The Bells of Little Woodford

by Catherine Jones

  Bex stopped making a shopping list and went to answer it. Belinda was on the doorstep.

  ‘Hello,’ said Bex. ‘Come in and I’ll put the kettle on.’

  ‘I won’t stop – I should think you’ve got more than enough to do with four kids and a visitor.’

  Bex led the way into the kitchen. She pointed out the window. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘my visitor is being more than helpful.’

  Belinda raised an eyebrow in disbelief and went over to the basket on the counter to coo over Emily.

  ‘I can’t believe how she’s growing.’

  ‘It’s what babies do best. Well, that and create utterly disproportionate piles of washing.’

  ‘Bless her,’ said Belinda. ‘Anyway, Emily is mostly the reason I’m here. I was hoping you might agree to me throwing a small party at the pub to welcome her to the world.’

  ‘What a lovely idea.’

  ‘There’s a bunch of the regulars who are longing to meet her. You wouldn’t have to stay long and Jamie and I will do everything…’

  ‘Belinda, I honestly don’t need persuading. We’ve decided that we’re going to ask Brian to christen her and we’ll obviously have a party then but I want my folks there and Miles has got a whole bunch of relations he wants to show his daughter off to—’

  ‘As he jolly well ought to.’

  ‘So we need to find a date that suits everyone. It might take a while – in fact, at the rate we’re going we might be able to combine it with Emily’s eighteenth.’

  Belinda laughed. ‘So how about we say this Saturday coming.’

  ‘That’d be perfect. Helen is going back to Cyprus on Sunday so we can make it a farewell to her as well.’

  Right on cue Helen reappeared in the kitchen with the empty laundry basket. ‘What’s this about my farewell?’

  Bex explained about Belinda’s offer.

  ‘Oh.’ Helen sounded totally underwhelmed. ‘I suppose. Don’t you think that taking the children to a pub at their age is inappropriate?’

  ‘It’s not the pub – it’s the upstairs function room,’ said Bex. ‘In a place this size there are precious few public spaces and while this house is big enough for us to host a party for all my friends, Belinda is offering to do it to spare me the trouble.’

  Helen remained silent.

  ‘Which is very kind of her, isn’t it?’ prompted Bex.

  ‘Yes, yes it is.’ But she still sounded dubious.

  Obviously, thought Bex, Helen was still doubting the wisdom of some of her daughter-in-law’s decisions. But then it was still very early days in their recent rapprochement. There were bound to be glitches.

  Chapter 54

  The day of the party arrived and Belinda and Jamie had produced a magnificent spread between them, aided by Miles who had insisted on cooking a selection of vegan snacks for Miranda who had promised to attend along with Roderick. Bex had to admit to being agog with curiosity at the thought of meeting him. Who, she wondered, would take on a lifetime commitment to being married to scary Miranda? She had begun to warm to Miranda after getting to know her a bit better, but she still felt a little intimidated by her. Olivia had done her best to describe her husband after her encounters at the hotel but her word-picture had only made matters worse. Now Bex could only imagine some downtrodden lackey.

  At midday Bex and her family made their way to the pub, Miles proudly carrying Emily in her Moses basket while Bex and Megan each carried a plate of food Miles had made and Granny Helen shepherded the boys. The party was only just getting going when they arrived although they hadn’t been there long when the room began to fill up. Olivia arrived with Nigel and Zac, Dr Connolly and Jacqui followed a couple of minutes later and then Amy, Mags and Ashley joined them. Soon almost all their friends and acquaintances were squashed into the room and the noise level rocketed. Although Emily, asleep in her cot, was oblivious.

  Down one side of the room were two tables, one for all the food and another with bottles of wine, soft drinks and a barrel of beer on it. Belinda stood by the second table dispensing drinks and bonhomie and encouraging people to help themselves to the buffet.

  ‘I really don’t want leftovers,’ she told her guests. ‘So no one goes till it’s all eaten.’ Given the wonderful spread that was on offer there were a number of townsfolk who reckoned that to carry out Belinda’s wishes they might have to end up with a lock-in.

  Bex, still feeling a bit sore when she stood around for too long, sat on a chair at the side and chatted to Bert and Joan while the boys made a den under the buffet table. Every now and again one of other of them would creep out, bob up, grab a couple of cocktail sausages or vol-au-vents and then disappear back underneath again. Granny Helen had commented that they appeared to be stuffing themselves with unsuitable food but then surprised Bex by saying, ‘But I suppose it doesn’t matter once in a while. I’ve noticed their diet is pretty good the rest of the time.’

  Blimey, thought Bex, praise indeed.

  Miranda appeared with her husband just as Bex was beginning to wonder where they were. Roderick, was wearing mustard trousers with an open-neck shirt. He certainly chimed with Olivia’s description of someone wanting to look like the local squire but not quite hitting the mark. On the other hand he didn’t look downtrodden or like a lackey but rather patrician. Leaving Roderick to introduce himself to Miles, Miranda approached Bex rather awkwardly and handed over the most beautifully wrapped package that was finished off with a broad silk ribbon in pink and silver.

  ‘I hope I haven’t overstepped the mark but I did warn you that when I agreed to be Emily’s godmother I would spoil her shamelessly.’

  ‘Oh, Miranda, you shouldn’t have,’ murmured Bex as she pulled the two loose ends of the bow. The ribbon fell away and she began to unfold the tissue on the neatly wrapped package to reveal the softest, most gorgeous white cashmere matinée jacket, bootees, scarf and hat. Bex had seen the set in the window of the little boutique in town and had also seen the ridiculous price tag. At the time she wondered just who might be daft enough or rich enough to buy such an expensive outfit – now she knew.

  ‘That is just lovely,’ she said, shaking out the folds of the jacket and holding it up to admire. And it was. It was exquisite and now she could examine the detail and feel the quality the price tag made sense. ‘Just the most perfect present ever.’ Gathering up the dainty little items she stood up and gave Miranda a kiss on the cheek. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ said Miranda. She looked genuinely touched by Bex’s obvious gratitude.

  ‘I must show Miles what you’ve given Emily and you and Roderick must help yourselves to some food. Miles made some stuff specially for you. I do hope you enjoy it.’

  Having shown Miles the present Bex felt she ought to circulate a little. Besides, Emily had woken up and this was the perfect opportunity to show her off to the guests. Bex picked her out of her crib and, holding her in the crook of her arm she went around the room to introduce her new daughter to her friends.

  ‘So this is the little minx who caused all the trouble,’ said Jacqui as she stroked her tiny cheek.

  ‘It is indeed. Worth it though,’ said Bex happily as she moved on.

  Bert, Joan and Harry all had their hearts melted by Emily.

  ‘She’ll be a little beauty when she grows up,’ said Harry.

  ‘A right little heartbreaker,’ agreed Bert.

  Amy and Mags both said she was the prettiest baby in Little Woodford and Olivia, who had already seen her numerous times, told Bex that she became sweeter and sweeter every time she clapped eyes on her.

  And Bex hoovered up the praise on behalf of her daughter as she gazed down at her until she began to tire again and took Emily back to her doting father.

  ‘Here you go,’ she said, handing her over.

  Miles was only too happy to take her and looked as if he would burst with pride as he cradled the tiny infant.

  Zac sought out Megan. ‘Glad yo
ur mum’s OK.’

  ‘Stepmum,’ she responded automatically. ‘But yes, it’s great. I mean, what would have happened to me and the boys if…’

  ‘Don’t go there,’ said Zac.

  Megan eyeballed him. ‘By the way, have you apologised to Ash? It’s been weeks and weeks since you were such a total twat and upset him.’

  Zac coloured.

  ‘Then you must,’ she insisted. ‘Now. He’s over there.’

  Zac bit his lip.

  Megan grabbed his arm. ‘Do it. Do it now.’ She tugged on his sleeve.

  Miserably, Zac followed her across the room. ‘What am I going to say?’ he asked her.

  ‘That you were a twat, that you’re sorry, that you’re still friends…’ They reached their quarry. ‘Here, Zac wants to say something.’ She gave him a shove.

  Zac didn’t look Ashley in the eye as he said, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Yeah, well I was being a bit of a git too.’

  ‘No, you weren’t. I was the one being an arse.’

  Ashley nodded.

  ‘You’re not supposed to agree.’

  ‘Well, you were being a git, weren’t you?’

  ‘So were you.’

  The pair grinned at each other. Megan left them to their renewed bromance.

  *

  Bex looked around the room and decided it was a lovely party. Everyone was chatting and getting on, the mix of people from across the town was perfect, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves… even Helen, which was a triumph in its own way. She looked around for her mother-in-law to make sure she still was.

  Oh, Lordy, she was chatting to Miranda. Helen and Miranda. Two strong-minded and rather prickly women – not really a match made in heaven. Quite apart from the fact that, even though there was a hint of rapprochement, Helen still seemed to harbour a mostly low opinion of her daughter-in-law, and Bex wasn’t entirely sure what she might divulge to Miranda. She didn’t want Miranda thinking that she’d promised to be the godmother to the daughter of a crap parent. She sidled over to eavesdrop and had to strain to hear what was being said. She pretended to be deciding what she wanted to eat as she earwigged.

  ‘… and I can’t think why Bex wanted to move here,’ said Helen. ‘They had everything in London and quite apart from all the culture on offer. So much more stimulating for the children, don’t you think? After all, one reason why my late son lived there was because of the opportunities that were right on the doorstep. I mean, I know Richard was brought up in a small town like this but we always made sure there were plenty of educational outings. I’m not entirely sure, what with the new baby and everything, that my grandchildren will get the same opportunities. To be honest, I don’t think Bex can be bothered.’

  Actually, thought Bex, the reason Richard had lived in London was because he worked there. He always said that if he found the right job away from the capital he’d take it in a heartbeat. And he’d also always said that, as a kid, he’d dreaded weekends and the obligatory trip to some dull gallery or museum. He’d said it had put him off history and art for life.

  ‘I worry,’ continued Helen, ‘about my grandchildren being deprived of the right sort of cultural exposure.’

  Bex waited for Miranda to agree with Helen, to side with her about the horrors of living in a backwater, about rubbing shoulders with oiks and bumpkins, about the lack of facilities, or anything else that had apparently annoyed Miranda since she’d moved in. And it wasn’t that Bex didn’t know about Miranda’s opinions – she made them pretty plain on more than one occasion at the book club.

  ‘Oh, Helen, you can’t mean that,’ said Miranda. ‘Just think about the positives; the clean air, the low crime rate, the sense of community…’

  Bex’s jaw dropped. And then she butted in, she couldn’t help herself.

  ‘Miranda!’

  ‘What?’ said Miranda turning.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve just said what you did. ’

  ‘You mean about the town?’

  Bex nodded. ‘But all those things you hate… the bells, the smells, the market.’

  ‘I know, I know, you’re right.’ She sounded quite apologetic.

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, I’ve come to appreciate some of the other aspects.’ Miranda sighed. ‘It’s different here. People know each other. People have friends. When we lived in London, the only people we associated with were our work colleagues. It seemed to be the same for most people. Mothers didn’t gather at the school gate because almost none of the children in a street went to the same school as other children in the street and anyway they didn’t walk they went by car. It was all about one-upmanship, about getting ahead, about having more, bigger, better. It was all we knew.’ She sighed. ‘And in London I was anonymous.’

  ‘Well, you certainly aren’t in a place like this,’ said Bex.

  ‘So I have discovered.’

  ‘And it’s not such a bad thing if people know who you are.’

  Miranda gave her a wry smile. ‘It is if it means getting a midden delivered to your door.’

  ‘No. I can see that. I expect it was a one-off.’

  ‘It better had be.’

  ‘But,’ said Helen, butting in, ‘I still think London is a better, more vibrant, place.’

  ‘I don’t,’ said Bex. ‘The kids love it here, they love the nature reserve, the play park, the school, they have some wonderful friends, and they’re safe. When Alfie went walkabout last year he was brought home by a friend’s son. Like that would have happened in London.’

  ‘Bex is right,’ said Miranda. ‘I was wrong about this place when I moved here. I thought the locals just needed educating to make their lives better. It’s taken me a while to realise that their lives are pretty good.’

  ‘Even if they eat meat?’ Bex was incredulous.

  ‘I have to accept that some people do. I may not like it but there it is.’

  It was Amy’s turn to but in. ‘I never thought you were a proper veggie, anyway.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Miranda might have been prepared to be a bit more conciliatory where carnivores were concerned but she wasn’t going to take criticism from her cleaner!

  ‘I said, you’re not a proper veggie.’

  ‘No, I’m a vegan.’

  Amy shrugged. One and the same as far as she was concerned. ‘Course you’re not. You’ve got all them Milano Blahnik shoes. Everyone knows if you’re a veggie you can’t wear leather shoes.’

  ‘Have you been going through my cupboards?’ Miranda was incensed.

  Bex was getting worried. The last thing she wanted at the celebratory party was a bust-up between Amy and one of her guests.

  ‘I’m sure Amy just had to tidy something away. She’s always having to put things away for me.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s it.’ Amy latched onto the excuse like a drowning man onto a life raft.

  ‘I don’t leave things lying around,’ said Miranda.

  ‘What, never?’ Bex couldn’t believe that. No one on the planet was that tidy.

  ‘Hardly ever.’

  ‘Well, there you go then,’ crowed Amy.

  Miranda sniffed. ‘And for your information they are not by Manolo Blahnik but Nemanti Milano. They are made entirely from non-animal and cruelty-free products.’

  ‘Really.’ Amy sounded disbelieving.

  ‘Yes, really.’

  Roderick wandered over. He could see that his wife seemed to be in a rather hostile situation. He had no doubt she would be able to cope but a little moral support never did anyone any harm.

  ‘You’ll be telling us next,’ said Amy, ‘that you’ve changed your mind about the bells.’

  ‘I certainly have not. I will be doing everything in my power to get them silenced.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ said Roderick.

  It was Miranda’s turn to let her jaw drop. ‘Roderick?’

  ‘Miranda, you know I support you in everything you do and I am the most ardent admirer of y
our strength of mind, your passionately held beliefs and your courage. But you are wrong about the bells. They’ve been here for centuries and we are – to coin a phrase – blow-ins—’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Don’t argue.’ Roderick’s voice cut across the party and silence fell as Miranda seemed to shrink. ‘The bells are part and parcel of this community, change-ringing is an ancient and wonderful tradition and I, for one, like the bells.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘And I am not prepared to support your campaign and, if you insist on continuing, I will take counter-measures.’

  Miranda was ashen. ‘Roderick?’

  He nodded. ‘I will act pro bono for the town and against you. And I think you’ll find I’ll win.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ whispered Heather.

  ‘I see,’ said Miranda. She stared sightlessly at her glass before she looked up and shook her head. ‘Never let it be said I don’t know when I’m beaten.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘And I have been – well and truly.’

  ‘Good,’ said Harry. ‘Cos you wouldn’t want another delivery.’

  Miranda’s eyes widened. ‘You?’

  ‘Nope,’ lied Harry cheerfully. ‘I’m just saying that you didn’t like the last one much, did you?’

  ‘Hmmm.’

  ‘On the bright side,’ said Harry, ‘it gave us all something to talk about.’ He chuckled at the memory.

  ‘It was quite funny,’ agreed Roderick.

  Miranda stared at him.

  ‘Come off it,’ said her husband. ‘It was almost worth it just to see the reaction of the Clifton-Prices. Candida’s face was a picture. I never have liked her much.’

  ‘But, Roderick – I don’t understand.’

  ‘Valentine’s not too bad but that wife of his…’

  ‘But I only invited them for Christmas because I thought you adored them both.’

  ‘No! I thought you did.’

  Miranda began to laugh. ‘How utterly ridiculous.’