Time to take a chance, p.12
Time to Take a Chance, page 12
‘Oh I doubt that,’ said Tim calmly. ‘I hope you’re insured, only the police are over there looking at the cow you just killed.’
The next day, peace was restored, at least temporarily. ‘Road closed – local traffic only’ signs were placed at either end of the lane. The only pity was it took a dead cow to do it. Two police arrived on Lizzie’s doorstep, a middle-aged village bobby and a younger one with twinkling eyes who looked slightly more on the ball and she told them everything she’d seen.
‘Was there, um, any particular reason why the animals were being moved around so often?’ he asked. ‘Only, it seems there have been a number of complaints, though I have to say, not from anyone who lives here, about cattle and sheep on the road…’
He looked at Lizzie most quizzically while the older one fiddled with his notebook.
‘Oh well, it’s the grass you see. There’s not very much about. If they don’t keep moving the animals, they escape and that’s even worse.’
The policemen just looked at her. The other one scratched his head.
‘You see it’s odd,’ the younger one said, sounding puzzled. ‘Everyone we speak to says the same. Only, what I don’t get is it looks like there’s plenty of grass to me.’
And it was clearly not Lizzie’s lucky day, because shortly after their departure, there was another knock at her door.
‘Harriet,’ she told her deadly seriously. ‘Armitage-Brown,’ she added in the same flat monotone. ‘Now I’ve been meaning to come round for ages, only I’m just so busy. I’m having a coffee morning. For charity. All the ladies in the village are coming. You’ll want to bring a cake. Don’t make a coffee one, they never sell and you better not put butter icing on it because I think people watch their cholesterol levels. I do, since I’ve been ill, my doctor says…’
Harriet rambled on and on delivering her tedious monologue until Lizzie’s eyes were glazing over. She was one of those people that didn’t stop to draw breath, and every time Lizzie tried to say something, she got louder. Having given up trying, Lizzie waited. And then Darren appeared. Sitting directly in front of Harriet, he started to cough, but in full swing by now, she ignored him. Darren, not used to being snubbed, gave Lizzie one of his winks, then proceeded to vomit up bits of mouse all over Harriet’s boots.
There was silence – but not for long, as Harriet stood saying ‘Oh, oh dear…’ over and over as she stared unhappily at her boots.
Lizzie quickly hosed them clean, but it was too much even for Harriet.
‘Oh, well I better let you get on, it looks as though you have rather a lot to do…’ she said, beating a hasty retreat down the path.
Lizzie bent down. ‘You really are a superstar,’ she said to her cat who was looking smug. As she stroked her hand along his back, which he arched with appreciation, Lizzie realised Harriet hadn’t even asked her name. Rubbing himself possessively around her legs, Darren was purring like a motorbike.
‘Has Harriet been to see you?’ Lizzie asked Antonia that evening.
‘Ghastly old trout turned up this morning,’ said Antonia conversationally. ‘I opened the door and there she was. Jolly bad timing really, didn’t have a chance to escape so I told her one of the dogs had crapped in the kitchen. Seemed to do the trick. Did say she’d call some other time though…’ Antonia looked far from happy at the thought. ‘Nightmare.’
‘Darren threw up on her boots, but not before I’d been roped in to her next coffee morning. Couldn’t you come with me? Please? You can make cakes, can’t you? It’s next Friday…’
‘Phew,’ said Antonia with relief. ‘Farrier’s coming. Love to, darling, but I can’t.’
As luck would have it they bumped into Darius and Angel at the Goat.
‘Boys, I need your help,’ Lizzie begged them. ‘Only I’ve just been signed up for the most tedious of all tedious coffee mornings,’ she wailed.
They looked at each other.
‘Oh dear no, not one of Harriet’s, sweetie?’ asked Angel, looking dismayed.
‘You know her?’
‘Oh, darling, we all know Happy Harry, don’t we?’ said Darius with delight. ‘Rather well as it happens. Don’t worry, she lightens up when she’s had a few. We had her round for cocktails. Only the once mind.’ They looked at each other and giggled. ‘Doesn’t know when to stop! She got absolutely blottoed, darlings…’ whispered Darius. ‘Had to send her home in a taxi.’
‘Oh how fab,’ said Antonia with glee. ‘I absolutely must remember to put tons of sherry in my next cake.’
‘Er, well, going back to this coffee morning,’ said Lizzie. ‘It’s a charity thing… I have to take a cake.’ She glanced apologetically at Darius. ‘I don’t suppose…’
‘Oh, of course, flower – ooh, chocolate rum cake, or amaretti cheesecake? Or tipsy walnut cake? We might as well have some fun,’ he added wickedly. ‘Why don’t I come with you, pet? There’s safety in numbers after all. We should suggest she gives her donation to Hethecote Farm… And I’ll bring a little hip flask just in case,’ he added confidingly. ‘If all else fails, we can sneak it into her coffee when she’s not looking. That’ll get things going.’ He winked.
The horse show was looming and Antonia was tearing her hair out, writing long lists which she kept losing.
‘Portaloos,’ she said to Lizzie. ‘Ropes, stakes and a beer tent. Rosettes. Golly! I mustn’t forget to collect those…’
But offers of help were coming in from all over the place. Darius and Angel had volunteered as stewards and Tilly as a car park marshal, roping in the Star’s bolshy barman to help her.
It had to be said, the horse show was a success. Everyone had gathered at the crack of dawn, huddled in jackets against the chilly autumn air. But another fine day had been promised and the mist soon lifted, as they waited for the competitors to turn up. In spite of appearances to the contrary, Antonia had everything under control. Darius and Angel made efficient, if comical, stewards.
‘Now, darlings, if you’ll all just listen… This is the running order. Lucy? Are you here? Oh, it’s you, is it, sweetie – divine jacket darling, quite stunning… then it’s India – is your pony all right, petal, only he looks awfully hot and bothered, poor lamb…’
And so it went on. Tilly did a sterling job in the car park until everyone started ignoring her directions when she gave up, retiring to the beer tent. Lizzie found her there later when it was over.
The judging of the prettiest mare went without a hitch – or so Lizzie thought, until later she was accosted by two mothers.
‘It really is most unfair,’ said the first, waving a finger at Lizzie. ‘My daughter hasn’t won a thing today.’
‘I agree,’ said the second. ‘And everyone knows the prize-winner had mane extensions just last week. She cheated! I demand you eliminate her!’
‘Disgraceful,’ agreed the first. ‘I’m going to object.’
But Lizzie had slipped away and hidden.
The highlight had been watching Cassie win the open jumping. After the countless horses and riders that had struggled round the course, it was pure magic to see her take each enormous fence in her stride, the beautiful white Scout clearing them effortlessly. She was in a league of her own. And no one could possibly complain, thought Lizzie. You couldn’t cheat at showjumping.
‘Bravo!’ called out a voice from behind her.
‘Yeah, but that’s the show organiser’s daughter. Bet she was round here yesterday practising…’ muttered another.
14
Later that week at Antonia’s, tucking into her own personal version of pasta Bolognese which Lizzie tried to forget was basically roadkill rabbit with a hefty slosh of red wine, it was Cassie who told her about Bonfire Night.
‘Oh Lord,’ said Antonia hastily. ‘Completely forgot to tell you. You have to go. It’s the social event of the year. Bit of a wheeze, actually. Old Woodleigh usually barbecues a few of his sheep. There’s oodles of home-made cider from good old Pete, and a dodgy band or two, but by then everyone’s too plastered to notice how awful they are – or how cold it is,’ she added as an afterthought.
Cassie raised her eyebrows at her mother. ‘Actually, the band this year is cool. Some friends of mine are in it.’ She screwed up her face as she thought. ‘Kind of like Joan Jett or early Avril Lavigne… they happen to be really good.’
‘Cassie particularly likes the drummer, don’t you?’ said Antonia slyly.
‘Don’t be so horrible, Mummy,’ said Cassie furiously, turning pink. ‘Anyway, you’re far too old to understand…’ she retaliated, before stomping off.
So Cassie had a boyfriend at long last…
‘God. Don’t know what she sees in him. Typical youth with acne and an aversion to eye contact. Can only manage monosyllabic words such as “like”, “well” or “um”. Or maybe “dunno” on a good day. Still, I suppose it’s better than the wrinkly rockers we usually have to put up with…’
Winter arrived overnight that year, breathing an icy blast which brought the mild autumn to an abrupt end. Lizzie awoke to find the world transformed by a glistening coat of frost. It was beautiful in an icy, other-worldly kind of way. The trees took on an ethereal air, every twig looking as if it had been dipped in icing sugar. But in her cottage, in the absence of central heating, the temperature barely ventured above freezing, and Lizzie stood in her kitchen huddled in layers of sweaters, watching her breath form clouds as the kettle took longer than ever to boil. Then suddenly remembering and not waiting for the kettle, she pulled on some more clothes, scraped the ice off her car and headed up to Hethecote Farm, terrified that the frost would have wrecked the schools’ gardens.
Miriam helped her drape fleece over each of them, then they went inside to the kitchen in the big house, which was almost as cold as Lizzie’s, and huddled next to her Aga drinking tea.
‘I can’t be too long,’ said Miriam, looking more pale and drawn than Lizzie had ever seen her. ‘All the animals will be hungry. The ponies will be all right – they’re inside – but it’s everything else I’m worried about. Oh heavens, I hope it’s not going to be a hard winter. I’m worried I’ll run out of hay…’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Lizzie firmly. ‘I can stay and help you for an hour or so. Don’t forget, there’s still donations coming in from the newspaper article… And didn’t Mr Woodleigh offer you a deal on your hay…’
It was true. There was more money coming into Hethecote than there had been in ages, but poor old Miriam was so used to being worried, she was struggling to kick the habit.
Carrying armfuls of hay to all the animals had soon warmed Lizzie up, but when she got back to her cottage, she was only able to get warm under layers of blankets. She was rather worried about Miriam. She’d caught her sitting on a bale of hay with Navajo. Though she looked terrible, she’d got up and tried to put a bright face on as soon as she’d seen her.
Lizzie hadn’t minded the cold initially, but the novelty was fast wearing off. And though she could light a log fire, and keep a good blaze going in a fireplace, up to now the ancient Rayburn in the kitchen had defeated her. Dimly trying to recall Bert’s instructions about how to light it, to her horror all she succeeded in doing was filling the place with smoke. She’d have asked him to help her, but she knew that he and Molly had gone away.
By now desperate, and after leaving at least a dozen messages, she had eventually got hold of Pete, crossing all her fingers that he wouldn’t start having one of his elusive phases. But eventually he turned up, and Lizzie watched through a small hole she’d scraped in the ice on the kitchen window as the battered van parked in the lane, and the stooped, balding figure made his way slowly and dejectedly up the path. He looked more like a funeral director than a handyman.
Having lingered over the mug of coffee Lizzie offered him, Pete reluctantly got down to business. ‘Better ’ave a look-see then.’
Spreading a dust sheet in front of the Rayburn, after much sighing, fiddling and muttering about bloomin’ grate’s being buggered and new riddlin’ arms, Lizzie’s heart sank to the bottom of her furry boots as all thoughts of heat being restored faded. Pete got creakily to his feet and wiped his sooty hands on his trousers, then scratching his belly, revealed too much flabby white flesh and the top of his maroon Y-fronts.
‘I’ll have a word with that young Toby. Tell him see, how you needs this going swiftly-like, on account of it being that chilly…’ He looked at her, frowning, seeming suddenly to notice her strange attire of several sets of clothes layered on top of each other, all topped off with a woolly hat.
‘Mebbe you needs to get one o’ them fan ’eaters or sommat…’ He nodded at Lizzie. ‘I’ll let you know when your parts are ’ere.’
Meanwhile, Lizzie spent as much time as possible with Antonia, who didn’t believe in roughing it and whose oil-fired Aga was turned right up, meaning her cottage was toasty warm. One evening, however, when Lizzie got there, she was looking distinctly unhorsy and was even wearing make-up. Lizzie was just about to ask why when there was a loud knock at the door.
‘Now act casually, darling,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t want him getting suspicious.’
It was the long awaited date with Toby, who looked delighted when Antonia greeted him with a kiss on both his cheeks. Lizzie was more than happy to settle for a ‘Hello, old girl’ from the far side of Antonia’s kitchen table, as if she was one of her smelly old dogs.
‘Um, this is jolly nice,’ said Toby enthusiastically, looking around at Antonia’s hastily tidied kitchen, where only one bridle was spread across the table instead of the usual half a dozen, and the boots were all standing neatly in pairs instead of kicked off and left where they fell. ‘I say, jolly nice indeed.’
‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ Antonia had schmoozed back with a glass which she handed to him to hold, while she carefully topped it up.
‘Lizzie?’
‘Just a tiny bit,’ she said, not wanting to stand in the way of true love. Usually Antonia would fill her glass up to the top no matter how she protested, but tonight she got about half an inch.
‘There you are, darling. I know you’re busy this evening, so I won’t give you too much.’ She caught Lizzie’s eye and winked.
Bonfire Night arrived, another cold, clear evening with the temperature already plummeting and Lizzie walked with Antonia down the lane to the appointed field. Already, there was what she guessed was a soundcheck going on, as guitar strings twanged and Cassie’s friend drummed. Lizzie was dying to hear what happened with Toby.
‘Golly, darling, he was frightfully keen once he got started,’ said Antonia candidly. ‘There’s a lot to be said for a younger man. Far more energetic than the old husband ever was. Jolly keen to learn, too… Must see if he’s on for an action replay…’
Lizzie tried to banish the disturbing images from her head, but fortunately they ran into Cassie, her arm through that of a nice-looking boy, taller than she was, with long dark hair.
‘Mother.’ She glared at Antonia. ‘This is Liam. And this is Lizzie,’ she told him in a completely different tone of voice as she turned to smile at Lizzie.
‘The drummer,’ said Antonia disapprovingly.
‘We’re really looking forward to hearing you play,’ Lizzie said to him, to make amends for Antonia’s rudeness. ‘Cassie says your band is really good.’ She winked at Cassie, who shot her a look of gratitude.
‘Cool,’ the drummer managed, as he was dragged away by Cassie before her mother could embarrass her.
‘You do realise he could have been so much worse, don’t you?’ Lizzie told her sternly. ‘Like with a drug habit, a criminal record and so many piercings in his head that he looks tortured?’
‘All I keep thinking is it won’t be long before my daughter has a better sex life than I have,’ replied Antonia glumly.
The bonfire was spectacular – the biggest Lizzie had seen, sending sparks soaring into the sky, and belting out so much heat that everyone backed away. The fireworks that followed were no less impressive, though she did wonder what all the sheep in the surrounding fields would make of it.
Pleasantly warmed by a plastic cup or two of Pete’s home-brewed cider, they’d managed to bump into Toby, and it was looking increasingly likely that Antonia would get her action replay. Lizzie had only just stepped back and left them to it, when a familiar figure bounced up beside her.
‘Lizzie! How brilliant to see you again!’
It was Susie, who she hadn’t seen since the Lizzie party.
‘What are you doing here?’ Lizzie asked delightedly. ‘It’s really good to see you!’
‘Oh no, is that what it looks like?’ she giggled nodding towards Antonia head to head with Toby. Lizzie sighed.
‘Afraid so. New romance. He’s smitten by the looks of things, poor Toby.’
‘Oh he’ll cope,’ said Susie airily. ‘Men love an older woman. Actually, I did want to introduce you to my big brother only he seems to have gone AWOL. Oh well, another time. He’s wandering around nursing a broken heart that his bitch ex-girlfriend inflicted. It’s been ages now, but he seems to have sworn off girls completely. Awful waste… he’s quite handsome and he’s very nice, for a brother…’
Lizzie loathed set-ups. Susie raised a speculative eyebrow at her, but fortunately she was saved from answering by the appearance of Tilly, looking somewhat the worse for wear, propped up by Darius and Angel on either side of her.
‘Oh darlings! How divine!’ said Angel delightedly when he saw them. Then more quietly, ‘Thank goodness! Shall I get us all some cider? Except maybe not for this one,’ he added in a whisper, looking anxiously at Tilly.
‘Oh but please, Angelical, just a teeny one,’ she pleaded, as Darius grabbed her to keep her upright. Then she spotted Susie.
‘Oh Susie! I think I’m in love with your brother…’ she slurred, before her legs completely gave way.
