The Village Fate

by William Hadley

  After a couple of hours Angus gave up. He’d tried to revise but his mind kept wandering. Instead he went down to the kitchen and got a drink of water. That gave him an idea. He filled a jug with water and ice and put it on a tray with two glasses. He walked across the lawn to the gym and opened the door, it creaked but only slightly. The ladies were not using the weights or the exercise equipment. They must be in the sauna. Angus could feel his hands shaking and hear the ice clinking in the jug as he approached the door.

  The window was steamed up, but he could just about see in. Maggie and Tish were stretched out on the benches, neither had any clothing on. He could hear them talking but their eyes were closed. Tish, who was on the top bench, had her hand hanging loose off the side. Maggie’s feet were towards him and her left leg had dropped over the side of the bench. What had been hidden by a tiny string of material last night was now on full view. Angus couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Then Tish moved and the young man jumped backwards to avoid being seen. He didn’t want to leave the window but he couldn’t be caught like this. He went back to the gym door and opened it. He closed it again but harder this time, and with the intention of making more noise than before.

  “Maggie, Tish, I’ve brought you a drink. Are you in here?” he called.

  He could hear movement in the sauna and returned to the pine door.

  Angus grasped the handle and pulled it open. In front of him Maggie had rearranged the towel she was lying on, it was now wrapped around her chest and just about covered her modesty. Tish however hadn’t bothered, she’d just flipped it over her legs. The personal trainer was on the top bench, she was covered from the waist down but her breasts were right at eye level and daring him to look.

  “I thought you might like a drink” he spluttered - trying, but failing, not to stare at what Tish had on show.

  Angus put down the tray and backed out of the sauna. As he left the gym he could hear the two ladies laughing behind him. His face was red and he was shaking with excitement.

  Later that day, when Tish had left, Angus and Maggie had dinner in front of the television. It was just a pizza, vegetarian of course, and not a word was said about what had happened. There was nothing on the television that Angus wanted to watch so he excused himself and said he would do some more revision before he went to bed. Maggie flipped through the channels and settled on a repeat of When Harry met Sally. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine then brought the bottle back to the lounge.

  In his room Angus wanted to revise, he really did. He tried reading text books and searching online for answers to past exam papers, but he couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t stop thinking about Tish and Maggie in the sauna. In the end he switched off his computer and went to bed.

  The bottle was almost empty, Meg Ryan had faked the orgasm the film would be remembered for and they all lived happily ever after. All except Maggie. Maggie was annoyed. She was annoyed with Tish for spoiling her game with Angus junior. Maggie had known he was at the door of the sauna. She’d heard the outer door creak when it opened and recognised the noise. That’s why she moved her leg, to give him a better view, why she kept her eyes closed and why she whispered for Tish to do the same. She didn’t know what the boy was going to do but she’d loved knowing he was there. Then Tish had pulled that stunt with her towel, and Maggie was upset that Angus had seen her bare breasts up close. Tish was a full cup size bigger than Maggie, in her eyes that meant they must be more attractive.

  And then of course there was the gun, perfect Victoria’s perfect gift. Angus’s first wife would always be perfect. The perfect wife who’d planned the perfect present for her perfect son. She always upstaged Maggie, and now she’d done it again, from beyond the grave she still managed to be perfect. Even though Victoria had been dead for ten years Maggie still felt second best. But Maggie had a plan, Victoria may have given her son a present he’d keep forever, but step aside sweet-cheeks because Maggie’s got what he wants right now. She’d been working him up to this for months and today he was near to boiling point. Since mid-summer she’d seen how he looked at her, seen how he wasn’t a little boy any longer, seen his physique grow in the gym and seen how handsome he’d become. Pretty soon she give him her special present; and that was going to rock his world.

  Maggie put Hamish into the garden for a final pee and then turned off all the lights. She went upstairs and listened at the boy’s door. It was quiet but she could hear his shallow breathing as he slept. She left the hall light on and went to the master bedroom, she stripped naked and got into the shower. It was her third today but she wanted to shave her legs and other areas, before going to bed. She took her time under the powerful jets of steaming hot water, she shaved and moisturised, shampooed and conditioned. She washed with a scented body cream. When she was sure all the soap was gone she got out and wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel.

  In front of the mirror Maggie towel dried her hair till it was only damp but no longer wet. She checked herself one more time, her legs were smooth and her body looked good for her age, her body looked good for any age. Maggie put on lipstick and adjusted the towel, she walked out of the bedroom, crossed the hall and pushed open the door. The light from the hallway spilled across Angus’s face and caused him to stir, he saw the door open and someone walk in. It was Maggie, his stepmother. Was this real or was it just a continuation of the dream he’d been having.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No Angus, nothing’s wrong. Everything’s just fine,” she said taking a few more steps towards him.

  “And now that you’re sixteen,” she said dropping the towel. “it’s absolutely legal too.” She pulled back his duvet and lay down next to him.

  Angus didn’t mind she was still a little damp. He didn’t mind at all. Maggie had to help as he fumbled around in the dark. His first performance was over too soon, no time for her to get much pleasure. Fortunately he was young and ready to go again straight away. She slowed him down and said he should take his time. Be gentle, there’s no rush, he wasn’t racing against the clock. His second attempt was much more satisfying, and after a little nap so was his third.

  In the morning, and thoroughly satisfied by an encore performance, Maggie had helped him change the sheets. While they did it she boasted that her youngest and her oldest lovers so far had both been called Angus Macintosh.

  That was nearly a year ago, and it hadn’t been repeated. There’d been ample opportunity but Maggie preferred teasing him. She even got Tish to join in, and it was obvious she’d told her friend all the details. Tish whispered about it one day while they sat in the kitchen. Her fingernails raked his thigh and she repeated Maggie’s assessment of his performance. Somehow Tish made it seem dirty and sordid, Angus thought it had been beautiful. He knew it was wrong, or at least not usual to sleep with your father’s new wife. But it had been a birthday present he’d never forget.

  Now Maggie was gone, and there was no chance of her gift being repeated this birthday. Still, he’d miss seeing her prance round the pool in her tiny swimsuits. Angus had a new girlfriend, a nice girl the same age as him, and she went to the same school too. He’d been seeing her for a couple of months and things were going well. It had only been one night with Maggie, but Angus would remember her present for the rest of his life.

  He reached down and ruffled Hamish’s ears. “When did you come out and join me?” he asked the little terrier. It was way past their bed time, tomorrow would be busy and A levels were just a few weeks away. “Onwards and upwards Hamish, onwards and upwards,” he said to the dog as they went back to the house.

  On the far side of the garden, beyond the trees and across the fence, the anaerobic tank continued to simmer. Lightly seasoned with diced Maggie it cooked at thirty eight degrees and bubbling gently it gave up its gas.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Day Eighteen. Saturday

  The morning dawned crisp and clear. It was the last Saturday in May
, and for Claudilia that meant just one thing. The Wimplebridge village fete.

  At eight thirty sharp Claudilia was on the green, she was directing the funfair lorries and trucks to their positions. Roundabouts and teacups for the children and a traditional carousel with horses for the grown-ups. This year the funfair had brought along a reverse bungie, thick elasticated ropes attached to a pair of towers were stretched down to a cage with two seats. It was anchored to the base of the ride, when released the unfortunate pair inside were catapulted skyward. Claudilia thought she’d give that one a miss.

  The fete would open at two o’clock, Claudilia couldn’t see how the funfair would be ready. But as soon as the lorry engines were off an army of workers emptied from the cabs and started the construction. It was clear that everyone knew their part and where every part must go. In no time the children’s rides were unfolded, staked down and level. The seats went on next and the roofs completed the build. All around her cables were laid out, long pegs were banged into the ground by big men with huge hammers and equally gigantic muscles. The two largest rides, the carousel and the bungie thing, were almost organic. They grew like a pair of wild plants, up and out they went until the shape was formed and the interior neared completion. Workers from the smaller rides came to help. They weren’t called, they just came. This was a routine they’d perfected over decades of living, working and travelling together.

  By half past eleven the rides were all built and the owner, accompanied by Claudilia, was doing his final inspection. Each ride had a safety test certificate, an electrical test certificate and an insurance certificate. As they went from attraction to attraction Claudilia was given a copy of the documents and she checked the dates were in order. The owner looked at the ground fixings and the general condition of each ride. Once he was satisfied everything was present and correct he went for lunch in his caravan. …how can he call that a caravan, it’s the size of an articulated lorry, there’s even a bath inside. Claudilia went to inspect the other stalls.

  Helen and Emma had been tasked with setting up the cake stall, a job they willingly agreed to do in return for some of the cupcakes. Throughout the morning the ladies, and a few gents of the village, had been delivering cakes to the stall. The trestle table was heaving under all the calories.

  “How much should we price this at Aunt Claudilia,” Helen asked holding up a thin creation, which was possibly a fruit cake, though It looked more like a lumpy biscuit than a cake. Claudilia immediately recognised one of Mrs Warbin’s attempts at baking.

  Mrs Warbin was a lovely lady, but a hopeless cook and especially bad when it came to baking. “Call it one pound and fifty pence, but don’t be surprised if we have to break it up so we can feed it to the ducks later,” said Claudilia. “Have you got anything else interesting yet?” she asked.

  “No, everything else looks edible,” said Emma. “Mum made a gin and tonic layer cake,” she added as she lifted the cover off a most perfect green iced creation. It even had a miniature Gordons bottle on the top and fresh slices of lemon around the sides. It could easily win a prize for the best decorated cake.

  Claudilia, with clipboard in hand continued her tour of inspection. She checked the ferret racing was set up and that they couldn’t escape from their cages. Danny Peach had promised not to bring any that would bite, but she still kept her distance.

  The Bridge Inn had a stall where you could guess the weight of a pig. The pig in question was their guest of honour, he stood in a small fenced pen beside their tent. There was a beer garden umbrella for shade and a sign hung on the fence which read “please do not give beer to the pig”. He was all pink and shiny, obviously groomed to look his best on his big day. Unfortunately, not only was he part of the competition, he also featured in the winner’s prize. The person who guessed closest to his weight would receive a parcel of chops and bacon when the star of the show went to slaughter. Amongst the villagers this was always a popular stall. Each guess came with a complimentary half pint of beer. The guesses were only a pound, and that was less than a half pint at the bar, many of the locals would be back for several guesses throughout the day.

  The band had been up on stage, their sound test was finished and their instruments rested in stands. Claudilia looked at the stage and concluded it was as good as anything built by Gus. He would be missed, but not too much, and certainly not by her.

  Claudilia continued around the green, she examined each stall in turn. There was a stall being run by the brownies, here you could have a go ducking for apples in a big barrel of water, …I wonder which little princess will be the first to fall in. The coconut shy was being run by the cubs and was next on her list. Claudilia carefully inspected each coconut, and as she’d suspected, more than half were glued to their cups. …you can’t trust these little buggers you really can’t. She grabbed a leader and insisted a few more could be knocked off. He promised to do what he could.

  Her last stop was the shooting range. Angus was there and so was his son. Together they’d arranged the targets, the rifles and the ammunition. They’d marked out a safe area where only shooters could enter, as well as some bales for the person at the far end of the range to take cover behind. At the front of the stall a board was in place, the ten best scores would be chalked up during the day. Beside it sat a small desk for Holly to collect the money.

  “It looks very good Angus,” said Claudilia as she took it all in. There was room for two shooters at a time, and half way down the range a line on the grass showed where any younger children could fire from.

  “Thank you,” said Angus. “Angus this is Miss Claudilia Belcher,” he said turning to his son, “She’s the one I was telling you about. The one who’s teaching me not to fall off a horse.”

  Young Angus turned and looked at Claudilia. It was quite warm and he was sweating from moving bales around. “that’s very good of you,” he said, his voice not quite as deep as his father’s. “I hope he’s doing what you tell him too. Dad’s not very good at taking instructions.”

  “Well so far he’s behaving, mostly he looks like a sack of spuds tied in the middle. He’s a work in progress.”

  “That’s not what you called me yesterday, you said I looked like a sack of shit.”

  “And you did,” said Claudilia, “I was just being polite in front of this nice young man.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” laughed Angus junior. “I already know Dad’s useless at most things.”

  “We’ll have a bit less of your lip please young Angus. My talents may not be wholly practical but I haven’t seen you doing any better. Now be a good boy and bugger off. Go down the other end and count targets or something.”

  Angus junior pretended to sulk as he walked down the range. He stopped at the half way point and turned round so he could stick his tongue out at his father. Angus senior saw it, he was supposed to. He grinned back at the young man, he couldn’t remember when he’d enjoyed his son’s company as much as this morning.

  “Aunt,” the voice came from behind Claudilia. “We’re off to the boat house for a picnic.” it was Helen coming across the green with Emma and another girl, one Claudilia didn’t recognise. “We’ve got sandwiches and crisps and something to drink. We’re off to the boathouse to eat them,” said Helen as she got closer. “And we’re taking this young thing with us.”

  Claudilia drew herself up to her full height. In an exaggerated manner she inspected the girl standing in front of her. “And exactly who, or what, is this?” she said in her best Noel Coward voice. She poked the young girl with a bony finger.

  “This,” replied Helen, falling into character but sounding more like Bertie Wooster. “is Miss Holly Macintosh, of Macintosh Manor.”

  Claudilia turned and looked at Angus.

  “Don’t get me involved,” he said. “That’s Holly all right, and they can do what they like with her, so long as she’s back here to take the money at two o’clock.”

  Helen returned to her normal voice. “She
was looking at the cake stall and we asked if she’d like us to put one aside. She said her dad was fat enough already. She said some crazy woman from the village was teaching him to ride a horse so he could lose some weight. She said he needs to lose weight because it wasn’t fair on the horse having to carry him around all day.”

  “I’m not sure I like being called “SOME crazy woman from the village,” Said Claudilia. “I’m THE crazy woman from the village.”

  “Hang on a moment,” said Angus, “I think we’re missing a point here. Did my daughter say I was too fat to be carried by a horse?”

  “Not too fat Daddy, not yet anyway. I just meant you’re getting fat and I don’t like to see animals suffer.”

  With that the three girls scurried off towards the lower bridge, they disappeared along the path towards the boat house.

  Claudilia turned to Angus. “Do you feel your children respect you?” she asked.

  “No. I mean yes. Well sometimes.” He spluttered. “I didn’t agree with boarding school, it was Maggie who insisted on it but I must say one thing. It’s given them a chance to develop their character, character and confidence, and they’ve got a lot of confidence.”

  “I’m going to the cottage to check on Max and Mr Crumble, then I’m going to the pub for lunch,” said Claudilia. “The Belcher’s Arms of course. Catch that son of yours and hide the guns, …otherwise the brownies and cubs will have the best game of cowboys and Indians ever. You can meet me in the bar, I’ll be about ten minutes. You’re buying lunch and I’ll have a pint and a ploughman’s.”