CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
It was seven o’clock on a dark and wintry Saturday evening and we were gearing up for another stab at Operation Chutney Grab – this time with the village hall in our sights.
Latest intelligence had revealed that jars of the condiment in question were being held in the village hall stock room, along with other donated goods that were destined to be sold at the WI event the following day.
We were about to resolve our Christmas pickle predicament once and for all.
It was the same elite squad as before, even Fen, who’d originally declared that her nerves couldn’t take another hazardous mission – plus she wasn’t about to miss Strictly Come Dancing for anything. But then at the last moment, she’d had a change of heart.
Maddy said it was because she didn’t want to miss out on the fun. Fen countered this by saying it would be easier this time and we wouldn’t be relying on Maddy dangling from the branch of a tree and encountering a thorny problem with her knicker elastic.
She was right, of course. It would be easier. Jaz was our mole on the inside, with a key to the back door, and she’d agreed to the plan.
We reasoned it would be fairly straightforward to enter by the back door.
There were no security cameras and few passers-by to witness what was happening, and should we be challenged, Jaz was primed to explain that she’d returned to the hall to collect her sports bag which she’d left behind by mistake after her Zumba class that morning.
At the start, everything seemed to be going according to plan.
We assembled silently in the lane behind the village hall and made our way through the back yard.
Just as we got to the door, Fen said she thought she’d heard scuffles in the alleyway behind us.
But on checking, there was no one there.
So Jaz let us into the hall and we found the jars of chutney straight away, conveniently stored in two large cardboard boxes that had clearly been used by Ellie and Zak on removals day (one had ‘Maisie’s Bedroom’ scrawled on it in black marker pen and a second box had contained ‘Misc. Stuff’).
‘They’re sure to be missed,’ worried Fen. ‘These boxes of chutney, I mean.’
I looked around. ‘I very much doubt it. There’s so much in here.’ The stock room was indeed packed full of goods destined for the sale the next day.
‘We’re doing them a favour, taking them away,’ Jaz reminded her.
So we hefted up the boxes and congratulated each other on having saved Christmas.
‘This would make a great movie.’ Maddy grinned. ‘We’d have to be elves, of course. Or maybe a “sparkle” of fairy godmothers. That’s the collective noun for fairy godmothers, by the way.’
‘No, it’s not,’ laughed Jaz.
‘Well, it could be.’
We were all still chuckling as we let ourselves out into the back yard of the building.
And then Maddy balanced her box on the wall by the gate, whipped out her phone and said, ‘Okay. A selfie for the history books? The chutney heist team.’
‘Maddy? What on earth?’ I stared at her bemused as she ordered us into a group.
She grinned. ‘Shut up, Katja, and just get in the photo.’
We spent a comical moment getting the angle right and trying to suppress our giggles because you never knew who might be passing.
And then, amid the hilarity, an unfamiliar voice said, ‘Nicking stuff from the village hall are we, girls? Very naughty!’
We all spun round.
And that’s when I realised to my dismay that we were no longer entirely alone in that backyard. Two boys of about eleven or twelve were now lounging against the wall by the gate grinning at us.
‘My dad’s a policeman. I could get him to arrest you. What do you think, Daz?’
‘You’re right, Macca. Stealing’s an offence. They could get eighteen months. You should definitely phone your dad,’ said the boy called Daz, and they both snorted with laughter.
‘We’re not stealing anything. Don’t be so ridiculous,’ snapped Maddy.
‘We’ve got a key,’ said Jaz, holding it up.
‘But we heard you talking about a heist. What’s in the boxes?’ asked Daz.
‘None of your business,’ I told them. ‘Come on, girls.’
We headed for the gate and began hurrying along the lane.
‘The bloody little horrors!’ muttered Maddy.
And then a voice drifted over: ‘Maybe I won’t call my dad. But I bet the people who run this place would be very interested to hear about what they’ve been up to. Don’t you think so, Daz?’
‘Yeah. We’ve even got their names. What were they again?’
‘Maddy and Katja.’
‘I’ve never heard the name Katja.’
‘She’d be very easy to track down.’
‘Oh, bugger,’ I muttered, as we all slowed to a stop. ‘If they tell on us, we’re never going to live it down, are we?’
‘It would be a tricky thing to explain away,’ agreed Fen, balancing her box on a nearby fence.
Jaz groaned. ‘And I’d lose my privilege as a village hall key-holder.’
‘Right, you little shits!’ Maddy muttered under her breath. She put down her box and we followed her as she walked back to where the two boys were now swinging on the gate, having a proper laugh at our expense. She pasted on a smile. ‘So, boys, what’s it going to cost us?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Daz.
‘For you to keep quiet about seeing us?’
‘Erm . . .’ He looked at his mate for inspiration.
‘Twenty quid. Each. And you have to show us what’s in the boxes.’
Maddy nodded as if she was thinking about it. Then she bent and picked up a sports bag that was lying by the gate. ‘Ooh, what’s this?’ She unzipped it and started pulling things out. ‘Nice pyjamas. Still into Superman, are you?’
‘Hey, they’re my things!’ Macca tried to grab the bag back. But Maddy threw the pyjamas at him and then poked around some more in the bag.
‘Gosh, you have been busy.’ She held up what looked like the sleeve of a jumper attached to knitting needles. ‘Very creative. What do you think, girls?’
Daz sniggered. ‘He knits with his gran.’
Macca gave a defiant shrug. ‘I’m staying at my gran’s tonight. She’s teaching me to knit. So what?’
‘Well, I’m impressed. It’s actually really neat.’ Maddy threw the knitting at him, turned and marched away.
‘Hey, what about our money?’ called Daz. ‘You said you were going to give us twenty quid each. Otherwise, we’re going to report you for thieving.’
Maddy stopped for a moment, a frown on her face, and I knew she was thinking up a response.
Pasting on a smile, she turned and started walking back towards them. ‘You’re not really going to blackmail us, are you?’
‘Well, yeah,’ sniggered Daz.
She sighed. ‘You really disappoint me, boys. I’d actually revised my opinion of you after seeing that lovely knitting of yours, Macca.’
Macca gave her a suspicious side-eye.
‘No, I mean it,’ Maddy said earnestly. ‘It’s really very good.’
Macca threw Daz a look of disbelief. ‘This one’s a mentalist. She thinks a bit of butt-licking’s going to change our minds.’
Daz gave a snort of appreciation for his mate’s wit, and next minute, they were both rolling around laughing their heads off.
Macca grinned at Maddy. ‘How about I knit you a balaclava without an opening at the front? So no one can hear the bollocks that comes out of your mouth?’
Cue more hysterical laughter.
Maddy just stood there with a smile on her face. Then she quickly whipped out her phone and held it up.
‘Hey, what are you doing?’ Macca frowned, clutching his knitting, as the camera clicked.
‘Needed a photo. Of your creative efforts,’ said Maddy calmly.
‘You can’t just go taking photos of people,’ said Daz. ‘You need to pay him for that.’
Macca grinned. ‘Yeah. That’ll be an extra tenner each.’
‘Yeah. Pay up and we’ll forget we ever saw you thieving from the village hall.’ Daz shouted these last words at the top of his voice.
More cackles of laughter and now they were now sauntering towards us for their pay-off.
‘I’m afraid we’re out of the readies, boys,’ said Maddy calmly. ‘I mean, who carries cash these days?’
‘She’s obviously never heard of a cash point,’ mocked Daz.
‘Actually, I’m going to give you something even better than money.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m so impressed with your creativity, Macca, I’ve decided I’m going to post on social media what a truly fantastic knitter you are.’
There was a stunned silence, during which Jaz gave a snort of mirth.
Daz stared at us for a moment, then he started creasing up with laughter.
Macca just looked quietly horrified.
‘I think talent of this kind should be applauded,’ said Maddy.
‘You really shouldn’t be so modest, Macca.
The whole school should know what a fabulous knitter you are.
And look, I’ve even got the picture to prove it!
What do you think, girls? Instagram?’ She held up the image on her phone of Macca clutching his knitting and looking surprised.
‘Tiktok,’ said Fen. ‘Definitely tiktok.’
‘You wouldn’t . . .’
‘Wouldn’t I?’
I laughed. ‘Oh, she definitely would!’
Macca hopped off the gate with a casual shrug. ‘Look, we were only winding you up. Come on, Daz.’
Without another word, they ran off along the lane.