The Village Fate

by William Hadley

  Josie got up and was about to leave with the printed reports when Simon called her back.

  “There was one other report which might interest you,” he said grinning. He’d kept the best for last.

  “Come on Simon, I haven’t got all day.”

  “About a month ago, the dates on the print out, Claudilia Belcher phoned 999. She claimed a tractor had run into her garden wall. She was shouting blue murder, I’ve listened to the tape and it’s quite good, she has a very strong voice.”

  “What did she say?”

  “As I said, someone had knocked down her wall with, and I’m quoting here. “A fucking great tractor pulling a fucking great trailer full of shit and stuff for that fucking anabolic indigestion place,” the call handler asked her to repeat it again but more slowly. Claudilia didn’t like that, it just made her more angry. She insisted that we go straight round and I’m quoting again “arrest the whole fucking lot of them.”

  “Yes I’ve met Claudilia, I imagine she’s quite something when roused.” Said DS Robinson

  “Well knocking down her ancient wall appears to have done the trick,” said Simon.

  “And what did we do?”

  “A uniform went to see her the next day. he gave her an incident number and took photos of the rocks and the hole in the wall. He offered her advice on home security and gave her a leaflet about victim support counselling.”

  “I bet that went down well,” said Josie, smiling at the image of a fresh faced PC and an enraged Claudilia.

  “She told him where he could stick his leaflet. He wrote it up in his report word for word, she has quite a graphic imagination and it left an impression on the poor lad.” …I told him to stick it up his arse and hammer it home with a pineapple.

  “Yep, that sounds like Claudilia,” said Josie. “Thanks for getting this lot together. If anything else comes in regarding the village or the Belcher family can you let me know?”

  “No problem, I’ll stick a flag on it. Anything else I can do for you?” said Simon

  “Yes, print out the details for that house and see if there’s any Labrador puppies for sale nearby.” She was still laughing as she walked out of the room and back towards the CID office. There was nothing for her here. Josie had enough real police work on her desk and she couldn’t spend any more time pursuing a gut feeling.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  As usual Claudilia had lunch with Max and Pumpkin. Once the dog was happy no yoghurt was left in her pot and the horse had munched his apple they tacked up and went on their afternoon rounds.

  Sheep fine, cows fine, crops fine, fences and gates all fine. But today her mind wasn’t focused on farming, she was thinking about horrible Maggie. Maggie Macintosh, and how she’d dug her claws into Claudilia again last night. And she was thinking about Tony, the bee man who’d demolished her wall. Last but not least she was thinking about the fete. It was Wednesday, and that meant another evening in the pub with the committee.

  They’d need to find another handyman now that Gus wasn’t available. She thought about Gus as she walked Pumpkin beside a hedgerow. To her left the blackthorn was full of nesting birds and tree sparrows erupted from its centre as she rode by. Overhead a lone buzzard, once quite rare this far north, circled effortlessly on invisible thermals. If only he’d not been so unpleasant, Claudilia thought. Away to her right she could almost see the building site. They’d have a new foreman by now, a different voice behind the slackers and someone else cleaning the mixer, but probably not alone.

  Claudilia’s concerns about the fete were mostly to do with Maggie Macintosh and her display. This evening the final plans of each stand would be presented, they’d decide who was going to be where and make sure the centre of the green was kept clear for animal judging. Claudilia already knew where her cake stall would be. It was always in the same place, between the W.I. jams and Tony’s honey stall. What worried Claudilia was Mrs Muck and the double space she’d booked. So far it was just shown on the plan as the Macintosh Energy stand, but Claudilia felt sure that Maggie would use the opportunity to upstage her. She’d done it the previous evening, by publicly signing her up for Tish’s weight loss program.

  Back at the stables Helen was waiting. The bus had dropped off the Belcher girls and as it was Wednesday, Helen was going to Bindweed Cottage for piano practice. Hubert had no problem with her learning the instrument but he refused to have one in the house. Helen took lessons at school and practiced on her aunt’s old upright a couple of times a week. In the tack room Helen had the kettle on. Claudilia took the saddle and bridle off Pumpkin before she put him in his stable and joined her niece. Helen had been into the cottage, there was fresh milk and a packet of biscuits laid out with the saddle soap and rags. Wednesday was piano practice, but first there was tack to be cleaned, tack to be cleaned and gossip, there was always plenty of gossip. The two generations of Belcher sat in ancient arm chairs. Similar chairs will be found in tack rooms up and down the country. Claudilia had often thought that old furniture never died, it just retired to a stable somewhere. As they soaked the leather, rubbed on soap and buffed it with dry towels, they munched their way through custard creams and gingernuts. The pair listened to Radio two as they worked, Helen had given Claudilia a Bluetooth speaker for Christmas and shown her how to pair it to her phone. Now the little devise lived in the tack room for use on afternoons like this.

  The crunch of tyres on gravel warned Claudilia and Helen that a car had come into the yard. After a moment, when nobody appeared in the doorway, Helen moved the curtain an inch and looked out. Sitting just a few feet away was the shiny black paintwork of Maggie’s Range Rover. Mrs Macintosh could be seen inside the car, she was fiddling with her phone, stabbing at the screen and mouthing something.

  “It’s Maggie Mackintosh” said Helen to her aunt.

  “Then move back and keep still, maybe she won’t see us and she’ll go away. I had enough of her last night” said Claudilia.

  The music stopped and the speaker beeped, it had paired with a new device. The tack room was flooded with Maggie’s voice. “Bloody phone darling, don’t know what it’s doing, Angus got me a new one that talks to the car, and everything else as far as I can see. All I want it to do is phone you, and Giles of course,” she giggled with her nasal whine.

  “Who’s she talking to?” Helen whispered.

  “I don’t know but shut up, just in case she can hear us,” her aunt replied.

  A new voice came on. “God, it doesn’t store your calls does it? The last thing you need is Angus knowing you’re calling and texting Giles all the time. I mean, imagine what he’d say if he read the texts you’ve been sending me, let alone the ones you get from Giles, that’d spoil your fun.”

  Helen whispered. “Don’t you think we should turn it off.”

  “No” replied Claudilia. “That’s Tish, the personal trainer. She was a right cow to me last night - who’s Giles?”

  “I don’t know,” said Helen.

  “Don’t you ever worry about getting caught?” said Tish through the speaker.

  “Not really, he hasn’t known about any of the others and he’s no reason to suspect Giles. As far as Angus knows he is just the man who cuts the grass and cleans the pool. If he gives me a seeing to once or twice a week, while Angus pays him overtime, that’s fine by me,” came Maggie’s reply. “Angus is okay, but the sex is sooo dull. I sometimes think I’m going to fall asleep? Anyway Angus can afford it. He’s paying Giles to keep me entertained.”

  The two voices laughed before Maggie continued. “And I’ve told Angus he has to lose weight, I said he’s getting too fat and he snores, God it’s awful. I’ve moved him into the spare room till he reaches an acceptable weight, and I’ve bought him a bicycle.”

  “Is that fair Maggie, you’re not being very nice to him. What’s an acceptable weight anyway?”

  “I haven’t decided yet, but he needs to slim down and if he doesn’t he can just carry on sleeping alone, I’
ll not miss him. I’m going to make him go out on the bike too, and I’ve put him on a vegetarian diet. If he wants to get back into my bed he’s going to have to work for it. I’m in no hurry, Giles’s much more fun.”

  Tish giggled, she had an annoying schoolgirl giggle. …The sort that makes me want to brake her nose with the heel of my boot, “Well be careful Maggie, the last thing you need’s to get knocked up, not if Angus isn’t allowed near you. Not even you could talk your way out of that one. Where are you anyway?”

  “I’m in the car, I told you.”

  “Yes but where?”

  “I’ve come to see the Belcher woman. I’m at the stables. You know, Claudilia, she was at the meeting last night. She’s the one the size of a whale.”

  “The one you said needs to come to my classes. You’re so cruel.”

  “Well she does need weight management, but we might have to use the scales Angus sends tractors over to get her measured. Oh my God, I’ve just had an image of her in a leotard pop into my mind! I think I’ve just been sick in my mouth.”

  Tish was laughing but asked, “So why are you there?”

  “She almost lives at these stables, she’s the size of a horse so I guess she fits right in. I want to see her about my stand at the village fete next week. I’m going to tell her I need power for the lights on my model of the village so I want to set up some solar panels the day before. Actually it’s just a model of Macintosh Manor with electric doors and a fountain, but there’s a Scalextric track as a road for people to drive model cars around. She won’t see it until the day and she’ll be apoplectic, but it’ll be too late by then and I’ll win the prize for the best stall. I’ll have the best stand and her cakes will be rubbish.”

  “Maggie. Aren’t you getting a bit obsessed with her?” said Tish with concern in her voice. “It was bad enough when you got that chap to hit her wall with his tractor. That’s criminal damage. If you’re found out it’ll be very embarrassing for you and Angus.”

  “No darling, she doesn’t know a thing. She can’t see past her horse’s ears or the next sticky bun. Tony will keep quiet, he got five hundred quid for what he did. Maybe I’ll find another little job for him. I wonder how you make a horse go lame?”

  “No Maggie, don’t touch the horse that’s not fair. It’s just a dumb animal,” There was real concern in Tish’s voice.

  “So what?”

  “Messing with an animal is cruel. Promise me you’ll not do anything to the horse.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave the horse alone - for now. But I’ll think of something, I’ll grind her down till she knows her place, just you watch,” said Maggie with menace. “Anyway I’ve got to go, she’ll come out in a moment and wonder why I am sat here talking to myself.”

  Claudilia and Helen sat stunned in their armchairs. The speaker beeped and Steve Wright’s voice came back with some factoid or other.

  “Not a word do you hear, not a word,” said Claudilia to her niece, quickly composing herself. “Just act natural and pretend we didn’t hear anything. And close your mouth, you look like a guppy.”

  Claudilia got up and grabbed a bucket, she went to the outside tap and began to fill it. Only then did she turn round and notice a car in the yard with Maggie getting out.

  “Hi Maggie, I didn’t hear you pull into the yard, that’s quiet isn’t it,” she said pointing at the shiny Evoque. “It’s nothing like Hubert’s old lump, you can hear that two villages away.”

  “Yes, these new ones are more of a luxury car than a workhorse,” said Maggie as she tiptoed across the yard, not wanting to get mud on her Jimmy Choo ankle boots. “I guess it comes down to what you can afford.”

  “Come into the tack room, Helen’s here. You know my niece don’t you? We’re cleaning tack and swapping gossip, you can help if you like. I’m sure I can find another sponge,” replied Claudilia. The expression on Maggie’s face was one Claudilia would remember for a very long time. She looked like she’d just licked a turd off a lemon.

  “I’d love to but I don’t have much time. I have to get back to pay the gardener,” …more likely to lay the gardener, was all she could manage to say. “I just wanted to ask if I could have a tiny bit extra space at the fete next week. The village model needs a couple of small solar panels, for electricity to the clock and river.”

  Lying cow thought Claudilia. “I’m sure we can manage that, I’ll remind the committee tonight and let you know what we decide.”

  “Thank you darling, I knew you’d understand. Now I must dash”

  Maggie minced back to her car and drove off. Claudilia and Helen looked at each other, neither knowing where to start.

  “Tea, cake and piano practice, that’s what you need,” said Claudilia. “Put that saddle on the rack and come across to the house.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  In Bindweed Cottage Helen was buzzing. “What are you going to do about Maggie, Aunt Claudia? You could go to the police, or tell her husband. At least insist they fix your wall. What are you going to do?”

  “Oh do calm down. The answer is nothing, well not yet anyway,” replied her aunt. “What proof do we have? Do you think the police will accept that we heard someone on the phone telling someone else, in a private call we were listening to, that they’d arranged to have my wall knocked down? I doubt it, and anyway it’s hardly the crime of the century, is it? No, the first response is often the wrong response. You must learn to sit back and have a good think about actions and consequences. There’s an old saying that revenge is a dish best served cold. It means you should let things settle, and then strike.”

  “Okay but Aunt Claudilia,” said Helen, slightly disappointed that Claudilia wasn’t going to fly into action like an elderly superhero, “have you said anything to Mum about me and Emma?”

  “Absolutely not,” said Claudilia.

  “It’s just that she has been acting strange.”

  “She’s your mother, that’s enough to make anyone act strange. And she chose to marry Hubert, if that’s not strange I don’t know what is.”

  Helen laughed, “She’s arranged a party for after the fete next weekend, and she wants to know what boys I’ll be inviting. I told her that I just want to have Emma there.”

  Helen slumped down in her seat. “I know she wants me to be happy but she thinks that means I need a boy friend. I just wondered if you’d let anything slip.”

  “No, nothing at all,” said Claudilia emphatically. “But she is your mum. It’s natural for her to expect you’ll have boyfriends because that’s what she did. We know you can be happy with a girl instead, but that’s not crossed her mind yet. At some point you’ll need to tell her, but don’t worry about it today. Go and bang away at the piano for a while and I’ll get the drinks.”

  Claudilia busied herself in the kitchen. Tea, milk, sugar and biscuits. She took it all through to the lounge where Helen was playing the Moonlight Sonata over and over again, hitting the right notes, just not always in the right order.

  “I don’t know why I’m bothering with this” she said as her aunt put the tray down. “If I want music I can put it on my phone or stream it from Spotify.”

  “Yes, but someone has to play the music to start with. And it’s always fun to see the look on people’s faces when you sit down and knock out a tune. Shift over and let me have a go.”

  For the next few minutes Claudilia switched between classic piano music and songs by Elton John, which she played in a very camp way, lifting her hands high and pretending to toss her hair around. Seamlessly, she morphed into an old style plinkety-plonk music-hall number and then back to the classics again. Copying the style of Les Dawson she’d occasionally put in the wrong notes. Her final song, her pièce de résistance was a slightly rude version of Yellow Brick Road, which Claudilia performed at the top of her voice. It had tears of laughter rolling down Helen’s cheeks.

  “Stop it, stop it,” Helen called and Claudilia lifted her hands from the keyboard. The ghost of t
he final notes played around the small sitting room and Helen thought she’d be sick, she couldn’t remember when she had laughed so hard.

  Aunt and niece moved to comfortable seats where Claudilia poured tea and Helen helped herself to a biscuit. “I was right about Tony though, the bee man wasn’t I?” said Helen wiping the final tears of laughter from her eyes.

  “Yes, you put two and two together and got a lucky four. Today we got confirmation that you’re correct. It’s always best to come to the same conclusion from two or more sources. I think journalists and the police call it corroboration.”

  “Talking about police,” said Helen. “I saw that detective from the building site was here, what did she want?”

  “She dropped in to tell me they’d finished at the new houses,” said Claudilia. “She also said they were looking for the car belonging to the fisherman who drowned at the weekend, we found it, in the pub car park. …he drowned in the river not in the car park, please try to get your commas in the right place. So now she’s become part of that investigation. After they’d searched the riverside she dropped in again to say they were leaving.”

  “I like her, she’s pretty,” said Helen with a smile. “In an older woman kind of way.”