by Sam Short
Chapter 10
Giving Stan another wave, Pepper steered her bike across the road and headed for the small building which perched on the crest of the hill overlooking Horseshoe Woods.
Its shape suggesting it had once been a small chapel, the building was surrounded by a wrought iron fence and had a small car park alongside it, which was populated by two small cars. As Pepper neared it, she was able to make out the gold writing on the blue sign which stood proudly next to the gateway. Upper Picklebury Community Hall, it said, and it was quite apparent why the part of town she’d found herself in was known as Upper Picklebury.
The view across the valley was spectacular, and Pepper leaned her bike against the fence railings as she found the canal which sparkled far below, and followed it with her eye. Finding the bridge near her home, and then searching for the thatched roof of Meadow View Cottage, she smiled as she made out the shape of her chimney, and then allowed her eyes to wander to the oak tree in the meadow behind her home.
She gave a contented sigh as she realised just how small and quiet Picklebury was. Nestled between the hill she was standing on, and a hill of a similar size on the other side of the valley, the town followed the route of the canal, built on either side of the narrow waterway.
There couldn't have been more than three miles from the first building in Picklebury, to the last one a person would pass if they were to drive straight through the town.
As she studied the town, she realised how lucky she was to live in the cottage she did. Whereas a lot of the other homes in the town had a rising hill on each side, Pepper’s cottage, built on the outskirts of town, was afforded a view across the meadow behind her home and far into the distance.
Taking her bag from the basket on her bike, Pepper plunged her arm into the depths and fished around for Agnes Mowbray's purse. She gave a satisfied smile when she retrieved it and pulled her denim jacket straight. After ensuring her long blue skirt was hanging neatly over her boots, she ran a hand through the spikes in her hair and strode through the open gate towards the red door at the top of five steps.
The old handle felt loose in her hand as she twisted it, and the door resisted at first as she attempted to open it, before giving in to a little persuasion from her left shoulder.
As the door opened, Pepper became aware of a fast approaching threat from inside the building. She hadn't gone for her wand in self-defence for longer than she could remember, but as she pushed the red door fully open and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the change in light, she found herself desperately reaching inside her denim jacket as an elderly gentleman charged her with his hand raised and his mouth hurling a warning. "Stop right there!" he yelled. "Danger!"
Her fingers finding the pencil shape of her wand, Pepper prepared to draw it and cast a spell. She wasn't sure what spell — probably one which would cause her attacker's nasal hair to lengthen or make him suddenly grow a bunion on his big toe. Even as Pepper's fingers closed on the piece of oak wood, she cursed the drawbacks of being an earthy peace loving witch.
Whereas a witch who practised in the realms of fire could have produced a spell which would have taken the man off his feet and thrown him across the room, Pepper was resigned to using spells which could control the movement of plants, or create small imperfections on a person's body.
As the man continued to approach, and time seemed to slow, Pepper quickly checked her surroundings. There were no plants present which were large enough for her to cast a spell on and impede the man's progress, and Pepper wasn't sure that giving the man extra wrinkles on his already tired face, or filling his ears with more white hair than they already boasted, was going to stop him. He looked committed, and Pepper withdrew her hand from her jacket minus her wand, reckoning she could take him on in the old-fashioned way.
Just as she was balling her right hand into a fist and taking a step backwards in readiness to throw a punch, the man stopped in his tracks and brandished a piece of paper in front of Pepper's face as other people in the room began to shout.
"Good grief, Winston!" yelled a man. "What are you doing? You'll scare her to death, man!"
"You've made her turn white," said a woman. "What were you thinking?"
The man in front of Pepper produced a pen from his top pocket and held it alongside the sheet of paper. "You know the rules!" he said, spinning to face the three people sitting around the table festooned with small potted plants and a plate of biscuits surrounded by a teapot and matching teacups. "We won't be allowed to hold the club in the hall if we don't get a signature from everybody who steps through that door!" He turned to face Pepper again. "Madam, are you aware that pruning knives are dangerous? And if so, could you please fill out this form stating that you admit as much. I should advise you, after signing the form, if you are injured by a pruning knife — whether in use by yourself, or somebody else, you will not be able to sue any third party for any form of compensation. Do you understand?"
Pepper let out the breath she'd been holding onto since she'd thought the man was about to attack her. "Pardon?" she said.
The man gave a frustrated sigh and shook the piece of paper he held. "It's simple. If you wish to be in this hall at the same time that the Picklebury Garden Lover's Club is being held, then you must read and sign this form. I'll need your signature and your name in block capitals, please. There are dangerous pieces of equipment laying around, and I will not be responsible if you are to injure yourself or, god forbid, another person. Please sign the form or turn around and leave."
"I do apologise,” said a tall man as he approached Pepper, his kind eyes magnified by his spectacles. "Winston's become a bit tyrannical since the council began insisting that we abide by health and safety regulations."
"If you wish to contextualise the safety of every person beneath this roof as tyrannical, Geoffrey," said Winston, "then you can take over as health and safety officer! And you can stand before the court and answer the questions put to you by a judge when somebody is unfortunate enough to receive a wound inflicted by a pruning knife, or other such dangerous gardening implement. If you are not willing to take that risk, as none of you were when the position of health and safety officer became available, then please leave the serious business of people’s safety to me." He pushed the piece of paper closer to Pepper. "Are you going to sign this form, Madam, or are you going to leave?"
Almost fully recovered from the shock the self-important man had installed in her, Pepper gave a small nod as she took in her surroundings. The short man in front of her — Winston, reminded her of how a child would portray a typical grandad if asked to draw one, and the tall man standing alongside him made her think of headmasters or soldiers.
She'd already spotted Agnes Mowbray sitting at the table in front of what Pepper guessed was some sort of lily in a pot, and she didn't look happy to see Pepper. The plant didn't feel happy, either, and as Pepper listened to its vibes, she noted that the leaves had wilted, and the stem appeared weak.
Sitting alongside Agnes, sipping from the teacup in her hand, was a lady who made Pepper think of the woman who'd been in charge of the library during the years Pepper had attended her first school.
Taking a step into Pepper’s line of sight, Winston shook the piece of paper again and held the pen out towards her. "I must insist that you sign this form, otherwise you'll have to come back when our club is not using the hall."
Beginning to warm to the way in which Winston took his job so seriously, Pepper took the paper and pen, used her raised thigh as a wobbly makeshift table, and wrote her name in block capitals and then added her signature beneath it. She smiled at Winston as she handed it over. "There you go," she said. "I hope it's all in order."
Winston ran an eye over the piece of paper and nodded. "Thank you... Miss Pepper Grinder," he said. He gave Pepper a look of puzzlement. "What an unusual name. It makes me think of cooking. Or sneezing.”
Pepper took a deep breath through her nose and fixed Winston with narrowed ey
es. "It would be a funny name, were it to be pronounced in the way you just pronounced it. That is not how my name is pronounced, though. I don't understand why you would even think I’d be named after a condiment dispenser! My name is Pepper Grinder. It rhymes with hinder! It's Grin as in a wide smile, and Der as in how dare you mispronounce my name!"
"Surely this can't be the first time this misunderstanding has occurred?" said Winston. "It's an unusual name, and the way it's spelt would make anybody think it was pronounced in the way it reads on paper. I don't wish to be rude, but you're no spring chicken — surely this has happened to you before at some point in your life?"
Pepper stared Winston directly in his piggy little eyes. She re-evaluated that statement almost as soon as it had crossed her mind. His eyes weren't exactly piggy in nature, in fact, they were a pair of what Pepper considered to be quite pleasant eyes, it wasn't his eyes that were piggy, she realised — it was his attitude.
She shook her head slowly. "How insulting," she said. "My grandmother always said that a man who discusses a woman's age in her presence is a man who would discuss her more personal attributes when she wasn't present."
"I didn't mention your age!" protested Winston. "I was brought up, not dragged up. I would never mention a lady's age in her presence!"
"I'm afraid you did, Winston," said Geoffrey, staring down at the shorter man over his spectacles. "You said she was no spring chicken. Although you may not have mentioned a number, an age range was implicated." He gave Pepper a reassuring smile. "Miss Grinder, I do apologise for the terrible welcome you've received at the Picklebury Garden Lover’s Club. In our defence, we're not used to visitors. We are occasionally visited by a few of the allotment owners across the road, Stan Wilmot being our most regular visitor, but generally, it’s just the four of us."
"And Stan only visits because I bring baked goods with me," said the woman sitting next to Agnes.
"Stan does have a sweet tooth," agreed Geoffrey. "But your baked goods have a reputation that precedes them, Mary. It's no shock that hungry men would trail in your wake with their tongues hanging out. Especially as the woman creating the wake is so beautiful."
"Oh, Geoffrey!" said Mary, a smile on her reddening face. "What are you like? What on earth would my husband say if he heard you speaking to me like that?"
"I don't know, Mary," said Geoffrey. "He'd probably get on that direct line he has with God, and demand that his employer rain down hellfire upon my head. Either that, or he'd be happy that other men notice how beautiful the woman he chose as his wife is."
"Good heavens, Geoffrey," said the woman Pepper knew to be Agnes Mowbray. "Do you ever stop? You might think that women like to be flirted with constantly, and maybe when you were a young man, they did. Not any more, though. These days ladies demand respect! Anyway, is anybody going to ask what our visitor wants? I think we've embarrassed ourselves in front of her enough as it is." She stood up, and with distrust scrawled over her face, approached Pepper, still limping as she had been in the police station.
“Hello again,” said Pepper, offering Agnes a smile. She looked around at everyone else. “Oh, and I’ve met the gentleman named Stan that you mentioned. He sends a hello to you all, and he told me to ask Mary if she was bringing him a naughty little treat later. He said you’d know what he meant.”
Mary put a hand to her mouth and gasped. “Oh, golly! He means a piece of cake or a biscuit! He calls my baked goods naughty treats! I sometimes take him some over if he doesn’t pop in to see us. He does make it sound rude, though. Whatever would my husband say if he heard him?”
Geoffrey and Winston laughed, but Agnes gave a loud gasp and pointed at Pepper’s hand. "That's my purse!" she snapped. "I knew you were dishonest when I saw you at the police station yesterday! I thought to myself, ‘there’s a thief if ever I've seen one!' I knew you felt at home in that police station waiting room from the way you looked.
“Those shifty eyes and that dirty denim jacket covered in badges, not to mention that punk rocker hair! I saw you looking at me like you were preparing to attack me! Well, the tables have turned. I bet you feel very silly now you know that the owner of the purse you stole is in the very hall you walked into!" She turned to Geoffrey and jabbed a finger in Pepper's direction. "Police Chief Inspector Stagg, please arrange to have this… thief arrested. That's my purse in her hand! That woman is a criminal!"
"Whoa there, Agnes," said Geoffrey. "That's a serious allegation to make, and although I appreciate the respect you've shown me, please remember that it's now ex-Police Chief Inspector Stagg." He lowered his head and peered at Pepper over his glasses. "Is this true? Is that Agnes's purse you have in your hand?"
Not knowing whether she should retaliate against Agnes's verbal attack first, or calmly explain what had happened before going on the defence, Pepper took three deep breaths to keep her temper in check.
She fixed Agnes in the practised stare she'd once used to persuade a caged gibbon to return the mobile phone it had snatched from her niece's hand while they’d been visiting an ape sanctuary in the Welsh valleys.
Agnes may not have been a gibbon, but she was every inch a primate, and she responded with the same fear in her eyes that the gibbon had when it had reluctantly handed the Nokia back. "I'll have you know, Miss Mowbray, that I cycled from one side of town to the other in order to return to you, untouched and in one piece, the purse which you carelessly dropped alongside the canal towpath. Further to that, I'll have you know that my eyes are not shifty, my denim jacket is not dirty, and although I do like to listen to a punk song every now and again, my hairstyle could not be described as a punk rocker hairstyle.
“Furthermore, I'm doing everything in my power, to prevent myself from shoving your purse so far down your throat that when you next go to the toilet, you'll think you've won the jackpot."
"You can't speak to me like that," said Agnes, her complexion white. "How dare you."
"How dare you," replied Pepper. "You called me a thief, when all I've done is find your purse, then remembered that you told the police officer behind the desk that you attended a gardening club, then found out where the gardening club was held, and then returned your purse to you, so you didn’t have to make a trip to the police station again. I thought you might appreciate your purse being returned directly to you." She pushed the purse towards Agnes. "With everything intact."
"Calm down, ladies," said Winston, stepping between Pepper and Agnes. "Can I remind you that when tempers flare things can sometimes get out of hand, and may I further remind you that on the table behind me are some very dangerous pruning knives and a pair of sharp secateurs. Might I suggest that two cups of hot sweet tea are poured, and two seats are sat in by two angry ladies?
“I’ve always resolved my difficulties with other men over a pint of beer at the pub, or on occasion, with a scuffle in the carpark. This hall, probably for safety reasons which make perfect sense, is not a licensed premises, so beer is off the cards I'm afraid, although I'm sure sweet tea will suffice. Now, will you both calm down and sit opposite each other and discuss your disagreement like grown women?"
"I'll pour the tea!" said Mary, getting to her feet, her flower print dress and knitted cardigan making her seem older than her face appeared to be.
"And I'll pull the seats out," offered Geoffrey. "Winston is right. Conflict is best resolved over a nice drink."
"And a piece of cake," said Mary, sliding two plates from the pile next to a potted cactus. "I do hope you like lemon sponge, Miss Grinder? I know Agnes does. I baked it just this morning.”
With her eyes still on Agnes, Pepper nodded. "I do like lemon sponge, thank you." She held Agnes's purse out towards her and waited until the woman with the mass of curls on her head had taken it from her hand. "You're welcome," she said.
"Okay," said Agnes, opening her purse and checking the contents. "Thank you. Thank you for finding my purse and returning it to me. I appreciate it, and I shouldn't have jumped to conclusi
ons… but that doesn't excuse the awful looks you were giving me when I was seated opposite you at the police station yesterday. You made me very nervous. I've never needed to visit a police station before, and you made my first time very nerve-wracking."
"Then it's my turn to say I’m sorry, isn't it?" said Pepper. "I'm sorry if I made you feel nervous, but you were looking at me too. How was I to know that you weren't a hardened criminal trying to gain dominance over me? I only did what I thought I had to in the circumstances."
Disbelief flooded Agnes's face. "Do I look like a criminal?" she said. "Of course I don't. I'm a respectable woman. If either of us resembles a criminal, I can assure you that it is not me."
"Well," said Pepper, crossing her arms. "Well, well. It seems that you like to judge a book by its cover, Miss Mowbray."
Agnes looked pepper up and down. "You must admit that your cover is quite out there, Miss Grinder. Especially for a lady of your age."
"I'm in my forties for heaven's sake!" said Pepper. "I'm not ready for old people clothes just yet, thank you!"
"Ladies, please," said Geoffrey. "The gardening club is supposed to be a place of peace, where like-minded people gather to chat about subjects we're mutually interested in. It's not a place for arguments. Come now, sit down, have a nice cup of tea and a slice of cake, and let's find out if you two ladies have anything in common." He smiled at Pepper. "As you're here, I should ask you if you enjoy plants and gardening, Miss Grinder?"
Pepper smiled at the tall man. "Actually, I do," she said.
Chapter 11
As Pepper bit into her slice of cake, Mary looked on in childish expectation. "Do you like it?" she asked, watching as crumbs fell from Pepper’s lips and landed on her plate.
Being sure to swallow the food in her mouth before speaking, Pepper nodded. "It's very nice, Mary. Thank you."
