Into the free...worms in the apple

Shopping list - new nice shampoo,  - if I'm going to have all this stress in my life I'm going to need a lot more good shampoo!  Do they make gallon size bottles?



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Friday Afternoon

I selected sensible shoes and equally sensible clothes to match.  I won't win any glamour contests but at least I'd be better prepared for midnight hikes through the woods and to that end I re-checked my phone battery, the screen illuminated to my touch and it displayed 97%, which was good enough for me.

The nap I had in that heavenly bed  If you could call anything heavenly in a house owned by a self confessed demon, had left me refreshed and with a bright outlook.  The images of wicked witches and scary river monsters were gone, evaporating in the heat of the day like a puddle after a light Summer shower;  It was hard to remember what, if anything had passed though my mind. 

As I passed the hall mirror I stopped to apply a little make-up, a red rash had appeared on my cheek and then I collected a few notes and a handful of coins and headed out the door.


Clive was outside when I walked up the driveway, cutting things with oversized gardeny scissor things and a rake was at hand to keep everything as tidy as possible, even his pile of cuttings formed an almost perfect pyramid. The blades came together with a bright 'sherlic', the motion efficient and effective.  He had lines of sweat on his brow and even in the very welcoming heat of the day he worn a cardigan buttoned up as far as the remaining buttons allow and the ones left were fighting to keep the two sides together over the prominent extrusion of his granddad belly.

"Good afternoon my dear."  He said wiping away the perspiration with the back of his sleeve.  "You're looking as beautiful as the roses."

I looked down at the mismatching top and trousers, and the least said about the shoes the better, and failed to see what he was talking about.  "Nah, " I responded, "Working hard?"

"No, just trimming the bushes to stop them over growing and keep them in shape, they bloom better with care and control.  Beth always liked them this time of year when they were about to burst into colour."

"Beth?"  I was useless at names but was sure Annie was his wife's name, although I have made mistakes like that with friends girlfriends' names or calling them by the name of the one before last.

"Aye, apple of my eye and weight upon my knee she was."  Clive stopped and rested his frame on the handle of the rake and absentmindedly raked at the ground whether there were clippings or not.  "My daughter, beautiful thing with life flowing out of her with every bounce and sway.  Dance, she would dance so well in the mid-summer."

Annie was bustling up the cottage's garden with a tray covered by a tea towel; a jug and glass unmistakably stood there with, if I was not mistaken, the edge of a small plate containing a sweet treat. Clive was well looked after and the cause of the tight cardigan was becoming clear;  I hoped that I would find someone to care for me like this one day.

Annie stiffened when she drew near and her look turned to concern.  Clive had a tear in his eye and everything about him from his shoulders through to his wrinkles had sagged.  Annie did not speak, but the look she gave me was of concern and questioning.

"I...I'm sorry.  I just asked about Beth, Clive was..."

"We do not talk much about Bethany these days I'm afraid.  Do not be sorry she's not here anymore."
Clive and Annie had come together in a very familiar embrace where shoulder to shoulder they could face the world.

"I'm sorry, has she passed on?"  I asked with as much understanding as I could.

"Oh Heavens no", said Annie, "Just not here."

  "Ran away to London to chase dreams and not a care for family or duty."  Added Clive, for all the punch the statement could have had there was no effort behind any stress or hard words, just a hole in his tone.

I wanted to pry no longer and I began to feel uncomfortable in raising the past private sorrows, like an eaves dropper during a private conversation between two close friends or a stranger at a wedding breakfast.

Clive wanted to talk, and the least I could do now the conversation was flowing was to listen and the story flowed, disjointed and full of memories out of order and narrative that changed from perspective and era's of childhood to teenage rebellion and back again.
  The village was a small place, the woods and meadows, expansive and trawling as they were could not hold an entity that radiated enthusiasm as Bethany had.  A wife and mother in a cottage in the woods was not for her. 
  Once she adored the countryside and willed away the hours making flower garlands down by the stretch or river on the estate and reading books of adventure and fairies sitting in the twisting boughs of the trees.  Then as all children do she grew up, made friends and received an education and horizons that once formed the edge of her universe turned into the boundaries to her cage.  Like many of the girls as beautiful as her, she joined the group.  Was it just here, or was there one group in every village or community where girls met to talk and imagine?  The group here filled her head with wonders and offered her power over her growing body and gave her power to stand up and want more.  Like the others, the group found the money to send her off to London to chase her dreams and fancies, gave her a house to live in and support.

Clive now turned away and his voice deepened and bitterness seeped in.  "They took the place of her family and took her from us.  All those beautiful laughing girls, all perfect and all sly and all worms in the apple."

Annie comforted him and a mountain of grief stood snow capped around them.  I made a small token of empathy for feelings I could never begin to understand and with a wish I never would and assisted Annie in getting Clive indoors.  Once at the door I left.  The warming sun lost its glow and the carefully created spectacle of the garden wilted in my eye. 

I made a mental note to ask about Beth in the village as discreetly as I could in a hope I could help track her down and maybe lift some of the sorrow from the old couples lives.  The cottage needs the sound of children's laughter and the swing-less tree at the centre of the garden would appeal more with a rope tied through it to a stick seat.  Maybe there were a grandchild or two out there to complete the picture.

I set my feet moving slowly at first then with greater speed as I moved away from Fernum and towards the village centre.  I still had a job to do and an employer who expects results.



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