The Village Fate

by William Hadley

  Each time the girls got the ball they would pass it forward to one of the others who was closer to the goal. When Angus got the ball he had to shoot at the goal from where he was, there was always one or two girls between him and the lounger to stop it. The game was a bit one sided and so far the score was thirteen goals to two - Angus was not winning.

  “Have you done any revision,” asked Angus senior in a firm voice, though he was secretly pleased to see them all messing around together.

  “Yes,” they said in unison.

  “Helen is doing History A level, the same as me,” said Angus throwing a wet ball at the goal and missing. “She’s come over so we can test each other.”

  “And how’s that going?” asked Claudilia.

  “It was okay until he called me thick,” said Helen.

  “And then she pushed me in the pool,” said Angus pointing at Emma.

  “That’s fair,” said Claudilia. “But Hellen dear, I hope you jumped in to hold his head under.”

  “Emma did. She was just sticking up for me.”

  “Good for you Emma.” Said Claudilia. “But you must have come prepared, I see you girls aren’t swimming naked.”

  “No,” said Emma. “We borrowed a couple of Maggie’s swim suits. Helen found them for us.” As she climbed out of the pool Angus senior got a good look at the swim suit it was barely covering her at all.

  “Right you lot, out of the pool. It’s four o’clock and we need to leave in an hour. Get yourselves showered, dry and dressed. Make sure you’ve got everything you need. I’ll be far too busy this week to drive back with your teddy bear Holly, or your computer Angus.” Turning to Claudilia he added, “I’ve had to do the three hour trip for both those things this term already.”

  “Emma and Helen if you want a shower there is one in the gym you can use, Holly will show you where to find towels.” And then he added, “best not use the sauna though, not till we’ve had it fixed.”

  Claudilia went into the house and put her ingredients in the kitchen. Angus put the kettle on and got out the Hobnobs he’d included on his shopping list. By the time the young Macintoshes came down, all clean, packed ready to go, Angus and Claudilia were sitting on the patio with the Helen and Emma.

  On the stroke of five, two Anguses, a Holly and a Hamish piled into the Porsche and headed off to school. Claudilia was sorry to see them go. She’d had a lovely weekend with Angus and his children, but it was coming to an end and tomorrow morning she would be needed back in the farm office. Helen kissed her aunt and thanked her for the loan of the cottage the previous night. She and Emma were going back to the Belcher farm where Emma’s mum would pick her up later.

  Claudilia went back to the patio and poured herself more tea. It was only lukewarm but tasted okay, she sat in the late afternoon sunshine and looked across the hedge at a flock of sheep. Her family’s sheep, in her family’s field, on her family’s farm, part of her family’s estate. Maggie could never compete with that, and she’d been foolish to try.

  Claudilia collected the cups and saucers, as well as the tea pot, milk jug and plate, now empty of biscuits. She put them all on a tray and went into the kitchen where she started to cook the evening meal. Max followed her into the house but instead of heading for the kitchen he went into Angus’s study. He’d chosen a new favourite seat and he would sit there and wait for the return of Hamish. Max had decided the little westie was a quite comfortable cushion for a bigger dog’s head.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  The Macintoshes had a good run back to the school. There was little traffic and the Porsche ate up the miles. Normally a ninety minute trip, they arrived in an hour and a quarter. Father and son had travelled in the front seats and chatted about nothing in particular, how the school term had gone so far, what young Angus would do after his exams and how they had enjoyed the weekend. Holly slept in the back. She always fell asleep in the car, normally within minutes of leaving home and she’d wakeup as they pulled off the road and onto the school driveway.

  Angus junior had been quite taken by Helen and Emma, he said how good they had looked in the pool. He knew they were a couple, but still they did look good.

  “Yes,” his father had said, as the Porsche glided along, “they’re beautiful girls but I’m afraid they’re off limits. And anyway, for the next few weeks you don’t need that sort of distraction. The only thing you should be concentrating on is your exams.”

  Slowly they drove past the front of the school, past the chapel and the gymnasium. The double doors at the end of the swimming pool were open and they could see pupils splashing around in the water. Others were knocking balls back and forth on the tennis courts while a few were messing around on their bikes. The school had excellent sporting facilities thought Angus senior. He hoped they put an equal amount of effort into the academic achievement of their pupils. He’d not given it much thought in the past. His children were happy, well-spoken and thriving. Their end of term reports were good and his son had managed a respectable number of GCSEs. How would he do in his A levels? They could only wait and see. Just like Helen and Emma, Angus would be sitting his exams in a few weeks and the results would arrive mid August.

  He stopped the car at the back entrance of the school, the one the pupils were expected to use, and all except Hamish got out. They opened the boot and removed their overnight bags and school cases before a final hug. For Angus that hug was an important moment and he didn’t want to let go too soon. Some parents just dropped off their kids and drove away, leaving them in the care of the school and expecting them to get on with it. But Angus felt he was letting them down every time. He missed the connection with his children, he missed their company and seeing them only at weekends didn’t feel right. And if he were being honest, each time he left them at the school for another week he felt he was letting down Victoria too.

  Half way back to Wimplebridge he stopped for fuel and a coffee. He didn’t like to drive when he was tired and he knew it was a dangerous thing to do. He got his drink at the service station and took it to a small lounge area with tables and chairs.

  On his phone he scrolled through his emails. Mostly they were rubbish but there was the occasional one about work. He’d attend to them the following day. There was also one from DS Robinson, asking if he had heard anything from his wife or her brother. The article in the local paper had brought forward a number of suspected sightings which they were following up. The Detective warned him against getting too excited, not until they have more to go on. She said that at least one of the calls was from a known crank. Most weeks he called and claimed Lord Lucan was living in his garden shed. Another was from a medium, the “mumbo jumbo jockey” as DS Robinson referred to him was willing for a small fee, to talk to his contacts in the spirit world and find out if she had “passed over.” Josie suggested they should give that line of enquiry a miss for now. She signed off with a reminder of her direct line. He replied thanking her for keeping him up to date, agreeing with her about the medium and asking if she would be working on Monday morning. As he closed the program he wondered why he’d asked about her shifts. Probably thinking about the dinner for two he owed her, the one she’d won at the fete.

  Angus remembered the note he had made in the afternoon. There was something about that reel which bothered him, so he opened the app and looked again at the initials and post code. GW and CV34 5UQ. He opened Google maps and located the postcode, Westcliff drive in Warwick. He copied the street name and town into Google and clicked search.

  There was a string of properties for sale on Westcliffe Drive and the surrounding area and they all came up linked to Rightmove, but halfway down the page an article from the online edition of the Warwick gazette caught his eye. “Fisherman drowns in local river.” The article went on to name Garry Woods, GW, resident of Westcliff Drive where he lived with his parents. “He was an expert angler” they had told the reporter, and he never took risks. They were still in shock and found it hard to believe h
e could have slipped and drowned.

  Angus questioned it too. Was this another death Claudilia was involved with? “She’s a dangerous person to know,” he said to no one in particular. But how was the fisherman connected to her? The article gave little detail about where he’d been fishing, only that he was pulled out of the Avon. It was possible that she’d bought the reel on Ebay, but that was one hell of a coincidence.

  These questions tumbled around in his mind while Angus drove the final few miles to Wimplebridge. Was it possible that Tony the bee man and Garry the angler had both died in accidents? Accidents that just happened to occur in the general vicinity of Claudilia or adjacent to Belcher owned land. How could she arranged for a tractor to come from the opposite direction, at exactly the same time as Tony was driving along with a car full of bees? The paper had said that Garry worked in Warwick, he drove a forklift truck in a warehouse, how could he have come into contact with her, or did Claudilia kill the angler in a totally random act of violence? If so, that would make her some sort of psychopath wouldn’t it.

  There was no question that Claudilia had been responsible for the death of Maggie, and Angus was strangely okay with that. Maybe it felt more real because he’d seen it on the cameras. Or maybe he felt she deserved it for the way she’d treated him. Either way he had to admit his life was so much better without her around. Before he knew it he was at the Manor. The miles slipped by effortlessly beneath his ridiculously expensive car. He parked in front of the garage and let Hamish out. The dog ran around the side of the house and soon he heard he familiar bang bang of the pet flap in the back door. Angus let himself in through the front and was enveloped by the smell of home cooked steak and kidney. He was also greeted by Hamish, the little dog bounced up and down as if he hadn’t seen him all day. Any reservations he’d had about Claudilia disappeared as she came out of the kitchen and placed a glass in his outstretched hand.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  “Dinner won’t be ready for about twenty minutes. If you want to change you can take your drink up with you, or stay down here and chat to me while I put on the veg.”

  “How did you know when I’d be here?” said Angus. He looked down with astonishment at the crystal glass he was holding. It was two thirds full of what he assumed was gin and tonic. There were two ice cubes and a slice of lemon floating on top. The tonic was still bubbling and the outside of the glass was damp with condensation. Clearly it had just been poured.

  “Well I could say it was woman’s intuition,” said Claudilia. “Or I could tell the truth. You passed Emma and her mum as you turned off the Warwick road. She said at the speed you were going you’d be here in about three minutes, here or dead in a ditch.”

  “Is it possible to keep anything secret around here?” smiled Angus. “Will the whole village know we went rowing and that you’re cooking me dinner?”

  “Not at all. Emma won’t tell and she only knew because she saw the bits I brought from the cottage.”

  Angus sipped his drink. It was perfect, just how he liked it, one part gin and two parts tonic. Claudilia had got it right first time. Maggie could never mix a proper G&T.

  Dinner was served in the dining room at eight thirty sharp. Claudilia had found a table cloth and some nice crockery. She’d opened a bottle of Reoja and let it breathe. She served the steak and kidney with cabbage, carrots and new potatoes but there was no pudding. “Neither of us really need it,” explained Claudilia. After clearing the plates into the dishwasher she accidently dropped two small pieces of pastry on the floor, one in front of Max and one in front of Hamish. The humans took their coffee into the lounge.

  Claudilia sat in an overstuffed chair. It had a high back and big arms. It was quite comfortable and she tucked her legs underneath herself. Angus took the settee where he collapsed onto one end and kicked off his shoes. He would have stretched out along the three seater but Max and Hamish had claimed the other end.

  The two friends talked. They talked about the village and what it was like growing up there. Angus asked if Claudilia’s father had been involved in the war.

  “Not really” came the reply. “he was a bit young and farming was a reserved occupation, you couldn’t enlist if you worked in agriculture. The same went for dockworkers and miners.”

  “Got many dock workers and miners in the family have you?”

  “No. You?”

  “No. My father was too young to join up. Born in nineteen thirty-one. It was all over by the time he could enlist so he became a solicitor instead. But my grandfather was a doctor in the Navy during the first world war. He went to the Dardanelles and got a medal for something, he never talked about it. I became a banker. So in three generations we covered the great professions of Edinburgh, Lawyer, Doctor and Banker.” Said Angus. “Both Mum and Dad are still alive. Dad’s been retired for years and I worry about him now. He’s becoming forgetful and Mum’s having to do a lot more.”

  Claudilia was silent for a moment, then said. “My parents died about ten years ago. Mum went first, a cancer got her, and Dad died about a year later. He just gave up, it was as if he’d nothing to live for. A bit selfish really because Hubert’s children really loved him.”

  They sat in silence for a long minute, both thinking about their parents. One mourning their loss, the other wondering what the future held.

  “Enough of that,” said Claudilia clapping her hands to raise the mood. “I’ll be riding tomorrow afternoon. I’m in the office in the morning and at the yard around two. I want to look at the sheep, we should be able to send some to market soon, and the spring barley needs inspecting for leaf spot. You’re coming aren’t you?”

  “I’m not sure, I have to go to Stratford,” said Angus, not mentioning the reason for his visit was to drop a certain USB drive to his solicitor, or maybe see DS Robinson. “But I should be back by one. If there’s nothing pressing in the office I’ll join you.”

  “Okay, it’s no big deal, I’ll just explain to Rosie how you don’t love her anymore.” Claudilia chided him. “I’ll tell her how you’d rather sit and look at boring old spreadsheets instead.”

  “Okay, Okay, I’ll come. I’m going to Stratford and then I’m coming riding, I’ll be at the yard by two.” He agreed. “Emotional blackmail, that’s what you’re doing. I couldn’t let you break a poor mare’s heart.”

  “Fine,” said Claudilia, “We’d better be off. Come on Max you lazy sod, back to Bindweed Cottage.” The dog looked up at her with disgust. He was comfortable, it had started to rain and it was dark outside. She tried again, “come on boy, time to go.” Still no movement.

  “I think he’s settled for the night,” said Angus giving Hamish a prod with his toe. There was no movement from him either.

  Angus got up and collected their cups and glasses. “I’m going to have a nightcap before I go to bed. You can peddle off into the dark and the rain if you must, or you can join me in a scotch and use the spare room again. It’s still made up.”

  Claudilia thought about Mr Crumble and his flatulence, she looked out of the window at the rain, she looked at the dogs curled up together warm and comfortable. “I’d like ice with mine please” was all she said.

  They drank in the kitchen, sitting at the table and still talking. Their conversation had moved to interior design. Angus wanted to redecorate some of the rooms, or at least change the pictures on the walls. There were several pieces of modern art which Maggie had insisted were by up and coming artists. Angus had done a Google search and discovered they had one by a chap who’d become quite collectable. So long as he died before he create too many more it might be worth something in a few years. ...I could help with that.

  At twenty past eleven the dogs went out for a final sniff around the garden, they came back wet. They were confined to the kitchen where Hamish had a basket and Angus found an old duvet for Max to sleep on. They turned out the lights and went up to bed. Angus didn’t need to help Claudilia undress this time, he just kissed her at the
door to the spare room and said goodnight.

  “Aren’t you going to tuck me in?” she asked.

  “You’re not squiffy tonight, you can manage on your own.”

  “Fair enough,” she said. “Goodnight.” And disappeared into the spare room.

  Once again Claudilia stripped down to her pants. She had a quick wash and then slipped into bed. She found a copy of Country Life on the bedside table, obviously put there by Maggie, …Mrs Muck, come on you should know by now, to impress their guests and she flicked through it looking for anything interesting. There were one or two articles about horses and she read them before investigating the ridiculous adverts in the back pages. Mostly they were for things nobody needs at prices no one would pay.

  At twelve thirty the house was quiet. Claudilia was awake but her light was off. The only noise was the gentle snoring coming from across the hall. In the dark she smiled, the last time she’d heard that snore was in the tack room and that seemed like a long time ago. It was a nice snore she decided, almost rhythmic.

  Angus was vaguely aware of his bedroom door being opened, he opened one groggy eye and saw a figure at the end of his bed.

  “Is something wrong?” he said, realising that it was Claudilia in his bedroom.

  “No. Not really,” she answered, lifting the duvet and sliding in next to him. “I couldn’t sleep, and I could hear you snoring from across the hall.”