‘You’re not saying she’s running people over? Please say she isn’t.’
Winnie’s hearty laugh made Beryl move the phone away from her ear for a moment. ‘No, it’s not quite that bad… yet… but last time she gave me a lift she nearly crashed into a tree while she was pointing to a bollard she’d backed into the day before. I’d ring for a taxi and arrange to call for her instead, but I suggested it recently and she hit the roof. We need to talk seriously to her about maybe giving up her car.’
‘Good luck with that one,’ said Beryl. ‘It’s about as likely as Anthea starting to wear jeans. Anyway, off you go and finish the chicken. Forget what I asked you. It’s nothing. The Prosecco’s in the fridge. We can share the holiday photos on our phones and plan the next jolly. Bye for now.’
Ending the call, Beryl sat back in her chair again and picked up the album. It fell open at the first picture of the small Patrick, taken when Beryl was still in hospital. She’d unwrapped him from his lacy shawl, but his wide-open mouth reminded her of just how loudly her boy was able to scream at that point in his life. A soft fuzz of ginger hair already indicated that he’d be a redhead like his father. Her mother-in-law, Glenys, had taken one look at him the day after this and said sadly, ‘This baby looks like a potato. He’s not been blessed with looks, has he?’
Beryl was mortified. She hadn’t spoken to the woman for at least a week, and the comment still stung. Looking at the photo in question, she could see Eddie’s mother’s point. It wasn’t Patrick’s finest hour, but there was no need to mention it, was there? Grannies were meant to be doting. She’d made up for it later, but Beryl had never quite forgiven Glenys for the insult. Now, so many years later, she wished Glenys was here to talk to. Patrick’s gran had still been around when he’d hit his worst patch. She’d be bound to remember the details of what went on at Meadowthorpe Comprehensive after hours. School discos and luridly coloured alcopops had a lot to answer for. Patrick had often been to see his granny on the way home. It hurt her heart to think her son hadn’t confided his troubles to his loving parents. Beryl put the book to one side and resolved to ask Venetia at the first opportunity if her aunt was able to chat on the phone. She’d say it was just for old times’ sake. And it was. Sort of, anyway.
7
Rick unlocked his van and leaned on it. Venetia was still in the house, and if she didn’t hurry up, half the day would be over before they’d even begun work. As he’d passed her bedroom door, Rick had heard muffled swearing, so he assumed she was fighting her way into the boiler suit he’d lent her. It was much too narrow for him since he’d been going to the gym and building up his muscles, but the legs were long, and he’d hoped it would fit his lodger.
Eventually, Vee emerged from the house, pink in the face but dressed for action in an orange jumpsuit and trainers.
‘You didn’t mention the million and one poppers on this thing,’ she said. ‘I thought I was going to have to shout for help. I’ve got into it, but I may never get out of it again.’
Rick grinned. ‘I know what you mean,’ he said. ‘I bought six of them in a sale, hence the colour. It turned out they were all different sizes though. I’m not into looking like I’ve been Tangoed as a rule. In my defence, they were dirt cheap.’
‘I can see why,’ Vee said, pulling a face. ‘But this is going to keep me from getting totally filthy so it’s worth playing the part of a giant satsuma. Let’s go.’
They got into the van and Rick tossed her a bright orange baseball cap. ‘I bought these at the same time,’ he said. ‘Job lot, three for a tenner. It’ll keep the cobwebs and dust out of your hair. I’ll wear one too, then you won’t feel such a prat.’
‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ Vee said, but she put it on and peered at herself in the rear-view mirror. ‘Lovely. Who wants to look cool anyway? It’s so last season.’
They reached Dragonfly Cottage just as Beryl was emerging from her front door. She’d paused to chat with a woman who was standing outside the house on the other side of hers.
‘Oh, you’re back,’ Beryl said, without enthusiasm. ‘Well, good luck to you both. It’s a job like those stables in the old myth. My teacher told us it at school when we were doing about the Ancient Greeks… I can’t remember what they were called.’
‘That’s a bit harsh, Beryl,’ said the lady standing beside her. ‘It was the Augean Stables, and poor old Heracles had to clean out thirty years’ worth of cattle dung. I’m sure this cottage isn’t going to be that bad. I’m Kate, by the way. I hear we’re going to be neighbours.’
‘This is the amazing person who runs the café on Willowbrook Country Park. Best cakes and scones for miles around,’ added Rick, tipping his orange baseball cap to Kate. ‘You should get yourself over there for a visit sometime, Vee.’
‘I think I might be doing my dung-shovelling challenge for a good long while yet, but I’ll put it on my list of things to do when I get this place in a liveable state,’ said Vee. She smiled at Kate. ‘I don’t usually look like an Oompa-Loompa. Nice to meet you. Rick’s decided on our team colours today.’
They headed indoors, with Vee carrying bin bags, a broom and a shovel and Rick following on with a couple of cardboard boxes he’d fetched from the back of the van. He also had a transistor radio which he switched on as soon as they were in the living room.
‘I work better with music on,’ he said, as an old Queen hit blasted out of the tiny speaker. ‘“Another One Bites the Dust”,how appropriate. Let’s start in here.’
Vee looked around at the mess and her shoulders slumped. ‘It’s impossible,’ she said. ‘We need a skip, not bin bags.’
‘And that’s why meeting me was so lucky,’ said Rick. ‘I know a guy who drives a skip lorry. I gave him a call this morning and he agreed to drop us one off. Mate’s rates, don’t worry,’ he cut in, before Vee could object. ‘I know we said we’d do loads of tip trips but this way we’ll save time, and I can get on with the real work much sooner, okay? You might want to add one of these to your fetching outfit. It’ll block out a bit of the stink, at least. I had some left over from the Covid times.’
He rummaged in the pocket of his jeans and passed Vee a mask. She put it on and nodded her thanks. Both masked, they got stuck in immediately, falling into a sort of rhythm where they took turns to hold the plastic rubbish sacks while the other shovelled in anything lying on the floor. There was very little that was good enough for a charity shop but as they worked their way through the house, now and again Rick spotted a small piece of furniture that was salvageable and put it into the back of his van.
By lunchtime, both Rick and Venetia were flagging. They’d grown used to the smell, which thankfully lessened as the bags were filled, drunk all the bottled water that Rick had brought with them and breakfast seemed like a very long time in the past. Rick was about to suggest they might adjourn to go and find a roadside café somewhere that wouldn’t mind them being so grubby and dishevelled, when a knock came at the front door.
‘That might be Jed with the skip,’ said Rick. ‘I’ll go.’
He was wrong. Standing outside on the path was Beryl and she was carrying a loaded tray. ‘Here, take this off me before I drop it,’ she said. ‘I’ve already nearly gone arse over tit trying to get it this far.’
Rick wasted no time in relieving her of her burden. ‘You are an angel,’ he said. ‘Come on in.’
Beryl followed him down the hall, looking around with interest. ‘We did talk about the Labours of Heracles,’ she said. ‘But this is even worse than I imagined. It smells like something’s died in here.’
‘You’d be right there,’ said Vee, straightening up from her shovelling and rubbing her back. ‘We’ve found three dead birds and a couple of deceased rats so far. Is there a neighbourhood cat that likes to have somewhere to stash its victims? There was a window left open in the utility room.’
‘That’ll be Slasher,’ said Beryl. ‘He keeps the vermin down for us all. He’s an enormous ginger tom. Lives at number two but has dinners wherever he can get them. Here, don’t let the tea go cold, and I thought you might be ready for a snack.’
