Peppercorn Street

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘Teaching might fit, especially if you go on the maths or science side. You’d have the school holidays to look after her, then. If you’re any good at those subjects, you might consider that. They’re always short of maths and science teachers.’

  Janey nodded, filing the information away.

  After only a few minutes of chatting, he said, ‘I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t carry on with your studies here, and if your tutor thinks you’re on track, you’ll be able to take at least one A level this year.’

  ‘That’d be brill! It’ll give me something to do in the evenings. I’ll work really hard, I promise.’

  ‘We’ll go through all the paperwork, then you can go and see them at the crèche while I find out if your tutor can fit you in for a quick chat before you leave. You’ve only missed a couple of classes this term, so far.’

  The crèche was a delightful place and the baby room was supervised by a woman with a soft West Indian accent and the widest smile Janey had ever seen. They had to speak in low voices because other babies were taking a nap. Millie slept through it all, stirring once and mumbling to herself, then snuggling down again.

  On the way home Margaret said again, ‘Don’t forget. If you need help, get straight on to me. Dawn will be back next week, but if something really serious happens, I know she’ll want to be told and will come back early if necessary.’

  ‘You people at Just Girls are so lovely,’ Janey replied in a choked voice. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

  ‘You’d have managed. You’re a capable young woman. But maybe we’ve made it a little easier. We try to.’ She drove away with a wave.

  But Janey knew she wouldn’t have been able to manage on her own, not with him pressuring her first to have an abortion, then to have her baby adopted.

  Winifred dressed as smartly as ever because she’d always loved clothes, but her heart was heavy as she walked into town. She’d heard of old people changing their wills at a whim, threatening their heirs with disinheritance. Was this a whim? Was she being foolish?

  No. The conversation she’d overheard between Bradley and that sharp-faced female had been all too revealing. There could be no doubt about it. For all his show of caring, he didn’t give two hoots about her, just his inheritance. Not only that, but he was planning to swindle her if he could get her to hand over the house to him. That explained why his help was always focused on the house and not her needs.

  The callous way he’d spoken of her had upset her greatly. ‘The silly old biddy’. What a dreadful thing to call her!

  Well, he’d not be walking into her house at will again. She made a mental note to visit a locksmith on her way back, however tired she was.

  Her lawyer was as cool and pleasant as ever, but when Winifred explained why she’d come, Mrs Farley frowned.

  ‘Are you sure about this, Miss Parfitt?’

  ‘Yes, I am. I’m not in my dotage yet. I’d rather leave my money to charity than to someone who considers me a gullible old fool.’ She was aware of a searching scrutiny and waited, meeting Mrs Farley’s gaze without flinching. ‘It’s not easy being the last of my generation. I try to think very carefully about important things like this, because I no longer have anyone to discuss them with.’ She waited and added, ‘Do you believe me about what I overheard?’

  ‘I do, actually. There have been some rather pushy property deals in town lately by certain companies.’

  She didn’t elaborate or name names, and Winifred didn’t expect her to. But it was a good bet that Mrs Farley had heard of Ebony’s firm in this connection.

  ‘Who exactly do you wish to name as beneficiary?’

  ‘I’m not sure, so as an interim measure, until I can gather more information about my distant relatives, I’d like you to draw up a will leaving everything in equal shares to these charities.’ She handed over the list she’d drawn up. ‘Make it very simple because if I’m spared long enough, I’ll be changing my will again within the next few months, once I’ve checked the other members of my family out. For the time being, I simply wish to make sure that Bradley doesn’t inherit.’

  ‘That will be quite a simple task. And haven’t you given him a power of attorney? Do you want to cancel that?’

  ‘Yes, definitely. I’m glad you reminded me.’

  Mrs Farley fiddled with the piece of paper, staring down at it as if uncomfortable about what she was going to say. ‘If you can drop in tomorrow afternoon – around say, three o’clock – I can have the new will ready to sign. I would, however, advise you to see your doctor before you do sign and get a letter from him confirming that you are of sound mind.’

  ‘What? Is that really necessary?’

  ‘Not now, but your nephew may contest the will after you die and your eventual heirs may need proof that you were in your right mind when you changed your will.’

  ‘Oh. I see. Well, in that case, I’ll do as you suggest and let you have the doctor’s letter.’

  ‘Good. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?’

  ‘Not directly but I wondered if you could suggest the best way of selling this? I find the thought of dealing with a pawnbroker rather distasteful and even if I was prepared to do that, I don’t like the looks of the one in the high street.’ Winifred got out the brooch she’d chosen for selling, a small, ugly piece, which she’d never liked. Her mother had always insisted the stones were of superb quality and valuable, but she’d never worn it, either.

  Mrs Farley took the brooch from her. ‘What gorgeous diamonds! See how they sparkle in the light. You can’t fake that.’

  ‘I think it’s rather vulgar and clumsy-looking, but I’m sure my grandfather wouldn’t have bought anything shoddy.’

  ‘I’d suggest you try Doring’s on the high street. They’re old-fashioned in many ways, but have an excellent reputation as a jeweller. Ask to see Michael Doring and tell him I sent you. I know him socially and he seems a decent fellow.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll go straight there.’

  ‘Do you keep any other jewellery in the house?’

  ‘Only one or two pieces. Most of my jewellery is safely locked up in the bank.’

  ‘If your other pieces are of as good quality as this, I’d suggest you put them in the bank, too.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right.’

  She went straight from the lawyer’s to the jeweller’s and found it embarrassing to explain what she needed but steeled herself to do it, because she had no other choice. The man with whom she was dealing – she’d not expected Michael Doring to be so young – was very kind and noticed how she was feeling. He showed her into a private room to continue their bargaining, for which she was grateful.

  After he’d studied the brooch, he brought in an older man to give him a second opinion.

  ‘You’re right, Miss Parfitt. It’s a very good-quality piece,’ he said in the end. ‘You could get more than I’d be able to offer by putting it into a fine jewellery auction.’

  ‘How much are you offering?’

  ‘Two thousand pounds. You might get another thousand on top of that in an auction.’

  ‘Or I might not. In any case, I don’t want to wait for the money, so I prefer to sell the brooch to you now. Could you give me a cheque, do you think? I don’t like to carry large sums of cash around with me.’

  ‘Certainly. Very wise.’

  That transaction completed, she visited the bank to deposit the money. She felt rather tired by now, but since the locksmith’s was on the way home, she called in and arranged for a man to come and change her locks, front and back the very next morning. Bradley was never going to walk into her house like that again.

  As she passed the newsagent’s, she stopped for a rest, idly gazing at the display of small local advertisements in their window while she got her breath back. It was getting too much to do the heavy shopping herself. Now that she had a little more money, she’d see if she could find someone to do that job for her. She
’d write out a postcard and place it in this window the next time she was in town.

  She had to sit down when she got back, feeling extremely tired now but satisfied that she’d taken the right steps. Of course she dozed off, something she detested. It seemed so lazy to take naps in the daytime.

  She was getting very old in body, had to face that every time she looked in a mirror, though she hoped she wasn’t losing her wits, whatever Bradley said. He’d probably lied about that too.

  Maybe at her age the odd nap wouldn’t hurt? She’d ask the doctor. Her mother hadn’t been right about everything.

  When Nicole left the library that evening, she walked home briskly, shivering as an icy wind speared into her face. She did hope it wouldn’t snow. She’d decided to walk to and from the library every day. It was not only good exercise, but it was hardly worth taking her car to work when she lived so close, well, not unless the weather was bad.

  As she turned into Peppercorn Street, she thought she saw William’s reflection in the shop window on the opposite corner, and spun round. But there was no sign of him. She’d only seen the person out of the corner of her eye. It must just have been an illusion, someone who looked a bit like him.

  She loved her new street, which had real character, and had strolled up and down it a couple of times, studying the other houses. Such a varied group of dwellings. From the information in the library records, she knew a Parfitt still lived at the top end, but she hadn’t realised what a magnificent old house this Miss Parfitt owned until she’d gone exploring. The garden was in a sad state, though.

  The garden at her block of flats was minimalist – and that was a flattering way to describe it. Almost bare was perhaps more accurate. Maybe she’d ask if she could plant a few annuals once the weather warmed up a little. She missed her garden.

  When she turned into the car park of her flats, she stopped in shock. Her car was still parked where she’d left it, but the tyres on this side had been slashed.

  As she cried out in shock, a man who was limping slowly past stopped. ‘Are you all right?’

  She turned to him. ‘Look at my car! I can’t believe this!’ She walked round it. ‘The other side’s the same.’

  He stared at her tyres. ‘Better call the police, though I doubt they’ll be able to find out who did it. I’ll stay with you till they come, just in case whoever did it is still hanging round. I live a few doors down the street at number twelve.’

  She made the call. ‘The police will be here as soon as they can.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Nicole Gainsford.’

  ‘I’m Kieran Jones. I’ve seen you going past, but only recently. I was just out for a bit of exercise.’ Exercise! Walking a short way up the street and back, though he made it a little further each day.

  ‘I’ve only just moved in. Fancy you noticing!’

  He looked down at his leg with a grimace. ‘I do a lot of staring out of the window since I got injured. It’s only recently I’ve been told to go out for walks, which is a welcome improvement. I’d volunteer to keep an eye on your place but I can’t see it from where I live and in any case, I’m in no fit state to tackle vandals. Strange that they should target your car when there were plenty of others closer to High Street. You’d think you’d be safe in the part where our street starts to get posher.’

  His grin said he was teasing and she smiled back at him. ‘Do you want to wait inside the lobby? That wind must have come straight from the Arctic.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  The police didn’t get there for another half-hour, by which time she’d decided Kieran was harmless and invited him in for a cup of coffee. She stayed near the window as they chatted to watch out for the police.

  Conversation didn’t falter because he was an avid reader too. He took one look at her bookshelves and began to study the titles. Soon they were comparing books. Then he broke off abruptly in mid sentence. ‘They’re here.’

  ‘You’ve got better hearing than me. Oh yes, it is them.’

  They both went outside and the police examined the tyres.

  ‘We’ll report this but I doubt we’ll find out who did it,’ one of them said. ‘Unless you have any known enemies?’

  His tone said he was joking, but she suddenly remembered how Paul had warned her to watch her back. She hesitated, then said, ‘My older son is very angry at me because I’ve just left home. No, surely it can’t be him!’

  ‘Has he done anything else to upset you?’

  ‘Well, he came into the library and made a scene because I wouldn’t give him some money. He said it was for food, but he asked for far more than he needed to buy a snack.’

  ‘Ah. Would that be William Gainsford? I thought your surname was familiar. He’s the son you’re talking about? We’re the ones who took him in for questioning.’

  She nodded, feeling sick at the thought of her son doing something like slash her tyres. Surely, surely, it couldn’t be him!

  ‘We’ll keep an eye out for him. In the meantime, is there anywhere else you can leave the car?’

  She shook her head. ‘There’s only this open parking space, though I shall take my car to work from now on during the daytime. We have a fenced car park for staff there. But at night, well, I’ve no choice but to leave it here.’

  Kieran, who’d been standing quietly to one side, took a step forward. ‘You can share my garage, if you like. It’s a double one and there’s only my car in it at the moment. I’m about a hundred metres down the street.’

  She was startled. ‘Are you sure? You hardly know me.’

  He shrugged. ‘I happen to believe neighbours should help one another.’ He turned to the police. ‘I live at number twelve, flat one.’

  ‘Will the owner let a non-resident use the garage?’

  ‘I am the owner.’

  They nodded and one of them said to Nicole, ‘It sounds like a good offer to me, Ms Gainsford. I can vouch for Mr Jones being an honest citizen. I used to read his column in the newspaper all the time.’

  ‘You’re that Kieran Jones!’ she exclaimed. ‘Why, I used to read your column too.’ To her surprise, he blushed at her compliment. She hadn’t expected that reaction from a man of his reputation, a man who’d won major awards for his journalism, and smiled at that. ‘You should be very proud of what you’ve done to make the world a better place, Kieran.’

  He shrugged. ‘I do my best. So … you’ll take the garage?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll have to call someone out to fit new tyres first, but if they can do that tonight, I’ll put my car into your garage straight away.’

  ‘We’ll be leaving, then,’ one of the officers said.

  Kieran moved towards the door, too, and she felt sorry to see him go, had been enjoying their conversation.

  ‘Just ring the doorbell for flat one when you come, Nicole. I don’t go to bed till late.’ He walked slowly away down the street.

  She remembered now reading about his accident and how he’d nearly lost his life. It had certainly left him with a bad limp and he looked as if he was in pain when he moved.

  How kind of him to offer to share his garage with her! She’d have to insist on paying him something. It was only right.

  But no one could come and replace her tyres till morning so she used the phone number he’d given her to say the car would have to stay where it was until the next day.

  Janey was just coming back down the hill from the park when she met the old lady from the big house, struggling along with a wheeled shopping bag, trying to balance another shopping bag on top of it.

  On an impulse she stopped. ‘Could I help you with that? I could easily put your second bag on my buggy and that’d make it lighter. I have a tray for my shopping underneath.’

  The old lady stopped to look at her in surprise, then nodded. ‘Thank you. I must admit I bought too much today. It’s these silly two-for-one offers. And I am a bit tired. I had to wait ages at the doctor’s.’

  Janey turned the buggy round and
took the bag of shopping, stowing it in the tray underneath while Millie alternated between blowing bubbles and smiling at the new person.

  ‘She’s a very pretty baby and she always looks very well cared for.’

  ‘How do you—’

  ‘How do I know? I watch you sometimes going along the path at the top of the street.’

  ‘And I’ve seen you going into that lovely old house. I’m Janey, by the way, and this is Millie.’

  ‘I’m Miss Parfitt. And I’m very grateful for your help.’

  ‘It’s nice to be able to help someone else. People have been so kind to me since I got pregnant. Except for my parents. They threw me out.’

  ‘That seems rather drastic.’

  ‘Yes. It was hard. They wouldn’t believe me when I told them it wasn’t my fault, that I’d been forced.’

  ‘Someone attacked you? How dreadful!’

  Janey nodded and then looked at her in puzzlement. ‘I don’t know why I told you that. I don’t usually tell people any of the details. But you have a kind face.’

  ‘I do?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve seen the way you smile at dogs.’

  ‘We always used to have dogs. They’re good company if treated properly and taught their manners. I couldn’t cope with one now, though.’

  ‘No. And I couldn’t have one in an upstairs flat, even if I could afford to feed one, which I can’t. The benefits money doesn’t stretch very far.’

  They arrived at the big house and Janey stopped. ‘I’ll help you in with the shopping, shall I?’

  ‘Thank you. And perhaps … perhaps you’d like a cup of tea and a piece of my chocolate cake?’

  ‘Are you sure? You don’t have to. I was glad to help.’

  ‘If you’re too busy, I shall understand.’

  ‘I’m not too busy. I have too much time to fill, actually, because Millie still sleeps a lot. She’s such a good baby, so easy to look after compared to some. And I’d love a piece of chocolate cake. I haven’t had any for ages.’

  Inside the house, Winifred led the way to the kitchen, explaining about it being the only really warm area.