Springtime at Hope Hall

by Pam Rhodes

  Five minutes later, when he came back in with the tea, she had slumped to one side on the settee and was sound asleep.

  He kissed her forehead gently, then turned the lights down a little as he went back to the kitchen to sort out the boys’ lunch boxes for the morning.

  Chapter 8

  Spring arrived with the month of March. The bitter chill melted away along with the easterly winds, leaving behind blue skies and pale sunshine that touched the trees with blossom and carpeted the ground with nodding daffodils and the promise of brightly coloured tulips. The previous November, a group of volunteer gardeners had spent a day digging and planting up the narrow garden and the window boxes around Hope Hall, and the fruits of their labour were now plain to see in the blaze of golden narcissi peeping their heads through clouds of purple pansies.

  I love the spring, thought Kath as she turned her face towards the sun, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. When she opened them again, she saw that Maggie was just about to join her as they reached the main door of Hope Hall at more or less the same moment. The change in Maggie over the past few weeks was really quite alarming. Her face seemed to be thinner and there were dark smudges under her eyes.

  “Got time for a coffee before you start work?” asked Kath.

  “Probably not, but let’s have one anyway.”

  Maggie went to organize a couple of things in the kitchen while Kath headed for the coffee machine to collect two cappuccinos, which she carried through to the back office where Maggie was poring over the diary.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” said Kath, as she gingerly sipped at her coffee, knowing that the first few mouthfuls were always burning hot. “You know the Beetle and Puds event that’s coming up? The various clubs that run activities at the Hall have decided to take the competition really seriously. They’re forming teams and discussing strategy as if it’s the Eurovision Song Contest. Anyway, I’ve had several of them nagging that we ought to have a management team too, and I wondered if you might join us?”

  “I’ll be doing the puddings.”

  “I realize that, but I’ve also known you long enough to be certain you’ll have them all organized long before they’re needed. And Liz is scheduled to be here, so she can run the kitchen. Come on, Mags, it will be a laugh, and you haven’t had many of those lately.”

  Maggie’s eyes glistened as she pulled up her office chair.

  “Tough at home, is it?” asked Kath gently.

  “It doesn’t really feel like home any more, with all the packing boxes and charity bags. There’s a quarter of a century of muchloved clutter in that house, and although it’s not worth a fig to anyone else, it’s breaking my heart to throw some of that stuff away. The paintings the kids did at school. Their baby shoes and their old school reports. I’ve got every birthday card that anyone in the family’s ever been sent. On the wardrobe I’ve got Darren’s A-level Technology project, which is a huge helicopter thing that never really flew – and there’s the pair of pyjamas that Steph made in her first year of Needlework. And the photo albums – we’ve got a whole cupboard full of them, and another that’s stuffed to the top with rolls of film, negatives and dozens of packs of photo prints. How can I throw them away?”

  “Wouldn’t Darren and Steph like to keep some of them?”

  “They’ve not said so. They’re a social media generation, aren’t they? They’ve got thousands of pictures on their phones, which they can store on their laptops in the blink of an eye. They’re not interested in packs of old prints in which most of the pictures are naff. A lot of them are out of focus – one or two might be worth them having a look at and a giggle, but then they would want to chuck them out. Those photos are my memories, because the kids don’t really remember the occasion or the other people in the picture or the funny things that happened.”

  “It’s good to have those mementoes of happy times. They’re memories worth cherishing.”

  “Except that Dave appears in so many of those pictures. He was never that much of a hands-on dad, but there he is manning the barbecue, raising his beer glass, driving the caravan or putting up the tent when we went camping. And there are photos of birthdays and Christmases and all our anniversaries…”

  Kath could think of nothing to say.

  “I still can’t believe this is happening,” Maggie went on. “I made my vows on our wedding day never dreaming for one minute that we wouldn’t grow old together. I thought I knew him completely. It was beyond my imagination that there would be a notion in his head that I wouldn’t understand and share. Where did all this come from? Did I ever really know him? Was he just playing the part of the family man while he waited for something better to come along?”

  “There is nothing better than you, Maggie. Dave’s situation may be very different and exciting right now, but you don’t honestly think it’s going to last?”

  “I shouldn’t care, should I? He plainly doesn’t care about me.”

  “Have you seen him?”

  “We agreed that he could come over on Saturday to clear out the garden shed, the attic and the garage. I made sure I was working, so I didn’t have to cross paths with him, and Darren volunteered to be there to keep an eye on things. That was a mistake. Darren knew why I wanted him to be there, but he still let Dave pick out all the best bits to take back with him, and left all the rubbish for me to clear up.”

  “Oh, Mags—”

  “I hope our lawn mower blows dirt all over her, that the barbecue burns her sausages and that our big paddling pool springs a leak all over her best outfit!”

  “That’s the spirit!”

  “The solicitor says we could be in a position to exchange contracts on the house in about six weeks’ time, and then I’ll have to move out, whether the divorce is finalized or not. I’ll lose my home.”

  “Have you thought about where you’ll live then?”

  “No.”

  “You know I have a big spare room and I’d love your company.”

  “Thanks, Kath, but that wouldn’t be fair.”

  “You’d do the same for me.”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” grinned Maggie. “I’d tell you to pull yourself together and go out and choose a brilliant new home that’s just perfect – not too small but big enough, cheap to run, close to work, near the shops—”

  “A nice little garden?”

  “Not likely. I won’t possess a lawn mower, barbecue or paddling pool, and I’m blowed if I’m going to buy new ones. Window boxes will do me fine.”

  Kath laughed. “Determined and formidable. You’re just the sort of person we want on our management team for the Beetle Drive!”

  Maggie’s face dropped. “Oh no, Kath, honestly—”

  “Honestly, I won’t take no for an answer. Forget about all the other rubbish just for an hour or two. It will be a laugh.”

  “It will be a battle to the death, or I refuse to get involved.”

  “A battle of the beetles it will be then. Heaven help the other teams!”

  “What’s this, Claire?” Nigel was holding up an envelope on the front of which her mother’s handwriting was clearly visible.

  “It’s for Josh.”

  “You’ve seen your mum then, have you?”

  “You know I see her once in a while. She’s my mother. She’s Josh’s grandmother.”

  “And you know how I feel about your family. I don’t want Josh having anything to do with them.”

  “I understand your reservations about my father. He did behave badly.”

  “Well, your mother’s no better. There’s a twenty pound note in here with a card for Josh saying that he should buy the computer download he needs. What computer download, Claire? What don’t you understand about me not wanting your parents to buy Josh anything, anything at all?”

  Claire’s heart thumped in her chest as she cursed her mistake in leaving the envelope on the kitchen table when she should have put it away.

  “It’s a language tuitio
n program in the form of a game that they were talking about at Beavers the other night. You know Josh is going to take his French speaking badge in a few weeks’ time, and when we bumped into Mum in the town the other day, he was telling her about it.”

  “Don’t lie, Claire. You didn’t bump into your mother. You arranged to meet her.”

  “Actually, we just met her in Sainsbury’s. I had no idea she was there.”

  “Even if I believed that – which I don’t – having met her by accident, you still stayed together long enough for Josh to work out what present he’d like from her, and to make sure he told her all about it. You know how I feel about your parents buying their way into his affections, and you still let that happen.”

  “Actually, I didn’t hear their conversation. I was up at the counter buying tea and a drink for Josh.”

  “You shouldn’t have stopped to speak to her at all.”

  “You don’t understand. Josh and I were already in the café. You know how he loves having tea in there. You were working late and I knew we wouldn’t be having our meal until later, so I promised Josh that if he was a good boy while I did the shopping, he could choose whatever he wanted for his own tea in the café there.”

  “So you met your mum, completely by accident, and you ended up having tea together, completely unplanned – and she gave this money to Josh.”

  “No, he doesn’t know anything about it.”

  “Which must mean that you’ve seen her again so that she could give this to you.”

  “She left that envelope in a plastic bag that she stuck under my windscreen wiper today when my car was outside the school.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Claire turned angrily and stormed over to the kitchen bin. Rummaging through the rubbish, she pulled out a clear plastic bag with a piece of paper still folded inside it.

  “I know I shouldn’t do this,” her mother had written, “but I hope you will accept this money, not from your father but from me, for that computer language game that will help Josh with his French speaking badge. If you’d rather not accept this, I’ll understand. I’ll be very sad, but I do realize this puts you in a difficult position. How I long for this dreadful feud between Nigel and your father to be over! Lovely to see you yesterday. Take care of yourself, my darling. Mum x”

  “So she knew she was putting you in a difficult position, but she did it anyway. She’s as bad as your father. They just assume they know better about our son than we do.”

  “Nigel, Mum’s not like that. Josh is their grandson. She loves him. She loves me. She’s just trying to help out when she can. Grandparents do that.”

  “Well, we agreed, you and I, that we don’t want your parents’ help. You did agree, Claire. You know how furious I am about all this, and in view of that I frankly find it unforgivable that you should go against my wishes in this way.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet. I haven’t passed the money on to Josh. I haven’t really decided what I’ll do.”

  “There’s no decision to make. I don’t want your parents seeing Josh at all, ever. Do I make myself clear?”

  Much to her dismay, Claire felt her eyes fill with tears.

  “And don’t try turning on the tears, because I won’t change my mind on this. You’ve let me down, Claire. I thought you were better than this.”

  He turned on his heel and started to walk out of the kitchen towards the stairs.

  “And I thought you were a better husband, a better father – in fact, a better man. You’re hard work, Nigel. I can’t agree that I should never see my parents, because I’m their daughter and I love them, and that is an unreasonable thing for you to ask of me. What happened was that you laid down the law and snapped your fingers and expected me to obey you. Well, I’ve got news for you. Among all the promises I made when I married you, I didn’t promise to obey, because I don’t think that’s the way marriage should be.”

  “Please stop talking, Claire. Don’t say another word, because we will both regret it.”

  “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it, Nigel? You think you should do the talking and I should just shut up and do what I’m told.”

  “Works for me,” he shouted, stamping up the stairs and slamming the bedroom door behind him.

  “We’ve got lots of entries for the Beetles and Puds afternoon,” said Kath, surprised to find that there were fifteen tables already booked when she totted up the list.

  “Do you think it’s Maggie’s puddings that are bringing them in?” smiled Trevor. “It can’t just be the idea of the Beetle Drive, can it? I haven’t been to one of those for years.”

  “It was James, the vicar at St Mark’s who first mentioned it. Apparently they had quite a few fund-raising Beetle Drives at his old church, and they always went down really well.”

  “And how about the idea of combining puddings with the event? Where did that come from?”

  “Well, Maggie is on the Good Neighbours committee, as I am, and when she suggested she might bake a cake or two if we organized our own fund-raising Beetle Drive, we bit her hand off. It was Maggie herself who said it would be a good twist to have puddings with nice dishes and cutlery, and tea to go with them – and it seems to have hit just the right note, because the tickets are disappearing like hot cakes!”

  “Who’s signed up for our management team then?”

  “You’re our captain, of course, and Mary will be your beautiful assistant, with Maggie and me trying our best to keep up. Then there’s a team coming from St Mark’s, led by James and Ellie. Oh, I see that their new musical director, Gregory Palmer, and his wife Fiona are making up their number, so that will be interesting, because the Can’t Sing Singers have formed a team too.”

  Trevor chuckled. “That should cause a few fireworks. Who else has booked in?”

  “There are a couple of teams from the Grown-ups’ Lunch Club. There’s one team of ladies who’ve listed Ida as their captain. She’s terrifying. Heaven help her team members if the dice don’t land as she wants them to! And dear old Percy Wilson is bringing along his gang of four who always sit together. He’s a hoot. If anyone’s going to cheat, it will be him.”

  “He sounds like my kind of captain.”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you say that,” laughed Kath, as she continued to work her way down the list.

  “There’s a team from the playgroup, another from the line dancers – and the Money Advice Service counsellors told me they were coming too, but they haven’t put their entry in yet. Oh, and Della is bringing her mum and our Shirley.”

  “Shirley our cleaning lady?”

  “Apparently Della’s mum Barbara and Shirley are sisters – and Shirley’s husband Mick is coming along to make up the four.”

  “The way things are shaping up, I think this could easily become a very cut-throat affair. I can see at least some of those teams taking it all too seriously…”

  “Yes,” giggled Kath. “Beetlemania!”

  Trevor turned back to the other papers on the desk. “I’ve been trying to find out a bit more about the Carlisle Charitable Trust that gave us that grant recently. Apparently, Sir Bernard Carlisle grew up in these parts in a very ordinary farming family, but he always had a gift for mechanics and machinery. He ended up creating his own range of farm equipment that revolutionized the way in which planting and harvesting could be achieved more economically and efficiently. Carlisle became the most popular brand of farm equipment throughout the British Isles and is now one of the leading names for farm machinery across the world.”

  “It’s interesting that an international company like that should have a family trust with funds that are given primarily to local projects.”

  “Old Sir Bernard never forgot his roots. He felt that he owed his education and values to this community, so he left money to ensure that future generations of young people would be encouraged in the same way. And as he got older himself, he expanded the remit of the fund to include all comm
unity projects, especially those supporting families and the elderly.”

  “Are there still Carlisle family members living in this area?”

  “Our cheque was signed by Richard Carlisle, who seems to be the managing director of the company now. It might be worth inviting him along to one of our events some time. Perhaps he’d like to see for himself what their money is achieving.”

  “Do you think they’d like to make up a Beetle and Puds team?”

  “I don’t know,” laughed Trevor. “Perhaps I should ask.”

  At that point, Kath’s mobile rang. Glancing down, her heart skipped a beat as she saw Jack’s name displayed.

  “Take it,” said Trevor, burying his head in the accounts spreadsheet. “I’m fine here.”

  Kath picked up the phone and walked out of the office before answering the call.

  “Hi, Jack. How are you?”

  “I’ve just finished an all-night shift that came up at short notice – and that was after I’d already worked for eight hours yesterday. We got a match for a heart transplant patient who’s been with us for a long time. She’s only four years old, and we were beginning to think we were going to lose her before a heart came up.”

  “And did it all go okay?”

  She could hear the weariness in his voice as he recalled the previous few hours.

  “It wasn’t straightforward – a bit touch and go at times, to be honest.”

  “You sound bushed.”

  “I am, but you know what it’s like. My mind is racing, and I know it’s no good trying to sleep just yet.”

  “A hot bath then? A warm drink?”

  “A warm hug from you is what I would really like.”

  A trickle of excitement coursed down her backbone. “I’d like that too.”

  “You’re working, aren’t you?”

  She sighed with frustration. “Yes, it’s a busy one today. The accountant’s in.”

  “Ah, well, I’ll settle for just hearing your voice then.”

  “Shall I sing you a lullaby?”

  “I’ve heard your singing before. I might pass on that one.” He hesitated just a moment before speaking again. “I would like to see you, though, Kath.”