by Fiona Field
‘Or you could tell her partner to put her straight? Your mess, your rules...’
‘I suppose.’ Maddy had a point. No, it shouldn’t be down to her to enforce the rules. ‘Anyway, you don’t mind about me being PMC?’
‘No, not really. In fact it might be a good thing because Su—’ She stopped suddenly and changed tack. ‘I’m not sure about the modernisation though. I can’t see that going down a storm.’
Why on earth did Maddy think it might be advantageous for him to be PMC? Although, he was in agreement with her about the CO’s plans for updating the building and he was going to do all he could, short of disobeying the CO about telling others, to procrastinate over the project. He told Maddy as much.
‘Good plan. With luck, if you can procrastinate long enough, Rayner will have moved on before he can wreck everything. Or you’ll have come to the end of your term as PMC and someone else will get the job.’
‘So,’ he said, ‘I’m amazed you think me being PMC is a “good thing”.’
But instead of answering him, Maddy said, ‘Oops, forgot. A letter came for you today.’
She reached for a stiff white envelope that was sitting by the clock on the mantelshelf. ‘Looks rather posh,’ she said as she handed it over. ‘Don’t recognise the writing though.’
Seb took it from her and examined it.
‘You won’t find out who it’s from just looking at it,’ said Maddy, impatiently.
Seb slipped a finger under the flap and tore it open. He scanned the letter. ‘Bloody hell.’
‘“Bloody hell”, what?’ said Maddy, almost beside herself with curiosity.
‘It’s from Rollo.’
‘Rollo! You mean, rowing-Rollo?’ Rollo had rowed with Seb at their old Oxford college.
Seb nodded.
‘What does he want?’
Seb read the letter in double-quick time, then reread it. ‘He wants to come and stay.’
‘Here? Why on earth?’
‘He’s house-hunting, apparently.’
‘But why us?’
‘Don’t you want him to come?’
Maddy looked puzzled. ‘Yes... no... I mean, I don’t really care, per se. It’s just, wouldn’t he be more comfortable in a decent hotel than in a grotty quarter with two tiny kids?’
‘But it’d be nice to catch up.’
Maddy nodded. ‘I suppose.’
‘You liked him well enough when we were all up at Oxford.’
Even Seb knew that ‘liked’ might have been a bit of an overstatement. Seb had been part of Rollo’s circle because they were all in the same college eight and trying to get a seat in the Blue Boat – to row in the Boat Race – and Maddy was mad about Seb, so she hung around the same social set. But they’d never been bosom buddies.
However, Maddy said, ‘What wasn’t to like? He was loaded and threw great parties. On the downside he was a bit of a lech and a lush. Not that he leched after me much,’ she added hastily.
No, Seb didn’t think Rollo had. Although it was hard to remember. Rollo had leched after almost everything in a skirt and with a pulse. He laughed. ‘Remember that party at his parents’ gaff?’
Maddy raised her eyebrows. ‘As you know very well, it’s a bit – ahem – of a blur. I remember arriving and the hangover on the second day...’
She had got spectacularly drunk and passed out shortly after the dinner on the first night of a weekend house-party. And Seb remembered why... He moved away from the subject of the house party.
‘Rumour has it that Rollo’s calmed down a lot since those days. I think winning that medal at the Olympics made him grow up.’
Maddy looked sceptical. ‘Rollo? Grow up? You’re having me on.’
‘Seriously. He’s dropped the double-barrel and everything. Plain old Rollo Forster, now.’
Maddy snorted. ‘Rollo... plain? Seb is plain, James is plain. Mark is plain. Rollo...? Rollo is a toff’s name.’
Seb ignored her. ‘And does a lot of motivational speaking to schoolkids in his spare time, to get them to work hard and not get into drugs.’
Maddy started to properly laugh. ‘So, he doesn’t tell them about when he was a gold-medal-winning drinker and shagger?’
Seb couldn’t stop a grin. ‘I think he focuses on being an Oxford Blue and a rowing gold-medallist rather than his racy past.’
‘Bloody good thing too. I hope the kids don’t find out about that side of him – hardly role-model material.’
‘Maybe not. But I bet he’s good at it. He’s a good laugh – always was – so I bet he’s great with kids.’
‘So when does he want to come over?’
‘In a couple of weeks. You don’t mind, do you Mads?’
She said she didn’t but she didn’t look wildly enthusiastic.
It was just for a weekend, thought Seb. What could go wrong?
Chapter 6
‘Come on,’ said Maddy, ‘chop chop.’ She picked up Seb’s bowl and whisked it away as soon as he’d laid his soup spoon back in it.
‘But...’
‘But, you’d finished.’
‘Only just. What’s the hurry?’
‘I need you to hurry up and get out of my hair. I’m off out with Susie in a little while.’
‘Going somewhere nice?’
‘There’s a house in Winterspring Ducis she wants to look at so I’ve promised to drive her over for a viewing. Mike’s in Salisbury... got a job interview.’
‘Finally.’
Maddy nodded. ‘I know. I mean we all thought he’d get snapped up but...’ Maddy shrugged.
It was Seb’s turn to nod.
‘By the way...’
There was something in her tone that put Seb on his guard. ‘Yes?’ he said warily.
‘Don’t sound so suspicious. I was just wondering when McManners is going?’
‘Next month. Why?’
‘No reason, beyond that as PMC I think you ought to organise a whip-round for him. He’s done everyone proud over the years.’
‘That’s a good idea. He ought to get something nice from the mess members for all his efforts.’
Maddy preened. ‘When are you interviewing for replacements?’
‘Next week.’
‘I haven’t seen it advertised.’
‘No, well... it’s a sort of an in-house thing.’
‘What if someone from outside wants a pop at that job?’
Seb’s suspicions were really aroused. ‘Why, you’re not thinking of doing it, because—’
Maddy held her hand up to silence him. ‘Me? Don’t be daft, of course not. I just thought in the interests of equal opportunities and all that guff... Aren’t there rules about advertising jobs?’
‘Maybe. I’m sure it’s all been done properly and with proper compliance to all the rules and regulations.’
‘I’m sure. Anyway, I need to get the kids ready to go out with Susie.’
Seb stared after her as she left the kitchen. He been married long enough to know she was up to something, he just didn’t know what it was – except, of course, that it concerned McManners in some way.
*
As Susie got in Maddy’s car Maddy said, ‘I think we need to go via the mess.’
‘Why?’
Maddy started the car and pulled out onto the main road through the patch. ‘Because, if you want McManners’ job, you need to pull your finger out. He’s going next month and they’re interviewing next week.’
‘No! I didn’t know. I didn’t even know they’d invited applications.’
‘Exactly. Seb says it’s in-house, which means they’re probably after another time-serving sergeant. It’s more than likely they advertised the post in the regimental magazine or on orders which is why neither of us spotted it.’
‘Do you think I’m too late to apply?’
‘Got to hope not.’
A couple of minutes later Maddy parked up outside the mess and Susie belted in the front door to talk to the mess ma
nager. To pass the time she put a CD of nursery rhymes on for the benefit of Nathan and programmed the satnav to take her to the postcode on the house particulars that Susie had been sent by the estate agent. The picture on the details showed the sitting room, which looked bland but no worse than most of the quarters Maddy had seen. However, it didn’t take long to read through the estate agent’s blurb and, by the time Susie returned, and Nate had demanded ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ for the sixth time, she was almost catatonic with boredom.
‘Success?’ she said as Susie slid into the passenger seat.
‘Well, the application is in although McManners was very sceptical about whether or not I was eligible for the job.’
‘Not that it’s up to him.’ Maddy slipped the car into gear and headed back out of the barracks.
‘No, but I bet he’s got some sort of say in who takes over from him.’
Maddy glanced across at her. ‘But it’s Seb who’s going to have the final say. He’s been made PMC.’
‘No!’
Maddy nodded. ‘And I think Seb owes me, don’t you?’
‘Maddy?’ Susie searched Maddy’s face.
‘Look, he still doesn’t know that I know about his affair with Michelle – in fact I still don’t even know for definite if he actually had an affair. For all I know that awful Michelle-woman was delusional and made up the whole scenario. But, on the other hand, there’s no smoke without fire. But even if Seb has the squeakiest of cleanest pasts I’ve put up with an awful lot of shit as an army wife, as have you and, if nothing else, we deserve a break now and again. If he’s got any sense of decency, he’ll give you a proper crack of the whip. And I intend to make absolutely sure that you get it.’
They drove on towards the village that Susie’s prospective house was in. It was, they discovered when they reached it, very chocolate-boxy; lots of thatched cottages, a proper village green and even a pub.
‘Ooh,’ said Maddy. ‘I could live here. Very pretty.’
The satnav directed them away from the green and up the hill behind the village and suddenly the chocolate-box veneer began to come off. Up this side road the houses were 1960s semis with clapboard cladding, with some of the cladding falling off and almost all of it in need of urgent repainting. The gardens were unkempt and one even had an old caravan that was green with mould and moss parked on the drive. ‘Squalid’ was a word that sprang into Maddy’s mind.
‘Want to live here now?’ said Susie quietly.
The satnav took them round another corner and back downhill. Springhill Road said the dirty black and white sign on the corner. Next to the sign was a dark green BT junction box on top of which sat a couple of youths, probably about thirteen years old, both swigging from cans and smoking rollies.
‘They should be in school,’ said Susie, in an appalled whisper.
‘What number?’ asked Maddy to distract her.
‘Fifteen.’
The pair peered at the numbers on the shabby front doors as Maddy drove slowly along the road.
‘There,’ said Maddy as she pulled up behind a shiny BMW.
‘At least the estate agent is here,’ said Susie.
Maddy stared at the dispiriting exterior. No wonder the estate agent’s particulars hadn’t featured a picture of the outside. ‘Looks just like a quarter,’ she joked. She saw the bleak look on Susie’s face. ‘It’ll be transformed with a coat of paint and a bit of a tidy-up in the garden.’
Susie didn’t say anything.
They got out of the car and extricated the kids from the back seat; Susie grasping Nathan firmly by the hand while Maddy settled Rose on her hip. They could hear a dog barking its head off in a nearby house. It sounded big and ferocious although Nathan insisted he wanted to ‘go see the nice doggy’. Maddy didn’t think German shepherds or Rottweilers generally came under the heading of ‘nice doggy’.
The front path had to cross over a narrow concrete bridge that spanned what looked like a drainage ditch, only it would be pushed to drain anything as it was completely overgrown with weeds and brambles. Maddy vaguely thought that if the undergrowth was cut back and the banks laid with turf it might look quite nice if planted with spring bulbs – but right now it was just one more eyesore amongst many others.
The front door opened and out bounced the estate agent, all dapper suit and beaming smile. He glanced from one woman to the other. ‘Mrs Collins?’
Susie extended her free hand. ‘Susie. And this is my friend who has kindly given me a lift – Maddy Fanshaw.’
‘And I’m Damien. OK, so the house is ready for you to view.’ He turned and led the way up the cracked concrete path. ‘The village is lovely isn’t it?’
Susie and Maddy exchanged a look before Susie said, ‘The centre is, certainly.’
‘Very sought after,’ continued Damien. ‘In the catchment area for a good comp, on a bus route and only five miles from Warminster. What more could you want?’
A house a bloody sight nicer than this one, thought Maddy, but she didn’t voice her opinion.
Damien threw open the front door and led them inside. The house was cold, despite the fact that outside it was a warm summer’s day. And it smelt weird... not disgusting weird but of cheap scented candles or air freshener or stale pot-pourri – something unidentifiable and sickly sweet and quite overpowering.
‘Poo,’ said Nathan, loudly. Maddy giggled.
They were in a big sitting-dining room with open-plan stairs heading up to the first floor. In the corner of the L-shaped room was a door to the kitchen.
‘Nice room,’ said Maddy. ‘Double aspect.’
Susie gave her a look before she walked across the tatty, stained carpet and checked out the kitchen. Damien hurried after her.
‘It does, of course, need updating,’ he said.
It needs,’ said Susie, firmly, ‘ripping out and burning.’
Even by the standards of the crap army kitchens that Susie and Maddy had been used to, this one was eye-wateringly awful. One of the cupboard doors had fallen off and had been replaced by a tatty piece of now-grubby fabric stretched across the opening on a length of washing line. The flooring was cracked and worn lino and the counter tops were covered with scorch marks and stains. The oven was revolting. Had it ever been cleaned?
In silence they traipsed upstairs to find the bathroom suite, beneath the years of accumulated limescale, was avocado green and the surrounding tiles dark brown, and the four bedrooms were done out in a variety of shades of pink, ranging from salmon to magenta, which clashed with the turquoise carpet that covered the entire first floor.
‘It makes you realise the army is wise in painting everything magnolia,’ said Susie, with a shudder.
‘But,’ said Maddy, ‘rip out the carpets, paint everything cream, redo the gloss and this place could be quite sweet.’ She looked out of the window. ‘The view is stunning.’
And it was. The back of the house looked over rolling hills and downs, dotted with sheep, an arc of clear blue sky providing the perfect backdrop to a scene of rural tranquillity. Springhill Road lay in a shallow valley that ran behind the main village and it was, despite being a pretty run-down area of ex-council and current social housing, remarkably peaceful. Or it was at this time of day.
Susie joined Maddy at the window and looked out too. ‘But you can’t live on a view,’ she said, tonelessly. ‘A view doesn’t pay the mortgage.’ She fingered the frame of the bed. ‘But,’ she sighed, ‘it could be worse. At least both the girls’ rooms are the same size so they won’t kill each other over who has which and we could probably just manage to squeeze a double bed into the fourth bedroom. It’ll do.’
It’ll do? thought Maddy. Surely, if you were escaping from army housing into your own, forever home, surely you didn’t want a house that would do? Or maybe it was just her. Maybe other people didn’t set such store by a house feeling right, hugging them from the get-go, making them want to put down roots...
Susie looked down at the fl
oor. ‘And the village is pretty,’ she repeated. Swiftly she turned away and dragged a hanky out of her sleeve. Maddy looked out of the window again. Susie wouldn’t want her to see that she was crying.
Ten minutes later they were loading the children back into the car as Damien locked up behind them. Maddy breathed in the fresh air deeply as she slammed the car door shut. The lads from the corner wandered past on the pavement, as Maddy tried to get the awful smell of the house out of her nostrils. As she sucked in the clean country air she caught a whiff of another smell. Pot? She glanced at the lads and at the rollie they were sharing and then at Susie. Susie, thankfully, seemed oblivious to the situation. Maddy wondered if she ought to tell her about it. On the other hand, it was only pot. The lads weren’t mainlining heroin...
‘I’m worried I won’t get approved for a mortgage in time,’ said Susie as they drove back to the patch. ‘I know that house isn’t up to much but it’s a roof...’
‘There’ll be other houses,’ said Maddy, stoutly.
‘But we haven’t got time to wait for “other houses” – not by the time we’ve got everything in place and arranged to move and got the mortgage sorted. And anyway, we can’t afford anything better. That’s the bottom line. If you want “pretty” or “desirable” or anything like that then you have to pay for it. Mike and I can’t afford to be picky and that place has got four bedrooms. Maybe I should insist that the twins share or give up on the idea of having a spare room... but is it so wrong to want to keep just a fraction of the lifestyle we’ve got used to?’
Maddy was about to open her mouth when Susie held up her hand. ‘And don’t you dare say anything about cutting coats according to cloth.’
‘I wasn’t going to,’ protested Maddy.
‘Sorry. Sorry. Just a bit defensive here. You know... when you’re on the way down you assume everyone’s going to take a pop at you.’
‘Why? Why would they? No one would do that, surely?’
Susie shrugged. ‘Maybe I’m just being oversensitive.’
‘I think you are. But if they do, they’ll have me to answer to.’
Susie put her hand over Maddy’s. ‘Thank you, hon, but if you can persuade Seb to give me the job in the mess, you’ll have done more than enough.’
