We walked across the tea-parlour lawn towards her car but didn’t get there. A bench by the duck pond seduced us.
Once sat down, I reminded her of Charley’s salvo with which he sunk the tour guide and saved my embarrassment - dative case, thrice denial and all that.
'How could he do that? Even if he’d been practising put-downs, it was an amazing achievement for a kid with Charley’s educational background.'
'He does a lot for Sidonie, doesn’t he?'
'You’ve lost me.'
'I think he is totally smitten with you,' she explained, 'and knows the only way to keep you is to close the educational gap. I think your friend Sidonie is match-making by giving him tips in return for him helping her so much with the children. I bet you she is in on this one.'
I felt myself go as red as a beetroot. Vera noticed.
'Why does my suggestion embarrass you?'
'I’m shocked that anyone would go to that much trouble to get me - half the parish has dawke
I walked up to the House pumping adrenaline, feeling as though the world were my oyster. OK, my dad was always going to be the easiest to convince, but I convinced him. Supposing he’d told me to get a life - he wasn’t having Giles Ferguson around his business. Then I would have been at rock bottom. You can only beat the opposition given to you so I was pleased with the first success. Of course, in my youthful folly, I assumed everyone would see the beauty of the idea and just roll over and wait for me to tickle their tummies. I met Vera, who looked as though she had the cares of the world on her shoulders. 'Bad night, Vera?' 'Giles has caught up with me. He’s in the office now. I refused to speak to him until you arrived.' My hubris was short lived. I thought fate would leave me a day to bask in my first victory. Not so! And why did Vera trust me to deal with the local worthies? 'Let’s get this over with,' I replied. I
Day 20.Saturday.I woke this morning with a whirlwind of thoughts crashing through my brain, ripping trees out as it progressed. But I haven’t any trees in my brain. I use trees metaphorically. But what were the trees representing? Then I woke and realised that the trees were part of my dream. In which case ‘trees in the brain’ are allowed.There was another gust of wind and a branch from an unruly climbing hydrangea scraped the window pane. That’s why I have trees on the brain. The dream receded and hid itself in the deep, clandestine, dark and unplumbed folds of my brain. I tried my foot. It was still there, so I am still here. Much better.Had I been thinking wooden trees, or rather, trees in a wood? There are Linnaeus trees to map and identify species, or trees to locate a file in a folder on my computer? Who knows? It was gone, leaving me in that deep nonsense Freud
Day 21.Sunday.I got up at four, was home shortly afterwards, did my share of harvesting, had a shower at eleven thirty and left for church the moment the bells began to ring the end of the service. Breakfast was fried and wafted its scents across the raspberry patch. That had been sometime around eight o’ clock, but I kept picking. Consequently, starvation and weakness were setting in as Giles and Vera waved to me from the seat by the wall - the one upon which I’d received my one and only slapped face. Giles had a big grin on his face, which got bigger as he saw me approach.'There’s a woman with a bad conscience, Vera,' he announced.'How did you work that one out?' I growled.'I dropped in, to give you a lift to church and your Dad said he didn’t know where you were as you were keeping out of everyone’s way. He pointed at a pile of fruit already p
I could go on. The takeover of Manchester United, the demise of Rover Cars, the floods in East Yorkshire, caused by underinvestment in infrastructure, the banking crash of course! The system is broken!'She yelled the last sentence. She was becoming emotional. Wow! It sounded like a speech at the TUC conference. But where did I fit in this heroic rhetoric? Giles helped us out.'I explained your social enterprise idea to Fennella. I’ll be honest. I was still in a sulk. She said I was to get on board and support the project. That’s where we are now. The world needs a new capitalist model.'I sniggered and then expressed my incredulity.'And you think Lower Butts is the place to start the next phase of global capitalism?''Don’t be cynical, Millie. Many world-changing events, in politics, art, music, literature and architecture, have started in a tiny smoke-filled workshop. The only thing that has really changed - we’ve s
She drew breath and assumed I had something to say.'Don’t interrupt, Millicent - this is important. Five kilos to the Grand in Yarmouth. They phoned me. Wetting themselves in case the Blue Moon stole a march. They are paying forty a kilo.'The line went dead. I relayed the message. My father’s chin dropped.'By when?'I shrugged.'ASAP, I suppose. We can’t work fucking miracles.'My father’s chin dropped another inch. He sighed and bent over to tend his bush. I heard him mutter, 'Keeping company with the toffs isn’t helping your language.''Sozz,' I grumbled into my basket. 'Sonya! Can you write this down as we go? Three columns. Place, weight, price.'She beamed with pride. She had presided over a disaster turning into an exciting day.And so the day went on. Vera sold a hundredweight that day at an average of thirty pound a kilo. She had the sense to promise deli
Mild sexual content'How long will this take. Sid must realise something awful has gone down. She’ll soon want answers. I’m surprised she had left the café with us without an explanation.''I’m doing my best, Millie.' I could hear he was close to tears. No police training can prepare you for the suicide of people you’ve known all your life. He coughed and pulled his voice back into shape. 'By the time you reach your house I’ll have something organised. Promise.'He hung up and left me feeling I’d never manage the task ahead. In the distance I saw a police car draw up outside our house. I hurried to catch Vera and Sid.'Something awful has happened hasn’t it?' Sid’s voice was steady and unemotional. 'You can tell me. I’ll cope,' she added.'I’m not sure we are allowed to.' I took her arm and held it very tightly, but drew it into my body to try to reassure her. 'The
As I straightened my clothes and rubbed the grass stains from his trouser-knees, we made an arrangement to meet for lunch in his shed behind the rose-garden wall. He assured me he just wanted to ask me about the odd things going on.'No shortage of them,' I replied, 'and I’m not the person to ask for elucidation.'There was that grin again.'Eluciwhat, our Millie?''Sorry! I’m going to better myself and stop talking like a dictionary.''Shame! I’ll have less to laugh about.'He swung his leg over the cross-bar and wobbled off down the lane, waving a huge stick of rhubarb like a banner proclaiming his lascivious evening, legs too trembly to push hard enough and maintain balance properly, but with enough energy to sing, 'Goodnight, my pretty maid,' at the top of his voice, through the whole village.If I stopped using big words and he stopped smiling? That’s no good.I went indoors and tried not to blush u
'Sorry about the state of the transport Vera. Not exactly your BMW, is it?'Who cares? I’m so pleased to see you. I thought I would have to pay for a taxi home. How much do you know?''Almost everything, except why are they doing this to you?''Larissa! She said she saw me. No problem. She may well have done. She described what I was wearing, which was nothing like what I was wearing and when I handed my clothes over for analysis, the police thought I had destroyed what I was wearing and substituted something else - obviously because I’m trying to hide the blood.''What were you doing at the cottage at five thirty?''What do you think?''How would I know? You had a motive for wanting him out the way. He was the one person in the village who knew about your miscarriage and subsequent charade, wasn’t he?''I thought only your father knew. I regretted having told you that, the moment I‘d said it. Now you have a ho
Day 331. Friday.Nearly a year has gone by and much has happened.My Diary. I shall never show Vera this diary and she will never ask to see it. It’s better that way. It’s behind us.Vera’s pregnancy. Nothing to report. She either got carried away with her diagnosis, she was lying for reasons only known to her, or she lost the baby. Whatever, if she wants to talk about it, she will. She doesn’t seem fussed, now she has Sid in bed and Tom and Sandra to mother.But why would she lie about that? I have my theory (as always).Charley saw himself as the surrogate father and would never have let the children down. Only by bringing Charley into the house, could she hope to get Sid and the children for herself. Trying to exclude Charley was too risky. He would certainly have been hurt after all he had done for them and may have l
'A lot has happened since then. I expected more recent thoughts.''It all has to start at that point. If we extrapolate back from all points around today’s Lower Butts, we end up at that fateful morning. That’s where big bang happened. Let’s start at that moment. We can consider distance travelled since then.''That’s fine by me,' she affirmed.'I’m going to assume that you knew Sid had lesbian leanings. I wasn’t sure. You were!'I waited for confirmation. She remained quiet so I took that as a ‘yes,’ and proceeded.'You wanted her and you wanted the children she looked after, so you hired me so that you could have contact without your scheme becoming obvious to the outside world.'Vera stiffened, sitting upright like a governess wanting to make a good impression. She still said nothing.'Then you moved the Walker children into the stable apartments - with good reason I hasten to add. Ch
'I need to explain that I’ve taken steps to legally adopt Sid, Tom and Sandra. That will give them financial security as they will qualify for a small allowance under the Ashington estate rules. The adoption was what caused me to go to the Walkers that fateful morning. I also had to broach the problem of them quitting the house. The rest you know.'No mention of blackmail this time. She’s a lousy crook. She continued, 'It’s quite likely that my visit sent Cedric over the top, but it was unintentional. Not that intent will help if I’m prosecuted.''Is that really likely?' I asked.'Probably not, but it’s in the hands of the coroner’s court.'Sid went as white as a sheet. She couldn’t cope with the idea that she could lose her protector and patron. The thought of being solely responsible for Tom and Sandra again took her back to the edge every time.I had two more questions.'Why did you exclude me fro
'Every time I deliver Lady Ashington’s evening paper, Charley is just knocking off work and on his way up to the House. It seems he doesn’t go home for a wash these days. I usually bump into him when I’m doing the morning milk and paper deliveries, coming out the house, on his way to work. But then his hair is wet so he must shower somewhere in the House. Has he shacked up with Sid?'Miss Marple, eat your heart out! That girl misses nothing and draws nearly the right conclusions.'So how long ago has this been going on?''Quite a while.''What time did he go up tonight?'She stopped and pondered a sickle moon, silhouetted against the early evening sky.'I stopped for a fag, then did the stables. About half an hour I’d say.'I’m still surprised I didn’t burst into tears, but instead I became as hard as blue steel.'That’s long enough for Charley. Georgie, if I gave you the gossip of a li
It’s a Friday. I don’t know what day anymore. Weeks have passed.I’d taken the mail to the letter box. As I walked by the bus lay-by on my way home, a car pulled up beside me. The window wound down. There was Detective Sergeant Smythe.'Just hop in please, Ms Backhouse. I need to talk to you.''Do I have to? I’m really not in the mood.''We can do this without you being in the mood,' he snapped.He released the door catch and it swung open. He wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. I climbed in beside him and shut the door. The window whirred upwards.'How can I help you, sergeant?'There was a long pause, while he took his notebook and pencil out. His whole demeanour was that of a fifties cop like you see in TV dramas. I put my hand on the door release and moved to get out again. That concentrated his mind.'You will be aware that you owe me.'
Day 64.Friday. I’ve slept on it and decided I’ll have to ask Vera for her version of events, woman to woman, two friends together. It’s the only way to lay the ghost of Sonya’s ramblings. Should I tell her the full Sonya version? We could have a laugh about it. I didn’t. You can’t laugh about the death of two destitute alcoholics, who had once been the kindest, softest villagers - according to village lore that is. I’d never known them and only spoken to them the few times this summer. The walk up to the House after work that day was the loneliest I’d known. I didn’t notice the late summer colours forming, the swifts collecting on the electricity cables, chattering and practising their departure, the squirrels hunting nuts, and the chill in the air as the autumn mists collected over the sea. It must have all been there. It’s there every October. This was the first October that I had carried such a
Day 64.Friday. Five to seven my phone went. It was Sid. 'Vera is in a state. I’ve tried, but she screamed at me. She is so scared of what may happen. Her husband has refused to go with her, which would have silenced a lot of tongues. Take a hairbrush, make-up and a can of hairspray. Maybe she’ll let you work on her.' Seven on the dot, Vera was outside our house. It felt like the old days. I realised how much I missed her company and doing things with her, although, when I view my diary, we did precious little. The day was blustery and I had run down our long path to the front gate, with my hand on my head, holding my beret down. Once in the car, I could see how dishevelled she was. This woman wasn’t coping at any level. I took a chance with my conversation opener. 'Morning sickness?' 'Not really. I suppose Sid told you.' She pulled away towards the A12. 'It
Her message sounded very matter of fact. She was hard to understand, due to background noise and that confused me. It was five thirty in the morning on a lonely country lane in Suffolk. Where did the noise come from? My finger hovered over the delete button, but providentially Sonya came through the office door.'What’s it like to kiss a boy, Millie?'I was incandescent and finished her off as only siblings can.'Jesus Christ, Sonya. Right now, must it be?'Yes - this lad last term - before the holidays. He wanted to kiss me and now he’s going to ask...'I freaked. I shrieked.'Just go and kiss the stupid prat and find out for yourself, and shut the effing door after you!''Sorry,' she flounced, 'I was only asking.'She spun on her heel and headed back out the door.'Well it’s not exactly rhubarb-patch stuff, is it?' I shouted after her.She shut the door with a very loud and ostentatious bang th
'Sorry about the state of the transport Vera. Not exactly your BMW, is it?'Who cares? I’m so pleased to see you. I thought I would have to pay for a taxi home. How much do you know?''Almost everything, except why are they doing this to you?''Larissa! She said she saw me. No problem. She may well have done. She described what I was wearing, which was nothing like what I was wearing and when I handed my clothes over for analysis, the police thought I had destroyed what I was wearing and substituted something else - obviously because I’m trying to hide the blood.''What were you doing at the cottage at five thirty?''What do you think?''How would I know? You had a motive for wanting him out the way. He was the one person in the village who knew about your miscarriage and subsequent charade, wasn’t he?''I thought only your father knew. I regretted having told you that, the moment I‘d said it. Now you have a ho