The Wishing Well

by Anna Jacobs

  She didn’t know why she was bothering with the wishing well, really, except that she’d always felt it brought her luck.

  Raindrops began plopping into the water, setting up ripples that were so pretty she spent a minute or two watching them before turning to leave. Her father would start to fuss if she got wet. Maybe she should find shelter and see if this was only a passing shower?

  She remembered the old bandstand and turned towards it, smiling as she walked briskly along. She’d had her first kiss there - and snogged several other boyfriends there as well. It had been a favourite rendezvous for her generation.

  * * * *

  The waitress moved to Kit’s table and began the same routine of “Can I get you anything else, sir?” as she’d used on the woman he’d been watching. He’d have stayed and outfaced her but the afternoon was sliding towards teatime and he needed to get back. Standing up, he settled his crutches in place and moved outside.

  When a few drops of rain hit his face he looked up in surprise. Damn! Where had those clouds come from? They seemed heavy enough to dump a good dose of rain on him and he had to get to the park gates before he could call a taxi, because only Parks Department vehicles were allowed to drive inside the park. There was a metal pole across the gateway sporting a big padlock.

  He tried to take a short cut along one of the narrower paths that led past the bandstand. It was all right at first, then it changed suddenly to crazy paving, one of his bugbears these days. Taking infinite care he moved slowly on, but for all his efforts one of his crutches slipped and he could feel himself falling.

  He let out a yell as he hit the ground and lay there for a moment, winded and feeling furious at his own incapacities.

  Footsteps came running and someone asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Thanks.” He looked up to see the woman from the café bending over him and felt pleased with fate. If he had to be rescued, then this was the person he’d have chosen to do the deed. “Well, I will be all right once I get to my feet. It’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have taken a side path. Crazy paving is hell on crutches, especially when it’s raining.”

  As if to prove that the weather was definitely not on his side today, the rain grew heavier.

  “The band stand’s just round the corner. We could shelter there till it eases off. The weather report said ‘A few showers’.” She helped him to his feet.

  “You’ve dealt with someone on crutches before,” he guessed.

  “My son. He broke his leg a few years ago. Can you manage now? Right. This way.”

  She walked in front of him, turning occasionally to check that he was all right, and they soon reached the bandstand. It was dilapidated and much in need of a coat of paint, but the roof was still sound enough to keep the rain off and the wooden benches in the centre were still dry. He sank down on one with a sigh of relief, then looked down at himself ruefully. “I’m soaked - and I’ve made you get wetter than you would have been. Sorry about that.”

  “It’s only water.”

  “Is that an Aussie accent?”

  She nodded. “You’ve been there?”

  “Several times. Whereabouts are you from?”

  “Perth. That’s in Western Australia.”

  “I know it. Lovely city. I’m going back there one day.”

  Rain beat down relentlessly, bouncing up from the path and blowing on to the seats at the edges of the bandstand. It made such a noise they both stopped speaking to stare out at it in amazement.

  “It was sunny an hour ago,” she said. “I’d never have expected it to change so much.”

  “This is Lancashire! Rain is the natural state of affairs. Mind you, I’m still getting used to that again myself. Haven’t lived here for ages.”

  She chuckled, a warm musical gurgle of sound. “I should have remembered it and brought an umbrella.”

  “I saw you in the café. With your father, I think? I wasn’t being nosey - ” He stopped and grimaced then admitted, “Yes, I was. I love watching people and trying to guess what they’re doing. Comes of being a journo.”

  “I watch people too. I noticed you when you came into the café. How did you hurt your leg?”

  That brought him back to reality with a thump. “Accident in Bangkok.”

  “Sounds very glamorous.”

  He shook his head. “No. Painful. And will leave me with a permanent limp.”

  She could hear the frustration ringing in his voice and without thinking put her hand on his. “I’m sorry. That must be hard. I’d guess you were an active person before.”

  Without thinking he grasped her hand, staring down at it. Well cared for, but her skin wasn’t as soft as he’d expected. “Yes.” He let go, relieved when she didn’t pursue the point or offer gushing sympathy as some people tried to. “What about you? You spoke of a son . . . is there a husband in the background? I have to tell you, you don’t look married.”

  “My husband died a couple of months ago.”

  “Oh, hell, I’m sorry! I’ve really put my foot in it now.”

  She liked his crooked, rueful smile and his dark, untidy hair, which he’d pushed back impatiently from his forehead. It needed cutting. She paused mentally on that thought. Strange. She hadn’t really looked at a man for months and now a gorgeous one had literally landed at her feet. She became aware that he was still staring at her anxiously. “It’s all right. My husband and I were separated.”

  “Ah.” After another pause, he asked, “What are you doing in England? Or is that too private? Just tell me to mind my own business if it is. I can’t seem to help asking questions.”

  For some unfathomable reason, she felt comfortable enough with him to explain about her mother and her search for a job.

  He nodded, not commenting, just listening with quiet concentration.

  “There’s nothing you can do about your mother,” he said when she fell silent. “I did a lot of research once for an article on a celebrity with Alzheimer’s. It’s a cruel disease, so hard on the relatives. I’m sure your mother’s reaction to you isn’t meaningful if you’d always got on with her before.”

  Somehow, having a stranger say that made things feel better, because he could have no personal interest in lying to her. “Thanks.” She smiled at him.

  “What for?”

  “Listening. Saying what I’ve been trying to persuade myself to believe.”

  It was he who reached out to clasp her hand this time. “Believe it. I’m not making it up. And it’s nice to know I’m still a good listener, even though I’ve retired now.”

  She stared down at their hands, not knowing what to say or do next, and after a moment he let go. She looked outside. “The rain’s easing, I think.” But she wished it wasn’t because she’d have liked to get to know him better.

  “You really are looking for a job as a housekeeper?” he asked suddenly.

  “Yes. It’s all I can think of to do. But I’m pretty bad at interviews and the agency I went to suggested I do a course before they took me on - a very expensive course. I thought it a real rip-off, so I refused.”

  His smiled broadened till it lit up his whole face. “Why don’t you come and work for me then? I’m absolutely desperate to find a housekeeper.”

  She could only gape at him. “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes.” He stuck out one hand. “Kit Mallinder.”

  She took his hand again. “Laura Wells. Tell me more.”

  She didn’t believe in the old wishing well, of course she didn’t, but this was the most amazing coincidence and if the job was at all suitable, she’d snap his hand off.

  And make a thank-you offering into that well! Just in case magic still existed somewhere.

  Chapter 12

  Angie was waiting for Laura when she got home. “Mum wants you to come to tea tonight.”

  She was half-inclined to say no, given such short notice. Her sister hadn’t been in touch since her arrival and she’d felt upset at that. It felt
as though this invitation was a spur of the moment thing only, as though seeing her wasn’t important enough to make a fuss about. Or just as bad, that Sue only needed to beckon and she’d come running.

  “You go round to our Sue’s, love,” her father said. “Me and your mother will be fine.”

  She knew it’d upset him if she refused, so she gave in. “All right. But let me tell you my news before I get ready. I may have found myself a job.”

  “But you’ve only been to the park! How can you . . . ? Surely you’re not going to work at the café? You get some strange characters there.”

  She explained what had happened and was surprised when he pursed his lips and frowned. “What’s wrong, Dad?”

  “Well, this man could be anyone, couldn’t he? A serial killer, even.”

  She managed not to laugh. Impossible to think of Kit Mallinder as a criminal. “He’s not got a shifty sort of face.”

  “You can’t always tell.”

  “Well, he’s on crutches so I can run faster than him.” She saw that her father was in no mood for jokes, back in his old protect-my-daughters mode in fact, and stifled a sigh. “I’ve arranged to meet him tomorrow to look over the house, so I’ll make sure I find out more about him then.”

  “Take our Angie with you, just to be safe.”

  “Dad . . . ”

  “It never hurts to be careful, love.”

  She didn’t say that she was forty-four not fourteen, or ask what being careful had done for her so far. In fact, now she thought about it, she didn’t want to be careful any more, wanted to spread her wings - just a little. Ever since her brief holiday the desire to do something had been bubbling up inside her, quietly insistent. Strange sort of catalyst, two days in a run-down pub near Blackpool.

  She still had that piece of wire, though.

  “We’d better be going, Auntie Laura,” Angie said. “Mum’s a real stickler for serving meals on time.”

  “She always was. It used to drive me mad when we were kids and she wanted to organise everything we did, including my half of our bedroom.” She laughed at the memories that evoked, though the two of them had had some pretty fierce quarrels about the division of their space and the privacy of their possessions over the years.

  Angie got into the car with her aunt and sat in silence, which was unlike her.

  “Something wrong?” Laura asked gently as she navigated her way through the tea-time traffic.

  “Oh, just Mum. She’s been nagging me again. I’d move out, only I can’t afford a place of my own. And Rick lives with his family, so I can’t move in with him. Anyway, it’s too soon for that sort of thing, though I’m hoping . . . ”

  Her voice trailed away and she sighed. When she didn’t say anything else, Laura said gently, “It can be one of the hardest things there is, dealing with families. I don’t get on all that brilliantly with Deb, though I’ve never understood why.”

  Angie looked at her in surprise. “She doesn’t know when she’s well off, then.”

  “What a lovely compliment!” When her niece didn’t offer any more confidences, she changed the subject. “Look, you don’t have to come with me tomorrow if you don’t want. Dad’s always been a bit too careful where his womenfolk are concerned.”

  “I don’t mind. I think Pop’s right, actually. After all, this man is a total stranger and it’s not as if anyone introduced you. I’ll sit in the car outside so if you need help, you only have to scream and I’ll come running.”

  “All right.” But Laura wanted to sort things out for herself. Needed to. And she couldn’t imagine Kit Mallinder being a criminal, or even a lecherous man. She had taken an instant liking to him.

  From the front, her sister’s house hadn’t changed since her last visit. It was a small detached bungalow set in the middle of a row of others which were almost identical to one another. The garden was rigidly neat. Laura would have put in some bedding plants and softened up the stiff clumps of greenery, but her sister had never liked things to be “messy”.

  Sue came to stand in the front doorway, watching with folded arms as Laura parked. She nodded a greeting but once again didn’t offer a kiss or hug. “We’re sitting in the conservatory.”

  Laura followed her through the house to where a small conservatory stuck out backwards from the dining area next to the kitchen, neatly bisecting the tiny rear garden. The cane chairs in it were arranged with geometric precision round a low table and two plants in pots graced the far end. “It’s very - um - pretty.”

  “I know this isn’t in your league for houses, but we like living here and it’s easy to keep clean.”

  Laura bit back a sharp response at this undeserved dig. You had to ignore Sue’s prickly remarks or you’d be quarrelling with her all the time. She could see Angie rolling her eyes heavenwards, but thank goodness her niece didn’t make things worse by intervening. At least Trev hadn’t changed much, except to lose most of his hair. He came towards her with arms outstretched, beaming as he pulled her into a hug.

  “You’re looking well, Laura love. It’s just a pity you had to come over here in such sad circumstances. I’m really sorry about your loss.” He glanced at his wife as he said that and she sniffed audibly, turning away to polish the already sparkling glasses which were set out on an ornate, silver-plated tray ready for drinks.

  “I lost Craig long before he died, long before he actually left me,” Laura said, determined not to pretend about anything. “So I’m not exactly sunk in grief.”

  “Yes, Sue told me. But him dying must still have upset you. I mean, you were together for over twenty years. That has to count for something.”

  Her throat tightened. “Yes and you’re right, it does upset me. No one deserves to die so young. But that didn’t stop me being angry when I found out he’d left his share of everything we built together to his mistress.”

  “Women who go after married men should be taken out and shot.”

  Sue’s tone was so vicious Laura wondered for a moment if Trev had been unfaithful, but she couldn’t see that. He was such a straightforward, warm-hearted man you couldn’t imagine him cheating on anyone. “Can we change the subject now, please? I’m trying to put all that behind me. I may even have found myself a job.”

  The conversation limped along. They moved to the dining end of the L-shaped living room to eat food which was plain but tasty. The wine was unexpectedly good and she complimented them on it.

  Angie beamed at her. “I chose it. That’s one benefit of working at a pub. You can buy your wines at cost. I asked my boss which one would be best to go with casseroled steak.”

  Sue looked across at her sourly. “You were wasting your money. We’re not in the gourmet wines class here.”

  Laura couldn’t believe that her sister would be so spiteful and hated to see how hurt Angie was by this remark. “Pity I can only have one glass, because it’s lovely, but I like to be careful when I drive.”

  Taking tiny sips, she heard herself muttering platitudes, making bland statements, murmuring agreement to her sister’s staccato comments. Why she should always feel uncomfortable in Sue’s house, she had never been able to work out, but this time she felt worse than on previous visits and was thankful when enough time had passed for her to leave.

  But it was no relief to go back to her father’s, either. Laura drove slowly through the dark streets with the windscreen wipers beating out a rhythm that seemed to match her troubled thoughts.

  One thing was certain: if the job Kit Mallinder had offered her was at all bearable, she was going to grab it with both hands.

  * * * *

  The following morning Laura took her car keys out of her handbag and called, “I’m off now, Dad.”

  He came to the door of the kitchen, glancing back quickly to make sure his wife wasn’t following. “You look nice, love. Blue always did suit you. And I’m glad you’re not going on your own.”

  She picked Angie up then headed towards Wardle, where Kit Mallind
er lived. Laura remembered cycling out there as a teenager and picnicking near the reservoir. She hoped the village hadn’t changed too much.

  They found the short side street quite easily and Angie called, “There it is!”

  Laura parked and they sat looking at the house.

  “Not bad,” Angie said. “He can’t be short of money, then.”

  “He’s definitely not short of money if he’s employing a full-time housekeeper.” She took a deep breath and opened the car door. “I’ll try not to keep you waiting too long.”

  Angie grinned and brandished a battered paperback at her. “Just got some new reading supplies from the charity shop. I’ll be fine.”

  Laura felt nervous as she walked along the path to the front door. Crazy paving again. The poor man was bedevilled by it. And these worn pieces of elderly grey stone didn’t make for an attractive entrance path, either. It’d have looked better if it had curved slightly, instead of bisecting the rectangular garden so precisely. By the time she reached the front door, she’d mentally rearranged the garden.

  The door opened before she got there and he stood smiling at her. “I was watching for you, afraid you wouldn’t turn up.”

  “Why should you think that?”

  He shrugged and had to grab a crutch that started to slip. “Well, you only met me once in the park, so I could be anybody, a mass murderer even.”

  She chuckled and pointed in the direction of her car. “My father’s already thought of that, so he insisted I bring my own insurance with me - my niece Angie is riding shotgun. He doesn’t realise I’m grown up and is still trying to protect me.”

  “You’re lucky to have him to care about you.”

  “I know.”

  “Why am I keeping you standing at the door? Come inside and I’ll show you round the ground floor, but I’ll have to leave you to go upstairs on your own.” He grimaced down at his crutches.

  “It’s a lovely house,” she said as they returned to the hall after their downstairs tour. “I could do a lot with this.”