by Gwyneth Rees
When I woke up I realised I must have been asleep for ages because we’d left the motorway and Mum was driving instead of Dad. We were crawling along behind a tractor on a windy country road and through the rear window I could see a long queue of cars behind us.
‘You have to be brave about overtaking in the country, Mum,’ Bella was saying impatiently. ‘Otherwise you’re going to get stuck behind tractors all the time.’
‘Be quiet, Bella,’ Mum snapped.
But of course Bella didn’t. ‘Hey, did you know Aunt Thecla’s overtaking record is two tractors with four cars in between?’
‘Now that’s what we country folk call a tractor sandwich,’ Dad joked.
We all laughed except Mum, who said, ‘Really? Well, that’s what I call driving like a maniac!’
Chapter Five
I guess it’s fair to say that Aunt Thecla is the kind of person who tends to have a considerable impact on those around her.
Dad always describes her as ‘a very formidable lady’, and it’s true that she does tend to make a lasting impression wherever she goes. She’s tall with broad shoulders and she has what Mum calls a ‘big-boned’ sort of build. She also has thick dark hair with white streaks through it, and Bella once joked that she looks like Cruella de Vil. She has these dark grey, almost-black eyes that turn really glinty and sharp if she doesn’t approve of something or someone. They’ve never got too glinty or sharp with me thank goodness, but I’ve seen it happen with other people, and she’s probably the only person alive who can make Dad squirm.
Bella says I’m her favourite and I think maybe she’s right. I’m not really sure why she gets on better with me than with my sisters, but I think it might be because they don’t have a lot to do with her when she visits, whereas I find all her stories about the past quite interesting and I don’t mind sitting and listening. I even ask questions, which Bella gets cross about because she says it just encourages her to talk even more.
Then there’s the fact that Aunt Thecla freely admits to not liking very many people. ‘I can’t help it if I’m not a people person,’ she’ll say with no embarrassment at all. And she’ll declare, ‘The trouble with most friends is that they are far too demanding of one’s time. That’s why I like to keep mine to a minimum. Quality not quantity – that’s the important thing.’
Dad says he can’t imagine too many people wanting to be Aunt Thecla’s friend in any case. ‘It’s all very well being rude and critical to your family, but you can’t get away with that with friends.’
Our aunt was fifty last year, and even though that’s actually only a couple of years older than Dad, she’s always seemed like his much older sister. She’s never married or had any children, but according to Dad she was engaged once when she was very young. I’ve tried to ask her about it a couple of times, but that’s the one thing she never seems to want to talk about.
A long time ago she worked as a history teacher at St Clara’s, but at some point she gave that up to look after our grandfather. I think she looked after him for quite a long time, until he died several years ago. Then she sold the family home (for an absolute fortune, according to Mum) and downsized to her current house in the village. I think she might have tried to give Dad some of the money from the house, but he refused because he hated his father so much. I remember hearing Mum and Dad arguing about it one time.
I don’t know much about my grandfather. Dad hadn’t spoken to him in years, and none of us – not even Mum – ever actually met him. It was after he died that we started to see more of Aunt Thecla. She always visited us rather than the other way round, and the first time we’d been to her house and seen the village where Dad grew up was when we came to look at our new school.
Every time our aunt came to stay with us Mum would start off being very polite to her, but she could never keep it up for more than the first twenty-four hours, after which time they’d begin snapping at each other because Aunt Thecla would start dishing out advice, which Dad can’t bear. He always seemed to have lots of work on whenever she came, and he’d disappear as much as he could, which then set Mum off snapping at him.
The atmosphere got particularly tense during Aunt Thecla’s visit to us last August. The year before she’d adopted a West Highland Terrier called Hughie, who was very boisterous, very yappy and very possessive of her. He was also quite smelly and had bits of dried poo stuck to the dirty white fur around his bottom, which our aunt never seemed to notice. Needless to say, none of my family were exactly wild about him, even though Dad, Bella, Grace and I really like most dogs (whereas Mum is more of a cat person).
Anyway, last summer our aunt had offered to pay for our elderly cat Trixie to stay in a cattery so that she could bring Hughie with her, and Mum had just about had a fit. She was pretty soppy about Trixie, who she’d had since she was a tiny kitten, a couple of years before Bella was born. ‘So poor Hughie can’t possibly stay in kennels, but it doesn’t matter if poor arthritic old Trixie pines away in the cattery!’ she exclaimed when Dad told her.
‘Don’t worry, Nina. I told her it was out of the question,’ he reassured her. ‘I said that Trixie can’t do without her home comforts now that she’s such an old lady.’
‘Good! And what did she say to that?’
‘She asked me how long cats live for,’ Dad said with a grin, which he quickly killed when he saw Mum’s face. He can sometimes see the funny side when it comes to our aunt. To be fair, so can Mum. I guess the trouble is that they never seem to see it at the same time.
Anyway, Aunt Thecla arrived the following week, and after she’d been chatting and drinking tea for half an hour she asked where Trixie was.
‘Oh, she’ll be outside somewhere, I expect,’ Mum said.
‘Good … now, Nina, there’s something I have to confess … I know I agreed not to bring Hughie, but he was so distressed when I tried to drop him at the kennels this morning that I just couldn’t do it … and, after all, if the cat is out most of the time she’s hardly going to even notice he’s here, is she?’
Mum’s mouth literally fell open as Aunt Thecla left the kitchen to go and fetch Hughie from the car.
So Hughie ended up sleeping on our aunt’s bed for the whole week, and poor Trixie nearly had a fit every time she caught sight of him or heard him barking. She hardly came inside for the entire week, and even after Aunt Thecla left it took Trixie a whole day to come in from the bottom of the garden. Once she did she started weeing in the house on a daily basis, which we all thought was her marking her territory, until Mum eventually took her to the vet, who discovered a big inoperable lump in her tummy. So a week later Mum was in floods of tears as she took her to be put down.
Mum said that she knew it was irrational to blame Aunt Thecla for Trixie’s death – and even more irrational to blame Hughie – but she couldn’t help holding them responsible for making the end of Trixie’s life so miserable.
‘The trouble with Thecla is that she only thinks about herself,’ Mum said. ‘Which is what comes of living on your own for so long, I suppose.’
But Dad shook his head. ‘She was born like it. Totally self-absorbed from day one, that’s her.’
Mum avoided talking to Aunt Thecla on the phone over the next few months and said there was no way Hughie was ever coming to our house again. In fact, it sounded like our aunt wouldn’t be welcome for the foreseeable future either.
It was only when Aunt Thecla phoned in tears six months later to tell us that Hughie had been run over by a car that Mum forgave her and started speaking to her again.
Chapter Six
‘Not far now, girls,’ Mum said, slowing down as a guy on a motorbike overtook us.
‘Is that Sam?’ Grace asked.
‘Shut up, Grace,’ Bella hissed.
‘Sam doesn’t have a motorbike,’ I said with a yawn.
‘Yes he does!’ Grace insisted. ‘Bella’s ridden on it, haven’t you, Bella?’
I turned to look at my older sister, w
ho was now glaring at Grace.
‘Excuse me?’ Dad turned round in his seat to look at both of them.
‘Paul, calm down!’ Mum said impatiently. ‘It was a short ride and she was wearing a helmet and all the proper protective clothing –’
‘Wait … you mean it’s true? And you knew?’
‘Grace saw them from the window. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be upset, and Bella promised that would be the end of it.’
‘It shouldn’t have happened at all! So when did he get a licence? That’s assuming he actually has a licence … and does he actually own this motorbike?’
‘His uncle lent him the money for it when he turned seventeen,’ Bella snapped. ‘And of course he’s got a licence!’
Dad snorted disapprovingly. ‘Bella, have you any idea how vulnerable a motorcyclist is if they’re involved in a collision?’
‘I should have,’ Bella muttered under her breath. ‘You’ve told us often enough.’
‘Paul, that car behind is trying to overtake us,’ Mum suddenly said sharply. ‘And I can’t even see round this tractor!’
She blasted the horn really loudly as the car behind started to overtake both us and the tractor.
‘Nina – take it easy,’ Dad said, reaching up to clutch the handle above his door. Mum gets really cross when he does that but luckily she didn’t see.
‘Don’t tell me to take it easy, Paul!’ Mum snapped. ‘It’s these country drivers that are the problem! Look, here’s another one trying to overtake me – no patience, any of them! So much for life running at a slower pace in the country!’
Dad didn’t comment but I noticed he kept hold of his grab handle.
‘Look – there’s a sign for the school,’ Bella suddenly said. ‘We must be really close now.’
I saw the sign too: St Clara’s School for Girls aged 4 to 18. And I think that’s when my stomach did a flip and our move to the countryside started to feel … well … just a lot more real.
As we turned the last bend in the road and saw the trio of cottages Mum exclaimed in relief, ‘Here we are!’
My sisters and I cheered.
‘Well, at least she’s not here yet,’ Dad grunted.
Aunt Thecla had phoned for another update fifteen minutes earlier, and when she found out how close we were she said she would set off straight away and meet us at the cottage. Mum tried to dissuade her but she refused to take no for an answer. She had bought some shopping for us, plus she wanted to inspect the inside of the cottage herself. No doubt if she didn’t think it was clean enough she’d ignore Mum’s protests and start vacuuming carpets and washing windows around us while we were unpacking our stuff, whether it was convenient or not.
Mum parked up on the grass verge in front of the cottages – ours was the first one of the three – and we all piled out. ‘Mrs Fuller said she’d leave the key under the flower pot,’ Mum said.
While Dad and Bella headed for the front door Grace and I raced round to the rear of the house, hoping to see the horses. The back garden was so overgrown that we couldn’t easily cross it, so we stayed at the top by the house and looked down to the field at the bottom. A couple of horses were grazing at the far side and we could hear a dog barking somewhere nearby.
The sound of a car, together with a yell from Bella caught our attention. ‘AUNT THECLA’S HERE!’
When we returned to the front of the house our aunt was already out of her car and greeting Mum with a peck on her cheek, while Dad stood back, presumably to stop her from kissing him. Mum always says that Dad turns into a bit of a teenager when Aunt Thecla is around, and he certainly looked like one with the stubborn face he was pulling right now.
‘My, haven’t you all grown,’ she exclaimed.
‘Yeah, well … kids tend to do that so long as they’re getting fed,’ Dad grunted.
Bella sniggered and Mum shot him a quick glare.
If I was Aunt Thecla I certainly wouldn’t have tried to kiss Bella at that moment, but of course Aunt Thecla isn’t known for her super-awareness of other people’s feelings. Bella stood rigid as she flung her arms around her, and they ended up in a really awkward collision rather than an embrace.
I would have laughed, but I knew it was my turn next.
As our aunt approached me she gushed, ‘Look how much you’ve grown, Elisabeth … goodness … you’re quite the young lady now …’ She was staring at my chest as she spoke and I felt myself blushing. My boobs aren’t that big but they’re definitely there now, whereas they probably weren’t the last time she saw me. ‘Do you know, I can see you looking more and more like your grandmother,’ she informed me. ‘I believe she was quite a big girl too at your age.’
Bella gave a little snort while I flushed scarlet. Aunt Thecla is always coming out with things that make me cringe, even when she’s trying to be complimentary. (Mum says it’s because she verbalises everything she’s thinking without stopping to filter it first. Dad says she’s just plain tactless.)
I was named Elisabeth after my grandmother, who died when Dad and Aunt Thecla were teenagers. I know they both loved her very much, and I know my aunt thinks she’s paying me a compliment when she says I’m like her. The trouble is I’ve seen photos of my grandmother, who was a plain plumpish lady with wiry reddish hair and freckles, who I’m not that wild about being the spitting image of. Bella thinks it’s hilarious of course.
‘And, Grace, your face has changed again,’ our aunt was observing now. ‘I really think I’m starting to see your grandfather’s chin.’
Finally Dad couldn’t keep quiet. ‘I think you need to get your eyes checked, Thecla,’ he said in an irritated voice. ‘Grace looks nothing like our father.’
Mentioning our grandfather in front of Dad is never a good idea. Like I said before, Dad broke off all contact with him before any of us were even born. He’s always refused to tell us why they fell out, except to say his father was an ‘utterly ruthless and selfish man’ and that he doesn’t want to talk about him.
Dad went back to battling with the front door of the cottage, which he still hadn’t managed to open.
‘I expect the wood’s swollen with all the rain we’ve had,’ our aunt said in her usual know-it-all voice. ‘If I were you I’d give it a good kick.’
Dad scowled because he hates Aunt Thecla telling him what to do. He kicked the bottom of the door and it made a sort of squeaky scraping noise. Then he kicked harder and it opened. At the same time we could hear a dog in one of the other cottages barking loudly.
‘Girls, you need to watch where you’re walking,’ our aunt warned us in a loud voice as she pointed to a pile of dog poo in the grass. ‘The dogs next door don’t care whose garden they do their business in, and I’m afraid not everyone around here is as committed as they should be to “poop and scoop”.’
‘Come on then, girls,’ Mum said swiftly. ‘Let’s take a look at our new home.’ I suspected she was as anxious as we were to get our aunt inside before she totally offended our new neighbours.
I was the last person to enter, aside from Aunt Thecla, who was busy inspecting the garden for more dog poo. I found Bella, Dad and Mum standing absolutely still in the middle of the living room.
‘Oh …’ I murmured as I took in the faded threadbare carpet and the ancient green velvet-covered settee. ‘It looked a lot smarter in the pictures, didn’t it?’
Mum’s face couldn’t hide her disappointment, and nor could Dad’s. Bella was looking frankly horrified.
Grace had gone to check out the upstairs, and now she came hurtling back down the steep staircase that went straight up from the room we were in. ‘Careful!’ Mum called, but even as she spoke the ancient-looking wooden handrail shifted under the weight of Grace’s hand. She screamed as the top end gave way and she only just managed to let go in time as the whole thing swung outwards.
Dad rushed over to her, and after he’d checked she was OK he looked at the broken handrail with disgust. ‘That should have bee
n fixed before we got here.’
Suddenly Aunt Thecla arrived in the doorway. ‘I suppose I’d better take off my shoes before I come in –’ she began, breaking off abruptly as she took in her surroundings. She crinkled her nose as her gaze settled on the grubby-looking carpet. ‘Or perhaps I’d better keep them on.’
Chapter Seven
‘How many sleeps till we start our new school?’ Grace asked as the three of us got ready for bed in Mum and Dad’s room that night. Grace had a tiny single room next to theirs, while Bella and I shared the musty-smelling twin-bedded room across the landing.
‘Oh, Grace, it’s not for ages yet –’ I began.
‘Three weeks,’ Mum said as she came in to help her find her pyjamas. ‘Are you excited about it, Gracie?’
There was a brief silence, then, ‘Mummy, if I don’t like my new school can I go back to my old one?’
‘No,’ Bella snapped, before Mum had time to answer. When Mum glared at her, Bella said stroppily, ‘Well, it’s true, isn’t it? You’re not going to let us go back.’
Mum was silent. I guess there wasn’t much she could say to that since essentially Bella was right. Bella’s bad mood wasn’t making this easier for any of us though.
‘Grace, I expect you will like it because you’re going to be at the same school as Bella and me,’ I said, trying to make her feel better.
Grace said nothing but she looked like she was thinking about something worrying. She stayed quiet for a little while longer then said, ‘Remember that painting of the dead fox that Aunt Thecla gave Daddy for his birthday? The one she painted herself and Daddy said was more real-looking than he’d expected?’
‘Yes,’ Mum and I said together, wondering where this was going.
‘Was that road killed, do you think?’
‘Oh … well …’ Mum and I looked at each other, both of us floundering.
‘Maybe … but then at least it wasn’t ripped apart by hounds,’ Bella said sarcastically before she disappeared into the only bathroom and slammed the door behind her.
