The Chalfont Clinic, Woodbury
Chapter Three
‘Aye, just about. Wants t’see me again t’morrer’ George mumbles.
‘Same time? That’s not a problem’ He helps him on with his coat.
‘Nah, you got work t’be doing. I can get meself here don’t you worry none’
‘And I’m putting central heating in for someone down your road. It doesn’t need the two of us there all the time, so an hour or so is neither here nor there as long as you don’t mind coming in the van.’
‘You might ave t’throw me in. Dang thing’s about six foot off the ground!’
Kester grins ‘I’ll get you in. So..’ he says as they step out into the street again ‘it wasn’t as bad as you thought?’
‘No…it weren't......'
‘You sound a bit unsure’ he looks at him closely ‘It will hurt a bit and it will probably feel worse before it starts to get better. Just the way of it, unfortunately’ He walks slowly towards where the car is parked at the kerb, mindful that George is still hobbling.
‘ Yer could a damn well told me! She were bending me legs every which way'
'You knew that would be what she was likely to do' Kester says as he unlocks the passenger door and helps him into the seat
‘Ain’t that’ George mumbles
'What then?'
‘Yer should a said not t’wear pants wi’fly’oles in!’
‘Oh…yes…er..hello’ Edna Smith turns her head to smile as Helen Marchant passes. ‘Well, blow me down!’ she raises her eyebrows at Charlie ‘Wonder what brought that on?’
‘Special offer’ Charlie says seriously ‘Free smile with every five books yer borrows. She keeps a record on that there computer of ‘ers’
‘Oooh, you!’ Edna slaps his arm and turns to look behind her again ‘She’s quite pretty with a smile on her face int she?’
‘She were a bit of alright afore….never noticed her face’ he makes to follow.
Edna slaps him again. ‘Go on with yer. You wouldn’t know what to do if you caught her.
‘But I could ‘ave a lot of fun tryin to remember’ Charlie wheezes.
‘That’s going t’cost you a cream cake!’ Edna scolds, pushing open the door to The Old Mill Café
Park Road, Milliwick
Tawny House, Manor Road
‘You know how it is, mother, always a very busy time around Christmas.’ Ruth James gives a little sniff as she looks around the sitting room.
‘I understand perfectly’ Harriet replies, resigning the wrapped gift she has been given to the table beside her with no more than a cursory glance.
‘Just a flying visit today too, I’m afraid.’
‘Don’t be afraid, dear’ Harriet sips from her glass of sherry and blinks slowly ‘If I had known you were coming, I would have changed my arrangements for this evening, so it’s just as well you won’t be stopping long’
‘You are going out?’ Her eyes widen.
‘I do occasionally forsake these four walls and venture into the big wide world, you know.’
‘ Oh, some dreadful little village do is it?’ Ruth says with unwarranted sympathy ‘I suppose as the honoured guest you have to go’
A tightening of Harriet’s jaw betrays her annoyance. ‘It isn’t as it happens but, believe me; Ruth dear, when the village put on a ‘do’ it is neither small nor dreadful. We have a whale of a time as a rule and I can hokey-cokey with the best of them. And do you really imagine I sit at some top table like a lady of the manor being entertained by the serfs?’
‘But you are my mother-in-law, Christopher’s mother!’ Ruth interjects in astonishment ‘Even here there can be no one that wouldn’t recognise us and know your connection.’
‘I have never had star status of my own, of course.’ Harriet replies in a voice heavy with sarcasm.
‘Well, of course you did…once…until you buried yourself here.’ Ruth snaps irritably, flicking her hair back from her shoulder.
‘Not yet buried but I expect someone will quite soon.’
‘Here? But surely…the family vault.’
‘I shall be buried here, with my Edward’
‘Mother, really! It’s such a trek from London.’
Harriet takes a long deep breath. ‘There will be no need for you to attend’ she says, rising from her chair and crossing to the sideboard to set her glass on the silver tray next to the decanter ‘I shall be just as happy knowing that those who do care will be here.’
‘It’s not that we don’t care! Whatever gave you that idea? Christopher and I have been talking and we are almost certain that there would be enough interest for a memorial service. Perhaps not Westminster Abbey but maybe St. Paul’s Church in Covent Garden….’
‘How nice’ Harriet bristles. ‘Do that and I will haunt you from the grave. A simple ceremony here will be quite sufficient. There will be no photographs’ she adds
‘No photographs?’
‘None whatsoever and television cameras will not be welcome either’
‘I should imagine that would be almost impossible to implement in practice’ Ruth brushes Harriet’s comment away with the flick of one hand and a supercilious smile. ‘The media are a law unto themselves they?’
‘Since you won’t be attending, I doubt very much if that will be of concern. No one here will be informing them of the service.’
‘What are you implying, mother dear?’
‘I am implying nothing but the idea that I have to die in order for you to try to revive your flagging career..’
‘My flagging career?’ Ruth squeaks in disbelief.
‘Your flagging career’ Harriet repeats disdainfully, looking down to where Ruth sits open-mouthed at her audacity ‘…. and that of my son, who I note hasn’t felt the need to make the time for even the most brief of flying visits….’
‘He is very busy….and so are the children.’
‘Ah yes, the children’ Harriet resumes her seat and smoothes her skirt over her knees. ‘Did you manage to potty train successfully? It’s such a long time since I’ve seen them, I’ve rather lost track’
‘There’s no need to be sarcastic, mother.’
‘Sarcastic?’
‘Yes. You know how difficult it is and as I have said, this is the back of beyond and they are often on a very demanding schedule.’
‘And there is simply no time’ Harriet says with feigned consideration.
Ruth smiles patronisingly ‘You do understand.’
‘Kester works extremely hard’
‘I’m sure he does’ she replies offhandedly.
‘Long hours sometimes’
‘Really? I expect he has to make ends meet somehow but he was so intent on doing manual work, he can hardly complain now, can he?’
‘Did I say he complained?’ Harriet eyes her daughter-in-law with contempt ‘He is wonderfully happy in what he does and as for making ends meet, I rather wish I had his income!’ She watches with delight as her disclosure brings a flush of resentment to Ruth’s cheeks. ‘I was about to mention that he took me to see some dear friends in Paris for ‘le weekend’ at the end of the summer. I could have flown, of course I could, but I was fascinated by the idea of the Eurotunnel and before I knew it, he was insisting on driving me there’
‘I am sure your friends were thrilled to have another house guest’ Ruth comments with shrewish disdain.
‘Oh, he didn’t stay’ Harriet adds nonchalantly ‘up to his eyes in work at the time. Just long enough to take a hurried café before bidding them au revoir and starting on his way home again. He collected me on the Monday.’
‘Yes…well…commitments are commitments’ Ruth flushes angrily, seeing the reason for the anecdote. ‘That sort of work can be rearranged to suit.’
‘That sort of work?’
‘Manual work. I doubt very much if there would be quite the impact on other people if he didn’t make curtain up’
‘No, of course not, what’s another couple of hours when you have a burst pipe?’ Harriet arches her eyebrows. She peers out of the window ‘He should be home quite soon, I would think’ she says, checking her watch ‘Unless he’s been called out on an emergency, although I believe one of the other chaps is taking calls first today. One of the men that work for him’ she emphasises. ‘Quite a going concern now, he’s done wonderfully well in such a short space of time. Did I tell you he intends getting new premises? Something with a little more prestige, I feel…..to offset against tax…forty per cent is horrendously swingeing isn’t it?’
‘Yes’ Ruth’s mouth purses ‘I’m sure it is’ She stands to button her coat. ‘I really can’t stay any longer. Do give Kester my regards’
‘Your regards?’ Harriet fumes ‘give your son your regards? You can’t spare him a few minutes of your time?’
‘No, I’m afraid I can’t. Busy, busy…you know how it is’
‘Oh, I know exactly how it is. I’ll tell him you called shall I?’
‘Yes, do that. Goodbye, mother, have a wonderful Christmas’
‘I’m sure I shall’ Harriet says, her disapproval clear in her refusal to get up to see Ruth out. ‘Goodbye’
