CHAPTER FIVE
Beth could have predicted Maisie’s first words, so when her youngest cried, ‘Mum! How could you!’ she wasn’t surprised.
‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ she said, knowing she was poking an angry wasp’s nest but unable to help the sarcastic reply.
‘You’re joking, right?’ Maisie gave her an incredulous look.
Beth tried not to show how hurt she felt. Maisie could at least pretend. Huffing, she stared out of the kitchen window. The kitchen was a nice enough place, but it wasn’t where she would have wanted to spend the day. But with Walter hogging the living room, she didn’t want to sit in there and have to listen to his sarcastic sniping. She wondered whether she should phone the estate agent and hurry them along. She hadn’t been at the farm a day yet and already she was near the end of her tether. And Maisie wasn’t helping.
‘I can’t believe you were going to move into a house in Picklewick without telling us,’ Maisie continued. ‘When did you arrange—?’ She gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘I did see your car in the village a couple of weeks ago! It wasn’t the frequency effect, or whatever Walter called it.’ She turned to Dulcie. ‘I knew it was her car.’
Beth continued to stare out of the window, unable to think of anything to say in her defence. She was guilty as charged.
Maisie let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Why didn’t you discuss it with us first? Or at least, tell us what you were planning?’
‘I wanted it to be a surprise.’ Beth’s voice was small. She really, really should have told them when the idea first came to her, but she had been too scared that they would have talked her out of it.
‘It was a surprise alright,’ Maisie grumbled. ‘No wonder you’ve been busy de-cluttering.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘What have you done with all my stuff?’
Beth was confused. ‘What stuff? You took everything with you when you moved into the caravan. Your bedroom was empty, apart from three mouldy plates and a bed with broken slats. Did you use it as a trampoline?’
‘My cheerleading stuff. It was in the attic.’
‘It wasn’t.’ Beth was positive. ‘I got rid of it years ago.’
‘You didn’t! I wanted to keep it.’
‘Is that so? You haven’t thought about it in years, have you?’
‘No, but that doesn’t alter the fact that I wanted to keep it.’
‘I sold the whole lot, twirly baton and all, to a woman six doors down. The money I got for it paid for your school trip to Norfolk.’
‘Oh, okay.’ Maisie visibly deflated.
Beth had always made sure her kids never went without, and if that meant flogging a few bits and pieces, then that’s what she did.
Dulcie hadn’t said a word from the moment her sister had arrived, but now she said, ‘Tea, Maisie? Before you see to the goats?’
Maisie nodded and took a seat at the table. ‘Where will you be living?’
Some of Beth’s tension eased. ‘Hazelnut Road.’
‘What’s the house like?’
‘Two up, two down, small garden. Living room ceiling currently on the living room floor.’
‘So I heard. When will it be fixed?’
‘Soon, I hope.’ Beth hesitated. ‘I won’t be a nuisance, honest. I won’t visit unless I’m invited.’ She ignored Dulcie’s snort. It wasn’t Beth’s fault that she felt the only way she would get to see her girls at Easter had been to rock up at the farm unannounced. If she’d waited for an invitation, she would still be waiting.
Dulcie put a fresh pot of tea in the centre of the table and got the milk out of the fridge.
‘How’s Walter?’ Maisie asked, and Dulcie clapped a hand to her mouth.
‘Oops, I’d forgotten Walter. Mum, do you mind asking him if he’d like a cuppa? And I don’t think he’s had any breakfast yet. Could you see what he wants? I’ve got to get on – I start work at nine, and Otto needs to be at the restaurant soon.’
Beth heaved a resigned sigh. She didn’t relish running around after Walter, but if it helped Dulcie she would do it. At least Dulcie and Maisie didn’t seem too cross with her now that they’d got over the initial shock. As long as she survived the next few weeks living in the same house as Walter, she had a feeling that moving to Picklewick might be the best thing she’d ever done.
Walter could hear voices coming from the kitchen and realised that Maisie was berating her mother. He didn’t blame her. If he was Maisie, he’d be cross with Beth too.
But when his conscience reminded him that he had been no better when he’d hidden the farm’s financial problems from Otto, he felt a bit guilty for being so judgemental. He had acted far worse, hiding the situation for months, until the stress had put him in hospital and forced Otto to give up his lucrative job as one of London’s top chefs.
So Walter honestly didn’t have a leg to stand on. Beth relocating to Picklewick without informing her family was small fry compared to what he had done. Maybe he should cut her some slack.
But cutting her some slack didn’t make her any less irritating or abrasive. She rubbed him up the wrong way, and he suspected he did the same for her. Speak of the devil…
Beth’s face appeared around the living room door. ‘Tea? And Dulcie wants to know what you want for breakfast.’
‘I’ll have a cup, if there’s one in the pot. But tell her not to bother with breakfast. I can make my own.’
‘Pft! How are you going to do that without any hands?’
‘I’ve got hands.’ He waved them in the air. ‘See?’ Was she really as daft as she sounded?
‘They’ll be holding onto your crutches,’ she told him.
She had a point. ‘Other people manage.’ He wasn’t sure how, but they must do.
‘If you think you can fry yourself an egg, be my guest.’
‘I don’t want a fried egg.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Toast.’
‘One slice or two?’
‘Two, but I can do it myself.’
‘Dulcie keeps her toaster in the cupboard next to the sink. Good luck with bending down to get that out and don’t blame me if you fall over.’
‘I won’t fall over.’
‘Look—’ She moved further into the room and put her hands on her hips. ‘Stop being such a stubborn old git and let me make you some toast. It’s no bother. It’ll be more bother if you fall and break your other leg.’
‘I won’t fall,’ he repeated. She was right though; until he got the hang of those crutches, he was a danger to himself. It didn’t help that he felt as weak as a kitten and utterly exhausted. ‘Not too much butter, and a dab of marmalade wouldn’t go amiss,’ he relented.
‘There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?’
Actually, it had been torture admitting, even tacitly, that he needed help from Beth. At least he was out of bed and dressed (thanks to Otto), which made him feel less of a patient and more of a guest.
Beth returned a few minutes later with a plate of hot, buttered toast and a mug of tea. Thankfully she didn’t decide to keep him company, so he ate his breakfast in peace whilst watching morning TV. But eventually he needed the loo and the thought of Beth’s eyes on him as he made his way through the kitchen, got him cross all over again.
Before that though, he had to get out of the chair. Determined not to call for help, he shuffled his bottom closer to the edge of the seat and positioned his good foot as near to the chair as possible. It took him three goes before he managed to get to his feet, and by the time he was upright sweat was beading his brow and trickling down his back. But he’d done it!
Unfortunately that was where it fell apart. As he reached for his crutches, he managed to knock them over. They fell to the floor with a clatter which brought Dulcie and Beth running.
Dulcie got to him first, bending down to pick them up. She held onto his elbow to steady him, as he slid his arms into them.
‘You get back to work,’ Beth told Dulcie. ‘I’ll sort Walter out.’
‘I don’t need sorting.’
‘I think you’ll find you do.’
Yeah, he could guess what kind of sorting she would like to do to him.
With the crutches in position, he hopped forwards, his progress slow and hesitant. Despite the rubber ends, Walter was scared they would slip and he’d fall, as Beth had predicted. Now that she’d put the idea in his head, he couldn’t shift it. Thanks, Beth.
As he gingerly hopped and swung his way through the dining room, he was all too aware of Beth inches from his elbow, ready to catch him should the worst happen. What use would she be if he did topple over, was anyone’s guess. He was more likely to take her down with him and Dulcie would then have two patients on her hands, not one.
‘No need to stand so close,’ he hissed. Dulcie was on a call, headphones on, her eyes focused on the computer screen.
‘There’s no point in me being four feet away, is there?’
She was so close Walter could smell her perfume. Or maybe it was her shampoo or the washing powder she used. Whatever it was, he liked it.
Dulcie shot them a look and put her finger to her lips.
‘I don’t need you to accompany me to the toilet,’ Walter insisted.
‘Don’t be stubborn. Otto had to take you this morning.’
‘That’s because I wasn’t used to the crutches.’
‘And you are now?’ Beth sounded incredulous.
‘I’m getting the hang of them,’ he insisted.
‘Shh!’ Dulcie was frowning and shaking her head.
Beth said, ‘Get a move on, you’re disturbing Dulcie.’
‘I’m going as fast as I can. And you’re the one who’s disturbing her, not me.’
‘Excuse me, for a second,’ Dulcie said, and removed her headphones. ‘Do you mind? I’m trying to deal with a customer complaint here.’
‘See?’ Walter hissed. ‘I told you that you’re disturbing her.’
Dulcie huffed. ‘It’s both of you. Please keep the noise down. If you want to bicker, do it in the living room – quietly.’
‘I don’t want to bicker,’ Beth said. ‘He started it.’
‘You sound like Sammy,’ Walter retorted.
‘Better than sounding like a miserable old codger.’
‘I’m only miserable because you make me miserable.’
‘Mum! Walter! Stop it. If you don’t keep the noise down, I swear I’ll go and work at the restaurant and leave the pair of you to slug it out on your own.’
Walter was immediately contrite. ‘Sorry, Dulcie.’ He stared at Beth, who glared stonily at him before adding her own apology.
Walter carried on walking (if you could call it walking) and managed to get as far as the bathroom without pausing. Once inside, he bolted the door and leant against it.
His shoulders were sore, his arms were aching, and so was his good leg. Being injured was no joke when you were his age, and he briefly wished he had accepted the hospital’s offer to refer him for assessment for a wheelchair. But, then again, he would never get a wheelchair through the farmhouse’s narrow doorways.
There was nothing for it, he would have to get used to the crutches. Short dabs, every so often, would give him a bit of practice without overdoing it. But right now, making it to the loo and back was practice enough. Maybe he’d feel a bit stronger tomorrow.
And maybe pigs might fly. He was kidding himself if he thought he would bounce back in a matter of days. It was going to take a couple of weeks. He hated having to admit it, but the fall and the operation had taken it out of him, and he felt he was almost back to where he’d started when he’d suffered the collapse last year.
Almost, but not quite. Mentally, he was much stronger than he had been, and he had Otto and Dulcie to thank for that. His broken leg was a setback, that was all, and once it was mended he would soon be back to his old self. He’d learnt his lesson though – no more climbing ladders.
But if he couldn’t keep busy with DIY, he would have to find something else to occupy him, otherwise he would go mad with boredom. And although he had Peg to keep him company, he was often lonely. He just wished he knew what he could do about it.
Beth hated being at a loose end, but with the living room being out of bounds (there was no way Beth was going to join Walter to watch the nonsense that was on daytime telly), and with Dulcie needing peace and quiet in the dining room, Beth didn’t know what to do with herself.
If she had been in her own house, she would have run the vacuum cleaner round and done a bit of dusting, but knowing that she mustn’t make too much noise, she satisfied herself with giving the kitchen the once over (despite it being spotless) and bleaching the downstairs bathroom. Then she made yet another cup of tea. If she drank any more of the stuff, she’d need to use the loo as much as Walter; although she strongly suspected he was only doing it to wind her up.
Unable to sit still any longer, Beth rinsed out her mug and went outside. She would check on her furniture, then maybe she would go for a stroll.
True to his word, Otto, the dear boy, had found some tarpaulin and a length of plastic, and had covered all her bits and pieces. Thankfully, the barn was dry and there was no rain forecast, so she needn’t worry. And with any luck, she would be moving into her own home before too long.
She spent a few minutes watching the rabbits hop around their runs, and even stroked a soft ear or two. Then she wandered over towards the goats’ field. But before she got there she bumped into Maisie, who was coming out of the pasteurisation shed. She had Peg with her, and Beth was flattered when the dog greeted her like a long-lost friend.
‘She’s really taken to you,’ Maisie observed. ‘I didn’t think you liked dogs.’
‘Because we never had one when you were a kid?’
‘We didn’t have any pets.’
‘There was a good reason for that. Looking after you lot was enough.’
‘I would have helped.’
Beth raised her eyebrows.
‘Okay, maybe I wouldn’t have helped as much as I thought I would.’
‘You wouldn’t have helped at all. None of you would. You’d have made all the right noises in the beginning, but after a couple of weeks it would have fallen on me to look after it.’
Maisie gave her an apologetic look. ‘You’re probably right.’
‘I know I am.’
‘I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time earlier. But you’ve got to admit, turning up with all your worldly possessions yesterday was a bit of a shock.’
Beth bit her lip. ‘It was more of a shock for Dulcie.’
‘And Walter,’ Maisie added, with a grin. ‘I wasn’t expecting him to be here.’
‘Neither was he. From what Otto told me, his dad had expected to go home and pick up where he left off. But at his age, a broken leg isn’t something you can shake off easily.’
‘Don’t you mean at your age?’ Maisie teased. ‘He’s only a year or so older than you.’
‘Four, actually, and thanks for reminding me.’
‘You don’t look your age,’ Maisie said.
‘Flatterer. What do you want?’
‘Take Peg for a walk for me?’
‘I might have known.’
‘Please? I promised Walter.’
‘Oh, well, if you promised Walter.’
‘Don’t be so mean. He would take her himself if he could.’
Beth knew Maisie was right. Walter worshipped that dog. ‘Go on then,’ she said. ‘I’ll take her down the lane for a stroll.’
‘Thanks, Mum. It means I can get on with soap making.’ She looked hopeful. ‘You could always give me a hand with that, if you like?’
‘No thanks! I’ll stick to taking Peg for a walk.’
Beth called the dog to her and had just turned away when Maisie asked, ‘What have you got against Walter, anyway?’
Beth didn’t answer, because she didn’t honestly know.
Beth looked at the pained expression on Walter’s face as he thanked her for taking Peg for a walk.
‘You’re welcome,’ she said sweetly. ‘Peg’s a poppet.’ Unlike her owner, she thought, but didn’t say.
‘How far did you go?’
‘Only down the lane and back.’ Beth helped herself to the mashed potato she had cooked for everyone’s tea. And by ‘everyone’ she meant herself, Dulcie and Walter, because Otto was at the restaurant. If he hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have allowed her anywhere near the stove.
Beth had enjoyed feeling useful though, and seeing the way Dulcie and Walter were devouring their food, she assumed she hadn’t done too bad a job. It was rather tasty, she thought; gravy made with the juice from the sausages and from frying onions was a taste sensation. She’d added a bit of swede to the mash, and was serving carrots and peas with it.
‘I bumped into Lena. She was asking after you, Walter. She says to tell you that Amos will pop up to see you in a couple of days.’ Beth had met Lena, Amos’s other half, a couple of times and liked her immensely. It would be nice to have another woman of roughly the same age around, and Beth was hoping that Lena would carry through her suggestion of, ‘You must pop in for a coffee when you’re settled.’ She fully intended to throw herself into village life and make as many friends as she could.
Walter muttered, ‘I don’t want him to see me like this.’
‘Like what?’ Beth asked. She genuinely wanted to know. People broke bones every day – what was so special about Walter’s broken leg?
‘Helpless,’ Walter replied.
‘Hopeless, more like,’ Beth muttered under her breath, earning herself a sharp look from her daughter.
‘You’re not helpless,’ Dulcie said in a no-nonsense tone.
‘What do you call it then?’
‘A little less able than usual.’
Walter snorted. ‘A lot less.’
‘You managed to get out of the chair by yourself a couple of times this afternoon, and you’re walking so much better on your crutches.’
‘I still can’t get upstairs by myself,’ he grumbled. ‘I want my own bed. I don’t like sleeping downstairs; it’s not natural.’
‘It’s unavoidable,’ Dulcie soothed. ‘And it’ll only be for a few weeks.’
‘I bet I could manage my own stairs. They’re nowhere near as steep as yours. I’d be able to have a bath, too.’
Dulcie put her knife and fork down and looked him square in the eye. ‘Walter, you can’t go home just yet. You know that.’
‘I bet I could.’
‘You couldn’t even make yourself some toast this morning,’ she pointed out.
This is like being at Wimbledon, Beth thought. She’d never been and didn’t want to, but she’d seen enough clips on the telly of people swivelling their heads from side to side as they followed the ball, and Beth was doing the same thing. She wondered who would win. Her money was on Dulcie, if only because Walter would need a lift to his cottage: he would never make it down the hill on his own.
A wicked thought entered her head. Perhaps she could offer to take him home? Then she hurriedly dismissed it. Dulcie would never forgive her, and neither would Otto. Besides, if anything bad were to happen to Walter because he’d returned home before he was able to look after himself properly, she wouldn’t forgive herself either. He might be a royal pain in the backside, but she didn’t want any harm to come to him.
Walter growled, ‘She—’ He jabbed his fork in Beth’s direction, and Beth flinched. ‘Didn’t give me the opportunity to find out.’
‘Have a go now, why don’t you?’ Beth glared at him.
‘I will, after I’ve finished my tea.’ He jabbed the fork into a piece of sausage and shovelled it into his mouth, then chewed vigorously.
‘Look, Walter,’ Dulcie said. ‘We’re not being deliberately awkward. We care about you, and we want to make sure you can cope on your own before we take you home.’
He sighed, pushing his empty plate away. Having a broken leg and being cross about it hadn’t affected his appetite, Beth noticed. She was pleased he’d enjoyed her cooking, though.
He said, ‘I know you care, but I need to be in my own home.’
‘This used to be your home, can’t it be your home again for the time being?’
‘No. It’s yours and Otto’s.’ His voice was firm. ‘It’s not mine. There’s been too many changes.’
‘Oh, Walter, I’m so sorry.’ Beth saw that Dulcie had tears in her eyes.
He said, ‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for. It’s only natural you wanted to make the place yours.’
‘It’s yours, too, Walter. It always will be.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong, my lovely girl. My house is the cottage down the lane now. And I want to return to it.’
‘Walter, I—’
He slapped his palm down on the table, making Beth jump. ‘Damn it, Dulcie, I’m old enough and ugly enough to know what’s best for me.’
Beth snorted, disagreeing with both parts of that statement. Old didn’t necessarily mean wise, or even sensible. And he certainly wasn’t ugly. He wasn’t bad looking at all, despite his face being on the rugged side. It must be from all those years working outdoors.
‘What you need is a housekeeper,’ Beth said.
‘Are you offering?’
‘Not likely. I couldn’t think of anything worse than listening to you carping, like you did today. On and on, grizzle, grizzle, moan, moan.’
Dulcie was staring at her, her gaze intense.
‘What?’ Beth demanded.
‘Mum, you’re a genius.’
‘I am?’
‘Hear me out,’ Dulcie began, and Beth’s spirits sank. Nothing good ever followed those three little words. Dulcie said, ‘Being Walter’s housekeeper is a great idea. He would be happier, and you would be doing Otto and me a massive favour.’
Beth was shaking her head. ‘No, definitely not. No way!’ Could she be any clearer? ‘Over my dead body.’
‘That could be arranged,’ Walter muttered. ‘There is no way that woman is staying in my house.’
Dulcie smiled at him. ‘Even if it means you can stay there too?’
‘Don’t I get any say in this?’ Beth demanded hotly.
‘Of course you do. If you don’t feel you can look after Walter in his own house, you can help look after him here. But can you keep the noise down when you’re doing it? One of my callers thought there was a domestic going on and asked if they should call the police.’
Beth glowered at her. Hadn’t she been helping already? And what thanks had Walter given her? None, that’s what. He’d done nothing but complain, and whine, and—
An idea struck her. Walter in his own home would be a less miserable Walter. If he stayed here he would continue to gripe, and she didn’t think she could face another day of him carping. And once he was back in his cottage, she would do her utmost to convince Dulcie and Otto that he could manage on his own. Then she could move back into the farmhouse and enjoy some peace and quiet until her house was ready for her.
The surprise on Walter’s face when she said, ‘Okay, I’ll do it,’ was the highlight of her day.