“She is also married to an architect and has two children. So you can stop thinking like that. Honestly Helen, you’ve gone from thinking you’re gay to lusting after older women in only half a week. Pretty fast moves but you still haven’t told your mum.”
“I know and I guess I’ll have to soon; I’m just waiting for the right time.”
“There is no such thing as the right time. My advice is to get her on her own, somewhere you’re not going to be interrupted and where she won’t have her mind on something else. Tell her straight out so there is no misunderstanding. Your mum loves you very much and she wants the best for you. She’ll be fine with it.”
“Can’t I just start wearing dungarees, cut my hair really short and get some sensible shoes. Do you think she’d take the hint?”
“No,” said Claudilia. “She’s Australian, they don’t do subtle.”
That evening the fete committee meeting was in turmoil. With just a week and a half to go they had lost their carpenter, builder and general handyman. While they all agreed that the death of poor Gus was tragic for his family and friends, their main concern was who’d do the hundred and one little jobs that needed some knowledge of carpentry and a truckload of power tools.
The problem was solved by the Reverent Stuart Hamilton. He arrived late and a bit flustered, but announced he’d come straight from Macintosh Manor where he’d talked to Mrs Mackintosh. Maggie would arrange for them to “borrow” a couple of her husband’s staff on the Thursday and Friday before the fete. “Maggie said Angus wouldn’t mind a bit. They could pick up any materials they need from the builder’s yard in Warwick, it could be charged to the Mackintosh Energy account. Isn’t that generous?” Spontaneous applause broke out amongst the committee along with mutterings of “Good for her” and “Lovely lady.”
Claudilia thought that Angus actually would “mind a bit”. In fact he’d mind a whole bloody lot. …When he discovers they’ve been given an open cheque book and he’s expected to pay for wood, paint, nails and screws for half the home renovation jobs in Wimplebridge, he’ll probably bust a blood vessel.
The minister went on to say that Mrs Mackintosh, “or Maggie, as she insisted I call her” ...just hang on while I throw up will you, had asked if it’s okay for her to have a little more space. Apparently her model village really does need a bigger area to be appreciated properly. I told her I was sure we’d find the room she needs. She suggested moving the cake stall to the back of the field, between the donkey rides and the port-o-loos.” Stuart had promised they’d do their best. “After all, she’s been so generous.”
Claudilia smiled and said that she was sure a little more space could be found. She didn’t mention the generosity of her own family. For decades they’d been using Belcher staff to prepare the village green and tend it all year round. She’d supplied a skip for the rubbish collection, arranged and paid for the port-o-loos and tidied the site after the event had finished. In case that wasn’t generosity enough, then it was Belcher Farms and Timber who’d sponsored the program and provided most of the bloody raffle prizes. …We’ve been doing it for years and not a word of thanks. Now this upstart stick insect wanders in with a couple of hairy assed workmen with hammers, and she’s treated like the Queen of sodding Sheba. That’s gratitude for you.
The meeting finished at half past nine. Many of the members adjourned to the bar for a couple more drinks before going home. Claudilia excused herself, saying that Max needed to be let out, she went straight back to Bindweed Cottage. Max was indeed pleased to see her but Claudilia had her mind on other things. Maggie bloody Mackintosh was lying to the committee. And she was planning to make Claudilia look foolish at the village’s main summer event.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Day Nine. Thursday
On Thursday morning Claudilia sniffed the milk in her fridge and decided not to risk it. She had toast and black coffee before walking to the shop for a pint of semi-skimmed and biscuits for the office.
She was about to pay when the door opened and, dressed in jeans, boots and a thick jacket, Tony B entered…I never can remember his name.
“Aren’t you a bit hot dressed like that Tony?” asked Claudilia in the calmest voice she could manage. She didn’t want to let on that she knew he was her wall wrecker.
“I’m off to do some work with the bees,” said Tony. “I have to be well wrapped up so I don’t get stung,” he continued. “I’ve been got so many times; you’d think I’d be immune but with some people it goes the other way. Each sting these days is worse than the one before - I guess it’s my age, or thin skin. I have to carry an Epi-pen. One sting from the bees and I give myself a shot with that, it never fails.”
“No, I guess not,” Claudilia said through gritted teeth. “Where are you working today?”
“I’ll be down near the river, breaking a hive into two smaller ones then taking half towards the little orchard at Macintosh Manor. They’ve some nice young trees around the digester plant. If I can get close enough it should be good for some lovely honey. I won’t move the hive until midday or later though, as it’s supposed to cloud over. With a little bit of rain the bees will all go back inside. With luck I won’t lose too many.”
“How do you move them?” asked another customer, a lady that Claudilia didn’t know but who’d been listening as they queued for the till. “Do you put the hive in a trailer or something?”
“I’ve got a small trailer which I use when I’m moving them a long way, or if I’m moving more than one hive at a time.” Tony was warming to his audience and keen to pass on his knowledge. “Today I’m just shifting a single hive so I’ll smoke them well and seal up all the gaps in the hive. I put the seats down in the car and drive slowly. It’s just over two miles, there’ll be no problem. I’ve done it before.”
Claudilia paid for her shopping and left. She couldn’t stop thinking about what she knew. Tony had knocked down her wall and now he was being all sweetness towards her, not only that but he did it on the instruction of that woman. And he’d been paid for his treachery …He probably took thirty pieces of silver. Claudilia decided this couldn’t be ignored. She’d told Helen to think about her actions, the consequences and the repercussions. Now it was time for Claudilia to do the thinking. She called Hubert and said she had stomach ache and she’d be taking the morning off.
Claudilia had the day to herself, and at that moment it looked like a nice one. She made coffee, using the new milk, and took it out to the table in the garden. By the time she’d finished her drink and read the paper a bank of cloud was obscuring the sun. Maybe Tony had been right about the weather after all.
At eleven and with nothing particular in mind, Claudilia and Max walked along the lane to the stile near the pub. They crossed over and followed the path towards the boathouse. From this side of the river Claudilia could see the hives on the far bank. Tony was there, dressed in boots, gloves, thick jeans and a beekeeper’s coat complete with built in hood and netting facemask. He was puffing smoke into the top of a hive and fiddling around with the frames inside. His car was parked a short distance away, the boot of his battered old Fiat Panda was open, boxes and bags of what must have been apiary equipment were all over the place.
The first drops of rain had begun to fall as Claudilia and Max arrived at the boathouse. They were big, wet raindrops, the sort you get in sudden summer showers which reminded Claudilia of her childhood, the smell of water on warm tarmac and steam rising off the roads. Claudilia retrieved the key from behind the root and let herself in. Max, never a lover of rain, trotted in behind her and settled down on an old blanket, usually used for picnics on the boat. Claudilia lit the small butane stove and half-filled the kettle from a bottle of water kept for the purpose. Within minutes Claudilia, cup of black coffee in hand, was perched on a stool just inside the open end of the building. She watched the rain drops make ripples on the water while deep in thought. She still hadn’t come to a conclusion regarding Tony, but she had decided the rain was g
etting lighter and that she owed Pumpkin an outing.
The horse was pleased to see them when Claudilia and Max came into the yard. Pumpkin was standing by the field gate and slightly wet. His attempt to look forlorn and in need of sympathy was only half-hearted, and he perked up when Claudilia pulled an apple from her pocket. Twenty minutes later he’d been rubbed down, his mane brushed, and he was ready to go out. The rain had stopped but it was still overcast and humid.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The little group, if three can be a group, trotted out of the yard and turned right. They passed the lane leading up to the Belcher farmhouse and Merry called to them from her stable. They crossed the road and went through a gate onto a path up Monk Hill.
From here Claudilia could look down on the village, and like so many times before, she wondered if it would be recognisable to her ancient relatives. The river was still there, and the lower bridge, or at least a bridge in roughly that position, had been there for centuries. Several of the oaks around the village were registered as ancient trees; they’d been lucky to survive for the hundreds of years an oak can live. The one on the green was thought to be over five hundred years old. It was just an acorn which dropped in the right place, in the right weather while the country was busy fighting the wars of the roses. It was a sapling a hundred and thirty years later while Elizabeth the first had been busy with the Spanish Armada. Yes she thought, her ancestors would have recognised the village and the farm. It hadn’t changed that much.
Claudilia squeezed Pumpkin with her knees, he moved in the general direction of the path leading down the far side of the hill. She re-joined the road for a short distance and passed the front of the newly built houses. For some reason, which she couldn’t put her finger on, Claudilia didn’t want to go around the back of the site and through the field where she’d left Pumpkin the previous Friday. Once past the houses Claudilia, Pumpkin and Max went back into the field, and they watched as two tractors with trailers raced along the road. …bloody great monsters. but at least they’re not going through the village today. I might even have some walls left when I get home.
A little way from the edge of this field Claudilia had built some jumps. She and Helen liked to bring their horses and race them over the hurdles. They were not big enough to unseat an experienced rider, but sufficient to give them a thrill as they sailed over the poles or the carefully piled bales of straw.
Claudilia was considering a gallop around the jumps when she saw the white roof and green bodywork of a small car coming towards her from Wimplebridge. There could be only one distinctive little Fiat Panda like that in the village and it was going so very slowly, being driven with extreme care. Horse and rider trotted up to the first corner of the field level with the road. As Tony’s little car drew closer she dug her heels into Pumpkins flanks and the horse responded perfectly. They were having a race and Pumpkin knew it.
A quick look to her left and Claudilia could see Tony watching as she galloped alongside. Pumpkin didn’t miss a stride as he glided over the first set of poles, closely followed by Max. Now they were ahead of the car and Claudilia could feel rather than see Tony as he accelerated enough to draw level.
The next jump was made of four straw bales piled up, two high and two wide. Max went around the outside while Pumpkin extended his stride and glided over the top. This was hardly a jump for an experienced hunter like Pumpkin. He might weigh half a tonne, but he could float like a butterfly when he wanted to.
Still Tony was alongside, watching her as he kept perfect pace. The field edge curved to the right and across the hedge Claudilia could see Tony in the centre of the road, rounding the bend on it’s apex. Horse and rider took the next set of poles. Higher this time, Pumpkin caught his trailing hoof on the top rail. It clattered to the ground but he didn’t slow down. Now Claudilia was standing in her stirrups, bent at the waist with her head down and elbows tucked in as she urged him on. Faster and faster, this was a race she wanted to win, the little car and the mighty charger were neck and neck as they thundered towards the final turn, then just one more jump to the finishing line.
Tony knew the finishing line had to be the fence at right angles to the field’s border. It was just one curve away and he drove as fast as he dared, he didn’t want them to get there before him. Tony watched Claudilia, leaning forward along Pumpkin’s neck and thought she looked like an over inflated comedy jockey. She was very obviously racing and Tony wasn’t going to let her win. He knew he had a hive full of bees in the car but this was more important than bees, this was more important than anything. Another look and she’d cleared the brush covered planks.
Claudilia and Pumpkin were slightly ahead, she was using her crop to urge him on, “faster boy faster” she cried. If Pumpkin felt the whip he didn’t begrudge it, with all his heart he galloped onwards. He sensed they were in a race and somewhere deep in his equine soul, he felt a distant ancestor driving him forward. He might not be a thoroughbred racehorse but right now he was as good as any bloodstock at Aintree or the Epsom downs.
Tony didn’t see the tractor with it’s seventeen tonne trailer. It approached at nearly thirty miles an hour and took up more than half the width of the road. There was no chance of either driver stopping and it was the very last moment when he became aware of its presence. He pulled the wheel hard left in a desperate attempt to avoid the head-on collision. He almost managed it too, his rear offside wing was clipped by the tractor’s giant front wheel, it bounced the tiny car out of the way, it was thrown into the ditch and onto its side.
Chapter Thirty
The tractor driver stopped his vehicle as quickly as he could, leaving skid marks on the road for several meters, and the smell of burned rubber hung in the air. The driver, a young man called Andrew Peck, jumped from his cab and ran back to where the car was lying in the ditch. The wheels were still spinning, and Andrew wasn’t sure what he should do. He stood in the middle of the road and tried to remember any of his first aid training that might help. The young driver heard a noise and turned to see Claudilia, she’d leapt down off Pumpkin and was climbing over a gate.
Together they stood looking at the car on its side in the ditch. Apart from a large black mark on the wing there wasn’t much damage.
“Let’s get him out,” said Andrew moving towards the driver’s door.
“Okay, you open the door and I’ll hold him steady. Don’t let his head move more than you have to, he might have an injury to his back so be careful when you undo the seatbelt. Have you got a phone on you?”
“It’s in the cab, I’ve got a radio too.”
“Fine, we’ll assess the injuries to Tony, that’s his name, and then we can phone it in.”
Claudilia and Andrew climbed into the ditch and slid themselves along the roof of the car. The young man climbed up onto the side of the vehicle and wedged one foot against the ditch. From there he could open the driver’s door, which was now on top of the car and needed to be pulled upwards to open it. He looked through the windscreen and froze. Claudilia could see a questioning look on his face. “What’s he got in the car, he’s covered in something black and it’s moving.”
Claudilia leaned over and looked through the driver’s window. She recoiled at once, thankful that none of the glass had broken.
“It’s bees,” she said. In the back she caught sight of an upturned hive, with its stack of frames scattered around the rear of the vehicle.
Andrew turned and jumped out of the ditch. “Don’t open the door, don’t open the door. I’m allergic to bees. Just one sting makes my throat close up. If I’m stung I can’t breathe.” At the top of the incline he stopped and turned, he wanted to be sure Claudilia hadn’t let any out. “I’ll call the police from the tractor, but I’m staying in there, with the windows shut. A full hive is about fifty thousand of the little buggers. He won’t be feeling a thing by now. Don’t open that door.”
Claudilia told him to calm down and promised she wouldn’t open the door.
She was staring through the window at Tony. Tony who had knocked down her wall and been paid to do it. Tony who she’d talked to in the shop that morning. Tony who was covered in bees, his naked skin covered with angry stings. Tony not moving, just hanging in his seatbelt.
It was three minutes before the next tractor and trailer arrived, it was on its way to the plant. Soon after that an empty one joined them from the other direction. Andrew had phoned his boss and used the radio to alert other drivers. Someone must have called the Belcher office, because Hubert appeared in his old Range Rover. Claudilia opened the gate and her brother drove straight into the field. He put Max in the back with JR, then tied Pumpkin’s reigns to the spare wheel on the rear door.
The two new drivers took their tractors into the field and were followed by Andrew Peck. He was yet to emerge from his cab, he looked pale and very shaken by the whole event. Hubert and Claudilia were standing by the Panda, trying to decide what to do, when they heard the welcome sound of sirens on the road from Warwick. Two appliances from the county’s fire and rescue service, an ambulance and an police traffic unit arrived in quick succession.
The crews from the emergency services assessed the situation and divided the tasks as best they could. Quickly it became apparent that a full swarm of very angry bees was not something they were used to dealing with. Advice would be needed and maybe some specialist equipment too. Angus Macintosh’s Porsche could be seen driving up the lane at high speed. The car emitted a raw growl as he pulled into the field and parked beside Hubert’s Range Rover. His first concern was for the tractor driver. Although not working for him, Angus felt a responsibility for his contractors. Once he was sure the young man wasn’t physically injured, and was simply being treated for shock, he turned his attention to Claudilia.
The Village Fate Page 14
