Cold Crumpet Farm - Part Six
by Little Dot
(If you're new to the story, start at Part
One)
When
Flora arrived at the village hall there was already a small crowd gathered
outside. Mandy Beesborough stood in a silent huddle with some women from
the council estate and an elderly widow from Glebelands. Susan and Clarrie
were moaning about having been kept waiting. "I've gotta get back to get
Neil's tea," Susan was saying, "an' Emmur an' Christofur won't be 'appy
if it's late." Don't worry about that," said Flora unlocking the door,
"go inside and put some chairs 'round in a circle. I think that's our
speaker arriving now."
It was several hours later that the group re-emerged from the hall. "Fancy
a drink in the Bull, Clarrie?" Susan asked her friend. "Why not," Clarrie
answered. "I think i's abou' time Eddie an' the boys looked after themselves."
Flora and Ruth followed them out. "What did you think to that, Ruth?"
Flora asked. "It was very int'restin'," said Ruth slowly. "It's given
me a lot to think about." Flora pressed her gently, but Ruth would say
no more.
Two days later Flora came into the Brookfield kitchen to find David making
the dinner. "Well, I'm better at cooking than Ruth," he said when Flora
commented on it, "so I said I'd make tea tonight." "Good," said Flora.
"What's Ruth up to?" "She's in the other room playing with the children."
David turned down the heat beneath the saucepan. "Can I get you a drink?"
Flora accepted and after fetching two beers from the fridge David joined
her sitting at the kitchen table. They sat in silence sipping from their
bottles of beer. Eventually David said: "Listen, Flora, I don't know what
you said to Ruth the other day, but I wanted to thank you. She's been
so much happier since then. It's weird, but she's just been talking about
what we should do on the farm... I never knew she had such strong and
informed opinions."
Flora smiled to herself and they lapsed back into silence. It was strange,
she thought how Clarrie's transformation had been so swift and dramatic
- poor Eddie had spent the last two nights in Lynda Snell's goat shed,
whereas Ruth was just acting a little more assertive: quietly letting
David know what she thought and wanted. There was, she thought, only one
final thing to sort out.
Flora went to see Jill the next afternoon. She found her in the parlour
looking far less buoyant than usual. Flora was about to enquire the reason
for Jill's lethargy when the latter launched into a tirade of misery and
ranting which began with her dislike of Shula's newfound joie de vivre
and ended with Elizabeth's recently discovered ability to bake a perfect
lemon souffle, taking in Phil's addiction to message boards, and Ruth's
effortless dominance at Brookfield, on its way. Flora sat and listened
impartially. Obviously Jill was feeling extraneous, superfluous, and generally
superceded in her matriarchal role. It was not unexpected.
Flora withdrew a sheath of magazines and brochures from her bag and offered
the now tearful Jill a tissue.
The Archer clan assembled, a fortnight later, at Borchester International
Airport to wave Jill off. Phil, it seemed, was quite happy to stay at
Lower Loxley with Nigel and Elizabeth (and their high speed ISDN Internet
connection). Jill, resplendent in her new dove grey trouser suit, kissed
each of her children in turn, picked up her vanity case and walked toward
the departure gate.
The End
