by Vivien Brown
‘Can I try a photo? Of the clouds?’
‘Of course. Here’s me worrying about getting wet and you’re still looking for the perfect shot. We’ll make a photographer of you yet.’
‘I hope so. I’m really enjoying all this. It beats my phone any day. It might have all the megapixels and the zoom and everything, but really it’s still just point and click. Where’s the fun in that?’
It was four o’clock by the time they got back to Belle Vue Court. The rain had come down hard as they’d exited the tube and Prue’s shoes were soaked through.
‘I’d best try and get a bit of sleep,’ Aaron said, yawning, as he led the way up the stairs. ‘Not used to staying awake all day. I’m more of a night owl really. Have to be, working late shifts.’
‘I’ll look through the pictures you took, maybe edit them a bit and then you can come and look at them. I could email the best ones to you, if you’d like to keep them. Or we could become Facebook friends and I’ll send some that way.’
‘Cool.’ He took out his phone, the first time he’d looked at it all day, and tapped in all her details – name, mobile, Facebook, email. ‘Harris, eh? Like the tweed? Oh, I know my materials! Mum used to do sewing. Dressmaking, alterations, stuff like that. Surprising what you pick up. She doesn’t do it now though …’ He hesitated but didn’t explain. ‘And I’m a Jones, by the way. Common, I know, but at least everyone knows how to spell it! So, I’ll see you again soon, Prue Harris. But next time, we’ll go after dark, right? I’ll check my shifts.’
She watched him open the door to flat 6, catching a glimpse of a woman’s outline silhouetted in an internal doorway, the sound of a radio and the unmistakeable smell of roasting chicken spilling out into the hall as he disappeared inside, before she walked up the final flight to the top of the building.
The landline phone was ringing as she opened the door, a persistent chirruping sound that echoed around the empty flat. She hadn’t even noticed that the flat had a landline until now, and it took her a minute to track the handset down, tucked away on a windowsill behind the living-room curtain.
‘Hello?’ she said, tentatively, not sure she should even be answering it, but it was too late. The caller had just hung up.
Chapter 13
They’ve been out all day. Together. I heard them laughing as they came back. It didn’t take her long, did it? Trying to get her claws into him. Who is she anyway? The actress doesn’t have a daughter. I’m almost sure of that. I’d know, wouldn’t I? It would have been mentioned somewhere, in all the stuff that gets written about her. About all famous people. Or semi-famous, in her case. Not that they know everything, these celeb-watchers. They never found out about her back then, did they? Who she was. Her relationship with him. That she even existed.
It’s amazing what you can keep secret, if you really want to.
But, from what that solicitor said, it’s perhaps not so easy to keep secrets after death. She had to be told, I suppose. His widow. It was her inheritance, after all. Her life turned upside down. His mess was her mess now. Personal. Financial. It must have been so hurtful, so humiliating, for a wife to be treated that way, to discover the truth, and then to have to keep it all in place. His little house of cards. But she said nothing. Did nothing. Never said a word to me, or to them. And it’s too late now to ask her why.
Still, it’s odd, this girl, some young relative or whatever she is, swanning in like she owns the place, spending all day with a boy so much younger than her, a boy she hardly knows.
Doesn’t she realise who he is?
Obviously not.
Chapter 14
MADI
Madi put the phone down, hanging up on the twelfth ring, just before she knew she would be met with her own voice asking her to leave a message. Of course, Prue would be out and about somewhere at this time of the day, making the most of her London jaunt. Either that or she might feel reluctant to answer someone else’s phone. They had not swapped mobile numbers so Madi would just have to try again later, or maybe send an email and hope that Prue was checking her inbox regularly.
She was no animal expert but the more she looked at Flo the more she convinced herself something was wrong. She was definitely off her food and she hadn’t been outside at all today, just stayed curled up in her usual place on the pouffe in front of the fire, which wasn’t even lit. Madi couldn’t help but wonder how much longer the little cat’s bladder could possibly last out, and whether she’d be mopping the floor by the evening.
She put out a tentative hand and stroked Flo’s back, an action which had always resulted in her rolling over to expose her tummy and producing a considerable amount of loud contented purring, but neither happened. Flo simply opened her eyes and stayed put. Should she try to pick her up? What if she was in pain? Should she wait until she’d contacted Prue? No, it was no use. She really couldn’t just sit here, doing nothing. There was a vets’ surgery just yards away up the lane, and the least she could do was to pop along there and ask for some help.
This time, as she opened the doors, it wasn’t young Sian sitting at the reception desk but Faith Harris, wearing an identical green tabard to the one Sian had worn on the day Madi had arrived in the village.
‘Madi!’ she exclaimed. ‘How nice! Come to arrange our date for tea and cake?’
‘Erm, no, although we must do that soon. It’s your daughter’s little cat. I’m a bit worried about her. She seems very sorry for herself today.’
‘Oh dear. Can’t have that, can we? Here. Let me just pull up her records and we’ll get one of the vets to come and see her. My husband’s out on a call and I have no idea how long that might take, so it will probably be Ralph. You won’t have met him yet, I assume? He’s Sian’s young man. Well, fiancé now, I should say. Anyway, he’s a very capable vet, our Ralph. Been a godsend to us, he has. It might actually mean that Stuart can retire in the not too distant future now Ralph’s here to take the reins. Now, let me see.’ She clicked away at the keys on the computer on her desk, shaking her head before trying again. ‘Oh, bring back a proper appointments diary, I say. We used to have a lovely big black leather one in the old days, but you can’t escape technology now, can you? Right. He has one more appointment booked in for this afternoon, then I can ask him to come down to you, unless any emergencies crop up before then.’
‘Perfect. I might be worrying about nothing but …’
‘Better to be safe than sorry, especially with an elderly cat. Flo’s twelve. Did you know that? And she is family.’
‘Yes, I suppose she is!’
‘Now, tea? Have you got time for a cup? As I say, we’ve only one more patient due in, so I’ve got time to put the kettle on.’
‘Okay, yes. Why not?’
‘No cake, I’m afraid, but I can rustle up a digestive.’ She lifted a concealed flap at the end of the counter and ushered Madi through. ‘Come on. Come and take a seat back here in the staff room. Stay in the public area and you’ll probably get the biscuit snatched out of your hand. He’s a bit of a tinker, this little terrier who’s coming in. And, besides, the chairs out there are too hard.’
Faith busied herself making tea as Madi took a seat and studied her surroundings.
‘You’ve made it very comfy. And the photos on the wall? Are they …?’
‘Yes, all my Prue’s work. Good, aren’t they? I keep telling her she should have done more with her talent. Portraits maybe. There’s money in that, isn’t there? Not stuck in a little newspaper office, but there we are. She didn’t want to leave the village, or leave that Joe Barton more like, not that hanging around for him has done her any good. But, still, you can’t tell other people what to do, can you? Especially your own children. Much as I might worry, you can’t live their lives for them, can you? Have you got any children, Madi?’
There was something so forthright, so open, about this woman that Madi found it hard to take offence.
‘Just the one. And I’ve never had much luck tellin
g him what to do either. He’s his own man, that’s for sure.’
‘And is he an actor too?’
‘God, no! It’s the last thing my George would want to do. He blames the theatre for everything, that one. It’s what kept me away so much, you see, when he was growing up. Not really the ideal life as far as family goes. No, he’s an accountant. Small businesses, tax, that sort of thing …’
‘Same as Joe. He’s an accountant too. Or a trainee one, more like. Oh, here’s Mr Simpkins with young Toby. Back in a tick.’
Madi couldn’t help but wonder whether Mr Simpkins was the name of the terrier and Toby its owner, or if it was the other way around. Some people did give their pets ridiculous names. There had been a big mouthy parrot once that an eccentric old actor had kept in his dressing room. It had sworn like a trooper at everyone who came in, yet he had called it The Duchess. She smiled at the memory as she sipped at her tea, pleased to realise just how good her memory still was when it came to the long ago. Faith dealt with the incoming client and his dog, ushering them straight through to see the vet, then came back to join her.
‘Now, where were we?’ she said, plonking herself down in the opposite chair. ‘Ah, yes, kids!’
‘Well, mine’s hardly a kid any more. He’s thirty-nine.’
‘A mother’s work is never done, is it? Still a worry, long after they’ve grown up and flown the nest.’
Madi nodded, concentrating on her tea to avoid having to explain anything more about her own mother–son situation, but it was only a matter of minutes before Toby and Mr Simpkins re-emerged into the reception area and Faith went back to sort out their bill and help carry a giant bag of dog food outside to their car.
‘Phew! Another day over …’ A tall, slim man, who Madi assumed must be Ralph, appeared at the staff room door, still wearing his white medical coat and running a hand through his floppy sandy-coloured hair. ‘Oh, sorry. I expected you to be Faith. I didn’t realise we had a guest.’
Madi stood up and held out her hand. ‘Madi Cardew. I’m staying at Prue Harris’s place and I came in just for some advice really, but Faith insisted I stop for tea. I’m a bit concerned about Prue’s cat. She’s very … lethargic is the only word I can think of. And not eating.’
‘Little Flo? Can’t have that now, can we? Have you brought her in?’
‘Sorry, no. I didn’t really know how to. If Prue might have some kind of cat carrier …’
‘No worries. I’ll come to you. Only the best for our Flo. I’ve known her since I was a teenager, when she belonged to Prue’s gran. We’re all quite fond of her. Do you mind if I just have a quick sit down first? I’ve not stopped since lunch.’
‘Ah, Ralph,’ said Faith, joining them and pulling on her outdoor coat. ‘You’ve met Madi, I see. I hope you don’t mind if I dash off now, but I have a few errands to run, so I’ll leave you to lock up and make arrangements about Flo. There’s tea in the pot. And I’ll see you soon, I hope, Madi. You’ve got my number.’
The place seemed to fall very quiet as soon as Faith had gone. ‘Ah, a moment’s peace,’ Ralph said, settling himself down with an enormous mug of tea and balancing four digestives on his knees, without the benefit of a plate. ‘I’m Ralph Barton, by the way, as I’m sure you’ve gathered. Sian has mentioned you, so I know enough not to bore you with the same old questions. Good to meet you anyway, and I’m sure we’ll soon have our Flo back fighting fit.’
‘I hope so. I can’t help but feel responsible for her while Prue’s away. And I have no experience of pets at all. If anything were to happen to her while she’s in my care …’
‘Well, I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t.’ He gulped his tea down and smacked his lips, popped the first biscuit into his mouth whole and slipped the remaining three into the pocket of his white coat. ‘Right, I’ll just grab my bag and fetch the keys, and we can walk down together. A little something to keep me going until dinner.’ He laughed, patting the pocket.
‘Do much more of that and they’ll turn to crumbs!’
‘No chance. These’ll be long gone by the time we arrive. Food doesn’t last long when I’m around.’
Ralph pushed a few buttons on the alarm pad on their way out, turned the key in the lock and pulled at the door to make sure it was locked. ‘Can’t be too careful,’ he said. ‘Not when we have drugs and cash on the premises. You may think this is a safe village, and it generally is, but crime gets everywhere these days. The estate agent had his car nicked a week or two back.’
‘That would be Donny’s dad?’
Ralph laughed. ‘I see you’re getting to know a bit about the village already. Met young Donny, have you?’
‘Not yet, but I’ve heard him.
‘Ah. The bells, the bells …’ Ralph went instantly into a bent-over Hunchback of Notre Dame impression, which set Madi off giggling. ‘No, seriously though, Donny’s a good kid, but from his efforts so far I’m not convinced he has a future in campanology. Just not enough going on locally to keep him occupied, and there are so few kids his own age living in the village, but at least while he’s up there in the tower he’s not getting into any trouble. That’s how crime so often starts among the young, isn’t it? Boredom.’
‘I suppose it is. Although in London we have more than enough things for kids to do, but still have such high crime rates …’
‘True.’
They had reached Snowdrop Cottage and Madi let them in.
‘So, here’s my little patient.’ Ralph crossed straight to Flo, still curled up on her pouffe, and got down onto his knees beside her.
Madi watched as he gently ran his hands over her, stretching out each paw to check for damage, lifting her ears and feeling around her abdomen. He put on some disposable gloves, took a thermometer from his bag and inserted it in her rear end, checked and disinfected it and put it away again, then pulled off his gloves and slid his fingers into her mouth and over her teeth. ‘Her temperature’s up, and her face is quite swollen,’ he said, turning back to Madi. ‘And she’s not at all happy about me touching her mouth. I’m pretty sure what we have here is an abscess. It’s no wonder she hasn’t wanted to eat.’
‘Can you do anything?’
‘I certainly can. Her teeth are in quite a bad way too, but that’s largely down to her age. Lots of plaque building up. I’m going to have to take her into the surgery, I’m afraid, and lance that abscess before it bursts. We don’t want her running the risk of a dangerous infection. We can sort out a little op to clean up her teeth later. Can you look after her while I pop back for a carrier?’
‘Yes, of course. Is it serious? Should I contact Prue and get her home?’
‘Depends. Is she somewhere she’ll want to rush back from, or would we simply be spoiling things for her? I don’t know what you’ve been told about my idiot of a brother, but I think Prue probably needs this time away, from him and the village, and all of us. Gossip is not a nice thing to have to deal with. And neither is rejection, especially when it’s been done so publicly. I could knock Joe’s block off, to be honest with you, but what’s done is done. And, poorly though Flo is right now, I can promise you she’s not about to die. So, let’s keep shtum and allow Prue to enjoy her holiday, shall we? I’ll take good care of Flo and I’ll let you know if things change.’
Madi sat on the carpet and stroked the cat lightly with the tips of her fingers until Ralph returned ten minutes later with a plastic carrier. There was only the smallest of plaintive objections from Flo, who was clearly not feeling her usual self, as he lifted her in and closed the grille.
‘I’ll take a proper look and get the abscess treated as soon as we’re back at the surgery.’
‘But you’d finished for the evening.’
‘Ha! A vet’s life can’t be run by the clock. Animals get sick at all times of the day and night. Sian will come in and assist. It’s very much a family business, or two families really, and it certainly helps that we all live so close to the surgery! We’ll
make Flo comfy for an overnight stay, and we’ll take it from there in the morning. And don’t worry, Madi. All will be well.’
But, of course, she did worry. How could she not? She must have woken at least three times during the night, aware of Flo’s absence beside her on the bed, her dreams taking her to places she would much rather not have gone. Was this what it was like, to share your life with another being? It had been so long since she had had to worry about anyone but herself.
It was only as she dragged herself up in the morning and sat at the table with a bowl of porridge and a coffee, still wearing a baggy nightie and without her wig, that she realised, for the first time since she’d arrived here, that she hadn’t so much as glanced at herself in the mirror this morning. Any mirror. She knew she didn’t look the way she used to, and might never do again, but there was nothing she could do about that. The constant checking of her scar and her lopsided profile and her stubbly head could do nothing to change anything. Only time and nature and specialist underwear could work that kind of a miracle. Even her paranoia about forgetting or losing things, and the dread of succumbing to some awful dementia-type illness like Tom’s poor wife, had finally begun to subside. She had lost a breast, but that was all. As Faith had said, what real use was a breast anyway, at her age? Of course she wasn’t losing her mind as well. It was all just black thoughts, too much time sitting alone and feeling sorry for herself, her mind playing cruel tricks. She had even wondered, for a while, if there was some crazed fan out there somewhere, watching her, stalking her, making her feel so uneasy about something vaguely threatening that she couldn’t even put her finger on, but that was just ridiculous. She wasn’t famous enough for any of that nonsense, and how on earth could someone on the outside be making things happen inside her flat? No, she had just got herself into a state, had not been ‘quite herself’ for a while, and understandably so, what with a nasty lump growing inside her and a cabinet full of drugs addling her brain. It was clear now that she had simply imagined it all. It was time to put it all behind her, and to start thinking positively. Slowly but surely, she was on the mend. Now all she wanted to know was whether the same could be said about Flo.
