'A lot has happened since then. I expected more recent thoughts.'
'It all has to start at that point. If we extrapolate back from all points around today’s Lower Butts, we end up at that fateful morning. That’s where big bang happened. Let’s start at that moment. We can consider distance travelled since then.'
'That’s fine by me,' she affirmed.
'I’m going to assume that you knew Sid had lesbian leanings. I wasn’t sure. You were!'
I waited for confirmation. She remained quiet so I took that as a ‘yes,’ and proceeded.
'You wanted her and you wanted the children she looked after, so you hired me so that you could have contact without your scheme becoming obvious to the outside world.'
Vera stiffened, sitting upright like a governess wanting to make a good impression. She still said nothing.
'Then you moved the Walker children into the stable apartments - with good reason I hasten to add. Ch
Day 331. Friday.Nearly a year has gone by and much has happened.My Diary. I shall never show Vera this diary and she will never ask to see it. It’s better that way. It’s behind us.Vera’s pregnancy. Nothing to report. She either got carried away with her diagnosis, she was lying for reasons only known to her, or she lost the baby. Whatever, if she wants to talk about it, she will. She doesn’t seem fussed, now she has Sid in bed and Tom and Sandra to mother.But why would she lie about that? I have my theory (as always).Charley saw himself as the surrogate father and would never have let the children down. Only by bringing Charley into the house, could she hope to get Sid and the children for herself. Trying to exclude Charley was too risky. He would certainly have been hurt after all he had done for them and may have l
Day 1.Monday. ‘Millicent! I need to talk to you.’ I wouldn’t have noticed Vera as she sat down, because of my terrible eyesight. The name was mine. It had to be me she was calling. But from where? I searched the café. This meant peering across the space between, through powerful lenses. Vera wasn’t a regular visitor, even though it was her café. Most café owners would breakfast in their restaurant every morning, but not Vera and I certainly don’t eat here. It isn’t my café. I’m just a worker from the village, who tries to earn a few quid as a waitress, so when I finally spotted her over by the long trestles, used by coach parties, she was waving me over. My heart skipped a beat as I imagined the conversation to come. ‘Millicent, we have too many staff on and being casual, I’m afraid I’ll have to let you go. I’ll have your last wages ready at midday.’ This wasn’t panic. She was on the other side of
Day 2. Tuesday It was a beautiful Julymorning. I took my normal route to the café, alongside a stream full of watercress and tall grasses and late-spring scents. It followed the route of an avenue of fine old sycamores and chestnuts, went past the visitor car park and then through an entrance arch. The café was a glass and wood structure, leaning against the wall to the left of
Day 2 cont. I became worried. Had I overstepped the mark? She had insisted on honesty and humiliated me. She had to be told. That was to be the deal or so I thought, but my dad had warned me that this job would come to no good. ‘They are all a cup short of a tea-set, when it comes to snobbish protocol,’ he had informed me over supper last night. I dried my eyes on my blouse sleeve, and managed a conciliatory tone, mainly because she was white as asheetand I feared a coronary was on its way. 'What is it?' I asked. 'Are you ill?'
Day 2. conclusion We took the long route to the tea-room. Nerves were still frayed and once we had arrived, tea took a long time to reach the table. Sid dithered, quite deliberately, to point out that they were very busy and short-handed, because a key member of the team was licking the arse or less metaphorically, lapping up the crumbs from the master’s table. I ignored Sid and added rules 3 and 4 to the list. Once done, Vera used the time to get me acquainted with some of her plans, which, I suspect, were only just beginning to crystallise in her mind. 'Millicent, I want you to keep a diary of our talks and give it all to me at
Day 3. Wednesday Sometime in the night, a cold, intense drizzle began to blow across the fens. My bedroom window is covered in a fine mist. Where did that change in the weather come from? Yesterday was glorious. That meant that few visitors would turn out, so they wouldn’t want me in the café – no big deal if Vera paid me – but Sid would be in desperate straits if they sent her home without working a shift. She was, as far as I knew, the only earner in the family. Now was the time to regret my outburst yesterday, when I more or less told Vera she should stuff the rotten Land Rover where the sun don’t shine. As my Granddad would tell me, should I bump into him, a second-class ride is better than a first class walk, especially in such weather. I found my screwed-up rain gear in the bottom of the wardrobe, under my muddy boots, so I was guaranteed to look a sight. I could only hope it would rain hard enough to wash the mud
Day 4 - Thursday Vera was into her DIY big-time. The rain front from yesterday hadn’t cleared East Anglia. There was no BMW waiting at the end of the garden so I walked to the House in horizontal rain, couldn’t have kept a new umbrella up in the wind, never mind my scarecrow number. I was soaked as I came through the magnificent oak front door, and left a dripping trail past the grizzly bears and across the carpet with the coat of arms every ten inches. I heard someone whistling ‘Walking in the rain.’ Charley was more than amused. ‘Oh, Millie! How the mighty are fallen? All it took was a bit of flat-pack and you are history.’ ‘Piss off, you smart arse. What stopped you picking me up? I assume she has assembled the units and is now wondering what to do next.’ He grinned even wider. ‘You’re to join her upstairs, in the grey room.’ I looked baffled. All our rooms at home look grey. ‘Top of the stairs and
Day 5. Friday.I had never discussed a work contract with Vera. Day one had been a Monday, which hadn’t really been a working day. Tuesday I’d moonlighted in the café so maybe Vera wouldn’t pay me for that either. And I don’t know if I am working weekends or not. She said I would be paid monthly and that would be a nightmare.As I walked up the wide gravel path to the huge oak door, I decided I would have to talk dirty with Vera - at least she would consider talking about money to be talking dirty, but it had to be done. I would have to ask Vera for a sub.I found her in her apartment, with her head in the cupboard under the newly fitted sink. She was whispering something to herself and it ended with a ladylike ‘drat’. Did she only swear to impress me?'Anything the matter, Vera?'She jerked her head upwards and caught it on the sink wi