Chapter 8
Having received a mysterious summons to the cottage in Sweet Meadow Park, Fiona was intrigued. She’d had a phone call from Molly earlier today asking her if she wouldn’t mind popping in this evening at around six o’clock for a bite to eat – which was lovely – but Fiona had a feeling there was more to the invitation than a bit of supper.
There was something going on, she felt it in her water, and when Molly told her that Bill and Reuben had also been invited, she was sure of it.
Whatever the reason, Fiona was delighted to be asked. She never went out in the evening, and she felt a thrill of anticipation as she got ready.
‘What’s the occasion?’ she’d asked Molly, but Molly hadn’t said, and now that Fiona was walking through the park, she hoped it wasn’t someone’s birthday because she would feel awful turning up without a card. She had a bottle of wine with her, so that was better than nothing, she supposed.
Molly met her at the door and took her jacket. The evening was a warm one, but Fiona guessed that the temperature would drop once the sun went down and she’d get chilly on the way home. She wasn’t looking forward to walking through the park in the dark, and she hoped the meal wouldn’t go on too long. She didn’t like being out at night, and now that she no longer had a cafe to see to, there was no reason for her to be. She used to hate locking up in the depths of winter, when it was dark by four p.m. And it had been even worse when it was cold and lashing it down.
Realising she was still clutching the wine, she handed it to Molly.
Molly asked, ‘What’s this for?’
‘I couldn’t come empty-handed.’
‘You shouldn’t have! But thank you anyway.’ Molly led her through to the lounge. ‘Bill is already here, but Reuben couldn’t make it. He had to shoot off to the Peak District; something about pine martens, but don’t ask me what.’
Molly passed the wine to Jack, who was hovering in the doorway to the kitchen. The heady smell of garlic and onions wafted out of it, making Fiona’s mouth water.
‘We’ve got a bottle of red on the go, if you’d like a glass,’ Molly offered, ‘Or we could open the one you brought.’
‘Red is fine, thank you.’
Fiona was invited to take a seat, and as she lowered herself into an armchair, she smiled and said hello to Bill. He looked rather relaxed, his legs out in front and crossed at the ankles, a glass in his hand.
Jack disappeared into the kitchen, Molly with him, so Fiona took the opportunity to hiss, ‘Any idea what this is about? It’s not someone’s birthday, is it? Or…’ Her eyes lit up as the thought occurred to her. ‘I wonder if they’ve got engaged.’
‘Not that I know of. I think it’s just a meal to say thanks, maybe?’
‘Ah, right.’ Feeling silly because she had read too much into it, she was glad when Molly returned with her wine, Jack accompanying her.
‘Jack’s making a lasagne,’ Molly said. ‘It’ll be twenty minutes yet, so while we’re waiting, would you like to hear our news?’ Molly was beaming and Jack also had a smile on his face, so it must be good.
Fiona shot an I-told-you-so look at Bill, then glanced at Molly’s left hand, hoping to see a ring. Her finger was disappointingly bare. Fiona loved a wedding. Then she dropped her gaze to Molly’s tummy and speculated whether the former park keeper’s cottage would soon be ringing to the sound of a baby’s cry.
Molly sank onto the sofa, Jack perching on the arm next to her, and waved an envelope in the air. It was long and white, the kind that official letters came in, not birthday cards.
She said, ‘Someone popped this through our letterbox on Wednesday evening.’
‘What is it?’ Fiona asked.
‘A cheque for five hundred pounds.’
‘That’s nice.’ It certainly was, but Fiona couldn’t for the life of her think why Molly felt the need to share the information with her and Bill.
‘Who is it from?’ Bill asked.
‘No idea.’ Jack’s expression was puzzled. ‘But it’s made out to Molly, and there was a note with it saying that the money is to go towards repairing the cafe’s roof.’
Fiona clapped her hands together. ‘How wonderful! An anonymous donation.’
‘Are you sure you don’t know who it’s from?’ Bill had sat up and was leaning forward slightly.
Molly said, ‘Not a clue. We were hoping you might.’ Her gaze flickered between Fiona and Bill.
‘Why would we know?’ Fiona asked. She had been nowhere near the park on Wednesday evening. Come to think of it, Bill may have been… She turned to him. ‘Bill?’
He shook his head and shrugged.
Jack continued, ‘We wondered whether anyone had mentioned giving a donation.’ He looked hopeful.
Fiona stared at Bill. Bill stared back at her. She spoke for both of them, certain that Bill would have mentioned it over lunch on Monday if that was the case. ‘No, no one.’
Bill shook his head again.
‘That’s a shame. I would like to thank them.’ Molly pulled a face.
Fiona thought for a minute. ‘Might there be a clue in the note? The handwriting perhaps?’
‘Take a look.’
Molly passed it to her, but Fiona was none the wiser when she read it. It was from a building society, presumably the same one who had issued the cheque, and all it said was that the ‘donor would like the money to be put towards repairing the roof on the cafe in Sweet Meadow Park’.
She passed it across to Bill, who barely glanced at it. Fiona moved on to more practical matters. ‘Will it be enough, do you think?’
Molly grinned. ‘Yes, it will. Gavin is only going to charge us for the materials, so this should more than cover it, as long as he doesn’t come across anything unexpected such as a joist needing to be replaced. He won’t know until he removes the damaged slates.’
‘Fingers crossed he won’t.’ Fiona held up her crossed fingers.
‘I’d better check on the lasagne,’ Jack said, getting up and going into the kitchen.
‘When can the builder start?’ Bill asked.
‘Tomorrow, he says. Because it’s only a single-storey structure, he says there won’t be any need for scaffolding.’
‘A couple more minutes yet,’ Jack announced, coming back into the living room with the wine bottle in his hand. ‘Who’s for a top up? Then I think we should drink a toast to our generous benefactor, whoever he or she may be.’
Fiona raised her glass with enthusiasm, but noticed that Bill only took the smallest of sips out of his and she hoped he was feeling OK. He managed to put away a hefty portion of lasagne though, and was lively enough throughout the meal, so she promptly forgot about it.
***
With the jumble sale only a week away and David popping by later this afternoon to help her transport her contributions to the church hall in readiness, Fiona decided she had better get her skates on and have a good sort out to see what she could find. She hadn’t had one in years, and she knew there were loads of things that would benefit from a new home, rather than remain lurking in the back of her cupboards.
She dug out a few sturdy bags and got to work, starting with David’s old room. It was a spare room now, she supposed, because he hadn’t slept in it for around twenty years. The silly thing was, it hadn’t changed a great deal in all that time; it even had some of her son’s old clothes and books (which were dry recommended reading from his university days), along with oddments such as a globe that was so old several countries had since been renamed.
As she idly turned it on its axis, her fingers trailed across continents and oceans alike, and she wondered which routes Bill had taken during his time on the high seas. No doubt he’d sailed the Atlantic and through the Suez Canal, and possibly the South China Sea if he’d travelled to Hong Kong. There would have been loads of others, she assumed.
Placing the globe in one of the bags (surely someone would want it?) she thought how nice it was of Bill to offer to walk her home yesterday evening. She had been fretting about it on and off throughout the meal, but hadn’t said anything. How could she confess that she was worried about walking through the park on her own, when it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet and still light. Everyone would think she was a pathetic old woman, scared of her own shadow.
But she couldn’t help it. The teenagers who hung around the bandstand intimidated her, even though she didn’t think they meant to. They were just so loud, and their movements were quick and unpredictable. The other day she had spied three of them on their way home from school, swinging each other around by the straps of their school bags, heedless of who they might cannon into. A pensioner like her could easily be knocked over, and she shuddered at the thought of breaking a hip.
Yesterday evening it hadn’t surprised her to see at least a dozen of them loitering by the bandstand and getting up to all sorts, no doubt. If she had been on her own, she wouldn’t have had the courage to walk past them. Instead, she would have retraced her steps and exited the park by the main gates, walked into town, and then trundled back up the hill. It would have made her journey four times as long, but she would have felt safer.
With Bill by her side last night, she hadn’t been fearful at all, even when he’d greeted the group of youngsters (youffs, as he called them), and he had referred to a couple of them by name, Liam being one and Connor another. They were names she recognised.
‘Wasn’t Connor the boy who almost drowned in the pond?’ she had whispered, when they were out of earshot. ‘The one Jack had to jump in to save?’
‘It was.’
‘And wasn’t Liam the one who egged him on, the ringleader?’
Bill had offered her his arm, the path under their feet being somewhat uneven, and she had taken it gratefully.
‘I don’t know about Liam being the ringleader,’ he’d said, ‘but he’s undoubtedly the mouthiest. I don’t think he’s a bad boy, though.’
‘Hmm.’
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
‘It was him and his gang who vandalised the flower beds earlier in the year,’ she reminded him. ‘Molly and Jack had worked hard on those. And what about all the litter they leave around? And the shouting and swearing.’
‘You’ve forgotten the smoking and drinking.’
Fiona released his arm now that they had negotiated the rough path, and shot him an aggrieved look. ‘I haven’t forgotten at all,’ she retorted. ‘You’ve changed your tune – you used to complain about them all the time.’
‘Oh, I think they’ve redeemed themselves, don’t you? Liam, in particular, did his part in rounding up people to help tidy up the park.’
‘Hmm,’ Fiona repeated.
‘And kids will be kids,’ he added.
She didn’t want to argue with him, but her David hadn’t behaved like that when he was a teenager.
Changing the subject, she had tried to talk to Bill about the mystery donor, but he had been reticent and she’d worried that she might have offended him. The thought had vexed her, and she had been debating whether to apologise when they’d arrived at her house and he’d shocked her by leaning forward and pecking her on the cheek. Surprised, she had bidden him goodnight and hurried inside, pleased that she hadn’t upset him.
While she’d been mulling over the events of last night, Fiona had worked her way methodically around the room and had managed to fill half of the bags. At this rate her stuff would need a table all by itself. Finishing up, she moved on to the next room. There wouldn’t be anything in the bathroom that she could get rid of, but her bedroom was chock full of things she had been meaning to throw out, starting with her clothes.
Some of the blouses and jumpers she’d had for years and years, and although she didn’t profess to be a fashionista (was that what they were called?) neither did she want to be viewed as an utter frump. She would be ruthless, she vowed, because she was fairly sure it would be years before she had another sort out.
By the time Fiona had finished with her wardrobe, the pile of clothes she intended to give away was bigger than the pile she intended to keep and she felt quite cleansed. De-cluttering and getting rid of those things she no longer wore or liked (and in some instances, didn’t fit or no longer suited her) was quite therapeutic and made her feel lighter. She could certainly see her remaining clothes better now, as they were no longer crammed together.
The tallboy was the next in line, and she opened the top drawer. Full of underwear, none of which she had any intention of allowing anyone else to set eyes on, let alone paw through, she closed it and skipped down to the fourth drawer. This one was what she termed an odds-and-sods drawer. Here she found scarves, a floaty wrap to go over a swimsuit that had never been worn and still had the tag on, a poncho (when, and more importantly why had she bought that?), a single sheepskin mitten (if she kept searching, she might find the other one), and a pair of leg warmers.
Something at the back of the drawer made her pause, and sadness washed over her as she took out a plaid woollen scarf. Lifting it to her nose, she inhaled deeply. All she could smell was a faint mustiness. Bradley’s scent had faded long ago. She had worn it constantly in the months after he’d died: it had been the closest thing she could get to feeling his arms around her. How many times had he stood behind her and draped himself around her neck whilst she had been washing up, or sorting the laundry?
Despite knowing she would never wear it again, she couldn’t bring herself to part with it, so she returned it to the drawer and carried on with her task, her heart a little heavier than when she’d begun.
However, by the time David was due to arrive, she’d perked up, and when the doorbell rang and she heard his key in the lock, she greeted him with a pile of bags and a satisfied smile.
‘Woah, Mum, you can’t give everything away,’ he laughed when he saw them, bending down to give her a hug.
David was tall, like his father had been, with the same mop of unruly brown hair and pleasant face. He also had his dad’s brains, and her determination, and he’d made the most of the combination by becoming a quantity surveyor. Whilst she wasn’t entirely sure what that entailed (something to do with construction) she was aware it was a responsible and sometimes stressful job. She was also immensely proud of him.
David stepped back, his hands on her shoulders. ‘I’m glad to see you’re looking more like your old self.’
‘What do you mean?’ She gave his cheek a pinch, then bustled off to the kitchen.
Her son followed. ‘You were starting to look rather down. To be honest, I was getting worried about you. This cafe project seems to have perked you up no end.’
‘It has,’ she agreed. She had told him all about it when she’d spoken to him earlier in the week to ask him whether he had anything for the jumble sale. ‘Did you find much?’
‘Loads. The kids were a bit reluctant to part with some of their stuff, though. I would have brought them with me, but Kirsty’s got a swimming competition and Ben’s got football, then he’s off into town with his mates. Gone are the days when they want to hang out with their old dad.’
By ‘town’, David meant Cardiff. He and his family lived on the outskirts of the city, and although it wasn’t particularly far from Sweet Meadow, it meant that Fiona couldn’t just pop in on the off chance for a cup of tea.
Although she was disappointed at not seeing her grandchildren today, she understood. David had been the same when he was their age, and she dared say that she had probably been the same too. It was only natural that they’d want to do something more exciting than help their dad ferry bric-a-brac around.
‘They’re good kids; they’ll come back to you when they’ve had a chance to grow up a bit,’ she assured him.
It didn’t stop her worrying about them though, and occasionally she wondered what they got up to when their parents weren’t keeping an eye on them. Did they hang out in their local park? Did old ladies feel intimidated when they encountered them? Surely not… Her grandchildren were nothing like those teenagers in Sweet Meadow Park. They wouldn’t dream of littering, for a start!
‘Can I make you a cup of coffee?’ she asked.
David checked the time and Fiona’s heart gave a squeeze when she saw that he still wore his father’s watch. Though it gave her a little pang to see it on his wrist, she was comforted too, knowing that her son wasn’t forgetting his dad.
‘Um, not today. I’m playing golf later.’
‘Then straight to the clubhouse afterwards?’ Fiona teased.
David chuckled. ‘It would be rude not to. Let’s get this lot into the car.’ He eyed the bags full of neatly folded clothes. ‘I hope you’ve left yourself something to wear.’
It didn’t take David long to load the car (thank goodness he had an estate), then they were off to the church.
Reverend Jenkins showed David where to put them, and Fiona was pleased to find that donations had already started to trickle in.
‘This is the last of it,’ David said, placing a large cardboard box next to a pile of others.
Back at the house, he gave her another hug. ‘See you soon,’ he promised, kissing her cheek, and she waved him off with a smile.
She was just about to close the door when a glint of glass on the pavement made her pause, and she took a step towards it for a closer look.
‘Oh, no…’ The words lodged in her throat as she realised that the object was David’s watch.
She picked it up, her eyes welling with tears. The strap had broken and the glass was cracked, and it made her unbearably sad to see it. Giving into the tears that had threatened earlier, Fiona took Bradley’s scarf out of the drawer and sobbed into it. Thirty-one years seemed like yesterday, and whoever said that time heals was a great big liar.
***
Bill couldn’t resist taking a look, although he managed to hold fire until midday. There had been no sign of the builder when Bill had patrolled the park with Patch this morning, but maybe seven forty-five was a bit early considering the chap probably didn’t make a habit of working on Saturdays and he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart.
Rounding the bend, Bill was satisfied to see a white van outside the cafe when he ventured into the park for the second time today. A ladder was propped against the cafe’s wall, and a man was standing on the top of it.
Bill came to a halt just beyond the bollards surrounding the ladder and stared upwards. ‘Found any issues?’ he called.
Gavin glanced down. ‘Not yet.’
‘Is it a long job?’
‘Should be finished by the end of the day, all being well.’
That was good news. Pleased that his donation was moving the work along, Bill stayed to watch for a while. A short time later, Jack and Jet joined him, the dogs greeting each other in a paroxysm of wagging tails.
Jack was carrying a tray containing three mugs and a plate of Jammie Dodgers.
He said, ‘I’ve been keeping Gavin supplied with tea and I saw you from the window. Milk, no sugar, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t mind if I do. Thanks.’ Bill took a mug. He helped himself to a biscuit as well, Patch gazing at him with pleading eyes.
The builder joined them, and all three slurped their tea and stared up at the roof.
‘Nice day for it,’ Bill said. He turned to Jack. ‘Your chap says he’ll be done by the end of the day.’
Jack nodded. ‘Hopefully. As soon as the roof repairs are done, we can arrange for the electrician to come in and do her bit.’
‘Her?’ Gavin asked.
‘Harper Blake.’
‘You’re using Bright Sparks ?’
‘That’s right. Is there a problem?’
‘Not at all. She’s a damned good sparky. I’ve worked on a couple of jobs with her dad.’ Gavin drank the last of his tea. ‘Back to it. Thanks for the tea.’
Bill watched him climb the ladder to the platform.
Jack squinted up at it. ‘I offered to help, but he seems to be managing on his own.’
Not to be outdone, Bill said, ‘I’d offer, but I can’t climb a ladder. Not with my knees.’ Constant up and down ship’s ladders was what had buggered them up in the first place. He conveniently forgot about his advanced years and how unwise it would be to venture up a ladder when he was the wrong side of seventy.
Jack said, ‘It’s lucky Molly is at work, otherwise she’d be up there like a shot.’
‘Not scared of getting her hands dirty, is that one.’ Bill smiled fondly. ‘I remember when I first saw her. She had just bought the cottage and I thought she was mad.’
‘Oh, she’s definitely mad, all right,’ Jack smiled. ‘I wouldn’t want her any other way.’
Bill pressed his lips together, then gestured to the cafe and said, ‘Do you think she’ll make a go of it?’
‘I know she will. Molly is one determined lady.’
‘So I noticed.’ Bill hesitated. ‘It’s just… Fiona seems to have set her heart on it, and I’d hate to see her disappointed.’
‘She won’t be.’ Jack sounded confident.
Bill continued to stare at the roof, but his mind was elsewhere. ‘I used to think she was a daft old biddy. I feel bad about that.’
Jack chuckled. ‘I used to think Molly was a pain in the butt. Now, I think she’s the most wonderful person in the world. How you feel about someone can change as you get to know them.’
How very true, Bill thought as he made his way home. His opinion of Fiona had certainly been flipped on its head this past week!