Kate felt the speed bump grate against the drooping exhaust and prayed that the car would last until she reached her destination. Either that or some divine intervention would send her a roll of chicken wire and some nails. She may not be a mechanic but it was amazing how most of her fixes lasted more than a few weeks.
She tried to avoid the glares from the people walking on the pavement. Yes, she knew hospitals were supposed to be quiet places and it wasn’t her fault if the exit speed bumps were too high. Kate gave them a cheerful smile and noted with some guilt, tinged with satisfaction, that they were left in a cloud of exhaust fumes.
Her visit to Laura had been painful but she was glad the initial visit was out of the way. She’d cried a little, although as quietly as possible in case her friend could hear her, and told bad jokes. There had been no response from Laura save for the rhythmic beeping of the life support machine.
The road dodged through the busy town before easing itself into the open countryside and despite the beautiful surroundings, Kate felt herself tensing up. The bed and breakfast she had been staying in was pleasant, but too expensive so she had found an alternative. Her belongings were all in the back of the car and the urge to keep driving was very strong.
A car overtook her with a blast of its horn. In Italy that would have meant “I’m overtaking you, hi there” but in England it either meant they thought she’d done something stupid or something was wrong with the car. She dismissed the interruption, either was perfectly possible.
She had hoped that Laura would have been discharged from hospital by now and she could have been travelling again but the doctors were not happy with her progress and she was still in a coma. Baby Suzie had caught an infection but had rallied around and would be coming home tonight. Kate didn’t feel that she could go anywhere until her friend was reunited with her baby; but then, perhaps Canada?
She pulled over to check the directions given to her by the letting agency. Her new accommodation was supposed to be somewhere just outside the village for privacy but close enough to the centre to easily cycle to. She’d requested quirky and was very much looking forward to seeing what she had been allocated.
A few miles down the road she took a left towards the river. As a child she had watched the narrow boats drifting along with the current and had been enchanted by the relaxed pace of life. Now she was going to have a chance to actually try it out. The road opened up into a mooring area and the canal boats were lined up against the bank. Hers was called New Beginnings and she was thrilled to see that flowers were still blooming on the roof; their blossoms hung low against the windows.
She made sure the car was on flat ground, so as to not put too much pressure on the handbrake, and quickly went over to her new home. The boat was painted dark blue with gold trim, the deck had dark polished wood and a chimney peeked out of the side for the wood-burning stove.
Opening the hatch and stepping down into the gloom was like entering a hobbit hole. It was compact but brightly furnished and felt cosy rather than claustrophobic.
Kate smiled; perhaps New Beginnings was a good omen.
James was in the middle of a lesson on river studies when he saw Kate move in to New Beginnings. He suspected she would come back to see Laura and would have called her but no one seemed to have her new mobile number. He had been wondering how he could arrange an accidental meeting and now here she was. She looked exactly like he remembered from the last time he’d seen her: beautiful.
There were giggles behind him and James realised he’d been staring. Damn, he couldn’t let them know he’d been looking at her or he’d never hear the end of it.
“Right, did everyone see that duck that I was just looking at?”
“Were you looking at birds, sir?”
“Were you trying to find some blue tits, sir?”
“Have you been interested in tits for long, sir?”
Too late, thought James and, as he did his best to bring order back to the class he tried to remember why he’d decided to be a teacher in the first place. While he could remember why he went into the profession it was getting harder every year to come up with good reasons to stay in it.
Mrs Ruth Tonder sat by the double doors of St Mary’s Hospital and patted the tight bun on her head. Even though she had just been discharged following a hip operation there really was no excuse for slovenly behaviour. She ran still supple hands down her pleated skirt and smoothed a wayward wrinkle. Ruth checked her purse was in her handbag for the umpteenth time and tried to ignore the creeping feeling of unease that had been washing over her from the time she woke up in hospital and had been gathering pace until this moment. Release from hospital. Ignorant word, she thought, “release”. While age might not have slowed her mind, an unwise foot placement had brought her physically crashing down on already brittle bones. She was intelligent enough to realise that she was being released into a life of expected dependence. Ruth suppressed a shudder.
Ruth was also intelligent enough to realise that she was not liked, or in fact particularly likeable. She made no effort to correct this assumption. She thrived on her independence and should she deign to mix with others they were carefully chosen individuals. The right sort. It was a shame they hadn’t been able to visit her during her long hospital stay but she quite understood that they were busy people. Most of them had been kind enough to send flowers and they had all made the effort to choose Get Well cards of appropriate and quality material. Still, it would have been nice to have had a female visitor.
Thank goodness for her son, who had at least visited regularly and with commendable punctuality for thirty minutes at seven p.m. every evening. Ruth appreciated routine.
Geoff was such a good son, so attentive and without question had made all the arrangements for her to live with him. He hadn’t even asked, just packed up her necessities and set her up on the ground floor of his house. Such a loyal son. Definitely the right sort. Pity he wasn’t able to pick her up today but as a policeman he didn’t always get to pick his own shifts. Or did he? It was so easy to lose track of his movements.
So here she was, waiting for some drip of a social worker to collect her and whisk her away to her new life. Ruth wondered if they would stay for a cup of tea or leave her to her solitude. She didn’t particularly relish the idea of solitude today; usually she welcomed it with outstretched arms but today… It occurred to her that she hadn’t been held with affectionate arms for over ten years. What a strange thought, she mused, how easily one gets out of the habit of human touch. Ruth checked her skirt for wrinkles again and quickly brushed the fleeting notion to one side.
The weather was quickly turning towards winter and she considered moving inside to wait. She was embarrassed to find herself scared though at the prospect of walking the few feet in case she fell and made a fool out of herself again. The wheelchair she had been put into was all very well but she found it hard to move and disliked the idea of actually touching the wheels. It did not strike her as being particularly hygienic.
Two young girls walked passed her chatting to each other. One had blue hair and the other had enough metal in her face to cause chaos at an airport. Ruth shook her head in despair. In her day one set of earrings was quite sufficient; she simply didn’t understand the need to put a stud in any orifice or appendage other than an ear. The girl with the blue hair paused and bent over to speak to her.
“Hi, are you Ruth?”
Ruth was affronted at this lack of formality. “My name is Mrs Ruth Tonder, yes. And you are?”
“I’m Kara, your social helper. Is that all you brought with you?” Kara nodded to the small weekend bag by Ruth’s feet.
“Yes, my son took the rest with him yesterday.”
“Fab. OK, Ruth, let’s get you home.”
Kara slung the bag easily over one shoulder and confidently wheeled Ruth towards the patient transport carpool, making small talk about the weather and hospital food as they went.
Ruth made no effort to
conceal her discomfort or annoyance at the girl’s inappropriate familiarity and was further put out when she was gently, but firmly, parcelled up into the back of the car, rather than the front. Kara either didn’t notice or was too experienced, despite her age, to comment on her bad humour. Which further irked Ruth.
The journey to Geoff’s house was not a long one, thankfully, and she did not invite Kara to stay for a cup of tea, despite offers by Kara to make one, or a sandwich, or help her to bed, or turn on the TV for her. Each offer was rejected with frosty politeness until Kara wished her a pleasant afternoon and said she would be in touch later in the week, leaving her with a list of numbers to call if she needed further assistance.
As soon as Ruth heard the door close she allowed herself to relax slightly and started to take notice of her surroundings. Geoff had done well with the décor, but then he always did have a good eye for colour, and the pale, muted pastels were very similar to the house she had said goodbye to. There were flowers on the kitchen table and she saw he had unpacked her favourite items; she supposed the rest was in storage somewhere.
Despite turning down a cup of tea, Mrs Tonder was deeply yearning one. Gingerly she rose up from her wheelchair, took hold of the Zimmer frame she despised and made her way very slowly into the kitchen.
She didn’t know where anything was, obviously, and the action of leaning down and stretching up to explore cupboards left her breathless and in pain. When she eventually found the cups and saucers she was sweating with the effort and trying hard not to give in to the tears that were simmering beneath the surface. Then she realised she still didn’t know where the tea leaves, tea pot, sugar or milk was and the tears began to flow.
Tears were also flowing down Penny’s face but for an entirely different reason.
“Are you sure you’ve got the right number?” she said, clutching the phone to her ear and gripping the back of a kitchen chair until her knuckles whitened. “And you really meant to call me? I know my name is quite common, I’m always getting people making that mistake… I see… Well if you’re sure there hasn’t been some kind of error… It’s just that this has never happened to me before... Right, well, I’ll keep an eye out for the postman… Um, thank you.”
Penny stared in front of her, silently forming the words to try and explain to herself what had just happened. Of course she knew that this sort of thing went on, but in her experience it happened to other people. This sort of thing didn’t happen to someone like her. Except it just had.
Crikey.
She had never won anything before in her life, so to suddenly have a call informing her that she was the new owner of a brand new laptop and broadband package took her breath away. Until now if she wanted to go online she either had to use the dilapidated computer in Edward’s office, which cut out every twenty minutes with dismal regularity, or catch the bus into town for the local library.
Penny moved some leaflets from a chair and sat down. Edward would be thrilled of course, they could throw out his old one and cuddle up to satellite TV in the evenings to see the programmes that everyone was always talking about. She wondered which wall the dish would be installed on: probably over the garage to the back, tucked away and out of sight.
At the sound of footsteps coming up the front path, Penny went over to the kettle to get her husband a cup of tea. In an ideal world she would have gone out to get champagne but on their budget the last thing she had bought with bubbles was supermarket own-brand washing-up liquid.
Edward came through the door, hung his coat on the peg in the hall and dropped off his work bag en-route. Penny surveyed his face carefully: he looked tired and deep in thought, a clear sign that he had come into troubles that morning.
“How are things in the village?” she said.
Edward shifted some laundry from the closest chair and sat down.
“All right, I suppose, thank you.” He gratefully accepted the mug and took a sip of tea. “But it’s very disturbing how many people are buying lottery tickets because they think it’s going to make everything better. I sit with them, listen to their problems and tell them that things take time – then they wave their ticket in front of me and say it’s all going to be better after the next draw.”
Penny sat down opposite him. “I suppose people need something to look forward to?”
“But it’s not just that! The Taylors, you know, the ones that live in the house with the front gate hanging off?”
Penny nodded.
“They’ve bought twenty tickets, and said that this is what they do every week! They’re worried about not making the rent next month but they’re spending a fortune on lotto tickets. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg! I sat with Mrs Grummage for an hour while she told me that she can’t afford heating this year because the price has risen so much. Then she went on to say how grateful she was that when she went to bingo three times a week it was warm and someone gave her a hot drink.”
Edward located the biscuit tin and pulled out a digestive.
“This is going on all over the village, good people making appalling decisions and gambling their life away. Society is all about instant gratification these days; no one wants to wait for anything. I mean,” Edward pointed to her with the biscuit, “you run a tight ship with our money, don’t you?”
Penny nodded.
“If we don’t have enough money we just make do. I’m so grateful that you’re the sensible type; if more people were like you then there would be a lot fewer problems. Lottery tickets, bingo, oh, and Brenda from the floral society, remember her?”
Penny nodded.
“Apparently her husband has just started with Gamblers Anonymous. Can you imagine? He was doing online betting and she only realised there was a problem when two bailiffs arrived for the TV.”
Penny eased her hand over to a magazine that was open on the crossword competition page and slowly covered it with an old travel supplement from the weekend papers.
“So, I’ve decided that this Sunday’s sermon is going to be about gambling and while it’s one thing to want to better yourself through education and hard work, recklessly throwing money away that you don’t have is morally wrong and must be pulled up.” Edward finished his biscuit with determination.
“Does this mean I can’t buy a lottery ticket for Saturday then? It’s just that they’ve got a double rollover and…”
“Of course it means you can’t buy a lottery ticket! Honestly, Penny, can you imagine the embarrassment if we won?”
“Um, I suppose so.”
Seeing his wife suddenly looking dejected he came off his soapbox. “So, what’s new with you?”
In all their years of being married Penny had never told more than a little fib to her husband, usually to deflect his attention from the fact that she’d just finished off the last slice of chocolate cake or she’d bought a top from a charity shop rather than the church jumble. She loved Edward and deeply respected his career choice but as visions of her new laptop danced in her mind she also knew that as far as sacrifices to be made, she had already done more than her fair share.
“I’ve finally saved up enough from the housekeeping to buy myself a laptop and broadband.” Penny gave him her brightest smile while her soul crouched in wait for the thunderbolt of judgement.
“You see, that just proves my point. If you can stretch our budget then really there is no excuse for other people to fritter. Well done, darling, I’m very proud of you. You’re an inspiration, you really are.”
Edward jumped up to give her a hug and Penny felt her face burn with shame. She had never lied like that to him before, and the most shocking thing of all was how easy it had been.
Over her husband’s shoulder she noticed that the packet of kitchen roll by the kettle had a competition on the wrapper. Before Edward had even reached the door of his study to prepare the sermon Penny had whipped the scissors out and was scanning the room to see where she’d put her envelopes.
The door cl
osed behind Andy with a dull thud. The first thing he saw were Laura’s shoes, heels scuffed from driving, lying where she had kicked them off the day before she had gone into hospital. His head spun at the memory of greeting her, laughing as he tried to get both arms around The Bump, the heady kick of her scent. A sound from the kitchen brought him back into the present.
Andy took off his coat, hanging it carefully on one of the pegs on the wall and took a deep breath. He practically counted the seconds down from the moment he said goodbye to his daughter in the morning until the moment he was reunited with her. Time away from his family felt unreal and while his manager had been understanding at first, he knew that he had to find some way of balancing his priorities before he lost the means of paying for them.
Tantalising smells were drifting down the hallway from where Hilary, possibly the only other person alive who knew how he felt in that moment, had clearly been slaving away over a hot stove. His stomach growled in anticipation but he had something to do before he could eat.
Calling through a greeting to his mother-in-law, Andy went up the stairs to see his daughter. The nursery was a gentle, lemon yellow with flowers painted on the wall that complemented the white furniture. He picked Suzie up and for a few seconds, as he lost himself in her unique smell of talcum powder and warmth, the pain from everything else hushed to a whisper.
“I promise I won’t let you down, little one. It’s you and me for a little bit longer while Mummy gets some rest and then we’ll be the happiest family around.”
Hilary felt her daughter everywhere. From the carefully chosen sofa cushions in the lounge to the way the bathroom cabinet held everything but toothpaste. She could smell her in the coats along the hallway and if she closed her eyes she could see her pottering among the flower beds in the garden.
Love, Lies and Lemon Cake Page 3
