Never Too Late (19 page)

“No, it’s just not worth considering is it. So we’re stuck with the likes of them who make their money in the big city companies and then think they can just buy their way into a bit of country living.”

There was a renewed gale of screeching laughter that made the men wince.

“I’d better go and see how many eggs they’ve laid this time,” Ken commented.

In present company with the current drift of conversation Frank was very aware of having ‘bought into’ the village. “It’s not always a bad thing to get new blood in.”

“No, no,” Ken was quick to reassure him. “Fair play to you and Jean for the effort you’ve both put in since you took on the post office and shop. It looked like a lost cause but you saw what it could be, given hard work and a cash injection. Keeping it going for us all, well that’s important. No, my point is the likes of them just want to take the bits that fit in with their ideal of village life – all take and no give.”

“And Maggie’s another one – she came not long before me – she gives a lot of herself and her time,” Frank reminded them.

“She most certainly does,” Ken agreed. “She’s been in the thick of things here from the start. I certainly have more regard for her than to give away any information to those damned reporters we had here after the accident.”

“She didn’t move in and immediately complain about the crowing of their neighbour’s cockerel.” Alec glared daggers across the bar at his new neighbour.

“Or the sound of church bells on a Sunday morning,” Ken added.

One of the hen party group swayed up to the bar and held herself upright against it. “Same again all round,” she ordered the barman.

“Very civil of you – I’ll have a pint,” Ken said.

“No!” the woman squealed. “Don’t be naughty! You
know
I meant
our
round,” she giggled and draped her arm around Ken. “Tell you what, though – we’re going to have a fancy dress party next.” She looked him over and turned to her group to make sure she was the centre of everyone’s attention. “You can come as our pimp, or maybe Rod Stewart!”

Ken looked her over in return. “If I want to make any money I’d better come as Rod Stewart.”

“Yeah! You’d look great! Bit of hair gel and the right clothes!”

The others in Ken’s group fell about laughing, making sweeping motions with their hands over their heads.

“Don’t forget the spandex!” she screeched in his ear and picked up the tray of drinks to take back to her table.

“You could go as Nora Batty,” he suggested and got no reaction at all as she concentrated on the fine art of staying upright.

Ken shook his head and returned to their conversation. “On the subject of Maggie, any ideas what we can do to help?”

“Not much we can do at the moment,” was Frank’s opinion. “I think we’ll just have to wait and see what the situation is when she gets him home on Tuesday. At least she’s been away long enough for the reporters to have lost interest in the story.”

They all realised that their unwelcome visitors could well return when Iain’s case came to court, but for now the village was its normal sleepy self.

“Tell you what,” Alec suggested, “I’m going over to do the lawns, as I always do – every Monday and Friday, regular as clockwork. Lovely bit of machinery, that ride-on mower...” He loved engines of all descriptions. “Anyway, how about a few of us go together tomorrow and make sure the borders and what have you are up to scratch too?”

“Cracking idea – I reckon the forecast is right this time and the rain will hold off until Tuesday.” Ken had been comparing his own local predictions with the official ones for many years.

“I’ll ask my Jean to get together with Nora, too, and make sure the fridge is stocked as well. I’m sure she’d like to make a few things so Maggie doesn’t have to worry about shopping and cooking the minute she gets in.”

“I’ll ask Nora when I get home,” Alec said. “Get her to give Jean a shout if she needs a hand.”

Frank called for a final round. “Let’s give her a couple of days back home to settle in and then I’ll drive over and see how she’s getting on. Fancy coming too?”

They agreed on that and decided to review the situation at their next weekly get together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

June

Adam gratefully accepted the fragrant steaming coffee from Carole, nursing yet another Monday morning hangover.

“Why do you do it Adam?” she asked sympathetically.

He looked up at her and grinned weakly. “I’m just a party kind of person.”

“No you’re not,” she contradicted him. “You were once. Now you’re just hiding from the truth.”

He groaned. “Please,” he begged, “No philosophising this early in the week.”

“You wouldn’t feel this way so early in the week, every week, if you just asked out the woman you really want to be with,” she told him.

He had a vivid mental image of long silvery blonde hair and dancing blue eyes, a willowy figure that just begged to be held and cherished, a lively mind that fascinated him. He took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. “Sometimes just friendship is all you can have.”

“How do you know friendship is all she wants if you don’t ask her?” Carole challenged him. “Why not give her the chance to consider the alternative?”

“Perhaps because I don’t want to risk that friendship,” he admitted.

“Faint heart never won fair lady.” Carole pushed his hair back out of his eyes. “If you only treat her as your friend’s sister then that’s the only type of response you’ll get.” She went towards the door, and over her shoulder added, “And get your hair cut!”

Adam grinned weakly and shook his head at the closing door.
She gets away with things I wouldn’t allow from my own mother! How come she knows so much about our lives? Does she have spies posted, reporting back to her daily? I’m sure she knows things about us before we do.

Yet somehow what she knew, and what she said and did, was never intrusive. Perhaps because there wasn’t an ounce of malice in her, just genuine concern.

The big question is should I take her advice?

On impulse he picked up the phone and dialled Chloe’s work number.

“I told you I’d have that report ready in an hour! Leave me alone or I’ll take even longer.”

Adam was taken aback at the repressed fury in her voice. “Ah, Chloe – this isn’t an internal call. It’s Adam.”

“Shit!” Chloe wailed. “Now even my phone is on the blink showing the last call not the present one.” She sounded close to tears. “What is it Adam?”

“Look, this is obviously a bad time… ”

He heard what sounded like a sniff. “No, it’s OK. What did you phone for?”

“Well, I’m at a bit of a loose end tonight and wondered if you’d like to have dinner with me.”

The moment the words were out of his mouth he cursed himself for a fool. Now she’d think she was a last ditch option rather than his first choice for company.

Chloe thought over what a bad day she was having. It had started going wrong yesterday, with Jeremy standing her up, cancelling their date at very short notice. She suspected it was because he’d managed to talk the new receptionist into going out with him, and bet herself the interest in that direction was because he saw more chance of getting laid. She had a higher regard for herself than to barter her favours for a meal! Then Jon had been on her back about their team’s time scale slipping in the latest big project, one factor being that she had yet to complete the report needed for the meeting with the client late that afternoon.

Now my phone as well… What the hell, I deserve a better end to the day.

“I’d love to” she told Adam. “Pick me up at 8. Oh shit, no, not tonight. Big brother has mandated I be there for Mum getting home. Damn! It will have to be Saturday. Gotta go. Ciao!”

The phone went down before he could say another word.

That girl is a whirlwind at times
.

*

“You’d make a good nurse, Maggie,” Carolyn complimented her, as together they rolled Iain back after a good wash and moisturising of his skin to prevent pressure sores. They had also changed the sheepskin pad, but in two hours Maggie was going home. Another nurse would have to help move the long foam wedge to his other side in order to alter the pressure points.

Maggie had got to know the Henry Ward nurses well over the past fortnight. At first she had thought it strange that it was all first name terms but she’d noticed that the patients responded well to the more personal touch this gave to the care given. There were three interlinked four-bed sections to the ward, all of the patients recovering from head injuries of one sort or another. Iain was the only one in a coma, and also the only one with a cumbersome brace on his leg.

“How about coming to nurse me a bit, Maggie?” Tom called from the next bed. Initially he’d been admitted for observation for twenty four hours after being knocked out in a rugby tackle, but repeated dizzy spells, for which the doctors could find no cause, had resulted in a much longer stay, now well over a week. “The wife is neglecting me something awful and those lovely cool slim hands of yours on my fevered brow would do me the power of good.”

Maggie waved away his comment. “You know fine well if you hadn’t left her with the whole herd to milk by herself, plus the children to look after, she’d have been here for you,” she scolded him. “Fancy a grown man with responsibilities playing a silly dangerous game like that.”

“Silly game!” Tom was horrified. “It’s the finest game in all the world!”

Maggie’s lips twitched as she tried to keep a straight face. “A game nonetheless, and now your wife has to do your work for you.”

The banter had been non-stop since Tom woke at his accustomed milking time that morning.

“I’ll be pleased when Sian comes to collect you tomorrow morning,” Carolyn told him. “We’ll get a bit of peace and quiet then!” She looked across the bed. “We’ll certainly miss your help on the ward though, Maggie.”

Iain was due to be transferred to Chetmere hospital the next day. He was now stable and all the medical profession could do for him was give him care until he regained consciousness. Maggie was looking forward to sleeping in her own house again and it would be much easier for the children to visit.

It had been a really strange time for her. She’d felt out of place, in the way, the first day she had sat with Iain. The nurses had encouraged her to talk to him, to persuade him out of his coma, but what could she say? She didn’t know what she thought or how she felt about him any more. All she knew was she couldn’t desert him at this critical time in his life, not after all they’d shared over the years, not until she was sure he would be OK. She realised they had been puzzled by her. She’d seen their concerned faces and the glances they sent her way. She’d known Tom had been quizzing them about her.

She knew she would never confide in anyone about the recurrent nightmares she was suffering, the desperation and helplessness as in the dream her legs were leaden and she called and called to Iain to wait for her but the wind tore her words away and he kept walking away from her.

It had been much easier to cope with once she’d started to help in the ward’s daily routine, at first just clearing the odd bit of rubbish, distributing meals and cups of tea, and then helping with the physical care Iain needed. Now she felt like one of the team and it was a very satisfying feeling. All except the flashes of self-torture her mind inflicted as she gave him bed baths and could not help imagining his body close to another woman’s. Then she felt the rage boil within her, impotent fury that clenched her fists and forced her to turn away to regain composure.

James would be arriving that evening to take her home. He had been a pillar of strength to her, in constant touch and travelling over to be with her whenever he could. She was thankful they’d managed to make their peace so quickly. Maggie had apologised to him for her comments, acknowledging that there had been little he could do or say to affect what was happening. He in turn had apologised to her, still unsure if he had really done all he could to reason with his father or forewarn his mother.

Chloe had totally freaked out when she saw her father after the operation, lying there with a death like pallor and no response whatsoever to her voice or touch. She had run crying from the ward and refused to visit again until her father had regained consciousness. She did phone but they seemed to have little to say to each other. Maggie’s physical world had been reduced to what was happening on the ward and Chloe didn’t want to hear about that.

Richard, Joanne and Keela, along with her friends from the village, had been very supportive. Their phone calls were chatty, passing on snippets of gossip, keeping her grounded in the world outside of the hospital. Just hearing their voices helped her feel strong enough to continue to the end, whatever that ending may be. Even little Schez phoned with regular updates about Deefor, not that he was making any discernible progress. How she longed to walk in the woods with him again.

“Come and sit here a minute, lass,” Tom asked, patting the side of his bed. “I have a confession and an invitation to make.”

Maggie was intrigued and sat sideways to face him. “What’s this confession then Tom? Have you been trying to touch the nurses where you shouldn’t again?”

“You wound me to the core,” he claimed, trying to look wronged and not really succeeding.

He was quite a handsome man, Maggie mused, in a rugged kind of way. He had thick curly brown hair and hazel eyes that the devil danced in most of the time. “No, Maggie, love, my confession is about my stay here. The doctors are throwing me out too tomorrow because they can’t find anything wrong with me.”

“Yes,” Maggie prompted. “And?”

He scanned for anyone within earshot before continuing. “They can’t find anything wrong because there isn’t anything wrong. I was just so very tired after 19 years farming with never a day’s holiday that when I felt the cool fresh sheets beneath me and no chores to take me out of them I couldn’t resist. Isn’t that awful?”