Chapter 3 #2
‘Not too bad,’ she told him. ‘I’m getting quite good at using my left hand – well, for some things anyway.
Mind you, Stan’s had to help me out a bit, haven’t you, love?
I’ve had to ask him to do things for me that no husband should have to do for a wife.
By heck, the things you’ve seen lately, eh, Stan? ’
Rosie spat her cider back into her glass as Elaine groaned, ‘Oh, Cherry, must you? We’re about to eat.’
As if on cue, Briar, a young woman from the village who was currently working for Sam, delivered the first of the meals to their table.
‘Thanks, love,’ Mam said cheerfully, as a plate of scampi and chips was put in front of her. ‘How are you doing? And how’s your mam?’
‘All right, thanks, Mrs Wainwright,’ Briar said. ‘Her op went fine and she’s coming out of hospital tomorrow, all being well. I told her about your fall, and she said to send you her love when I saw you.’
‘Aw, tell her thank you. Glad her operation went okay. You tell her from me to take it easy when she gets home.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. Mam’s never been one for doing anything else, has she?’ Briar said with a grin. She put the last of the plates on the table and hurried off to get the rest of the meals.
‘What happened to her mam?’ Alison queried, reaching for the salt. She knew Mrs Chambers well and hadn’t heard she’d been ill.
‘Women’s things. A bit of lifting up and tucking in, I expect. Certain things end up where they shouldn’t when you get to her age.’
Elaine gave her a pained look. ‘Cherry! We’re eating!’
‘Yours hasn’t even arrived yet,’ Mam pointed out indignantly. ‘Ooh, did I tell you about Sheila MacMillan, Alison?’
‘You mean that she died?’ Alison asked. ‘Yes, you told me before Christmas.’ She gave her mother an anxious look. Was she getting forgetful or something?
‘Not that she died, you daft ha’p’orth! About her will.’
Elaine forgot that she was annoyed with her sister-in-law and leaned forward eagerly. ‘Ooh, yes. I heard all about that, too. Stella’s furious, apparently.’
‘What’s this about?’ Rosie asked, agog. ‘What have I missed?’
‘Well, you know everyone assumed that she’d have left Watersmeet to both her children? She didn’t. She left it all to Ian.’ Mam turned to Alison, her eyes bright. ‘Do you remember Ian, love? He was in your class at primary school. Left here years ago.’
Alison knew who she meant. A brown-haired boy who always looked immaculate and had a penchant for trying to show her up.
‘He was a proper goody-two-shoes,’ she told Rosie, who was digging into her roast beef, despite her mother’s pained expression which made it clear she felt her daughter should wait for everyone to be served.
‘Aw, don’t say that,’ Mam rebuked her. ‘He was a lovely little boy. Ever so bonny.’
Rosie pulled a face and mouthed, ‘Bonny?’
Alison grinned. ‘He used to get picked on cos he had a posh satchel when the rest of us had them cheap cloth bags. It had his name written on it on a little card in the front pocket. He was a Cub. And a Boy Scout.’
‘Ah,’ Rosie said, nodding as if that told her everything she needed to know.
‘Don’t be mean,’ Mam said.
‘Don’t be mean? He tried to show me up every Friday for weeks,’ Alison said indignantly.
‘I’m sure he didn’t,’ Mam said firmly, sprinkling vinegar liberally over her chips.
‘Oh yes he did.’ Alison turned to Rosie, who was clearly more ready to believe her.
‘We used to have a spelling test every Friday morning. We had to go round the classroom, taking it in turns to ask one of our classmates to spell a word out of this book the teacher had given us. Most of us chose straightforward words, like continue, or earthquake or something. Do you know what words he gave me? Archaeologist and miscellaneous! I still remember the terror to this day.’
‘Did you spell them right?’ Rosie asked, enthralled.
‘Well, yes. I wasn’t even going to try, but I remember looking in horror at Miss Sayers—’
‘Aw,’ Mam interrupted. ‘She was a lovely woman.’
‘Yes, she was. And she just nodded and smiled at me and said, “Go on, Alison.” So I did. And,’ she finished smugly, ‘I got them right and he was gutted.’
Miss Sayers had looked so proud of her. Alison remembered how happy it had made her feel for ages afterwards. Like she could achieve anything. She thought Miss Sayers had probably had a lot to do with her wanting to become a teacher herself.
‘I’m sure Ian only asked you because he knew you could do it,’ Mam mused.
‘Because he fancied you, more like,’ Rosie said gleefully.
They all broke off as Briar returned with the remaining plates of food. ‘Sorry for the delay,’ she said. ‘Enjoy your meals. Is there anything else I can get you?’
They all assured her they had everything they needed, and she rushed back to the kitchen.
‘Why is she in such a hurry?’ Dad pondered. ‘We’re the only ones here.’
‘Never mind that,’ Mam said. ‘What do you mean, Ian fancied her?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Rosie shrugged. ‘He singled her out every week and he deliberately got her attention by giving her such hard words that she’d remember him forever.’
‘We were ten!’
‘What’s that got to do with it? I had my first boyfriend at seven.’ Rosie sighed. ‘Aw, little Jon Day. He followed me round like a puppy for months, bless him. If his dad hadn’t got that job near Blackpool, who knows what might have happened? Maybe I’d have been Mrs Day by now.’
‘Well, if he’d actually married you, he’d have got my blessing,’ Elaine said heavily. She’d never approved of Rosie and Craig ‘living in sin’ for twenty years, especially with Niall being a vicar, and him with a reputation to uphold.
Rosie ignored the jibe. ‘Point is, it was clearly a strategy on Ian’s part. Quite clever really.’
‘Hardly!’ Alison said with a snort of laughter.
‘Worked, didn’t it? How long is it since you left primary school? Fifty years or thereabouts. Yet here you are, still talking about it.’
‘This is the first time I’ve mentioned it! Anyway, forget it. We were talking about Sheila’s will.’
‘Oh yes.’ Elaine’s eyes brightened. ‘So, like your mother said, Sheila left Watersmeet to Ian, lock, stock and barrel.’
‘It doesn’t seem fair,’ her mam added. ‘He left Kelsea Sands to go to university and never came back, whereas Stella’s been in the area the whole time, and did all sorts for her mother, didn’t she?’
‘Exactly,’ Elaine said. She shook her head as she stuck a fork in her bacon-wrapped chicken breast. ‘It’s not right at all.
But then, Ian always was her golden boy, wasn’t he?
She spoke about him in such glowing terms, whereas her daughter never really got a look-in. Poor Stella never had a chance.’
Rosie and Alison exchanged knowing looks. Alison wondered how Elaine could be so lacking in self-awareness. Good job Rosie was so understanding.
‘Didn’t you ever go out with him then, Ali?’ Rosie asked.
‘Who, Ian? God, no. To be honest, I don’t even remember seeing him after we left primary school and went up to Millensea High.’
‘According to Sheila he did ever so well for himself,’ Mam said.
‘Went to university, got a degree, had his own business. She was so proud of him, wasn’t she, Stan?
Photos of him all over that house. I know cos I used to pop by when she was poorly, just to see if she needed anything.
Still doesn’t make it right, though. I mean, Stella did all right, too, and there were no photos of her – well, not recent ones any road.
And what I want to know is, what will happen to Watersmeet now? ’
‘It will be sold, I expect,’ Christopher said. ‘It’s a terrible shame. It’s a lovely property, but I can’t see Ian wanting to come back after all this time to live here, can you?’
‘But what about her animals?’ Rosie demanded.
‘Oh crikey, yes,’ Alison gasped. Sheila was well known for rescuing waifs and strays over the years. ‘Please tell me someone’s been feeding and watering them all.’
‘Stella’s been popping by when she can to check everything’s okay, but as soon as her mother passed, she paid the Fosters at Carr Farm to see to the animals’ physical needs. That’s what I mean,’ Elaine said primly, ‘about it not being fair. I can imagine—’
But what she imagined was something she never revealed, as she let out a yelp and glared at her sister-in-law. ‘Did you just bloody kick me?’ she demanded, forgetting her rule about swearing in public.
Alison watched in surprise as her mother frantically nodded her head towards the bar. Everyone’s gaze turned in that direction and Alison saw a man in jeans and a wax jacket standing at the counter, chatting to Seb’s lad Sam.
‘What?’ she asked, seeing her mam’s expression. She looked fit to burst.
‘It’s him!’ she whispered dramatically. ‘That bloke over there. It’s Ian MacMillan!’
Alison frowned. ‘Don’t be daft. It looks nothing like him.’ If it was, he’d certainly changed a lot since primary school. Mind you, she’d no doubt he’d say the same about her. It would be a bit worrying if they hadn’t changed, wouldn’t it?
‘Of course it is. I’d know him anywhere. I told you, Sheila’s walls were covered in framed photos of him. Aw, he’s still bonny, isn’t he?’
Rosie stifled a giggle. ‘Has he got his satchel with him?’
‘What’s he doing?’ Elaine whispered, not daring to look towards him.
‘Well, since he’s at the bar, I should imagine he’s ordering a drink,’ Dad said. ‘This chicken and mushroom pie’s bloody lovely, you know. Can’t you ask Sam for the recipe, Cherry?’
‘Hey, he’s not getting a drink,’ Rosie said, making no attempt to hide the fact that she was staring intently at the poor man. ‘Ooh, look! Sam’s passing him some foil tubs. Do you reckon he does takeaways now?’
Alison’s dad brightened instantly. ‘Takeaways? You mean I could order this pie any night of the week?’
‘Will you shut up about that bloody pie?’ Mam snapped. ‘Honestly, you’re a – oh! Hello, Ian!’ She waved as the man at the bar turned to face them, as if she expected him to recognise her after all those years.
Alison watched, mesmerised, as he straightened and seemed to stare straight at her.
He was dressed very casually in jeans and heavy boots, and his short brown hair was peppered with grey.
If he really was Ian his face was thinner than she remembered, and of course the smooth baby skin was now lined.
Had his eyes always been that startlingly blue? Surely she’d have remembered that.
For a moment she thought he was going to come over and speak to them, but then he seemed to have second thoughts. He nodded at them, then muttered something to Sam, who leaned over and said something back. The-man-who-might-be-Ian straightened, then headed out of the pub with his foil tubs.
‘What a shame,’ Elaine said. ‘I’d love to have talked to him.’
‘I’ll bet you would,’ Rosie mumbled.
‘I expect he had to hurry home before his food went cold,’ Christopher said.
‘I must ask Sam if he does deliveries,’ Dad mused.
Alison said nothing. Just when, she wondered, had Ian MacMillan got so – well – hot? It was impossible. It couldn’t be him.
Rosie nudged her. ‘You never know your luck. Maybe he still fancies you and he was so overcome at seeing you again that he had to flee before he gave himself away.’
‘You missed your vocation,’ her mother told her. ‘You should have been writing films for the Hallmark Channel.’
Rosie cheerfully cut a roast potato in half. ‘You can mock,’ she said. ‘I’m right about this. You just wait and see.’