The Caxley Chronicles (20 page)

'He'll only send me to bed,' he gasped. 'I'm much better off down here by the fire. Don't fuss so, Hilda.'

But after a day or two he had such violent pains in his chest, and his breathing was so laboured that Hilda slipped out of the house and rang up the doctor from a neighbour's. Within an hour Bender was in Caxley Cottage Hospital.

Sep heard about it at dinner time and rang the hospital for news. He was in some discomfort, he was told, but making progress. He would not be allowed visitors for some time.

Sep was deeply shaken. For the next few days he went about his affairs silent and depressed. The market square was not the same without Bender's huge figure in the doorway of North's, and his great laugh sending the pigeons flying. Sep rang Hilda and kept in touch. He did not like to call at the house. Since the Norths had moved he had seldom visited them. Any meeting with Bender had taken place at the shop, or, by chance, in the market place or street.

As soon as Bender was allowed visitors Sep went to see him. It was a cold night of sharp frost, and the railings and lamp posts were hoary with rime. It was good to get inside the warmth of the hospital, despite the reek of disinfectant which always upset Sep's stomach.

Bender looked mountainous in bed. His face against the pillow had an unnatural pallor which shocked Sep. Clearly, Bender had been very ill indeed. Beside his bed was another visitor, and as Sep approached he saw that it was Jack Tenby. The man rose as Sep came near.

'Don't go, Jack,' said Bender. 'Sit you down, man. I'm allowed two visitors at a time. Stay till Hilda comes.'

He held out a hand to Sep and gripped him with the same old firmness with which Sep was familiar.

'Good to see you, Sep. How's things?'

The three men exchanged news of Caxley friends. Someone had moved, someone else had taken up motor-racing, a third was to be made Mayor next year. The bridge was being repainted. A new bus service had been started to the county town. There was talk of a housing estate in the field behind the park.

Bender listened eagerly to all these topics, but he seemed tired, Sep thought, and when Hilda appeared bearing fruit and flowers, the two men made their farewells and left the hospital together.

The cold air caught their breath as they emerged. Above them the stars were brilliant. Their footsteps rang on the frosty pavement as they descended the gentle slope into the town together.

'How d'you think he looks?' asked Jack Tenby.

'Pretty weak,' admitted Sep.

'I agree. His wife was telling me the other day that the doctor says he should retire.'

They had reached the crossroads where their ways divided and paused beneath the lamp post to continue their conversation. In the light from the gas above them their breath rose in clouds.

'I haven't said anything to Bender about this yet, but I know it will go no further if I tell you about my plans. I'm pulling out of the market place.'

Sep was taken aback.

'For good, do you mean? What's gone wrong?'

'Nothing particularly. It's time I retired myself. It's been thought over and it seems best to sell up all but the original shop. Things aren't easy and are going to get worse. Staffing's a constant headache. I'm not getting any younger. If I collect the cash now and bank it, I reckon I can tick over comfortably until I die. The family's out in the world and it's time my wife and I had a bit of a rest.'

Sep nodded. All this was sensible. But what would Bender feel about it? And what would happen to his old home?

'What about North's?' he asked.

'It'll be put on the market,' replied Tenby. 'Good position like that should help its sale.'

'Jack,' said Sep suddenly, laying a hand on the other's arm, 'let me know when you finally decide. I should like to think about it.'

'I'll do that,' promised Tenby. 'It's going to happen before long. You shall be the first to know my plans.'

He raised a hand and set off at a brisk pace, leaving Sep to gaze at his dwindling figure.

Sep moved off more slowly. He had plenty of food for thought, and he would digest it undisturbed as he walked the streets of Caxley.

How oddly things had turned out! For over a year now Sep had been trying to find new premises in which to expand his thriving business. All Caxley said that Howard's was a gold mine. Only Sep knew how prosperous the business really was. He had saved regularly. His way of life had altered little over the years. As a result of this, and of his foresight and industry, Sep's bank account was extremely satisfactory. It was time that he put some of this money into another business, he decided, and it looked now as if one of his pipe dreams might come true. If North's were to come on the market it would be the perfect place for Howard's restaurant which he and Edna had thought about for so long.

He turned aside down a quiet lane which led to the river. Firelight flickered on the curtains of a cottage. A tabby cat streaked across his path. The smoke from Caxley's chimneys rose straight into the motionless night. Sep seemed to be the only person abroad as he paced along deep in thought.

He could see it all so clearly in his mind's eye. There would be one great room running from front to back on the ground floor, with french windows leading into Bender's garden. A garden had always been one of the highlights of Sep's dream. Here, in the summer, the Caxley folk could eat at little white tables, sipping their coffee or tea and choosing those delectable
pastries made at Sep's shop over the way. There had been a need for a good class restaurant in Caxley for many years. Who better to supply it than Sep, who could provide the best cakes and pies in the neighbourhood?

If this property really became his how wonderful it would be! His own premises had been cramped for many years now. True, he had been able to buy the yard next door which belonged to the old herbalist who ran the dusty little shop beside Sep's own. Here he was able to keep the vans and some of his stores. He had often thought about buying out the herbalist, but the property was small and inconvenient, and although old Mr White was in his seventies, and looked as though a puff of wind would blow him away like thistledown, he continued to bumble about among his elixirs and nostrums with remarkable energy for one so frail.

Strangely enough, the possibility of North's ever becoming free had never occurred to Sep when thinking about his restaurant. Somehow, North's belonged to Bender still in Sep's mind, and was inviolate. If it should become his, thought Sep, quickening his pace as he reached the tow path, he would see that Bender's garden was restored as nearly as possible to its former glory. It would be a perfect setting for teas on the sloping lawns with the Cax rippling by.

And what about the house above the restaurant? He and Edna would not want to live there. They were far too comfortable in their own home, and even such a short move would be repugnant to Sep. Would Bender want to return? Would he rebuff any offer of Sep's yet again, if he were to suggest it ?

Sep stopped by a willow tree, stretching its skinny arms to the stars above. Bender's waxen face as he had seen it that
evening, floated before him. It was no use blinking the fact, thought Sep, suddenly becoming conscious of the icy cold, Bender had not many years before him, either at Rose Lodge or anywhere else. But if it lay in his power, Sep swore to himself, Bender should have his old home again, if he so wished.

And after? Sep turned up his coat collar and set his face towards the market square. Well, if this dream should become reality, then one day, far in the future, Bender's home should go to one of his own—one who would love it as Bender had done.

It should be Edward's.

Sep kept his thought to himself, and said nothing of Tenby's disclosures to Edna or anyone else. Bender made very slow progress, and the crocuses were out before he was allowed to return to Rose Lodge.

He found convalescence even more tedious than hospital life. At least there had been a routine there, a succession of small happenings and a constant stream of people, nurses, doctors, fellow-patients, and visitors. It was too cold to go in the garden. He was forbidden to work in the greenhouse, which was his latest joy, in case he lifted something too heavy or stood too long on his weak legs. Books tired his eyes, radio programmes his ears. Food was a bore, drink was restricted, and smoking too. Visitors were his only distraction, and Hilda welcomed them for it gave her a brief respite from her patient's claims on her time.

Bertie and Winnie and the children called in every day.
Occasionally Winnie stayed the night and Bertie took his mother out to friends or for a drive in the countryside to refresh her. She had borne up wonderfully during these tiring months, but to Bertie's eyes she looked years older.

'He frets to get back to the shop,' said Hilda on one of their outings, 'but the doctor won't hear of it yet. I do so wish he would retire. Do try and make him see sense, Bertie.'

'I'll have a word with him when I can,' promised Bertie dutifully.

But there was no need for Bertie to exercise his persuasive powers. When they returned they found that Jack Tenby had called and had told Bender all his plans for the future. So there had been something in the rumours flying round Caxley, thought Bertie.

His father looked pale and shaken.

'That settles it,' he said heavily. 'I'm finished for good now. The old place to be sold, and no job for me even if I could do it.'

Hilda straightened the cushion behind his aching head, and spoke with spirit.

'Don't be so full of self-pity! This is the best news I've heard for a long time. Now perhaps you'll make the best of being a retired man, and stop worrying about that wretched shop.'

'What have I got to look forward to?' asked Bender, half-enjoying his sad plight.

'Looking after me,' said his wife promptly. 'Pottering about in the greenhouse. Planning the garden for the summer. Helping your grandchildren with their homework. Being a little more welcoming to Mary's boy friends when she brings them home. Dozens of things.'

Despite himself, Bender had to smile.

'Have I been such a trial?' he asked.

'You've been
terrible
!' cried Hilda, with such fervour that Bender laughed aloud, and then began to wheeze. Bertie went forward in alarm, but was waved back vigorously.

'I'm all right, boy. Haven't been so right for weeks! Dammit all, now it's come to it, I believe I'm going to settle back and enjoy my old age!'

It was a month later that Sep called at Rose Lodge—a month that had been hectic for the little baker. He and Edna had talked far into the nights about the restaurant. There had been discussions with the bank, with surveyors, builders, solicitors, and dozens of people concerned in the exchange of property. Meanwhile, his own business had to be carried on, and all the time the problem of broaching the subject to Bender was uppermost in Sep's mind. Now the time had come. The deal was virtually done, and the property his.

He had gone about the affair as discreetly as possible and was confident that Bender had heard nothing. He wanted to break the news himself. It was unthinkable that he should hear of it from any other source.

Hilda let him in with a smile.

'He'll be so glad to see you. He's in the greenhouse watering the plants.'

Sep made his way into the garden. The greenhouse was warm and scented. Little beads of perspiration glistened on Bender's forehead. He put down the watering can and sank on to an upturned wooden box, motioning Sep to do the same.

'Good to see you, Sep. What's the news?'

'I'm not sure how you'll take it. But it's news you're bound
to hear before long, and I wanted to be the one to bring it.'

'Well, get on with it then. Is it about Edna? Or has that new baby of Kathy's arrived?'

'Not yet—any day now, I believe. But it's not exactly family affairs I've come to talk about, but business ones.'

'Oh ah!' said Bender, yawning.

He did not seem to be particularly interested. At least, thought Sep, it should not be too great a shock.

'It's about your shop, Bender.'

'Has it gone yet? Jack Tenby said something about an auction if it didn't sell.'

'It has been sold,' said Sep. He ran a finger round the rough rim of a flowerpot, his eyes downcast.

'That's quick work!' commented Bender with more interest. 'Anyone we know bought it?'

'As a matter of fact,' said Sep, looking up from the flowerpot, 'I've bought it.'

There was silence in the heat of the greenhouse, and then Bender took a deep breath.

'Well, I'm damned,' he said softly. Then, leaning forward, he smote Sep's knee with something of his old heartiness.

'Well, don't be so deuced apologetic about it, boy! I'm glad you're having it, and that's the truth! Could have been bought by some sharp lad from London, simply to sell at a profit. Tell me more.'

Sep began. Once started it became easier to tell of his search for premises, for the hope of a restaurant and the general expansion of Howard's. Bender listened intently.

'And the garden?' he asked, when Sep paused to take breath.

'I want to keep it as you used to have it,' said Sep, 'when the
children played there. It was at its best then, I always think.

'It was,' agreed Bender. 'Tell you what, I'll try and remember how it was we had it, and let you have the plants to set it up again. I'd like to do that for the old place.'

His face was cheerful, and he picked up the watering can again.

'Well, well, well!' he muttered bending over his seedlings. 'So you're going to be the owner of North's!'

He looked across at Sep.

'Ever going to live there?'

'No,' replied Sep. 'Young Parker is going to set up on his own in the High Street. Starting a china shop, evidently, but there's no accommodation there. I've told him he can stay where he is for the time being.'

Bender nodded, and continued his watering. Was this the time, Sep wondered, with a beating heart, to broach the question of Bender's return? Not yet, perhaps. Enough had happened today. He would wait a little.