by Alex Brown
‘Oh, it’s just a bit of fun. It’s not full-on dating, or looking for …’ Audrey paused, did furtive sideways eyes and after leaning into April she clutched her arm and mouthed, ‘seeeeex.’ April had to press a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. ‘No, it’s more companionship for the …’ she paused again as if searching for the right words before settling on, ‘our more “young at heart” villagers.’
‘Ah, I see.’
‘And just call me Deedee, everyone does,’ the woman continued. ‘My daughter, Meg, is the headteacher at the village school,’ she added proudly.
‘Lovely to meet you, Deedee,’ April replied, feeling a little foolish for doubting Edie. Seemed there was a tea dance here in Tindledale on a Tuesday afternoon after all. Weeeeell, fancy that!
‘You too. And I’ve heard all about you …’ Deedee made big eyes.
‘You have?’ April asked tentatively.
‘Yes, that’s right. You’re April. Molly mentioned that you were here visiting your aunt, our lovely Edie, and the star of the weekly tea dance in the village hall.’
‘Oh, yes, um … that’s right,’ April replied apprehensively, wondering if Molly had mentioned their conversation about Gray too. But then Deedee said, ‘Are you here on your own, or have you got a gorgeous husband hidden about the place?’ in a breezy voice, as she scanned around the garden as if searching for him. So Molly clearly hadn’t gossiped, and April was pleased that she had been discreet, remembering that news usually travelled fast in a small village like Tindledale. Whenever April had arrived to stay with her aunt in the school summer holidays, within an hour or so the local children would be down to the cottage to see if she was coming out to play in the fields after someone had spotted her parents’ green Morris Minor Traveller pulling into the village store on the way to get a box of chocolates to go with the flowers as a present for Edie. Everyone always knew everyone else’s business. Tindledale was just that kind of place.
April took a breath and felt much more prepared for the question this time.
‘No, just me – here to spend some time with my aunt …’ April said as cheerily as she could muster.
‘Lovely. Well, if you’re at a loose end this afternoon and fancy a bit of a booooogie,’ Deedee paused to do an enthusiastic shoulder shimmy, making her boobs wobble around like two jellies, and April laugh, ‘then you are more than welcome to join us. The more the merrier. Isn’t that right, my love?’ And Deedee tucked her arm through the crook of Edie’s elbow, giving the top of her hand a little pat.
‘Ooh, yes,’ Edie agreed. ‘And don’t be put off by it being called a tea dance. It’s not a load of old dears shuffling around the dance floor in pairs because all the men in the village have already popped their clogs. Certainly not. There’s the raffle to think about too. And the general does a veeeeery good quiz.’ Edie nodded her head several times as if to emphasise this fact. ‘And there will be sandwiches and cake. And champagne!’ she continued marvelling, all the while making big eyes.
‘Yes, that’s right. My Meg makes it – homemade fizzy elderflower champagne,’ Deedee confirmed. ‘Goes lovely with the buffet – a smashing spread of cold cuts and healthy salad options, courtesy of my Meg’s other half, Dan – he’s a famous chef you know, on the telly and everything … well, used to be, he’s retired now. Not that he’s old or anything, oh no, very fit and vibrant in fact. He just doesn’t need the pressure of the high life any more so he sold his Michelin restaurant in London for an absolute fortune and can afford to take it easy now.’ Deedee paused to take a quick breath and puff her hair up a little more, clearly captivated by her daughter’s partner. ‘And we always have a beautiful selection of pastries and fairy cakes from Kitty’s café. It’s called The Spotted Pig. Can’t miss it, it’s on the corner of the High Street. You must try it if you get a chance … the Battenberg is TO DIE FOR!’ Deedee shook her head and fluttered her eyes as if being transported to her very own personal nirvana, while April felt breathless on her behalf just taking it all in.
Then Edie smiled brightly and added, ‘And my niece loves a little tipple, don’t you April?’
April instantly flicked her attentions on to her aunt. Ahh, a moment of clarity! And suddenly, April felt very thrilled to have her aunt back again, even if she was making her sound like some kind of lush.
‘Weell, I’m not sure I’d put it quite like—’ April started.
‘Do you remember those snowballs, April?’ Edie interjected and April nodded, fascinated that her aunt now seemed able to remember this minutiae – they’d had those snowballs over thirty years ago! ‘I’ll have to make you one before you go home. You loved them as a teenager. We could make a night of it just like we used to – play a few hands of rummy while we are at it too – if I can find the blasted pack of cards that is.’ Edie shook her head and turned to Deedee. ‘I’ve searched high and low and they’ve disappeared. April had a look too but no luck …’
‘Ooh, I’m so sorry, I should have said – I have them in my handbag in the bus for you. I picked them up by accident after last week’s tea dance. Do you remember, Edie? I helped you into your sitting room and plonked my pashmina on the sideboard only to scoop up the pack of cards with it when I left.’
‘Ahh, well that solves that mystery – thank heavens you did, dear!’ Edie smiled kindly at Deedee. ‘For a moment there I thought I was losing my marbles.’ And both women chuckled to themselves before proceeding down the garden path to the waiting bus, leaving April wondering why she had ever worried about her aunt. Clearly her memory wasn’t that bad, and she was having the time of her life, whooping it up at the weekly tea dance with her ‘date’, the general. And in a strange moment of role reversal, April felt quite eager to meet the general, if only to assure herself that he was indeed a suitable suitor for her dear old great aunt Edie.
As she waved the two ladies off, April couldn’t resist grinning. Deedee was certainly a bon vivant, a breath of fresh air, and April admired her zest for life and the ease with which she had brought ‘Old Edie’ to life, practically transforming her into a much younger woman in the blink of an eye. It was infectious. And April felt spurred on by it, in addition to the wave of confidence she now had after reconnecting with her past last night, and so in a rare, but quite welcome moment of spontaneity, she decided to get in her Beetle and go to the High Street.
But first, she would pick a selection of pretty wild flowers from Edie’s back garden as a little thank-you gift for Molly. (April was quite sure her aunt wouldn’t mind; there were hundreds to choose from in any case so April wondered if she would even notice.) April could ask about a gardener too while she returned the pie dish, and it would be a chance to have a look around Tindledale and see if it had changed much since her last visit. She might even treat herself to a nice slice of Battenberg in The Spotted Pig café. Yes, April thought this sounded like a very nice thing to do.
And for the first time in a very long time, April didn’t feel wobbly at the prospect of going out alone, without at least having someone she knew by her side, supporting her as they had for the last eighteen months – Nancy, Freddie, her friends from the knitting club or the girls from the gym … the ones that had stuck around, that is, the ones who, despite April’s lack of desire to socialise, had still visited and taken her out for the occasional coffee. Well, now she’d have something to talk to them about, something other than how she was coping, or how she felt, or if she’d had a good day …
On arriving in Tindledale, April parked the Beetle right outside the village store, pleased to have found a space – well, on closer inspection there were several in fact. The heart of Tindledale with its cobbled High Street lined on either side with tiny Tudor-framed shops with even tinier mullioned windows wasn’t exactly a bustling metropolis, April noticed as she closed the car door behind her and went to walk off. Smiling, she looked around and saw that the village hadn’t changed at all since her last visit, indeed it was almost the same as when she use
d to visit as a child in the school holidays. The only difference now was a jaunty polka-dotted length of bunting bobbing in the breeze linking the lampposts, and on the corner opposite the village green was an extremely exotic-looking Indian restaurant. Wow! Double-fronted with a selection of brightly painted tables outside with gold and white parasols. Gray would have loved it – he was very partial to a chicken balti with all the trimmings.
April swallowed hard and adjusted her thoughts; now was not the time. Focus, this was supposed to be fun, not maudlin! Something else caught April’s eye. A bench. She made a beeline towards it, grateful to have a focal point to concentrate on, and remembered sitting on it with her mum and dad to enjoy a bag of chips from Moby Dick’s, the mobile fish and chip van that came to Tindledale every Friday evening. April wondered if the van still came, and made a mental note to ask her aunt later. But the bench was no longer made of boring wood, no, it had been transformed into a yarnbombed extravaganza of loveliness – a myriad of colours made up of hundreds of granny patches all stitched together by hand – it was amazing. A real labour of love – she ran a finger over the knitting and wondered if she might be ready to pick up her needles some time soon, but the thought was immediately followed by a pang of panic and April knew it was too soon. Another day hopefully. April thought about sitting on the bench instead and allowing herself ten minutes just to think about Gray, but a shrill voice filled the air and the moment vanished.
‘Excuse me!’ A woman wearing a dowdy beige mac and a flowery headscarf, with an old-fashioned wicker basket looped over her arm and a determined look on her face, came beetling towards her from the door of the bookshop opposite. April stopped moving and smiled at the older woman.
‘Hello,’ April said, shifting the flowers into her free hand so she could swing her handbag over her shoulder and tuck Molly’s pie dish under her arm, wondering what the woman wanted. Maybe she was a friend of her aunt’s, on the way to the tea dance, and had heard that April was visiting too and wanted to welcome her.
‘We like to keep this space clear for the disabled villagers!’ the woman announced, emphasising the ‘we’ as if verbally holding a placard above April’s head with ‘outsider’ emblazoned on it to make her feel unwelcome. Circumventing any pleasantries, the woman then pointed a disdainful finger to the blue Beetle with its jaunty plastic sunflower in the air vent on the dashboard.
‘Oh!’ April replied, taken aback. ‘I didn’t know … I, um, didn’t see a disabled sign anywhere or even on the road,’ she added, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl all of a sudden as she did a quick scan to check a nearby lamppost too. The woman continued to glare at the Beetle. And then April twigged. This woman, aka the village parking warden, surely, was clearly waiting for April to move her car to one of the other numerous patches of free parking space. But April felt ruffled and not in the least bit inclined to move her car. She hadn’t broken any laws as far as she could fathom, but it was just as well that Mark, the policeman from yesterday, happened to cycle past at this precise moment. He gave April a pleasant wave before bringing his bike to a halt at the kerb.
‘Not interrupting, am I?’ he smiled at both women, who politely shook their heads. ‘Great. How’s Edie doing today, April? Not decided to have another little snooze on spec …?’ he laughed.
‘No, thankfully,’ April smiled back. ‘She’s absolutely fine. And sorry again for the confusion, but thank you for your help,’ she added, clocking the woman giving her a cautionary glance. Ha! The woman looked baffled now and a little apprehensive at having waded into somebody the village police officer appeared to know by name.
‘No problem, better safe than sorry, eh? Best be getting on. And good day to you, Mrs Pocket.’ Mark gave the woman a courteous nod and pushed his boot down on the pedal.
‘But before you go—’ Mrs Pocket called out after Mark, but it was too late and he was already pedalling off down the High Street. April took her chance to escape and, after a quick glance around, she spotted a hanging sign saying ‘Cooper’s’ so stuck her head down and made a beeline for the butchers’ shop as fast as she could.
‘April! Lovely to see you – what are you doing here? Here, let me help you with that.’ Molly was arranging some joints of clingfilm-wrapped beef on a tray in the window when April arrived.
‘Thanks so much,’ April grinned, attempting to push open the door with her right hip as she juggled the pie dish and flowers in her arms – she had got a bit carried away in her aunt’s garden and ended up with an enormous bunch of brightly coloured blooms which she had tied up in the length of scarlet ribbon taken from Gray’s trug of roses.
Inside, April presented Molly with the flowers.
‘I’m here to give you these.’
‘For me?’ Molly looked flabbergasted. April nodded.
‘A little thank you for being so kind to me yesterday. And your steak and ale pie was truly scrumptious – Aunt Edie thoroughly enjoyed it too.’
‘Oh, you daft mare. Come here.’ And after handing the bouquet to a big teddy bear of a man in a white butcher’s coat whom April presumed must be Cooper, Molly enveloped April in one of her enormous hugs. ‘You didn’t need to do that,’ she laughed.
‘I know. But I wanted to,’ April grinned.
‘Well I’m pleased that you did – can’t remember the last time anyone got me flowers.’ Molly gave her husband a teasing look before popping her nose into the bouquet to draw in their delicious scent.
‘Now don’t be starting all that,’ Cooper pretended to chastise. ‘That bunch on Mother’s Day cost me an arm and a leg, my petal.’ And he plopped a kiss on Molly’s pouting lips.
‘Hmm, and I’m worth every penny,’ Molly replied cutely before squeezing his cheek. ‘Come on,’ she turned to April, ‘let’s go out the back for a minute while I put these in water. Cooper can cope without me for a while, can’t you, my love?’
Cooper nodded his agreement and went to come back with a fresh retort, but the door opened and another customer came in to take his attentions away.
April followed Molly through a door and into a little kitchenette area next to the office. After rummaging in the cupboard under the sink, Molly managed to find a bucket which she filled with water. She untied the ribbon and handed it to April.
‘You should keep this,’ Molly smiled.
‘It’s OK.’ April returned the smile but lowered her eyes.
‘It’s from the trug, isn’t it? I remember it from the kitchen table yesterday when we were drinking tea. You said Gray’s sister had sent it on his behalf.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Here. Please keep it. It’s a lovely thought, but you may regret it later …’ And after carefully rolling the length of ribbon up, Molly slipped it into April’s handbag before she could say anything more.
‘Thank you,’ April said. ‘And, ahh, I nearly forgot, here …’ she added to move the mood on to a lighter note, realising that the pie dish was still gripped under her elbow.
‘Oh thanks, just leave it on the side please and I’ll put it away later. Now, have you got time for a quick cuppa?’ Molly asked, having finished sorting out the flowers.
‘Um, yes please,’ April glanced at her watch, wondering what time The Spotted Pig café closed, ‘unless you fancy …’ she started but then stopped, figuring she really should make the visit on her own – it felt like a milestone somehow. Earlier, she had been up for venturing out for cake by herself, a little bit excited even at this new flourish of courage and independence, a step towards getting her old confidence back. Before Gray got ill, April wouldn’t have thought twice about going out on her own for a coffee and cake if that’s what she really fancied, so why now was she stalling and about to ask Molly to join her?
‘Go on …’ Molly encouraged.
‘Weell, you’re probably busy in any case – but I was going to try some cake in the café and …’
‘Ahh, April, that would have been lovely, but I have to go for one of my boy
s in a bit, he’s got the dentist after school and if I’m not there at the school gate waiting for him, I just know he’ll scarper off home with one of his pals to avoid facing the dreaded dentist’s drill.’ Molly shook her head with an exasperated look on her face. And April smiled to mask the mixture of emotions – fear, relief, she wasn’t quite sure. ‘Another time though for sure. When are you off home?’
‘Great. I’d really like that,’ April said before adding, ‘tomorrow morning.’
‘Oh that’s a shame – you’ll be back though, right?’
‘Yes, for sure, which reminds me … I don’t suppose you know any gardeners? Someone reliable that I can arrange to keep on top of my aunt’s garden and the lane leading down to Orchard Cottage. And most likely the old apple orchards surrounding the cottage. I’ve not ventured into them yet, but I’m guessing they’ll be just as overgrown.’
‘Hmm, you’re going to need a specialist landscaper I reckon – or how about one of the farmers with a ride-on mower and one of those big hedge trimmers? Hang on a sec …’ And Molly bustled off back into the shop. A few seconds later she returned with a piece of paper. ‘Here, this is Pete’s number, he’s a dairy farmer, and his farm is not far from your Edie’s place. He’s a lovely bloke and I’m sure he’ll be happy to help out. Especially if you treat him to a few beers in the Duck & Puddle pub next to the village green,’ she laughed, ‘his preferred method of payment I’ve heard.’
‘Thank you. I’ll give him a call,’ April said, pushing the piece of paper inside her bag.
‘Yes, do. I’ve popped my number on the back too in case you need anything else while you’re here.’
‘Thank you,’ April said, thinking how kind and welcoming Molly was, unlike that spiky Mrs Pocket.
Molly finished making the tea and handed a mug to April.
‘I love your cardy by the way. Knit it yourself?’ she said, admiring April’s white lace-weight shrug.
