by Caron Allan
I miss Henrietta so much. I miss our lunchtime drinks whilst Mavis did her organ practice. I feel so sad that everything has changed, and that last winter’s events left her feeling so guilty and upset that it ruined her health. I wish I’d had a chance to apologise for being angry with her and Mavis, to tell her I was still her friend, and how much I enjoyed our little jaunts together. But she died so unexpectedly, and so quickly—right after dinner one evening. She was dead before she hit the ground, there was no chance for anyone to help her. And I was still in my coma.
And Mavis, she was a shadow of her former self when she left here. She and I were never on the same wavelength as Henrietta and myself were, but even so, I was sad to say goodbye when she decided to move away—but perhaps I was just a little relieved too.
The new Vicar’s got some specialist organ-player from some village miles away, they come in by taxi every Sunday specially. It must cost someone a lot of money to bring them here.
And I can’t cling to Madison all the time, she will crack under the pressure.
So here I am, feeling sorry for myself. I wish I could hide away, just sit back and blend into the décor. I feel as though I’ve regressed to where I was two or three months ago, just when I thought I was okay again, and now all I want, as then, is for everything to be over, so I can rest under some nice lush grass somewhere for a thousand years or so.
Wednesday July 15th—10.55am
Bizarrely, Mavis was pleased to hear from me. I just said in my call to her that I felt I’d like to pop down and see her, didn’t labour the introspective bit too much. She sounded not only surprised but a little worried, but she said yes, how lovely, of course she’d be delighted to see me, so it’s all arranged. I’m going down on Saturday, and coming home again on Sunday. Leanne always goes on about how her ex likes to wallow in the bath after he comes home from the pub on a Saturday night. This could suit my purpose beautifully. Mwah haha!
Later: 8.20pm
I announced my intention of spending a weekend soul-searching with Mavis. Family accepted this bombshell with usual lack of surprise. Maybe they are even slightly relieved at getting rid of me for two days and a night. I told them I was visiting Mavis and expected them to demand to know more about my reasons, but, well they didn’t even ask. Actually I feel a bit cheated of my big cover story. I think maybe they know it’s a cover story but think it’s just a ruse to get away from Leanne for a little while. Oh well, so long as they believe me and accept the premise, it doesn’t much matter that they know why I’m going.
Thursday July 16th—2.pm
My doctor wants to put me back on Valium. How will that help, I asked. The last thing I want is to get hooked on pills like so many of my old school friends. Doc just shrugged his shoulder and said would I like to be referred to a therapist. I pointed out I was still seeing the last therapist I was referred to. (Except that I don’t actually go…) Then I said something rude and stormed out. I wish my previous doctor would come back. I felt like I could talk to her.
Sitting in the graveyard now. They have placed a convenient bench near the far wall and it’s a quiet, sunny spot. Henrietta’s only a few yards away over to my right.
Tom is fast asleep in his little buggy thing. I will stay here as long as possible, I don’t want to go home.
Later: 5pm
In the end I had to leave as I saw Neville had spotted me and was heading over, his cassock billowing in the breeze. I just wafted a hand in his direction and called out a merry “Hello, Vicar, sorry got to dash! Tom needs his feed!”
Neville halted mid-billow, and watched me retreat, an expression of concern on his face. So here I am, back in the garden room.
Billy is trying to show me some fascinators in Vogue. I’m not all that interested, but I will smile, for her sake. In the kitchen, Jacqueline is rapidly becoming the apple of Lill’s eye.
Friday July 17th—2.45pm
Nice breakfast this morning, all in a good mood for some reason—maybe they’re just looking forward to only having Leanne to deal with once I go away tomorrow morning? Sid and Matt were talking about their plans for the garden, implementing all the ideas they’ve gained from seeing and working in the lovely grounds at Cheningwold Castle. Then, Leanne said, ‘oh yes, we’ve got a gorgeous Koi-carp pond after our visit to that place last year.’ Then she looked a bit sad, and added, ‘at least, we had. Now I suppose it’s just his. The idea was to be able to sit on the patio and look down into the pond from your chair, and watch the fish come up to feed.’
A lightbulb moment. Hooray! How nicely it is all coming together. This is all cheering me up no end.
Saturday July 18th—9.45pm
St Neots is a nice place, though the spot where Mavis’s sister lives is nothing special, part from the fact that it is only a 45minute drive to Milton Keynes from here, which is a huge plus.
So, an evening with Mavis (her sister had gone out to visit a gentleman friend!), and one evening was more than enough. We had nothing to talk about after the first ten minutes. She asked after the children, and Sid, Lill and Matt, and the cats. I asked how she was settling in with her sister. I asked if she still played the organ. She said no. Then that was it.
After a couple of cups of tea, we settled down to watch something on the television. Dull! Good thing I’ve got something exciting to do later on!
Later: 0.45am
What a dump! No wonder Leanne was so obsessed with my place. I can’t think why anyone would want to live here on purpose. Still I suppose if you’re poor you don’t have any choice.
I found the house and parked up in a quiet spot just down the road, then settled down to wait for night to fall and give me my ‘cloak of darkness’ to carry out my awesome dastardly deed!
Leanne’s soon-to-be-ex-husband had been out. Half an hour after I got there, when I was wrestling with a three-pencil Sudoku and sipping tea from my little Gucci flask which was a birthday present from Matt, Leanne’s ex pulled up outside the house, got out, leaned back in, treating me to a stomach-churning builder’s crack, hoisted out a huge cardboard carton of beers and a fish and chip supper, then indoors he went, clearly planning a quiet evening at home.
I waited. I listened to a lovely Maeve Binchy audiobook, I did some more puzzles, drank some more tea and ate a few goodies I’d snaffled from the kitchen as I waited for the ‘witching hour’.
When I finally felt it was dark enough to slip out and head towards the house, the street was quiet, no one appeared to have seen me, though of course it’s hard to be absolutely sure. I hadn’t seen a soul for over an hour.
The sitting room window was lit by the glow from the TV screen. No other lights were on. After checking round, I tiptoed up to the window. He was watching an old John Wayne movie. The little coffee table in the middle of the room was buckling under the combined weight of his booted feet and a range of empty bottles. He’d clearly downed at least half of the carton and appeared to be borderline comatose. If I didn’t act soon, he’d pass out completely!
I made my way round to the back. As soon as I passed the rear corner of the house, a security light (why? They can’t possibly have anything worth nicking?) flashed on. It couldn’t have been better, from my point of view.
I took cover behind the rubbish bins, and waited for him to get curious and come out to investigate. I crossed my fingers and prayed he hadn’t already fallen into a stupor.
I heard the sound of someone wrestling with a sticky lock, and then the back door slowly, slowly groaned open like something from an old horror film.
He’d even brought his half-full bottle of beer with him! He stood there, teetering on the edge of the patio, just in boots, jeans and an old vest even more disgusting than any of Sid’s.
This delightful specimen belched loudly as he bent forward, shielding his eyes from the glare of the security light to peer into the gloomy recesses of the garden in search of intruders.
As he stood there, the black expanse of the pond just
a foot below him, suddenly the security light snapped off, plunging him into darkness. He half-turned, said, “oh bugger…” and I ran forward, shoved him in the back before he even saw me, and down he went with a splendid crack of the skull on the ornamental stone pond-edging, beer, blood and glass bottle spilling into the water.
Everything went quiet.
I moved forward carefully. The light came on again, shining down on me like a spotlight from heaven.
His head was under the water. He didn’t move. Nothing moved. Somewhere in the hedge a sleepy bird softly twittered.
I tiptoed away, checking carefully as I went. I saw no one. Feeling excited I drove back to Mavis’s sister’s house, and slept like a log. What a wonderful feeling of accomplishment.
When I got home today, they already knew all about Leanne’s ex-husband’s demise, excitedly and shared it with me. If anyone suspected anything, they didn’t say a word.
True she is a little tearful, but she’ll soon get over it. She’s not really grieving, just a bit shocked.
Now that house will be hers to sell and she’ll have a lovely little nest egg tucked away in the bank to do with as she wishes and no more messy divorce proceedings or money worries.
Hooray!
Monday July 20th—9.30am
Finally! I had almost given up hope of hearing anything from Sid’s mate. But just now when I arrived back after the school run, and with Lill safely closeted in the kitchen with Jacqueline, planning a menu or a baking spree of some sort, I received a text message form Sid saying, mysteriously, ‘call me’.
So natch I did. He and Matt are out at Cheningwold Castle again today, revamping the walled garden—serious money, I’m pleased to say—and even more importantly, a great CV builder for their little business which will no doubt soon be huge.
Anyway. Against a background of irritable-sounding peacocks, Sid was able to tell me that his mate has got an address for me! Sid read it out to me and I wrote it down. I was so excited, I wanted to go there immediately, but no, my father-in-law says he and I will go there this evening and ‘scope it out’. I assume that means take a look. But I will do a spot of research on Google Maps first obv, no point in going into the complete unknown if we don’t need to.
I’m impatient for the working day to end and for the boys to get back—but I’m also very nervous. The pit of my stomach feels fluttery. It’s finally happened—the great day has finally dawned! This is what I’ve been…
OMG, Tom is eating one of the cats’ catnip mice! How did he even get across the room? Must go.
Later: 11am
Wow! Tom can crawl! He’s six-and-a-half months old and he’s charging about all over the place. Everything is being moved to above waist-level for safety. I’m so proud. And, just for once, it was me who witnessed this miracle first—all his other firsts have been discovered by the others and I have missed the excitement of each new stage, hearing about everything later through anecdotes and photos.
But not this time. I snatched him up and kissed him and told him he was a clever boy, and he did a really loud laugh—a real laugh—sadly followed by an extremely loud and rather Sid-like belch. Then he scrambled to get down and continue on his merry way.
I rushed into the kitchen to tell Lill—and by the time I had got there and was telling her what had happened, there he was right behind me, tearing down the hall, frightening the cats and crowing loudly in his excitement.
So then we spent about an hour watching him crawling, and taking more photos and video of Tom patrolling the rooms and hall, Lill heading him off whenever he got too close to the stairs.
I can’t tell you how excited I was—still am—to have actually seen this next step in my son’s development. It was so, so wonderful, and definitely made my day if not week. I am so happy.
Texted Matt to tell him what had happened and he said he couldn’t wait to get home and see this marvel for himself. He also said he’d got some great ideas for our garden from looking round the grounds at the Castle.
Oh dear. I do hope it’s nothing moat-related. Not only would it be a bit of a hazard for the children, but also a teensy bit pretentious in our small village.
Later that evening—10.35pm
Huff. The excitement of the day has left me exhausted.
Tom’s new-found expertise was duly admired, encouraged and documented. I noted with malicious pleasure that Jacqueline seems a bit put out over all the attention Lill was giving to Tom instead of her. Billy and Paddy think it’s brilliant fun chasing their little brother around and being chased in return. They spent the whole afternoon between coming in from school until tea-time creating little obstacle courses for Tom to negotiate. Huge fun for all of us—and so incredibly sweet to hear them all three laughing and playing together more or less properly for the first time. Lill and I both had a few tears in our eyes. (Such a shame stupid Zhakleen was here to spoil it just as we were so united and one as a family.) Obv Paddy and Billy play together all the time, but this was the first time I ever observed that Tom is fully aware of them and he was—playing back—is the only way I can describe it—interacting, reciprocating—he was actually chasing them and laughing with them. So, so wonderful. Felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. Life not so awful, after all.
Anyway, once Paddy and Billy had been fed, bathed, read to and put to bed, with poor little Tom, exhausted from his crawling around all afternoon and evening, was snoozing in his cot, we adults finally had our dinner. And as we ate, I heard all about the Castle job and Matt’s idea for a sunken rose garden—not a bad idea—I’m thinking it will be a lovely little sun trap in the summer, ideal for me to lie on a lounger and soak up some rays. Then Sid and I made our excuses and we sloped off to look on the internet at the address his mate had given us. Now we know exactly where it is and how to get there and where to park, etc.
We will take a drive out there early in the morning. I wanted to go alone, but Sid said no, he was coming with me. So there we are. Once he’s made his mind up, that’s it.
If we go early we should be able to see her there, either going out or just moving around or something. So I’m supposed to be having an early night in order to be fit as a flea for our early start.
Luckily the Castle job has finished, so Sid is ‘available’. No doubt there will be some curiosity about what we’re up to, and I’m not sure what to say, whether to tell Matt and Lill what is going on and risk their wrath, or whether to try to keep it a secret and risk their wrath…
Nighty night.
Tuesday July 21st—9.20pm
Well that was a total effing waste of time.
We got to the house at seven-fifteen, which meant we had to leave here at a quarter to six! Which meant I had to get up at five o’clock. In the morning!!!
Sid had sweetly provided a flask of coffee and some of Lill’s muffins to have in the car later as neither of us felt like eating a real breakfast at that time of day.
Anyway. We were both a bit groggy and irritable, but at least we didn’t get lost or anything—all last night’s preparation and research paid off. At last we arrived and having figured out which house we were watching, we parked just down the road with a great view of the front door, garage door and the front elevation windows. (Sid’s term for it, I suspect he’s done this before.)
It surprised me a little that Monica was living on an estate. I wouldn’t have thought she was an estate kind of gal. I mean it was posh, very exclusive, but nevertheless, there was no denying it was very much an estate. There was a damn great 4x4 parked on the drive, with a dainty little BMW hiding behind it—a girly car if ever I saw one.
Imagine our surprise when, halfway through our breakfast, the front door opened and out trooped a woman with two children, followed by a man with a briefcase.
“It’s the wrong house, Gromit,” said Sid, muffin crumbs flying everywhere.
We checked and double-checked the address—no problem there—so it had to be a cock-up by Sid’s mate.
We watched the family lock their front door and pile into their respective vehicles and drive off. Then, feeling very gloomy and downhearted we drove home again, Sid grumbling to himself all the way. Feel a bit sorry for Sid’s mate, when he gets the phone call.
Home again by half past nine, curious looks from all.
Sat and watched Postman Pat—still a firm favourite—then went back to bed for a nap.
Sid’s mate says he checked the information he was given and it’s correct. The only thing we at this end can conclude is that Monica herself gave a fake forwarding address. And I suppose we can’t blame the agent. If one of their clients is only selling a house but not buying, it’s probably difficult for them, and completely unnecessary to verify the new contact address given.
So now where do we go?
Sid’s mate said to leave it with him. and we don’t have any other choice in the matter, so here I am, sitting on my hands yet again and feeling restless and frustrated, now knowing how much longer this is going to carry on before I finally see some action. This must be how the SAS feels before parachuting into somewhere dodgy to perpetrate a covert mission. It’s a good thing I don’t smoke, or I’d go through a packet an hour. As it is, I’ve already had two mini muffins and a cookie this morning. It’s a good thing Lill is still trying to perfect Jacqueline’s baking skills.
