Never Too Late (37 page)

“Then the lonely piglet thought ‘I bet my family are just the other side of this hedge’, so he wriggled and pushed his way through to the other side. Wriggle and push now!”

All the children giggled as they duly pretended to wriggle and push through the hedge.

“And what do you think he saw when he got the other side?”

Isabelle put up her hand.

“Yes, Isabelle?”

“I think he found his family.”

“No, I bet it was a monster,” was Jules’ firm opinion. All good stories had monsters and this one hadn’t had one yet.

They all chipped in with ideas of what was on the other side of the hedge.

“It was the farmer!”

“No, a bull!”

Hilda put her hand up and they quietened down again. “It was a chicken, with her seven fluffy yellow chicks.” She held up the book for them all to see the picture. “She was clucking and clucking, trying to keep all her children together. Mrs Chicken said to the lonely piglet ‘I saw your family going down that lane to the wood. I’d come with you to find them but you can see how busy I am.’ The piglet said ‘I’m sure I can find them, Mrs Chicken.’ So off he went to the lane, but the lane was very muddy. Now if that was you or me, we’d think we had better get our wellington boots on before going down a muddy lane like this one,” she showed the muddy lane picture round and some of the girls pulled faces, “but what do pigs love to do?”

“Roll in mud!” they all chorused.

“They do indeed. Shall we all be piglets rolling in the mud?”

“Yes!”

Maggie left her boxes and bag on a table near the door. She went into the kitchen to ensure there was enough soap and towels for cleaning the children up after the painting session. She had extras in the car, just in case. Sarah was there mixing up a jug of squash for the children, and she had the kettle on for tea.

“Hi, Sarah,” she said in a half whisper. “I would have expected you to be doing the story telling, with all your experience with children.”

Deefor had quite a soft spot for Sarah and sat to offer a paw handshake, grinning up at her as they shared their guilty secret. Sarah accepted the paw and slipped him a small chewy dog treat from her pocket before resuming making the tea.

“I’ve told a few bedtime stories over the years, that’s for sure,” she said, putting the lid on the teapot, “but I don’t like big groups of children.” She struggled to reach down the plastic cups from the top shelf and Maggie reached over for her. “Besides,” she continued, “those are her own stories she’s reading them. They always go down well, as the children can act them out as they’re told.”

Maggie was mystified. “Her own stories? Hilda wrote them? My goodness, I never realised Ann Fletcher was our own Hilda! My Mum read me those stories when I was little and now I find I’m living just down the road from her.”

“Oh, yes. She always wanted children. When it turned out she would never have a family of her own she sort of adopted everyone else’s children. Now we each have three generations of children to talk about.”

There was a sudden chorus of loudly squealing ‘pigs’. When Maggie glanced out, the children were trying to outdo each other, pretending to wiggle their curly tails.

“Writing was how she supported herself,” Sarah continued. “Some say she was the originator of the current, more interactive style of young children’s books. I know all of my children enjoyed them.”

“It just goes to show, you can live close to someone for years and still not know some of the most fundamental things about them.”

“We all of us present a chosen face to the world, don’t you think? You need to trust someone totally before you let your guard down and allow your true self be seen in its entirety.”

Maggie took out the tray of squash mugs, mulling over whether she and Iain had perhaps not trusted each other enough. Had they both hidden their inner selves away? But there had never been much time for just talking, not with James arriving so soon after their marriage, and Iain trying so hard to build up his business. Now really was the time to start new habits, a habit of trust, and a habit of communication.

She handed Hilda a cup of tea and the children thirstily took their squash, some still squealing and wriggling.

“They certainly enjoyed that story,” Maggie congratulated her. “I had no idea we had an author in the village.”

Hilda harrumphed. “These stories will all be forgotten soon – they’ll be on to JK Rowling and the like. Which is as it should be. These are just to get them to learn the alphabet and discover an interest in reading for themselves.”

“And in not too many years after that, they’ll have children of their own and will remember the stories they were read when they were young. They’ll want their children to help the lonely piglet find his family too.”

“Mayhap you’re right,” she conceded.

Good grief, thought Maggie, wonders will never cease. That had to be the first time Hilda had agreed with her, albeit reluctantly, for a decade at least.

“Where are the older children today?” she asked as Sarah joined them.

“Angela and her daughter - Zoe, isn’t it? - have taken them off on a nature I-Spy in the woods. They won’t be back for hours yet.”

“Oh good, we can spread right out.”

Maggie went to get a big roll of paper. “Who wants to help paint a picture to stick up along the whole length of that wall?” she called out. “Do you think we can manage one that big between us?”

“Yeeessss!” was the immediate chorus, and the roll was spun out along the floor.

“And can Deefor help us?” Jules wanted to know.

Deefor was a big favourite with the children. He was a real gentleman with them, graciously allowing all their petting as long as he could keep Maggie in his sights. No doubt he’d need paint washed off too by the end of the session, Maggie thought ruefully.

*

Angela and Zoe returned in time for the children’s parents to collect them. Maggie, Sarah and Hilda were finishing off pinning the new painting to the walls. It was spectacularly colourful and full of vibrant energy, although it had merged into several sludgy brown blobs where the boys had got over enthusiastic with the paint mixing.

“Make sure you take everything with you,” Angela called to the children. “Don’t forget it’s Saturday tomorrow and the hall will be locked up until Monday.”

Maggie stood back to admire the group effort. “What do you think?” she asked.

“Too good for a Turner Prize, that’s for sure,” was Zoe’s assessment. “I see Deefor’s been enjoying it too – I take it those are his paw prints?”

His eyes were certainly shining but the splashes of paint on his fur didn’t improve his looks any, especially the pink splodge near his nose. Maggie shook her head.

“Come on lad; let’s get you cleaned up a bit before we go home.”

Sarah and Hilda gratefully accepted Maggie’s offer to clear up and lock the hall at the end of the afternoon session. Angela and Maggie worked well together, and with Zoe’s help too it didn’t take long to get the hall spick and span again. When they went out to their cars the early evening sun tempted them to linger a while.

“How are Adam and Schez’s plans coming along?” Maggie asked. “Do we have a date for the wedding yet?

Angela regarded her steadily. “You haven’t heard, have you?”

“Heard what?”

“About Chloe causing mischief between them.”

“Chloe? What on earth has she got to do with them?”

“At that barbecue of yours she tried to make Schez believe that my son is besotted with her, that he was in the habit of stringing along a whole series of women while he waits for Chloe to finally accept his proposal of marriage to her.”

“Whew! I don’t know what to say!”

Maggie rested against her car in total shock. Her mind went back to the look on Chloe’s face when she saw Adam at her birthday party, and certain things she’d said since. She knew her daughter had always demanded, and got, exactly what she’d wanted all her life, largely thanks to her father’s indulgence of his ‘Princess’, but this was bang out of order.

“I had an inkling that Chloe was starting to see Adam as something other than a nearly brother, as she always called him, and I know she can be thoughtless and selfish at times, but I had no idea she could be vindictive. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault.” Angela took Maggie’s hands and squeezed them gently.

“I feel it is, though, I should have put my foot down more often, let her learn you can’t always have what you want, that life isn’t like that. I’ve been too weak for too many years and now look at the results.”

“But it was your other child who put things right. It was James Adam looked to for advice, and James who helped sort it out.”

“50% success rate in raising children then?” Maggie laughed weakly. “What am I to do with her?”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. We’re only human and all make mistakes, so we can only do our best when they’re young. Some things we get right, some things we get wrong. Then they have to live their own lives.”

“That’s harder than when they were children at times isn’t it.” Maggie shook her head. “How am I going to tell Iain his Princess isn’t so perfect after all? What am I going to say to Chloe next time she deigns to contact us?”

“Can’t help you with that one I’m afraid,” Angela said, getting into her car. “Remember, none of us blame you for her actions, though, and no harm’s been done in the end. See you for coffee tomorrow?”

“Yes, sure,” Maggie agreed rather distractedly.

“I’ll pop round about 11 then.”

That evening, Iain and Maggie took their after dinner coffee into the courtyard. The late evening had cooled to a very pleasant temperature and the birds sang a lyrical end to the day. The low angle of the sun strengthened the warm earth colours, and pollen shivered and danced in the beams.

Maggie loved this time of day, the in between time when the toil of the day was over but it was not yet night, a no-man’s land of possibilities. Iain realised, though, that she was not relaxed as she normally would be. Her normal reaction would be to lean back in her chair, close her eyes and turn them to the dying rays, letting the colours dance behind her eyelids. Today she sat hunched in her chair, staring at the steam rising from her coffee. Deefor, ever sensitive to her moods, whined gently and laid his head on her lap. Something was preying on her mind and Iain took the bull by the horns.

“Maggie…”

She started. “Sorry, what is it you need?” She made to get up but he took her hand.

“Sit down, please. What I need is for you to tell me what’s troubling you.”

She blushed and looked away.

“Remember how we promised to discuss things?” he reminded her. “Come on, out with it or you’ll never get to sleep tonight, and nor will I.”

Slowly, and painfully, Maggie told him what Chloe had been up to. She watched as Iain’s expression turned cold and a well-known steely look came into his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Iain, I feel like I’ve failed both of you. I thought I’d taught her to behave better than that.”

Iain leaned forward and stopped her words with a kiss. “No, my darling, it’s me who should apologise to you. It’s me who let her get away with too much.” He leaned back and sighed. “Do you remember a few weeks back you dropped me at the surgery and popped up to the church? And I was waiting outside when you got back?”

Maggie nodded, confused at the change of subject.

“Hilda Watkins stopped for a chat. She said how pleased she was that you’d finally come to your senses and was treating me properly, or words to that effect.” He held up his hand to stop her interrupting. “It took some doing but I got her to tell me what she was on about. From what I was able to piece together it turns out our daughter has not been above lies and insinuations for quite some time. While she was at junior school, just before leaving for private school, she asked for her own pony. Do you remember? It was the one and only time you were adamant in denying her what she wanted. You didn’t think she’d look after it properly once the initial enthusiasm had worn off, and I agreed. Her previous passions had only ever lasted a few months at most. But whereas I took the line that she could have it and we’d just sell it once she tired of it, you didn’t want her thinking that pets were just dispensable items and refused point blank. It turns out she got her revenge on you by spreading rumours you were having an affair with Jean-Luc – do you remember he came here and lived with us for six months on a sort of apprenticeship under me?”

“Gosh – Jean-Luc – how could I forget him? He caused quite a stir in the village with his Gallic ways! But an affair? No way!”

“I know that, and you know that, but Hilda believed Chloe. She didn’t think a child that young would know about things like affairs, not unless she had experience of such things happening at home. And she gave it extra credence because James’ early arrival was proof, to her, that your morals were below par when it came to sex and marriage. All these years somehow she’s known I’ve been unfaithful to you, but thought it was all your fault for denying me my God given rights as your husband. She thought you preferred playing away from home, so I’d been forced to look elsewhere too.”

“Well I hope you put her right.”

“Too true.”

Maggie nodded thoughtfully. “That would certainly explain a lot.” Including Hilda now being civil to her, she thought. “But what are we going to do about Chloe?”

Iain reached for his mobile. “Leave her to me,” he said resolutely. He dialled Chloe’s number, and grew angry when it went to voicemail. “Chloe, get your arse down here tomorrow, 10 o’clock sharp. No excuses. Be here!” was the message he left.

*

After a restless night Maggie rose early and decided to take Deefor for a long walk around the small reservoir that served Chetmere and the surrounding villages. They hadn’t been there for ages and she knew he loved investigating all the different scents from other walkers and their dogs that he found there. Plus, with careful timing, when she got back Chloe would have already arrived and be with her father, if she had the courage to turn up that is.