Leo had given the finishing touches to the papier-mâché head and hat before he had gone to bed and they were drying on the windowsill in the living room. Leo had worked hard on the project and seemed to have absorbed a great amount of detail about Guy Fawkes in the process. This was especially true of Guy Fawkes’s death. It didn’t seem to worry Leo, unlike the thought of ghosts, but she’d caught Leo giving a particularly graphic description of hanging, drawing and quartering that seemed to distress Ernie more than a little.
The ladies of the Women’s Institute had provided oodles of straw for anyone making a guy so, having stitched up the leg holes on the red cords, Beth was now ramming straw into them which was strangely satisfying. She’d found that the physical work on the cottage made her tired but it was a very different sort of tired to the mentally drained feeling she had experienced in London. Like most roles at that level, her job had been high-pressured and stressful but she now acknowledged the level of stress she had been experiencing at home. The creeping invasion of Nick’s control over all aspects of her life had been gradual but tenacious. She didn’t like dwelling on it and even less admitting to herself that she had been totally duped by his charisma and doting nature. He had loved her, she didn’t doubt that, but she could never have predicted how that would manifest itself. She forcefully rammed some more straw into the trousers.
By the time she had finished stuffing and sewing the guy, she was beyond tired.
‘Do you want to have a look?’ Jack’s face peered round the door.
‘Do I?’ said Beth, leaving the guy’s headless body propped up on the chair by the window as she went to inspect the kitchen.
‘Wow! It looks like a kitchen!’ She had been aware of them moving things from the hall but she was still surprised to see the white goods in their allotted places and the worktop fitted. ‘This is amazing. It is such a professional job. Thank you both.’ Simon was still checking the fit of the worktop to the wall but he visibly puffed with pride at Beth’s praise.
‘We’ll fit the washing machine tomorrow night, okay?’ said Jack.
‘No, it’s Bonfire Night. You guys need a night off!’ She laughed at her own pun and then felt a little foolish when they didn’t join in.
‘Not really my thing,’ said Jack. ‘Leave the cottage unlocked and I’ll pop in.’
Beth’s face gave her answer. It wasn’t so much about the people of the village, she was getting used to them and their quirky ways; it was her general fears and there was nothing that would convince her to leave it unlocked.
‘Why not do the washing machine then come to the fireworks with me and Leo. I’ll buy you a hot dog,’ she said with a tilt of her head. Jack was pulling faces. ‘And you, Simon. Petra tells me they have a beer tent too.’
‘If you insist,’ said Simon. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He shut his neatly packed toolbox and left.
Jack was rubbing his chin. ‘Yeah, go on then. I’ll need to take Doris home before the fireworks because they freak her out.’
‘Great. Do you fancy a coffee?’ she asked, flicking the switch on the kettle.
Jack checked his watch. ‘Yeah, milk no sugar, please.’ He sat down at the small table and they looked awkwardly at each other until the kettle started to boil and Beth busied herself with making the drinks.
She ferried the drinks to the table and sat down.
‘Thanks,’ he said, taking the mug. ‘Are you going to paint the walls in here?’
‘I think I’ll try my hand at tiling above the worktop and paint the rest.’
He nodded his approval. ‘The walls are fairly even so tiling should be okay.’
They looked at each other across the table. The silence fizzed between them and Beth felt her temperature start to rise. Perhaps a cold glass of Chardonnay would have been a better idea?
‘How’s your friend? Carly was it?’ he asked, then took a sip of coffee.
‘Oh, she’s fine. Still a bit embarrassed about getting drunk but otherwise fine.’ Beth tried to think of something to ask him but her mind was a blank.
Thankfully, he broke the torturous silence. ‘You and Petra seem to get on well.’
Beth nodded enthusiastically; here was a subject she could gabble on about. ‘Yes, she’s lovely. And it’s nice to have another single mum around. She gets what it’s like to be on your own. Don’t get me wrong, I’m quite happy on my own. I like being single. It’s just that you can’t have a day off and hand over to someone else because there isn’t anyone. But there also isn’t any chance of someone letting you down because there’s just you and if you don’t do it then it doesn’t get done.’ She realized gabbling on probably wasn’t a good idea as she watched Jack’s eyes slowly widening as she speeded up. She hugged her mug and had a drink to stop herself talking.
‘Yeah, I guess,’ he said, looking like he was still trying to process all that she’d said.
‘Petra seems to have settled well into life here.’
‘She has, so there’s hope for you yet,’ said Jack, with a warm smile. Beth found she was smiling back at him. Their eyes locked and Beth found it hard to look away.
Feeling the colour rising in her cheeks, Beth quickly finished her coffee. ‘Now, can you give me a hand with something, please?’
‘Sure.’ He stood up and followed her into the sparse living room. ‘I know you’re not a charity case but do you want some furniture for in here?’ he said, looking about.
Beth looked at the virtually empty room. It wasn’t huge but it was made to look so much bigger by the empty open fireplace and the single chair currently occupied by the guy.
‘No, I’m okay, thanks. It’s the walls that have got me stumped. They need to be plastered or dry-walled? Is that right?’ She was still learning the terminology.
Jack walked to the nearest wall and ran his hands over it and then studied his hand. ‘These are sound walls. I can’t see any damp.’
‘But look at this crack,’ she said, walking to the opposite wall and pointing at a meandering fracture in the old plaster. Jack came over and stood close; he ran his finger ever so slowly along the line the crack took. Beth found herself transfixed as her eyes followed his finger inching its way slowly down the wall.
‘I can patch that. You then put on a primer and finish off with a good quality latex paint. It won’t be a perfect finish but it will look fine.’ Jack took his hand away. The spell was broken. ‘It’s a character property, Beth. Let its character shine through.’
‘Mmm, I’ll think about it. Now, hold onto this,’ said Beth, handing him the guy’s head, ‘while I try to sew it onto its body.’
After a few minutes Beth was getting neck ache and she hurried the last few stitches. ‘Right, give it a tug.’ She wanted to check that the head was going to stay on.
Jack had a good hold of the head and pulled hard as she pulled at the same time, wrenching the head from the body. Beth was about to complain but a face that had appeared at the window was screaming hysterically. ‘Ernie!’ said Jack as he threw the head to Beth and ran out of the cottage after the old man.
‘Terrific,’ said Beth as she watched through the window and hugged the head under her arm.
More screaming started behind her, making her jump. It was Leo and he looked suitably terrified by the ghost-like image standing with its head under its arm. It never rains but it pours, she thought, as she dropped the head and went to comfort her son.
All next day, the village green was a hive of activity as people delivered all manner of burnable items for the bonfire and the ladies of the WI, and associated husbands, supervised the building of it. Apparently there were too many risks associated with building it before the day of the bonfire, which Rhonda was only too happy to reel off to Beth as she collected her coffee.
‘Number one, the weather. Two, hibernating hedgehogs. And three, the idiots that light it early. All of which have let us down in the past.’ Maureen made what Beth thought was a noise of agreement but it could ha
ve been wind; it was difficult to tell.
‘Have you got a stall tonight?’
‘Oh, yes. Sausage rolls and hot dogs, we always do very well. So does Shirley and her mulled wine,’ said Rhonda with glee.
‘I bet she does,’ said Beth, thinking about how much it must cost to run the biggest house in the village.
‘Now, I wanted to talk to you about cottaging,’ said Rhonda, her tone suddenly serious.
Beth’s eyebrows arched and stayed there. ‘Cottaging?’
‘Yes,’ said Rhonda emphatically.
Beth opened her mouth but her brain was unable to supply a coherent sentence so instead she simply asked, ‘Why?’
Rhonda frowned. ‘I thought you’d know about all about cottaging? Should I Google it?’
‘No!’ said Beth forcefully, the thought of what might appear made her blink rapidly. Her mind started to whir and she hit on a possible explanation. ‘Do you mean renovating a cottage?’
‘Yes,’ said Rhonda.
‘That’s not cottaging,’ said Beth, slowly in hushed tones, as if addressing a child.
‘Isn’t it? What’s cottaging, then?’ said Rhonda, looking incredulous.
Beth made some poor excuse about having to get back to the cottage in a hurry and almost fell over her own feet in her haste to escape having to answer Rhonda’s question. She was grateful to return to her latest masterclass, which today was tiling the kitchen walls between the worktop and the wall cupboards. She’d picked up an array of ‘How to’ leaflets when she’d last visited the DIY store and they were proving quite useful. The only problem was that she didn’t have the tools required to do the tricky bits where you had to cut the tiles to slot them into gaps. Nothing was ever straightforward with Willow Cottage.
A very excited Leo hurtled into the cottage after school and wanted to go straight to the village green as he’d seen what he had termed a ‘ginormous bonfire’ and wanted to investigate further.
‘Sorry. Spellings first. Then you need to get changed and then Jack is coming over so we can all go together.’
Leo’s expression changed. He watched his mother closely. ‘Is he your new boyfriend?’
Beth felt the colour instantly spread up her neck. ‘No. Goodness me. Of course not. Why would you think that? No. Definitely not … No.’ She may have overdone her response. Leo’s expression was fixed. She wondered what he was thinking. She pursed her lips and waited.
‘Okay,’ he said and he disappeared into the living room and returned with the guy. ‘His head isn’t on straight.’ Leo held the guy at arm’s length. It was bigger than him.
‘Yeah, I know. It’s the best I could do. And I figured if he’d been hanged then his head might be a bit cockeyed.’
‘Cool!’ said Leo, his enthusiasm instantly restored.
Chapter Sixteen
Jack turned up, as agreed, and set to work patching up the crack in the living-room wall.
‘Was Ernie all right last night?’ Beth asked.
‘No, he took a bit of calming down to be honest. I got away at about midnight.’
‘You took him home?’
‘Yeah, but he was still restless so I got him a cocoa and did a couple of bits that needed doing there.’ Beth must have been frowning. ‘You know, bank statements and bills that sort of thing. Wilf used to do it for him but …’
‘That’s kind,’ said Beth, feeling that ‘kind’ didn’t really cover it.
‘Like you said, I’m an all-round saint really.’ He gave her a cheeky lopsided grin and returned his attention to fixing the crack. Beth went to get showered and changed and when she emerged the washing machine was humming gently in its spot in the kitchen.
‘That was quick.’
‘It’s easy when you’ve done a few. You’ve done a good job with the tiling. I’d give it forty-eight hours before you grout.’
‘I’ve still got the fiddly bits to do. I don’t suppose you have a tile cutter do you?’ Beth winced as she asked. She hated asking but she didn’t really want the extra expense of hiring one and she definitely didn’t want to buy one. She wasn’t planning on a career in renovation after this experience.
‘No, but I know a man who does.’ Jack was turning out to be a useful person to know.
‘Do you know about Guy Fawkes,’ asked Leo but before Jack could reply Leo was already into full gory storytelling mode.
As soon as it got dark, Leo started to panic. If he knelt on his mum’s bedroom windowsill he could catch a glimpse of the village green, depending on which way the wind was blowing the willow. This was where he stayed on watch in case they lit the bonfire early.
In the last couple of days the weather had turned decidedly chillier, so Beth wrapped Leo up in scarf, gloves and coat, but he refused to wear his woolly hat, even though she made a thing of putting on her own. It was a floppy wool beanie and she was quite pleased with it. She’d found it in a shop in Stow-on-the-Wold; it had been cheap but the style seemed to suit her. She remembered the last time she’d worn a much-loved hat and Nick had laughed and shaken his head. After a full-scale row about it, he had cut it up into tiny pieces with the kitchen scissors. They were excellent scissors, she thought, and she wished she hadn’t left them behind.
Despite Leo’s worries, they arrived in time to register their guy for the judging. Leo was incredulous when they asked him the name of the guy. ‘It’s Guy Fawkes, of course!’ They later understood the question when they saw more guys arrive purporting to be various politicians as well as a very good Cruella De Vil, complete with two-tone wig, and a Frankenstein that apparently was a recycled Halloween costume. Beth’s hopes for Leo winning were fading fast.
They went for a wander around, met up with Jack, Doris, and Simon, and Beth bought them all hot dogs as promised. Beth wasn’t sure how many people she had expected to be there but she hadn’t anticipated quite such a crowd. The pub car park had a ‘car park full’ sign up and cars were parked by every available piece of kerb.
Shirley and the wheelie trolley were on duty at the mulled wine stand and it seemed possible that Shirley had been testing the product for some time because she was swaying steadily. Beth left Leo with Jack and Doris while she went to get the mulled wine; they didn’t dare let Doris get too close to Shirley and the trolley.
‘Mittens,’ said Shirley, a fraction before she slowly and quite gracefully turned to face Beth.
‘They’re gloves, actually, but they do the job. Three mulled wines please.’
‘Crazy lady,’ muttered Shirley with an exaggerated smile as she filled three cups. Beth handed her the money and weaved her way back through the crowd. The others were admiring the towering bonfire, and a full-blown discussion was under way as to whether or not it was as big as the previous year’s. The chatter was interrupted by the arrival of the mulled wine and the adults all warmed their hands on the cups and sipped it appreciatively.
A gathering of WI ladies signalled the imminent announcement of the results of the guy competition and the crowd moved in closer. Leo dashed to the front where he found Denis. Beth excused herself and snuck through after him.
‘That one there is from the pub darts team. I helped make that,’ said Denis, pointing to the most overstuffed of the politicians. Leo pointed his out. The lady who had announced the winners of the cake competition back in the summer stepped forward, wearing the same leather trousers she’d worn for that event though now they were teamed with an extra-long cardigan and a bobble hat.
‘The results of the Dumbleford Guy Competition are … In third place Cruella De Vil by Dumbleford and Henbourne-on-the-Hill Bridge Club.’ A ripple of approval went through the crowd as they applauded and a tall gentleman went forward to collect the rosette.
‘In second place Mr Asquith by Dumbleford WI …’
‘Fix!’ yelled Jack and then looked behind him when the leather-trouser-clad woman glared in his direction. A lady nearby quickly collected the rosette and disappeared into the crowd.
&nbs
p; ‘And, drumroll please. The winner is … Guy Fawkes by Leo Browne!’ A beaming Leo, grinning from ear to ear, stepped forward to collect his first-place rosette and box of chocolates while the crowd clapped and Jack whistled loudly. He stepped back under the safety barrier, and Beth pulled him to her in a tight hug.
‘Well done, Leo. I’m so proud of you.’ She had to bite the inside of her mouth to stop herself blubbing proud mum tears.
‘Thanks, Mum. You won it too,’ he said, giving her a brief glimpse of the rosette before he and Denis studied it closely.
‘Well done, mate!’ Jack gave Leo a high five. He looked at Beth and she smiled. Beth glanced over to where Shirley was sitting and she gave Beth a double thumbs up before swaying and then disappearing behind her stall. The leather-trousered WI lady rushed to her aid and Shirley was soon upright again and still holding her thumbs up. Beth chuckled and returned the gesture. Leo’s was the biggest of the guys; perhaps not the best but it looked as if he had some strong supporters in the village.
They watched as the three chosen guys were all strapped to chairs at the top of the bonfire in a similar style to that of Olympic medallists, with Leo’s first place on the very top and the others each a fraction further down. The remaining guys were dotted around the base. The ladders were removed and the large bald compère from the Bleeding Bear weekly quiz came forward with a long lit baton, and a countdown from ten started as the excitement built up.
Leo and Denis were shouting each number and the crowd all whooped when they reached zero and the bonfire, thankfully, ignited. The crowd was at a safe distance behind a barrier but when the fire took hold, the heat was intense and those near the front, including Beth and Leo, moved further back.
‘Wow, that is some bonfire!’ said Beth, admiring the roaring pile from a more comfortable distance.
Christmas Cheer Page 5
