The Village Fate

by William Hadley

  Back at the yard, Angus slid off Rosie. It didn’t feel as if his testicles moved into his throat this time. His legs were something like straight and closer together. It was an improvement on their last outing. He helped Claudilia rub down the horses and filled Rosie’s hay rack, then he got her a bucket of water. From his coat pocket he removed a sliced apple and offered it to her in segments. Rosie accepted it gladly, she was beginning to like this human, he was very easy to train.

  There was no time for tea at the cottage. Angus collected Hamish, thanked Max for looking after him and thanked Claudilia for taking him riding. They hugged, Angus was aware she smelled of horses and wondered if he did too. If he did she didn’t seem to mind. He kissed her on the cheek before striding off across the green. He’d need a shower and a change of clothes before he went to get the children, but first he stopped off at the office. Cindy confirmed there’d been no crisis she couldn’t handle. There’d been a few calls and he could return them from the car. Maggie’s Range Rover had been collected on a low laoder.

  Angus went back to the house, keen to get under the shower, dress in clean clothes and then collect his children. Only his Cayenne was parked in front of the house. He climbed in and hit the start button. Silently the car glided past two of the plant’s maintenance staff working on his driveway. The ugly “Macintosh Manor” sign was gone and in it’s place was the old swinging plate of black steel. The words “The Manor” were picked out in fresh white paint. It looked dignified he decided, understated and dignified.

  Out on the road he put his foot down, the petrol engine growled into life. He always got a thrill from the car’s acceleration and, as he headed off to the school, he was looking forward to the weekend with his kids. They’d go back to their boarding houses on Sunday evening but tonight would be dinner at the Belcher’s Arms, the fete on Saturday afternoon and something fun on Sunday morning. He’d make sure they had a great time and get the new chapter of their lives, the post Maggie chapter, off to a good start.

  On the Stratford Road Angus began making calls. He drove well within the speed limit and used the car’s hands-free facility. He didn’t notice the police Mondeo, driven by Josie Robinson, pass him in the opposite direction. She saw him though and mentally kicked herself for not leaving the station earlier.

  Josie was on her way home but had taken a detour. She arrived at The Manor and saw the two workers tidying away their tools. “Mr Macintosh wants the old sign back up,” said one of the men. “Nobody liked that big one, it was her what ordered it, had it changed when he was in London.”

  “He’s not at home,” said his younger colleague.

  “Yes, I saw him on the road a few minutes ago, Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “It’s Friday, he collects his kids on Friday from their posh school. He’ll be back around six o’clock, or half past.”

  “Where’s Mrs Macintosh’s car,” she asked, noticing that the Range Rover was gone.

  “He’s sold it,” said the older man. “Some bloke came and took it away. Cindy in the office gave him the keys.”

  Josie left her car on the drive and walked around the house, she went past the gym and along the path through the trees which shielded the house from the anaerobic plant. She knocked on the door marked reception and entered the office. There was a single desk, Josie assumed the woman behind it was Cindy. The Detective Sargent introduced herself and showed her warrant card. Cindy confirmed that Angus had sold the Range Rover, and yes, it had been collected that afternoon.

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit odd, getting rid of her car and changing the house sign,” asked Josie. “She’s been missing less than a week.”

  “Mr Macintosh told me she’s gone to America, she has a brother over there. She probably won’t be coming back. Even if she does, he said he wouldn’t let her into the house,” Cindy replied.

  Josie went back to the Manor. She slipped a police business card through the letter box and got back in her car. If anyone knew where Angus was it would be Claudilia. The detective drove slowly into the village and pulled up outside Bindweed cottage. The old Volvo was parked in the driveway, next to the newly repaired wall.

  Claudilia answered the knock on her door, her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and her arms were covered in flour. She invited Josie into the kitchen where she was busy baking cupcakes. At the same time she was icing those she’d taken out of the oven earlier. There were cakes on every available surface. There were Victoria sponges sprinkled with icing sugar, a coffee cake with a ring of walnuts and a carrot shaped carrot cake. It looked so light it might float off any minute, like an untethered balloon caught in the wind. On the table a brown and white chocolate layer cake sat cooling. It was calling to her, tempting her to dip a finger into the icing.

  “I came looking for Mr Macintosh, but he’s not at the house,” said Josie.

  Claudilia put a mug of tea in front of her visitor, she’d not asked for a drink but was thankful anyway. “He’s not here either I’m afraid, he’s gone to get the children I would imagine. We were riding earlier, but he had to leave by half past three. You must have just missed him.”

  Josie knew she’d just missed him; she’d seen him on the Stratford road. But for some reason she still had to ask and she got the same response from everyone. He’d gone to collect his kids, it’s what he did on Friday afternoons. He wasn’t doing anything underhand or out of character, there was no skulduggery, he was carrying on as normal. So why did Josie continue to feel uneasy about the whole affair.

  Josie looked at the cakes surrounding her. So many cakes, surely one could be cut, just a small slice of carrot cake would make the afternoon much more bearable. Josie snapped back to the present. She knew Claudilia had been talking but she hadn’t heard a word of what she said. “Pardon, I missed that.”

  “I said, I’m sorry I can’t offer you any of these cakes,” repeated Claudilia. “I can’t take them to the fete with a piece cut out,” Then she reached up and opened a cupboard above the work surface. She pulled out a Tupperware box and opened it. “This was a practice though, It’s only a Victoria sponge made with raspberry jam. Would you like a slice?”

  Josie could have kissed her.

  Sitting at the table with tea and cake, Josie quizzed Claudilia gently about Mr Macintosh and his wife’s car. Claudilia answered with the same sentiment she’d got from Cindy. Maggie was a bitch, Angus had been taken for a fool. It might be a bit soon to start giving away her designer clothes, but Angus had paid for the car and if he wanted to sell it that was nobody’s affair but his own.

  “What do you think has happened to her?” asked Josie, tucking into a second slice of cake. The first had been so good.

  “Nothing’s happened to her. She’s just buggered off. Angus said today that he’d talked to Trevor, the brother in America. He told Trevor that he knew about the money Maggie had been sending to him each month, your lot found out about that didn’t you? She hadn’t been putting it into a pension as she said, and he wanted it back” …Not strictly true but not quite a lie. “Trevor told him to go whistle, or words to that effect. According to Angus they swore at each other for several minutes before slamming the phones down.” Claudilia took a swig of tea and a bite of her cake. “I think Maggie has gone to the States. She’s got enough money to be comfortable. The next time he hears from her will be through some costly divorce lawyer.”

  “You’re probably right,” said Josie, wondering if she dare reach out for a third slice. “This is very good by the way. It’s the fete tomorrow isn’t it?” she asked.

  “That’s right, you should come, bring your husband and children. You might win a goldfish or a coconut, if they’re not all glued down, the coconuts that is, not the goldfish, you couldn’t glue down a goldfish. Although the Cubs would have a bloody good try.

  “I’d love to but I’m on duty all weekend.”

  “In that case come and patrol the event, bring that nice PC with you.”

&n
bsp; “We just might do that, if we’re not busy somewhere else,” replied the Detective Sergeant.

  Josie left Bindweed Cottage, taking with her the remainder of the practice cake and strict instructions to share it with her husband and children. She still felt uneasy about Maggie Macintosh, but Claudilia was right, if Angus wanted to sell the car and change the sign outside his house there was nothing to stop him. Josie just felt it was a bit soon, something wasn’t right, Angus must know something. Something he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, share with the police.

  It was nine thirty that evening when Claudilia called Angus. He’d taken the kids for dinner at the Belcher’s Arms and they’d walked home afterwards. Holly went straight up to her room while the two Anguses sat in the conservatory talking about Maggie and drinking wine. They were half way through the bottle when the phone rang.

  “I had that Detective here this afternoon. She was looking for you,” said Claudilia.

  “She’d been here too, she left a business card in my letterbox. Did she say what she wanted?”

  “No, she was on her way home and just dropped in. She seemed surprised that you’ve already sold the Range Rover and changed the name of the house.”

  “My car, my house.”

  “Angus, are you okay?” asked Claudilia.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” he replied. “Young Angus and I are just having a chat, you know, a Dad and son sort of chat.”

  “God, it’s a bit late to talk with him about sex isn’t it?”

  “No, not that sort of chat.” Angus chuckled. “We did that years ago, I said I wanted to talk about sex and he asked which bits I didn’t understand.” Angus laughed some more. “No, we’re talking about Maggie and how she might not have been the person I thought she was.”

  “Okay, I just wanted to let you know she’d been here, and now I suggest you go to bed. You’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

  “Goodnight Claudilia,” said Angus and he put the phone down. He knew he should go to bed, but he was enjoying the chat with his son, the first proper talk they’d had in years. He took his glass back to the conservatory where he found young Angus looking at his phone. A local news website had just published a photo of Maggie, they had used it with the story of her disappearance. The police spokesman said that she wasn’t thought to be in any danger and that she may have travelled to the United States where she has family. There was a phone number for anyone with information of her whereabouts, and a photo of the Manor. It had been taken from the road.

  “Do you think she’ll come back Dad?” asked Angus junior.

  “No son, I don’t. I guess we might hear from her one day,” He said knowing he wouldn’t . “She could ask for a divorce but she’s skimmed quite a bit from the firm. She may not want me to know where to find her. Right now I’d just turn her over to the police.”

  With that he reminded his son he had revision to do, and he’d be needed to help with the fete the next day. Angus senior said goodnight and went to his bedroom.

  Angus junior sat in the conservatory, alone and thinking about his stepmother. His eyes got used to the dark and he could see out across the garden. He could make out the pool and the gym, the two places where Maggie had spent so much time.

  The previous summer Angus had been in the gym every day, often at the same time as his stepmother. On more than one occasion Maggie had caught the teenager checking her out. Maggie’s body was sculpted by years of exercise, diet and care. True, there had been a little help from the surgeon’s knife, but it was minor stuff, just enough to get her noticed. In that long hot summer holiday, Maggie was being noticed by her stepson.

  Angus was like a puppy. Wherever Maggie went he’d follow. If she went swimming he’d revise by the pool. If she lay out in the sun he’d turn up with a cold drink. He didn’t want her to burn so he offered to put cream on her back. This could take quite a long time and he’d make sure not an inch was missed, massaging as far round and down as he dare. In the gym he would train with her weight for weight then run mile for mile on the treadmill. In the sauna she wore the tiniest two-piece bikini, he’d wait until he was sure she’d be stretched out on a bench and enjoying the heat, then he’d walk in and claim he thought it was empty. He’d say sorry and slowly back out, all the while enjoying the sight of her near naked body.

  Maggie knew the effect she was having on the boy, of course she did. She enjoyed the attention and relished his awkwardness. As the summer wore on and the days got hotter, Maggie’s bikinis got smaller and more revealing. She’d pretend to doze when Angus applied sun cream or she’d lay still with her eyes closed in the sauna. She liked the control she had over him. By just rolling over in the sun, and rearranging her bikini a bit, she’d cause him an immediate problem. Angus would dive into the pool and stay there until the blood had gone back to its usual places, then it was safe for him to come out of the water.

  For Angus junior the summer was over too soon, and with a heavy heart he returned to school. This was his GCSE year. He had exams coming up and there were many extra revision classes. Because they were often on Saturday mornings his father had arranged for him to stay those extra nights. He’d only be home for a few weekends, as well as the half term breaks and the holidays.

  Angus refilled his glass then returned to his chair. Half turn was the week after his sixteenth birthday. His father and Maggie had sent cards and a few small presents, the bigger gifts and a celebration were planned for when he and Holly came home.

  Angus senior collected his children on the Friday afternoon and drove them straight back to Wimplebridge. Maggie had arranged a vegetarian cake with the number sixteen iced on the top, it was decorated with the appropriate number of candles. Although it was a bit chilly they’d eaten outside, so Angus senior could cook on his new bar-b-que. He’d got it in the summer and this might be the last time it was used before being packed away for the winter. Everyone sat around the fire pit in an attempt to keep warm, they toasted young Angus with champagne. Even Holly was allowed half a glass.

  Maggie was on a mission, she knew what she was doing. She topped up junior’s glass more often than her own or her husband’s. When she “accidently” dropped her cutlery on the floor she was very careful that only Angus junior was behind her. Maggie folded herself over at the waist with her legs remaining straight, causing her short silk skirt to ride up and give the birthday boy a first-class view of her underwear, it looked as if it were made of dental floss.

  At ten O’clock Angus senior had finished cooking and went into the house to clean his precious bar-be-que tools. Holly was on her phone texting some friend from school and Maggie was talking to young Angus about his plans for half term. All he wanted to do was spent the days gawping at his stepmother, but he couldn’t tell her that. So he said he had revision to do and would like to spend some time in the gym.

  When Angus senior came out he was holding a long thin box. He passed it to his boy and said, “happy birthday son.”

  Young Angus had no idea what it was, when he opened the wrapping he was confronted by a plain brown box. Angus used his steak knife to cut the binding tape before upending the contents into his hand. There in front of him, shining with a varnished wooden stock and polished black barrels was the most beautiful shotgun he’d ever seen. Quite simply it was a work of art. Taking it close to the fire he read the inscription on the stock. “To my son, with my eternal love on your sixteenth birthday. Victoria Macintosh.”

  “I don’t know what to say Dad,” was all he could manage through the tears running down his face.

  “Just be sure you take good care of it,” replied his father, who also cried silent tears. “When your mother knew she was dying she wanted to get something special for your sixteenth birthday. We went out together and chose this gun. I hoped you would like shooting, if you’re careful it’ll last you a lifetime.”

  The two Anguses stood and hugged for a long time. Cheek to cheek their tears merged and rolled as one down their faces. Together they
were remembering Victoria Macintosh, a perfect wife and devoted mother. But Maggie couldn’t have this, she was Mrs Macintosh now, and the only one that mattered. She wasn’t going to be upstaged, and certainly not from the grave. She got up and joined in with the hug. A comforting squeeze for the farther, but around the back, where nobody could see, she was squeezing the son’s buttocks with her gym hardened hands.

  Angus poured another glass of wine and took the bottle as he moved outside to a seat by the pool.

  The next day of half term was a Saturday and Angus senior had arranged to go to London on business. He’d drive down in the afternoon for a working dinner and stay overnight with an old colleague. They’d play a round of golf on Sunday morning before he drove back in the afternoon. Holly had arranged to spend the night with a school friend who lived not far off Angus’s route. He’d pick her up on his return, or she’d be dropped home sometime mid-week; the arrangement was pretty loose.

  Maggie and young Angus waved them off after a late breakfast. Maggie had an appointment with Tish in the gym and Angus had geography to study. Angus junior went to his room and got out his books, he heard Tish arrive and the ladies have a drink before going across to the gym. Angus could imagine them working out together, building up a sweat and chatting as they exercised. He wondered what Tish would be wearing, were her workout clothes as revealing as Maggie’s. She was taller and not as skinny as his stepmother. He could only imagine what she’d look like in the sauna.