitar. You coming?’

  ‘Can’t, sorry.’ She wished she could think of a decent excuse. Lauren would understand, but she bet Silvan had never been grounded in his life, and would have walked brazenly out of the house if he had.

  To her relief, Megan didn’t push it, but her departure broke up the little group. Lauren joined Tamsin in the post-office queue for a moment of sympathising, before going on her way. Tamsin realised she’d been too distracted to tell her about Alderleat. She’d also managed to say nothing to Silvan except Hey and Bye. No wonder she didn’t stand a chance.

  On her way out of the village, she was changing gear for the hump-backed bridge when something clanked and the pedals whirred emptily. Shit. The chain had come off – again. She leaned it against the bridge wall, grabbed a dock leaf to keep her fingers clean and tried to coax the filthy chain back onto the cog, but to no avail. Her kid brother Simon was the expert, but she had to get the stupid thing home first. With a weary sigh, she started pushing.

  She hadn’t gone far before a jeep pulled up beside her.

  ‘Can I help?’

  The voice made her treacherous heart race.

  ‘D’you know anything about bikes?’

  ‘Not really. I can give you a lift, though.’ Without waiting for a reply, Silvan jumped out and stowed the bike effortlessly in the back among some sacks of seed and a clanking assortment of gear. ‘Hop in.’

  Tamsin obeyed in a flash, feeling slightly disappointed that there was no one around to see her. They set off in an embarrassing silence as she desperately tried to think of something cool to say. He slowed by Holtwood and asked if she minded a quick detour to drop the sacks off at the pens before he took her home.

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘You sure you can’t come tonight?’ he said as he negotiated the rutted track. ‘Is it anything to do with last week?’

  Shit, he’d noticed. ‘What…?’

  He flashed her a smile. ‘Lauren told me. Nothing to be ashamed of, getting grounded. Part of growing up. My folks were really strict too, you know. Couldn’t wait to leave, get my own place – it’ll come before you know it – but, you know, now I have, there are times I actually miss them.’

  They reached the pheasant pens and he drew to a halt. ‘Did you get home all right the other night?’

  Did he have to pile on the embarrassment? ‘Sure. My neighbours gave me a lift.’

  ‘Bede and Elin?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He knew them. And he was interested enough to know where she lived. Things were looking up.

  He waved towards the pheasant pens. ‘I suppose you heard about the vandalism here. Do you think it was him – Bede?’

  ‘Dunno.’ She’d heard her mum going on about it several times, vowing to get her free-range eggs and organic produce for the B&B elsewhere from now on. She was probably only trying to impress Philip. Tamsin herself had hardly given it a second thought, but now found herself siding with her new friends. ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Who else do you think it could have been, then?’

  She looked across at him. Surely he didn’t suspect her? ‘No idea.’

  ‘Can’t be easy having Philip around the house.’

  Shit, that. ‘I keep out the way as much as I can.’

  She was reluctant to say too much about his employer until she knew more about his own opinion.

  ‘Don’t blame you. So, how well do you know the Sherwells?’

  ‘A bit. You know.’ He nodded, clearly waiting for her to go on. ‘We moved to Bankside about twelve years ago. I think they’d been there a couple of years before that. So I’ve seen them around, like, for ever. I help out there now.’ No need to tell him she’d spent half an hour there so far and was merely hoping for more regular work.

  ‘They seem interesting – all that green sustainability stuff.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Not that I buy into it myself. Don’t get me wrong, I respect what they’re doing, of course, but no one’s going to tell me that undoing technology and going back to a more primitive age is the answer.’

  ‘But they’re not—’

  ‘There are plenty of resources to keep us going in our lifetime and beyond, and people will have thought of a proper solution by the time Armageddon arrives. In the meantime, we’re not gonna cope with change if the economy goes tits-up.’

  As she was trying to find the words to protest, he jumped out of the jeep. ‘Work to do. Won’t be long.’

  He dragged a couple of sacks from the back, jolting her bike alarmingly, stacked them by the fence and topped up the grain hopper at the edge of the pheasant pen. Tamsin pushed her disapproval aside and simply enjoyed watching him. He disappeared into the pen and she turned to gaze beyond the clearing into the undergrowth beneath gently swaying branches. The smell of wild garlic reminded her of how they used to come and play in Holtwood when they were kids, making dens and laying treasure hunts for one another. Lauren’s brother had even set up a rope swing out over the river one time. It was mad that she hadn’t been to the woods for so long. She glanced at the pheasant pens and the glimpse beyond of fields threatened with drilling in some future that felt unreal to her. They’d probably start restricting access before long.

  Silvan reappeared and climbed in.

  ‘Listen, Tammy, if you can’t make it tonight, how about getting together tomorrow?’ he said as he started the jeep and they moved away. ‘I’ve got a day off.’

  He glanced over with a smile that, together with that Tammy, made her heart leap and convinced her that she could sneak or argue her way out of the house during daylight hours.

  ‘Yeah, that’d be great.’ Common sense made a brief appearance. ‘I’m not sure how long for, though.’

  ‘No problem. We don’t have to go far – we could just go for a walk or whatever. Did you know there’s a water vole burrow on the opposite bank?’ He pointed back over his shoulder.

  ‘I thought they’d gone,’ Tamsin said. ‘You know, since the floods.’ She realised with a touch of regret that she had no idea whether the floods had driven them away; maybe it was more the case that she’d lost interest in nature and the outdoors over recent years.

  ‘I’ve seen them all right. I could bring us a snack and some bottles. We can stay for as long as you like.’

  ‘Awesome.’

  They arranged to meet, out of sight on the path through the woods, and swapped phone numbers in case bad weather meant changing the arrangements. At Bankside, he jumped out, went round to the back and hoisted her bike out. She thanked him for the lift.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said, trying to keep her voice casual.

  The finer things in life

 
‘You want to see it, Eco!’

  ‘Believe me, Mikey, I don’t.’ Bede put the last glass on the shelf, folded the teatowel and hung it to dry. ‘Now, what can I get you?’

  ‘Pint of Seven Bells, please. Oh, come on. Even you can’t be such a killjoy. It’s not every day—’

  ‘No? There’s some hope left for the world, then.’ He smiled as he put the pint on the bar. ‘How’s Janet?’

  As Mikey chatted about his wife’s progress after her recent operation, Bede wished it was as easy to deflect everyone’s interest. So Northcote had got himself a Bentley. On top of everything else it was just such a cliché.

  A small group came in, Brian among them. He came round to Bede’s side of the bar.

  ‘I can take over for a moment or two if you want to go and have a look.’

  Bede merely raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Know your enemy?’ Brian said.

  ‘I know it as well as I want to, thanks.’ Or did he mean the man?

  ‘Whatever your views,’ Mikey said, ‘surely you want to have a look? She’s a sight for sore eyes.’

  ‘Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder,’ Bede said.

  Brian grinned. ‘Your Elin’s eyes must work in a mighty unique way.’

  Bede made a show of flicking a speck of dust from his Horseshoes T-shirt – the first new garment he’d had in a while. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Seriously, though,’ Brian said, ‘I’d have thought you’d show some interest. There’s a piece of engineering perfection standing out there and you’re too stubborn to go and look.’

  ‘Useful purpose is an essential aspect of engineering perfection.’

  Mikey rolled his eyes. ‘I’d give up if I were you, Bri. You can’t expect Eco to join in a bit of harmless fun.’

  ‘Since when has fucking up the planet been harmless?’ His voice was casual, playful even, but Brian flashed him a warning look. Bede ignored him. ‘The only thing harmless about those things is that most people can’t afford them.’

  Shaking his head, Mikey went off towards the pool table.

  ‘Lighten up, hey?’ Brian said as they watched him go.

  Bede raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t want to disappoint my audience. I hate to think you’re falling at his feet just because—’

  ‘I’m not, but I’ve got a business to run. And he brings a few customers through the door.’

  It wasn’t long before Philip Northcote came through the door himself.

  ‘I’ve been hearing great things about your new motor.’ Bede reached for Philip’s personal glass and began to pull his usual pint.

  ‘You surprise me.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Didn’t have you down as the fawning kind.’

  ‘Blow me. Now I’m being criticised for trying to be polite. Actually, I said “hearing” great things. As a thinking man, I don’t always agree with everything I hear. So tell me more, like how many miles per gallon does she do?’

  Philip leaned on the bar. ‘If you need to ask you can’t afford it.’

  ‘You know perfectly well where I’m coming from. Doesn’t it make you feel dirty, like you’re trailing a huge cloud of poison and particulates behind you?’

  ‘Oh, change the bloody record. I’m all for emission controls, bla bla, if it keeps you lot happy. She complies with all the legislation. Though I remain to be convinced it has anything to do with a bit of unsettled weather. Tell you what, I’ll park her up in the garage for a few weeks and we’ll enjoy perfect spring sunshine, watch the river levels drop.’ Bede refused to rise to the bait. ‘Whatever you think, surely you’ve got to stop every now and then to appreciate the finer things in life. Isn’t that what civilisation’s all about?’

  Bede handed him his pint. ‘I guess we’ll just have to agree to differ on what constitutes “civilisation” and “the finer things in life”.’

  Philip looked at him as though Bede wouldn’t know a fine thing if it kicked him up the arse, then paid for his drink and went to sit down.

  ‘I could listen to you two all night,’ Brian said with a wink.

  A little later, Bede collected his cue from the store and went through to the pool room, giving a smile and a nod to his team mates. He settled down for a few moments’ practice before they set off for the game. The combination of precision and tactics suited him. He had no illusions about what they thought of him most of the time, but he was their best player and they respected him for that, at least. Winning hearts and minds with a game of pool; everyone had to start somewhere.

  He potted a few balls, pleased to find he was on form. Looking up, he realised Silvan had joined the small group. He was becoming quite the fixture.

  ‘New team member?’ Bede asked as he walked over.

  Gareth nodded. ‘We’re a bit short tonight. Jack’s working away and Mikey doesn’t want to go to an away game because he needs to be home early for Janet. Silvan’s stepping in.’

  ‘Welcome on board,’ Bede said. ‘D’you play much?’

  ‘A bit – nothing special. I’m just helping out. On the other hand, I’ve heard you’re a bit of a star.’ He smiled, then peered at Bede’s cue. ‘Joe Sherwell. Is that your late uncle?’

  Bede held it out for Silvan to take a closer look. They’d bought it for Joe and had it engraved with his name for Christmas one year. ‘My pride and joy – he taught me all I know about the game.’

  ‘Nice.’ Silvan ran his finger appreciatively along the wood, before looking up at him. ‘That uncle of yours meant a lot to you, didn’t he?’

  Bede frowned. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Joe’s sorely missed by us all,’ Gareth said. ‘Come on, lads, we’d better be off. Don’t want to be late.’

  ‘Can someone ride with me?’ Silvan said. ‘Make sure I don’t get lost.’

  ‘We’re taking my car tonight,’ Gareth said.

  ‘OK, I’ll follow you. Don’t mind giving someone a lift, though.’

  ‘We’re all going in Gareth’s,’ Bede said. ‘Unless you can fit everyone in yours?’

  Silvan frowned. ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘So it makes sense to take Gareth’s. We all chip in for the petrol; it’s perfectly fair. Just one lot of petrol.’

  ‘And Eco doesn’t like soiling his hands paying for that. I hope that electric car of yours, when it materialises, is going to be a people carrier.’ Gareth winked at Bede, turned back to Silvan. ‘But most importantly,’ he continued, ‘team spirit. We all go together.’

  Willow withies lay scattered around the kitchen table in a tangle. Elin paused, momentarily tracing their random patterns before returning to the tamed lines of the half-formed basket base at her fingertips. Her hands took over as her mind wandered. It was like the random patterns of life – paths crossing, threads interweaving.

  She turned up the stakes to form the sides, her attention drawn to the rain drumming relentlessly on the windows and roof. Disturbing her quiet music indoors, making a mire of the yard outside, keeping her from the garden and seeping dampness into the house, it was making her feel uneasy. She’d felt like this since their visit to Marjorie. Or maybe she’d felt like this since Philip – with all that he brought with him – had come back to live permanently in Foxover. Bede had scoffed about Philip’s incredulity when he refused payment, muttering about a world where nothing happened without money changing hands. Elin wondered if there were more to it than that: a reference to his mother selling them Alderleat so cheaply, as though by doing her enough favours they might be angling for a share of Bridge Farm. It would be laughable if the man weren’t so serious. As for his activities in Holtwood, she shuddered to think he might have his sights set on similarly reclaiming Alderleat.

  She thought again about the vandalism, feeling a flash of anger at whoever had done it. It could even have been what goaded Philip into buying the woodland and keeping them out. No, people didn’t make business decisions on such a flimsy basis. And anyway, why blame Bede? Her fingers
paused in their weaving. She’d defend him to the hilt in public, but couldn’t help wondering. No smoke without fire. A notion flashed into her mind – they’d just been talking about Fran and Jeff’s news when he left. Perhaps he’d anticipated the conversation it was bound to lead to, and it was some perverse way of proving he was an unfit dad. He’d done stranger things. She gave herself a mental shake. What on earth was she thinking? She sat back and checked over the evenness of her growing basket.

  Kip gave a small, sharp bark as a vehicle on the yard made itself heard above the noise of the weather. She put the basket down and peered out of the window. The colourful Sunny Dayslogo stood out faintly on the side of the van, incongruous in the streaming rain. She opened the door to Steve Day’s cheery smile, light brown mop of hair and characteristic bright tribal-patterned jacket.

  ‘Elin!’

  He enfolded her in a hug that was a little too enthusiastic, lingered a little too long. She ushered him in out of the rain.

  ‘Good to see you. What brings you here?’

  ‘Sorry, should’ve phoned. Never quite got the chance.’ He launched into an unnecessarily detailed description of his route and the day’s events. ‘So I was in the area and thought I’d drop by. I’ve got a job that might interest Bede.’