Chapter 9
Jack sat up straighter when he noticed the meeting in his electronic diary. He could have sworn it hadn’t been there yesterday, but now he was to have a meeting this afternoon with someone called Molly Brown regarding Sweet Meadow Park. Was he finally going to meet the phantom caller face-to-face? He certainly hoped so! He was getting mighty fed up with his inbox being stuffed full of messages from reception stating that an anonymous caller had rung yet again, complaining about the state of the park. If only whoever it was had left a phone number he could have called them back and explained the limitations of council funding. Instead, they seemed to get their kicks by ringing the council and complaining anonymously. He didn’t even know whether the caller was male or female.
But maybe he did now, and he was looking forward to meeting Molly Brown in person and putting her straight.
For some reason the morning went slowly, and he was glad to escape to the cafeteria for a spot of lunch before heading back to his office and dragging up a few facts and figures he could use to present to Molly Brown. He had no doubt she would be belligerent and wouldn’t want to listen to his explanations, but surely even she couldn’t argue with figures that were in black and white?
As the time of the meeting grew nearer, Jack looked up the dates of the various attempted clean-ups of the park and compared them to the complaints he had received. From what he could gather, it didn’t take more than a few days after he’d sent a crew in for another complaint to arrive, which was disappointing. He knew littering and fly-tipping was a problem throughout the borough, but for some reason it seemed to be worse in Sweet Meadow Park, and he couldn’t for the life of him think why. Every park and every public area had issues with litter, overflowing bins, and anti-social behaviour, but none were complained about as much as the one in Sweet Meadow.
He honestly didn’t know what he was expected to do about it. In the past he had sent in crew after crew to clean it up and he’d also arranged for benches to be replaced, bins to be installed, for the grass to be mown regularly, and the pathways to be kept weed-free. But less than a week after such an undertaking, the complaints came rolling in again. If people were so bothered about the blasted park, perhaps they should do something about it themselves, instead of hiding behind anonymous phone calls! Didn’t they realise he only had a certain amount of funding at his disposal? He couldn’t keep throwing money at it. He would like nothing better than for the park to look pretty and well cared for – after all he ran through it three or four times a week himself – but if the people who frequented it didn’t care about it, why should the council? It was simply throwing good money after bad.
When the receptionist told him that his two-thirty appointment had arrived, Jack lifted his jacket off the back of the chair where it had been hanging, slipped his arms into it, and straightened his tie. Then he grabbed a file containing his findings, and prepared to do battle.
Hoping he would be able to put this thing to bed once and for all, Jack strode across the concourse and walked over to reception.
‘Molly Brown?’ he asked Doris, who was manning the desk.
‘She’s over there.’
Jack turned in the direction she was pointing.
Oh look, he noticed with pleasure, fancy seeing the woman who had bought the park keeper’s cottage, the one who—
He stopped in his tracks. Bloody hell, it was her, wasn’t it? She was Molly Brown – the one who had been complaining and leaving messages.
His heart sank. For some reason he had been expecting a middle-aged or elderly lady, wearing a tweed skirt, a frilly blouse, and with sturdy sensible shoes: not a woman who he was quite attracted to and whom he might have asked out for a drink, if he hadn’t been feeling so raw from his relationship with Chantelle.
He caught her eye and Molly smiled when she saw him.
As he walked over to her, she said, ‘Hello again, fancy seeing you here. How are you getting on with your decorating?’
Jack was flustered. ‘Um, yes, fine, great, thank you. Are you Molly Brown?’ He was hoping he’d made a mistake and that this wasn’t Molly Brown at all. But there were only three other people waiting in the reception area and they were all male.
Confusion spread over her face. ‘Yes, that’s me. How do you know my name?’
‘I’m Jack Feathers, Parks and Highways? We’ve got a meeting.’
‘You’re Jack Feathers?’
‘Yes, is that a problem?’
‘Not at all. I just had no idea it would be you.’
‘I had no idea Molly Brown was you, either,’ he said, sharper than he’d meant to.
She blinked and her eyebrows rose a notch.
‘Shall we go in here?’ He indicated a side room.
‘Fine,’ she said, the friendliness of a few seconds ago melting away.
His heart sank even further. She’d be even less friendly when she heard what he had to say.
He opened the door for her, and she went in ahead of him. Gesturing for her to take a seat, he sat in the chair opposite and opened his folder. He could see her looking at it warily.
‘I must say, it’s nice to finally put a face to all those phone calls,’ he said. ‘I think it’s been one or two a week for the past year or so.’ He wasn’t entirely sure how long he had been getting them – it might be less than that, but it felt considerably longer.
‘Excuse me?’ She was staring at him quizzically.
‘The phone calls about the litter and the anti-social behaviour from a certain sector of society?’
Now she was frowning. Clearly she didn’t like being challenged about it.
‘What phone calls?’ she asked.
‘Come along Miss, or is it Mrs Brown? We both know it’s you who’s been making the phone calls. Now, I have no problem with that,’ he continued, ‘but I wish you had left your name and number so I could have rung you back and explained the situation.’
‘It’s Ms Brown, and the only phone call I made was the one I made yesterday when I booked an appointment to see you.’ Her tone was frosty and a spot of colour had appeared on each cheek.
Jack was flummoxed. Was she telling the truth? He didn’t see any reason for her to lie, especially not when she was sitting there in front of him. ‘It wasn’t you?’
‘It most certainly was not! Do I look like the sort of person who would make anonymous phone calls? If I’ve got something to say, I’ll say it to your face. Which is why I’m here today. Can we move on?’
‘Yes, of course, sorry. I must have got the wrong end of the stick.’ Oh dear, this wasn’t going well, was it?
She shrugged and looked pointedly down at the papers in front of him.
Jack took the hint and got on with it. ‘Can you tell me why you wanted to see me?’ he began, wondering if it was to do with the littering and the anti-social behaviour, or whether she had something else on her mind. He had already got the person behind the anonymous phone calls wrong, so he might have got the reason for Molly wanting a meeting with him wrong too.
‘As you’re aware, I’ve recently purchased the old park keeper’s cottage,’ she began, her words and her tone rather formal, and he guessed she was still quite annoyed. ‘I want to know if I’m allowed to fence off my garden area. The land behind the cottage isn’t a problem because its boundary is the actual perimeter fence of the park itself, but I’m referring to the front of the cottage. At the moment any Tom, Dick or Harry could wander up to my front door and peer in through my windows. I’d like to know whether I can fence it in.’
Jack blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. Relieved that she wasn’t going to have a go at him about the state of the park, he shuffled the papers, stalling for time as he tried to think of any reason why she couldn’t put a boundary fence around the cottage.
‘Let me see,’ he said. He tapped his pen against his chin as he thought, hurriedly going through numerous bylaws in his mind before coming to a decision. ‘There’s no reason why you can’t, but I’m not sure a six-foot high brick wall would go down too well. We would probably want to make sure the fencing was in keeping with that around the rest of the park.’
‘Do you mean derelict, rusting and with paint peeling off?’ she shot back.
He deserved that. ‘What I meant is, you either use metal railings similar to those around the perimeter of the park, or possibly some kind of a picket fence would be acceptable.’
‘Can I go with a picket fence?’ she asked. ‘I quite like the sound of that. And I wouldn’t want a six-foot-high brick wall either,’ she added.
‘Good, good, that’s settled then.’ He began to gather his papers up, before realising Molly was staring at him pointedly.
‘Is that all?’ he asked.
‘No, it’s not. I’m in agreement with your phantom phone caller in that the amount of litter in the park is unacceptable. It’s everywhere, and it doesn’t help that there aren’t any bins. What are you going to do about it?’
Jack felt on safer ground. ‘I’m afraid there’s not a lot we can do about it,’ he said, and hurried on as she opened her mouth to argue. ‘You see, the park has already had a considerable amount of man-hours and money spent on it, all to no avail. Here, take a look at this.’ He shoved a summary in front of her, hoping that would do, but if it didn’t, he had reams of paperwork behind it to back it up.
He watched her face as she read it quickly. The way her lashes curled and the arch of her eyebrows proved to be particularly interesting. As did the curve of her cheek and the faint smattering of freckles across her nose. She was biting at her bottom lip, and he caught a flash of white teeth as she nibbled. Once again Jack wondered what it would be like to kiss her, but even as the unnerving thought entered his head, he swiftly shoved it away.
He cleared his throat. ‘Do you see what I mean?’
‘I do, but that doesn’t mean the park should be left to rot,’ she argued. ‘If anything, it’s a danger to the public and to wildlife.’
‘I’m aware there are issues,’ Jack interrupted. ‘We do have plans to remove the bandstand and the old cafe, and to fill in the pond.’
‘Oh.’ For some reason the woman sitting in front of him didn’t look too pleased with his answer.
‘Is there a problem?’ He would have thought she would be delighted with the news.
‘You do realise that the pond is a haven for wildlife?’
‘It’s a haven for shopping trolleys,’ he muttered.
‘Precisely, which is why it needs dredging.’
‘Dredging? I don’t think so.’ Jack was horrified. There was no way the council would stretch to dredging the pond in Sweet Meadow Park. However, he could probably make a case for knocking down the bandstand and the old cafe, and then use the debris from those buildings to fill in the pond. Pop some gravel on top, followed by a bit of earth… job done! No more danger to the general public.
‘I was hoping the bandstand could be repaired,’ she said, trying a different tack.
‘That would cost too much, I’m afraid,’ Jack replied, without hesitation.
‘Have you looked into it? Or are you just saying no for the sake of it?’
Jack didn’t appreciate the insinuation. ‘I don’t say no for the sake of it,’ he retorted. ‘I’m saying no because the council has limited funds and far more deserving causes on which to spend them.’
‘So you’re refusing to help?’
‘I’m not exactly refusing, I’m just not in a position to.’
‘Is there anyone who is?’
‘No. I run the Parks and Highways Department,’ he said. ‘I’m the one responsible for its budget.’
He thought he heard her mutter ‘Jobsworth’ under her breath, but when he said, ‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that?’ she narrowed her eyes at him.
Her full lips were set in a straight line, and her gaze was flinty. ‘You’re telling me that nothing can be done to clean up Sweet Meadow Park and restore it to its former glory?’
‘Hang on a sec, I thought you were asking me to sort out the litter? Not to give it a complete makeover.’
‘Litter bins would be a start,’ she said.
‘Litter bins have proved ineffective in the past in reducing littering in the park,’ he countered. ‘I see no reason why installing new ones would solve the problem. The residents of Sweet Meadow appear not to value the park, and I don’t believe putting a couple of bins here and there would alter the general public’s attitude.’
Molly said nothing, she just looked at him, her gaze steady.
Jack felt like squirming.
Eventually she said, ‘That’s it? That’s your final word on the matter?’
‘I’m afraid it is.’ Jack gathered his papers together once more.
Abruptly Molly got to her feet, shoving her chair back. ‘We’ll see about that.’ And with that, she flung the door open and marched out.
Jack watched her stride across the concourse, heading for the revolving doors, and even as he was glad to see the back of her, he thought the back of her was rather nice. Her hips were swinging in her well-fitting jeans, her waist was small, her head was held high, and her hair bounced in its ponytail.
He watched until she was out of sight, thinking it was a pity that they’d got off on such a bad foot, because she really was extremely pretty. Despite not wanting another relationship, he could still admire a beautiful woman and he could still feel attracted to her, even if he didn’t have any intention of doing anything about it.
Jack smiled ruefully. If he ever intended to immerse himself in the dating game again, she would be exactly the sort of woman he’d ask out.
Then he swiftly wiped the smile off his face when he spotted Chantelle glaring at him. She was standing near the exit and he guessed she must have seen him staring at Molly.
Lowering his head, he picked up his folder and shot out of the meeting room, hurrying to his office. If Chantelle felt threatened by Sue from the canteen, then goodness knows how she would react if she realised that he fancied the socks off the new owner of the cottage in Sweet Meadow Park.
***
Molly stormed out of the council offices, angrily shoving at the automatic revolving doors because they didn’t move fast enough, and strode into the car park. She was furious, even though she had already guessed that the council wouldn’t be prepared to do anything about the park, because if they had been, they would have done so already. Obviously she wasn’t the only one to have complained, because that Jack guy had thought she was someone else, someone who clearly made a habit of it. Perhaps she should start complaining on a weekly basis, too? Although, she didn’t think it would get her anywhere. Maybe if she got a petition together? If she drummed up some interest in the park, persuaded people to write in, or phone, or e-mail, or anything really, the council would have to sit up and take notice.
As she unlocked her car and sank into the driver’s seat, she tapped her fingers crossly on the steering wheel, recognising that most people wouldn’t want to get involved or were just plain lazy, and if something didn’t affect them directly, they weren’t interested. She knew she would have scant luck in persuading people to put pen to paper, so to speak. She could always go around knocking on doors and collecting signatures but, if she was honest, she didn’t have the time. Not at the moment, not with trying to get her house habitable. She would have to see to that first before she turned her sights on the park.
At least Jack had agreed that there was no reason why she couldn’t fence in her property, and she was glad she had tackled him about that before she’d spoken of anything else, guessing maybe he wouldn’t have been so helpful if he’d realised he was going to be questioned about the council’s responsibility to keep the park in a decent condition.
Jack Feathers was nothing more than a jobsworth. He might be good-looking and she might think he was hot – she cringed when she recalled how embarrassed she had been when she’d met him in the DIY store yesterday and how she’d blushed when she’d uttered the word “buff”, thinking it described him perfectly – but today he was nothing like she’d imagined him to be. When he had come to her rescue as she was trying to get the final board off the downstairs windows, she’d thought he was kind and thoughtful, and muscular. Scratch the muscular bit. It didn’t do to dwell on his physical attributes, because his looks certainly didn’t match his insides. In fact, she thought he had been quite dismissive, and she’d had the feeling she was nothing more than a nuisance and an annoyance, and he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.
She’d show him; as soon as she had managed to break the back of the work she needed to do on the house, she would tackle the garden, and then she would expand into the park itself. She’d start with the flower beds nearest to the main gate. An hour here and an hour there should see them tidied up and dug over. She didn’t have the money to plant anything, but she was pretty sure once she’d got rid of all the weeds there might be some decent shrubs and perennials lurking in them.
There was something she could do immediately however, and that was to litter pick, and she had done precisely that when she had taken Jet for his morning walk.
She smiled as she thought of the dog. Last night she’d felt considerably safer having him by her side, and although she’d planned for him to sleep near her feet, she had woken up with her nose buried in his neck and her arm around his chest. He’d snored a bit, but she hadn’t minded: it had been quite comforting. She hadn’t appreciated being woken at five-thirty though, but once she was awake and on her feet, and with her hands around a cup of tea, she forgave him.
Once again he’d stuck close by her as she strolled around the park with a rubbish bag in one hand and her litter picker in the other, and once in a while he had even picked up a plastic bottle and had brought it to her, dropping it at her feet, and she began to appreciate some of those stickers she’d seen which stated “I prefer my dog to people”. Jet had more of a social conscience than many of the people who used the park, she concluded.
She supposed she could also include Jack Feathers in that statement. She certainly preferred Jet to him. He couldn’t care less about Sweet Meadow Park, which was a surprise considering he’d jogged through it the other evening. He clearly didn’t give two hoots about it. Fancy wanting to tear down the old bandstand! She admitted it needed some repairs, but it was a piece of history and it would be sacrilegious to destroy it.
Giving the council offices a baleful glare, Molly started the engine and made her way towards the builders’ merchant, where she purchased a pair of wooden gates, a smaller side gate, several sturdy posts, a spade, a couple of bags of quick-drying cement, a wheelbarrow and forty metres of picket fencing, all to be delivered tomorrow. Goodness knows when she would have time to build the fence, but at least if the materials were on hand, she could make a start. For now though, she had to pop to the pet shop and buy some necessary items for Jet, and then go to the supermarket to find something for tea. Oh, and she needed to buy a fridge.
At the rate she was spending money, her bank balance was emptying faster than the dog’s food bowl!