by Fern Britton
‘Don’t touch him,’ Audrey growled. ‘He’s mine.’
‘What?’ yelped the trapped Robert.
‘Audrey,’ Angela said gently. ‘I think you need to get into the shade and have some water. You are not yourself.’
‘Oh, I am.’ Audrey began to stroke Robert’s hair. ‘I have never been more myself. I have tried to fight this but it’s just too strong. Robert …’ She puckered up. ‘Robert …’
‘Angela!’ he squealed.
‘AUDREY!’ Geoffrey was thundering towards his wife and Robert. ‘Let her go, you utter bastard.’ Geoffrey fell to his knees and got hold of his wife’s face. ‘Audrey, it’s me, your Geoff-Geoff.’
‘Geoff-Geoff?’ Audrey sounded surprised. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘It’s not what it seems,’ Robert attempted, unable to breathe inside Audrey’s arm clamp.
Geoffrey’s fury was unleashed. ‘Oh-ho-ho. I know your game, Mr Whitehorn. Men like you, they see an attractive woman dressed provocatively and they think she’s there for the taking. You are a sex pest.’
Angela was open-mouthed. ‘Geoffrey, I rather think that Audrey is unwell. Robert was trying to help her.’
‘I feel sorry for you, Vicar,’ roared Geoffrey. ‘You are married to a philanderer!’
Quietly Audrey bleated, ‘Geoffy, I think I’m going to be sick.’
‘Oh God, please, no. I’m not good with sick,’ said Robert.
Angela urged Geoffrey to help Robert off Audrey. ‘If she’s sick, Robert will be sick. We need to get her in the shade. Get her some water.’
Piran walked over from where he’d been watching from inside the dig circle. ‘Geoff, don’t just stand there like a bleddy idiot, get your wife out of the sun. Angela, there’s water in my truck, bring a bottle. Audrey, listen to me. It’s Piran. Geoff and I are going to get you to the shade. Do you understand?’
‘I can’t stand,’ she mumbled.
Piran tried to peel her arms from Robert’s back. ‘Let go of Robert.’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘He’ll come with you if you let him go.’ Piran tried to sound patient. ‘There’s a good girl.’
Geoffrey was furious. ‘How dare you infantilise my wife. She is not a girl, she’s a woman!’
Piran had had enough. ‘Bore off, you right-on PC knob, your wife needs to get to the shade.’
Audrey finally let Robert loose and was helped to her feet by Piran.
‘I don’t feel very well, Geoffy.’ Her face was grey under the sunburn.
‘I think my back’s gone,’ groaned Robert as he got painfully to his feet, brushing grit and grass from his jeans.
Geoffrey glowered at him. ‘If you have hurt one hair on her head—’
But Robert interrupted him. ‘Geoffrey. Look out. She’s going to be—’
Audrey threw up over Geoffrey’s back.
Angela shouted, ‘Robert, close your eyes. Don’t look.’ But it was too late.
29
Mamie, alone in the vicarage, dialled Queenie.
‘Darling, it’s me. Shut the shop and come over. Use the back door. We have all afternoon without being disturbed.’
Minutes later, there was a quiet knock on the back door. ‘Come in, come in.’
Queenie wheezed her way into the kitchen.
‘Did anyone see you coming over here?’ Mamie asked.
‘No. Not a single blighter out there. All on the beach or staring at that bleeding hole in the ground.’
‘Good-o. This is going to be such a fun afternoon for us. Look.’ On the kitchen table was a tea tray set with two mugs, a teapot, a milk jug and a sugar bowl.
Queenie’s face fell. ‘’Ere, I haven’t come for tea. I thought we was going to—’
‘Shhh.’ Mamie whipped her head round from filling the kettle and frowned at Queenie. ‘Afternoon tea is our cover. Look in the sugar bowl.’
Queenie lifted the small lid and smiled. ‘That’s the stuff, is it?’
‘Yep.’
‘Where are we going to have it?’
‘In the garden. The smell will linger in the house.’
‘You’ve thought of everything, entcha?’ Queenie cackled. ‘What could be more normal than having a cuppa and a smoke in the garden?’
‘Exactly.’ Mamie gleefully filled the teapot from the kettle. ‘I’ll take the tray, you open the door and we’ll head to the bench under the tree. I’ve checked. We can’t be seen from the road there.’
‘I ain’t ’ad this much excitement since I met Alan Titchmarsh. Have I ever told you I met him?’
‘Many times. Have you brought the cigarette papers and loose tobacco?’
‘What do you take me for?’ Queenie sat down on the bench and reached in her bag. ‘’Ere they are.’
‘Good stuff. Your job is to roll the things, while I pour the tea.’
‘Right you are.’
Mamie watched intently, admiring Queenie’s skill. The ritual of pulling the cigarette paper carefully from its packet, the precise placement of the rolling tobacco within it, and now, ‘How much of this marryjuana do we need?’
‘Oh. I’m not sure.’ Mamie decided to err on the side of caution. ‘Not too much to start with. We don’t know how strong it is.’
Queenie lifted the lid of the sugar bowl and pinched a few strands of dried cannabis leaves from it. ‘This enough?’
‘I think so.’
Queenie rolled the bundle expertly and licked the glued strip to seal it down.
‘Who goes first?’ she asked.
‘I’d better try first. It’s a long time since I have done this but I will be able to tell if it’s too strong for you.’
Queenie passed it to her. ‘Don’t have too much too quick.’
‘I have done this before.’
‘You was younger then, gel. It might affect you different at your age.’
Mamie put the drugged cigarette to her lips and struck a match. ‘Here goes.’
The paper flared, making the cannabis and tobacco crackle as they caught the flame.
She inhaled.
‘Well? What’s it like?’ Queenie’s eyes were bright and eager.
Mamie held the smoke in the bottom of her lungs for a second or two then blew out and coughed. ‘Nothing yet.’
‘Give it me then.’ Queenie, a professional roll-up smoker, took a deep drag, held it, exhaled and waited. ‘No. Nothing. What’s it supposed to do to us?’
‘It should make us feel relaxed and happy.’
‘When does it stop my hips hurting?’
‘Have some patience.’
They finished the first one with some disappointment, and took a tea break.
‘Right, shall we try again?’ Queenie took her cigarette papers from her bag and began the process for a second time. ‘I’ll put a bit more of the stuff in this time. I don’t think we had enough for it to work.’
Five minutes later, both women were sitting quietly, looking at the cloudless sky.
‘Isn’t sky amazing?’ breathed Mamie. ‘So blue and yet … so white. Can you feel the sky, Queenie?’
‘Oh, yes. I’m feeling it but not feeling it. I wonder what it would be like to swim in the sky?’
‘Oh, it’d be warm. Definitely warm.’
‘Don’t it smell nice?’ Queenie was inhaling deeply. ‘Like fresh air and like sky.’
Mamie took a deep sniff and smiled. ‘You’re so right, Queenie. I love the smell of sky. Pass me another drag.’ She held her hand out.
‘We’ve finished that one.’
Mamie’s smile dropped. ‘Oh. That’s sad. So sad. Maybe we got a duff batch. Nothing is happening for me. How about you?’
‘Nope. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.’
The two women sat in silence on the bench, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the relaxed state they were in. The drone of bees busy in the borders and the soft breeze caressing their faces was better than any spa.
‘Would you like a biscuit?�
�� asked Mamie.
‘I would. Tell you what, you get them, I’ll roll us another.’
Mamie stood up very slowly and walked carefully towards the house.
Queenie began rolling up again, talking softly, reminding herself how to do it.
‘Who are you talking to?’ asked Mamie, returning with a packet of Mr Kipling’s Viennese whirls, one already in her mouth.
‘I’m not talking.’
‘Yes you were. I saw your lips moving.’
‘Did you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh.’
‘Have one of these biscuits.’ Mamie put one in front of Queenie. ‘I have never tasted anything like them. Try one.’
‘Just let me finish this.’ Queenie licked down the paper and handed it to Mamie. ‘There you go, girl. I made one each.’
‘Did you? You know what you are?’
‘Tell me.’
‘A bloody wonderful woman.’
‘I know.’ Queenie reached for a Viennese whirl. ‘I sell these in my shop, you know.’
‘Do you?’ Mamie lit up and inhaled. ‘Do you really? I didn’t know that.’
Queenie was puffing too. ‘Didn’t know what?’
‘I don’t know.’ Mamie began to laugh. ‘Do you think this is beginning to work?’
‘I think I could dance right now. Got any?’
‘Got any what?’
‘To dance to?’
‘Music?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Can you dance?’
‘Course I can flipping dance.’
‘I feel a bit light-headed.’
‘Me too. Lovely, innit? What’s this cigarette called then?’
‘A joint.’
‘I love a joint of lamb.’
‘Pork and apple sauce.’
‘Bacon sandwich.’
Mamie stood up a bit too quickly but steadied herself on the arm of the bench. ‘We are going to make bacon sandwiches.’
‘Are we?’
‘Yes. Bacon and tomato and, and … what’s it called?’
‘What?’
‘That salad thing, lettuce. What’s that called?’
‘Lettuce.’
‘That’s it.’
‘I like ketchup.’
‘Well, you shall have some. I shall make you the best ketchup bacon sandshoe you have ever eaten. Come with me.’
Faith and Ben cycled into the village, feeling hot and thirsty. Together they had explored the lanes and coves, cooling their feet in rock pools and buying a couple of pasties to eat on the cliff path.
‘Race you to the vicarage!’ shouted Faith, her tanned legs pedalling faster.
Ben picked up speed and, neck and neck, they turned onto the vicarage drive. Pulling to a halt, they walked the bikes round to the back of the house and leant them against the wall.
‘I smell bacon.’ Faith sniffed the air. ‘Maybe Mum’s home. Are you hungry, Ben?’
‘I’d like a drink first, please.’ Ben put his rucksack down and followed Faith to the open back door.
Faith stood in the doorway and observed the carnage inside. ‘Oh my God.’
Ben arrived and looked over Faith’s shoulder. ‘Oh holy shit.’
A half-empty packet of sliced white bread lay on its side among butter, ketchup, lettuce, and a jar of pickled onions.
Sprawled in two chairs were Mamie and Queenie, warming their feet against the Aga. They seemed to be chatting but without any sense that Faith and Ben could make out.
‘Auntie Mamie?’ Faith said uncertainly. ‘Are you OK?’
Mamie popped a block of Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut chocolate into her mouth. ‘I’m fine, thank you. How are you? Have you met my friend?’
‘Yes.’ Faith was unsure of what was going on. ‘I know her. Is that my chocolate you’re eating?’
‘How would I know?’
‘Are you drunk?’ asked Ben, making Queenie burst into laughter.
‘How dare you, young man?’ Mamie managed with some dignity. ‘I am not drunk. I am stoned. Quite, quite, different.’
‘Stoned.’ Faith was worried. ‘You’ve been doing drugs?’ She took a deep breath. ‘If you have, it’s OK. Don’t worry. I am not going to be cross. Just tell me what you have taken.’
Queenie and Mamie burst into uncontrollable laughter.
‘We just smoked a little cigarette, darling.’ Mamie brushed her hands through the air. ‘Don’t go all po-faced teenager. It’s nothing.’
Ben knew exactly what it was. ‘They’ve got the munchies. They’ve had a spliff.’
‘But only a whiff of a spliff.’ Mamie grinned stupidly.
‘I think this is more than a whiff,’ said Ben. ‘I think we need to find your mum and dad, Faith.’
Faith wasn’t sure. ‘They’re at the pond dig. Are these two going to be all right on their own? Shouldn’t we stay with them?’
‘Ring your mum. Tell them to come back.’
Faith dialled her mother’s phone. As it connected, a phone began to ring in the kitchen.
Ben began to look around for it. If it was Queenie’s or Mamie’s it could be anywhere.
After eight rings, Angela’s phone went to voicemail, and the phone in the room stopped ringing. Ben bent down to Mr Worthington’s basket and found a phone under the old rug.
Angela’s.
He picked it up and stood in front of Faith, who was finishing a message to Angela.
‘Is this your mum’s?’ he asked.
‘Yeah. Where did you find it?’
‘In the dog bed.’
‘Oh shit.’ Faith shook her head. ‘My mum’s losing her marbles and my aunt and her mate are doing drugs. What kind of family do I have?’
Ben looked towards the Aga. ‘Look at the pair of them. Fast asleep now. So, here’s the plan. We tidy up in here. Remove all evidence. And go down to the dig as if nothing happened. OK?’
Faith smiled over at the sleeping Mamie and Queenie. ‘Those two are going to owe us big time for this.’
Back at the dig, Polly was using her paramedic skills on Audrey.
Audrey was sleeping in the cool shade of a small tree, on a soft blanket, in the recovery position. Polly had put up a saline drip suspended from a low branch, loosened Audrey’s clothing and was now checking her pulse.
‘What the hell were you thinking?’ she scolded Geoffrey. ‘No hat. No sun cream. No water. Sunstroke can be very serious.’
‘She insisted on the shorts. She knows how damn good she looks in them.’ He was holding Audrey’s left hand and stroking it. ‘I can’t believe I allowed it. My precious Audy.’ He choked back imminent tears. ‘I shall never let anything like this happen again.’
‘Right,’ said Polly. ‘You sit with her and make sure the drip stays upright.’ Geoffrey obeyed meekly. ‘I’ll be back to check on her.’ She stood up and wiped her sweating forehead.
‘Thank goodness you were here, Polly,’ said Angela.
‘It’s my job. How’s Robert?’ She looked over to where Robert was propped against a car in the shade.
‘He’s OK. His knees are bruised.’
‘Has he had some water?’
‘Yes.’
‘Make sure he has plenty.’ Polly looked over to the dig circle, about fifty yards away. ‘Have they found anything yet?’
‘I’m not sure. While Robert was being sick, Piran was called away to look at something. I don’t know what.’
Just then, Faith and Ben rattled down the lane, brakes squeaking in the kicked-up dust. Faith dinged her bell. ‘Mum. You OK? What’s happened?’
‘We are all fine, darling. Poor Audrey got sunstroke and tumbled into Dad and then she was sick so …’
‘Oh God. Dad was sick too. Euugh.’
‘Well, yes, but he’s OK now. He’s in the shade of that car over there. Anyway, how are you two? Had a good day?’
Ben and Faith looked at each other slyly and giggled.
‘What’s the joke?’ Angela was curi
ous.
‘Nothing,’ Faith said innocently. ‘We’ve just had a really funny afternoon.’
Angela’s attention was suddenly taken by a huge and triumphant roar, coming from the dig site.
‘The pond? Have they found it?’ She began running towards the noise.
‘Come on!’ Faith urged Ben, taking his hand and scrambling off after her.
In the middle of the cleared site, where they must have dug down almost two metres, a shallow pool of clear water was bubbling up through the shale and sand.
Pete was lifting away another mechanical scoop of spoil and, as he did so, Mike Bates came along his blindside. Wreathed in smiles, laughing with excitement, his hands on his hips.
Pete lifted the digger bucket and turned its long arm with jerky swiftness. The movement was so quick and the bucket so heavy, poor Mike didn’t have a chance of escaping it. It knocked him off his feet and dumped the wet spoil on top of him, before he had a chance to scream.
30
Polly, mistress of the calm emergency, sprinted into action once again. She shouted, ‘Piran, Bob, dig him out, with your hands,’ while simultaneously dialling 999.
She ran for her kit bag and prepared herself to start CPR.
‘We’ve got him,’ Piran panted as she arrived. ‘He’s got a bad gash on his head and it looks like he may have broken a leg. It’s at a very nasty angle.’
Polly looked down at Mike. He had a large swelling on his left temple and blood was seeping from his left ear. His skin was grey.
‘Is he breathing?’ She took out a pack of sterile medical gloves.
Piran put his ear to Mike’s nose. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Move over.’ Polly checked Mike’s nose and mouth for obstructions, felt for a pulse and then, seeing the deterioration in his colour, began chest compressions.
In the distance she could hear the wail of sirens.
‘What have we got, Polly?’ Derek, an ambulance colleague, jumped out of the emergency vehicle and ran to her. The female driver, Janet, ran to the back of the ambulance to bring out the wheeled stretcher.
‘No heartbeat. Not breathing. CPR for the last seven minutes. May have fractures,’ Polly told Derek.
Digger Pete, shocked and distressed, stood over Mike. ‘I didn’t see him. I just didn’t see him.’
Derek, ignoring him, called out to Janet, ‘Bring the defib.’
