‘I work!’ shouted Nigel.
‘So do I.’
‘You don’t have to. I earn enough to pay the bills.’
Olivia shook her head. ‘Yeah, yes you do,’ she said in a quieter voice. ‘And that’s it. There’s nothing left at the end of each month for anything else. No frivolities, no luxuries, nothing nice to look forward to. That’s not living, Nigel, that’s existing.’
Nigel chewed his lip and then said stiffly, ‘I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.’
‘You’re not.’ Olivia sighed. ‘All I’m asking is that everyone helps out a bit. And at the moment, none of you are.’ She grabbed some more things from the shopping baskets and stuffed them on shelves while, behind her back, Jade and Nigel exchanged looks.
‘You, Jade, need to sort yourself out. You need to find digs in London if you’re set on leaving Luke. And go back to your old job. But you can’t loaf on the sofa any longer and freeload off us.’
‘Aren’t you being a bit harsh, Ol?’ said Nigel. ‘Jade’s had a tough time recently.’
‘She dumped a boyfriend who was obviously a dud,’ said Olivia. ‘Compared to what half the world has to cope with that comes nowhere close to being “a tough time”. And don’t call me Ol.’
‘Mum!’
‘No.’ Olivia rounded on Jade. ‘I agree you are upset, but life goes on and you need to grow up, stand on your own two feet and start supporting yourself. If I was in a position like yours I wouldn’t dream of throwing everything up and lying around like some wilting heroine in a Gothic melodrama. You’re barely out of bed before ten, you do nothing all day, you’ve done nothing about your job… frankly, at the moment you’re a waste of oxygen.’ There, she’d said it.
‘I’m not.’
‘Yes, you bloody are. And I am fed up with waiting on you when you could have cooked the evening meal all of this last week instead of me having to do it on top of everything else.’
‘But… but I can’t cook.’
‘Then learn!’
A taut silence descended as Olivia glared at her daughter, Jade looked close to tears and Nigel shuffled nervously.
In the utility room the washing machine beeped to indicate it had finished the cycle. Olivia grabbed the laundry basket off the counter and stomped off to unload it.
‘And while I’m doing this you two can finish unpacking the shopping.’
As Olivia pegged out the washing in the garden in the thin lemony, autumn sunshine, she began to calm down. Was she being so unreasonable? she wondered. She wouldn’t mind so much racing round, looking after Nigel and Zac – they both had demands on their time and work to do. But Jade?
Picking up the empty basket Olivia returned to the kitchen to find the shopping had all been dealt with, the bags and baskets cleared off the floor and no sign of Jade and Nigel. Olivia thought they’d probably gone to find flak jackets and tin hats. She sighed. Why, she wondered, why did she have to completely lose her temper to get a result? Why couldn’t her family see which way the wind was blowing and do something about it before things got to such a pitch?
It’s my fault, she admitted to herself. They’d none of them ever had to shift for themselves. No wonder it had left them all incapable of surviving unaided. Maybe she owed Jade an apology. She’d said some pretty horrible things – even if they had been true. She trudged up the stairs and knocked on the door to the spare room.
‘Go away.’
Regardless, Olivia opened the door and went in. ‘I’m sorry.’
Jade raised her tear-stained face out of her pillow. ‘No, you’re not.’
‘I shouldn’t have said those things.’
Jade buried her face back in her pillow.
Olivia, carefully avoiding Jade’s feet, perched on the end of the bed. ‘So,’ she said, hoping she sounded more conciliatory, ‘I imagine your job will be expecting you back soon anyway.’
‘What job?’ Her voice was muffled by feathers.
‘I’m not with you.’
‘They sacked me.’
‘But you went sick. They can’t do that.’
Jade rolled over and propped herself up on one elbow. ‘They can if you were on a final warning and on probation.’
Olivia’s mood and sense of despair deepened. A final warning? What had Jade been up to? How could her daughter be so irresponsible as to get herself into that position?
‘It was a crap job and I hated it. I was looking for something else anyway.’
But it had been a job… ‘Even so.’ Olivia resisted the urge to shake her daughter. ‘What are you planning to do now?’
Jade flopped back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t got a home, I haven’t got a boyfriend, I haven’t got a job, my parents hate me…’ Tears of self-pity began to slide down her temples.
Olivia wasn’t having this. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You are not a refugee – of course you’ve got a home. Having a boyfriend isn’t the be-all and end-all and, if you made an effort, a bright kid like you with a masters degree ought to be able to walk into a job in a heartbeat.’
Jade switched her eyes from the ceiling to her mother. ‘Huh, you didn’t say you and Dad don’t hate me.’
Olivia rolled her eyes. ‘Of course we don’t hate you. I might be annoyed with you – but that’s not the same thing at all. Now then, dry your eyes, get up, have a shower and start sorting things out.’
‘How?’
‘You can look for a job for a start. Listen, Jade, I’ll be honest, you living here isn’t ideal. This house really isn’t designed for four adults but we’ll cope. Of course we will. But at some point you need to find a place of your own again and if you are going to stay here for the time being I’m going to have to ask you to help with the bills. Your father and I really can’t afford the extra cost of having a fourth mouth to feed plus the other costs of having another adult living here.’
‘But—’
‘If you’re planning on living here for the foreseeable it’s only fair. You have to get a job and pull your weight.’
‘But it’s the weekend.’
‘Jade, as far as I am aware the internet still works on a Saturday. Look for a job there. It’s how I found mine. Or go into town and go into every shop and ask if they need staff. And try the pub. Belinda is often after part-timers to cover shifts.’
‘But that’s so demeaning – begging for work.’
Olivia thought about telling her daughter about how she’d got her job; she’d virtually grovelled.
‘No one has ever died of being rejected. And I don’t know how much you’ve got in your bank account but, when that runs out, your father and I are in no position to start offering handouts. If you don’t start earning you are going to find life very difficult indeed.’ Olivia got up from the end of the bed. ‘And I mean it about paying your way.’
She left the room and shut the door behind her. She stood at the top of the stairs and shook her head. Was she being too harsh – or was it tough love?
Chapter 16
The following week Mags Pullen, Amy’s mum, Ashley’s gran and the town’s ex-hairdresser, left her solicitor’s office clutching a bunch of keys and walked to Beeching Rise. Selling her business had given her the wherewithal to become a house owner and today was the day she took possession. It had taken longer than she’d have liked to sort out the deal with the developers but, finally, all the Ts had been crossed and the Is dotted and the tiny two-bedroom terrace was hers. Her hand was shaking slightly as she slipped the key into the lock and opened the door to her new home. She almost skipped over the threshold. It smelt so clean and it was so bright! Excitedly she raced through the downstairs; it was as good as she remembered it from when she’d last been in, telling the builders what she wanted in the way of tiles in her bathroom and kitchen, and which floor coverings to lay. The walls were painted cream which she didn’t much like – but she could get Ashley to help her with something brighter and nicer. Mags puf
fed her way up the stairs and opened the doors off the landing. She hugged herself as she took in her new bedroom. Fitted wardrobes – what luxury. She walked over to the window and looked across the road. The view wasn’t so different from the one from her council flat – houses. But these weren’t council houses. This was a private estate! My, how she’d gone up in the world. Who’d have thought that Mags Pullen would be a property owner?
She wondered what her neighbours were going to be like. She hoped they wouldn’t be snobby – that was the one good thing about the council estate; everyone had been proper friendly. People were always popping in and out of each other’s houses. And it had been nice having her Amy just round the corner. Not that Beeching Rise was any distance away from her now but it was just too far to nip round on spec. They’d have to ring first to check the other wasn’t out. Mags leaned her elbows on the windowsill and looked at the house opposite – a much bigger one than her little terrace. And they’d been in for a bit… there were ornaments on their sitting room window sill and their curtains were up. Sunshine glinted off something in the garden. Mags peered. A bicycle bell. She recognised the bike it was attached to. It was Mrs L’s. Fancy that, Mrs L living opposite her.
*
Olivia was nearing the end of her shift – the breakfast to mid-afternoon one – when two new guests approached the reception desk pulling their Louis Vuitton bags behind them. She smiled as she made an instant assessment; wealthy professionals, she judged. The woman was tall, slim, immaculately groomed blonde hair in an up-do and elegant in her white jeans, heels and beautifully tailored jacket. Possibly a second wife considering the man she was with had to be at least twenty years her senior. He was wearing red cords and a black guernsey with a cravat at his neck. High court judge, surgeon, media type? wondered Olivia. The woman stalked towards the desk but was looking at her surroundings, rather than at the receptionist – appraising the decor which, if her expression was anything to go by, wasn’t meeting with approval. Instantly Olivia knew that this couple were not going to be a pushover.
‘Osborne,’ said the man.
Olivia nodded and clicked the mouse. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘And welcome to Woodford Priors.’
The woman sniffed as Olivia pushed a registration form and a pen across the counter. ‘If you could just fill this in.’
While Mr Osborne got busy with the paperwork, Olivia programmed two key cards and Mrs Osborne went over to the fireplace and warmed her hands.
Olivia took back the completed form and handed over the cards. ‘And if I could just swipe your credit card…?’
‘Don’t you trust us?’
‘Implicitly, but it’s hotel policy,’ responded Olivia smoothly.
The card was handed over with a sigh and Olivia put it into the machine and asked for the PIN. She handed back the card, the slip showing the transaction had been voided and a brochure about the hotel, its facilities and information about the local area.
‘We don’t need that,’ said Mr Osborne dropping it back on the desk. ‘We’re not here to enjoy ourselves.’
Olivia was about to say that surely they could indulge themselves for just a couple of hours in the hotel’s pool and spa but decided she couldn’t be bothered. There was something about them that struck her as a bit ‘puritan’. She wondered what they did do when they wanted to kick back. Cold baths? Self-flagellation? Hair shirts?
‘If you’d like to leave your cases here I’ll get them sent up to your room directly. And you’re in room twenty-two. Up the stairs, turn right and it’s on the left side of the corridor. You’ve got a lovely view over the gardens.’
Mrs Osborne’s sneer suggested she’d be the judge as to whether the view was lovely or not.
They headed for the stairs and Olivia gazed after them before she rang the bell for a porter and gave him his instructions.
A few minutes later he was back down in the hall. ‘Good luck with them,’ he muttered to Olivia.
‘Why?’
‘I don’t think she’s happy.’
‘But that’s a lovely room – one of our nicest.’
‘She was busy chucking the cushions and the bedspread out into the corridor when I arrived.’
‘What?’
‘She told me to call housekeeping and get it all taken away.’
Olivia sighed. Her instincts were going to be proved correct. Half an hour later she was busy in the office adding room service and bar tabs to various bills when she heard an imperious ‘You there’.
She knew, without looking up, who it was going to be. She rose out of her chair, nailed on a smile and went to the desk.
‘Mrs Osborne. What can I do for you?’
‘I’ve got a complaint.’
There’s a surprise. ‘Really?’
‘Yes. The room is full of trip hazards and dust traps – I am amazed you haven’t been sued from here to kingdom come by people who must have had falls or allergy attacks.’
‘Well, I haven’t been here long but as far as I am aware we’ve never had a complaint before – or any accidents or illness.’
‘If you say so. Anyway, housekeeping have removed some of the offending articles but they won’t take down the curtains.’
Olivia fought to keep control of her face as she actually boggled at this.
Mrs Osborne tapped the desk with a pillar-box red fingernail. ‘So… what are you going to do about this?’
Olivia made an instant judgement that this was way outside her pay grade. ‘I’ll get the duty manager,’ she said. She picked up the phone and dialled Mrs Timms. ‘Could you come to the front desk?’ she asked. ‘Now.’
‘I’ll be with you in two ticks,’ was the response.
‘And another thing,’ said Mrs Osborne. ‘The water in our bathroom is too hot.’
‘Too hot?’
‘Yes, I could have easily been scalded.’
‘I’ve not had any other complaints.’
‘You’re getting one now.’
Mrs Timms arrived. ‘Thank you, Olivia,’ she said. Olivia retired to the office but earwigged the rest of the conversation.
‘The floor is uneven, the whole room is a health hazard, the furniture is antediluvian, I dread to think what state the wiring is in – that’s probably a death trap too – and as for your receptionist…’
Olivia had to restrain herself from marching back into the reception and challenging the Osborne woman. How dare she?
‘… sullen, verging on obstructive…’
Sullen?! She’d been perfectly polite and friendly.
She heard Mrs Timms murmur platitudes and offer a massive discount.
‘I suppose if that’s the best you can do… Fine.’
Olivia waited for the sound of Mrs Osborne’s footsteps to disappear before she ventured out of the office.
‘In my defence, I wasn’t sullen.’
‘No, I don’t suppose you were.’
‘Or obstructive.’
‘No. Luckily, we don’t get many like the Osbornes.’
‘Thank God for that. And I’m going to make sure I’m not around when they check out.’
‘I don’t blame you. I’ll warn tomorrow’s staff.’
Olivia felt drained when she got home and allowed herself the bliss of a cup of tea and a five-minute sit-down before she made a start on supper. The house was quiet; Zac was still at school, Nigel at work and Jade was presumably loafing in town or watching Netflix on her iPad. If Olivia hadn’t felt so tired she might have suggested to Jade that she might like to help with the cooking but the thought of a row with her daughter was more exhausting than the thought of preparing supper unaided. Olivia cradled her tea and put her feet up. Just five minutes.
*
Mags saw Olivia return, put her front door on the latch and pottered over the road. She leaned on the doorbell of her new neighbour’s house.
Olivia opened the door.
‘Hello, Mrs L. Fancy you living opposite. That’s mine, there.’
Mags swung round and pointed to her own home. ‘I’m moving in to my new place tomorrow. Now we’re neighbours you must call me Mags and I’ll call you Olivia. Wouldn’t be right to be formal now we live so close, would it?’
‘Er, no.’
‘My Amy said you were moving in here. Not that I believed her at first. I mean, why would you want to move away from the lovely grand house you had at the posh end of town? Mind you, it must have been a bugger to heat. Amy told me all about it; great high ceilings and all those rooms. Much cosier here, isn’t it?’
‘A bit.’
‘So, how are you getting on with the move? Aren’t the kitchens lovely? All fitted units and everything. When I first saw my place I thought they’d forgotten the fridge – but no, there it was behind a door. I expect your kitchen must be a sight bigger than mine. Can I have a look?’ And before Olivia could say anything Mags had pushed past her and was heading down the hall.
‘Oooh, just like the one in the show house.’ Mags opened cupboards and drawers. ‘So much space.’
‘Well, actually—’
‘And three beds? I’ve only got two but with Amy so close what would I do with another one? Of course you’ve got Zac still at home, haven’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Olivia’s tone was quite sharp. ‘Look, Mags, much as I’d love to chat I’ve only just got back from work and I’ve got a mass of stuff to do so…’
Mags felt herself being shepherded towards the front door. ‘Yes, well…’ She’d have to call round another day. She fancied a nose round Olivia’s gaff. When her Amy had worked for her she was always getting told about some of the nice things Mrs L had. And, what’s more, that story about the Laithwaites wanting to downsize had never quite rung true. And Mrs L had said she’d got in from work. Work? That woman had never done a hand’s turn when Amy had cleaned for her. Mags longed to know if there was more to the decision than met the eye. Maybe if she got pally with Mrs L she’d get to find out.
‘Nice to see you, Mags. Catch you another day.’
And before Mags could say ‘goodbye’ she was out on the path and the door was firmly shut.
Well!
The Bells of Little Woodford Page 12
