Page 64 of A Class Act

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Although we were into mid-September and the nights were drawing in, the days here in the very pretty village of Beddingfield were still warm with a wonderfully mellow feel to them. I’d promised to join Jess and the Hattersleys on the ash-spreading trip to Ilkley but, two days later, I wanted to do nothing but sit in the garden and think of Fabian. Also, I was still in shock over Jayden’s revelations about Mum’s adopted family and longed to get over to the hospital and simply be with her. Traipsing out to Ilkley on some fool’s errand ash-scattering of some old folks I didn’t even know was not high on my agenda of how to spend Saturday.

Maybe, if my knee allowed, I could also have a little wander down into the village itself? Call in for coffee at the little cafe across from the village green; pick up a couple of things from the store next to the Victorian primary school where all three of us girls had spent our formative years.

But Jess was having none of it.

While she dropped Lola off at Dean’s flat, ten minutes’ drive away, I walked outside into the garden with my mug of coffee, testing my knee for any sign of improvement, buthaving to accept there was little, if any. I breathed in the fresh, if somewhat pungent, country air – Philip Rogers, the farmer across the lane, had obviously been out muck-spreading – the pale amber sunlight giving little credence to the coming cold months. The back lawn, always kept meticulously mown and neatly edged by Mum, was bejewelled with early morning dew, but now in need of some TLC. I sighed. Gardening wasn’t my thing but I could see I’d have to get the lawn mower out at some stage.

Once she’d returned from taking Lola, and following Kath Hattersley’s directions, Jess drove us in Mum’s car to the neat bungalow on the edge of the Tythehill estate at the far end of the village. Kath and Rick had arranged to pick us up but, at the last minute, had rung to say Rick couldn’t get the car started. Was there any chance Jess could pick them up instead?

‘Flipping heck, I can do without this,’ Jess said crossly. ‘Bad enough being driven there, but at least I could have closed my eyes and nodded off in the back seat. Now I’m going to have to concentrate.’

‘Make sure they cough up for the petrol,’ I said. ‘You’re not a charity, Jess.’

‘I know, I know, but I’m never any good at asking for money.’ She breathed deeply. ‘And once we’re back, I’m going to have to cover the late shift at Hudson House. Lola’s staying the night at Dean’s for the first time.’

‘You OK with that?’ I asked dubiously. ‘Will the barmaid be there?’

‘I have to move on.’ Jess sighed. ‘And if Lola is to have any relationship with her father, then I have to let him have access. Also means I can do the late shift at work. Lola used to stay in the box room with Mum once Dean had hopped it and I was on lates or overnights. Mum loved having her there. Anyway, let’s think of Ilkley as a treat, as a day out. I’ve never been to IlkleyMoor. It’s supposed to be beautiful and it’s a gorgeous day. We could pretend we’ve arranged to meet some friends and have some time to ourselves – a lovely lunch? – before we drive them back.’ Jess’s eyes lit up. ‘Jayden’s come up trumps’ – she patted her jeans’ back pocket – ‘and, sorry, I’m not too proud to accept his cash. I’ve already done my research – the Ginger Plum Coffee Shopin Addingham sounds bliss.’

‘I’ll put Mum and Dad by your feet in the front with you, love, if that’s OK?’ Kath Hattersley raised her eyes in my direction as Jess opened Mum’s car door to the waiting trio: we had an extra passenger, by the look of it. ‘You see, Mum always suffered from claustrophobia and she’d hate being locked in the boot. Rick, this is Jess. You know, from Hudson House? Mum’s care home? And her sister. Robyn, isn’t it? Robyn’sfamous.’ She lowered her voice, eliciting the word in hushed reverence. ‘A famous dancer inCovent Garden.’

‘Oh, gosh, not really…’ I began, but Kath had moved on, chattering about both her long-departed dad and more recently departed mum.

Rick, I suspected, wasn’t overly interestedwherewe’d hailed from or that I might be somebody he should possibly have heard of. ‘Hello, loves.’ The ruddy-faced and heavily tattooed man climbed slowly and painfully into the back seat (‘bad back – am an absolute martyr to it’) leaving Kath to haul two urns – one terracotta and one plastic – into what little space there was beneath my feet. A tiny woman (‘Mum’s big sister, Aunty Bea’) followed Rick over the front passenger seat of the car silently settling herself in like a wraith, accompanied by a large plaid flask, bulging Tupperware container and some sort of beigetravel rug. ‘Do you know where you’re going or d’you want some help navigating?’ Rick asked Jess.

‘Waze.’ Jess tapped at the navigation app on the dashboard. ‘Never go wrong with this.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t trust them buggers. You’ll end up in a quarry, or down the bottom of a one-way street and not be able to turn round. Look, I’ll point you in the right direction, love.’

And he did. Every left and right turn, on every road – major and minor; every T-junction, every motorway turn-off, cautioning Jess each time she went even slightly over the speed limit that ‘the rozzers’ would be after her. But then, once on the motorway, telling her to put her foot down and ‘go for it, girl’.

Jess, I could tell, had never been so relieved to see our destination in front of us, pulling up in the car park as soon as she saw the sign for the Cow and Calf.

‘A quick one, is it, then?’ Rick rubbed his hands together and I realised we were in a pub car park. ‘Send ’em on their way, like? What you having?’

‘I’m so bloody stressed,’ Jess whispered in my ear, ‘I could down the contents of a bottle of gin, smoke a particularly large joint and, given the opportunity, wouldn’t turn down a nice selection of Class A drugs.’

I started to giggle, but Jess merely turned back to Rick, smiling beatifically while tapping the steering wheel to indicate she was driving.

‘Oh, one won’t hurt, love.’ Rick alighted the car with a good deal more alacrity than at the start of the journey, bounding off in the direction of the pub door. Thirty seconds later he was back. ‘Not got any money on me, Kath; come on, get your purse out.’

‘I’ve not brought my bag,’ Kath said in some dismay. ‘Both my hands were full of Mum and Dad when I left the house. And I’mspitting feathersan’ all.’

Rick, Kath and Aunty Bea all turned hopefully in our direction.

Sticking a rictus of a smile on her face, Jess peeled off a twenty-pound note from the stash given to her by Jayden and Rick bounded off once more, returning with a pint and a whiskey chaser for himself, a port and lemon for Kath, a schooner of sherry for Aunty Bea and a Coke each for myself and Jess. No change from the twenty, then.

‘I put a little something in that, Jess. You need to keep your strength up, love, after that drive.’

Jess sipped cautiously at the fizzy drink, obviously not happy there was some alcohol hidden in its overly sweet, murky depths. ‘I won’t be over the limit with one shot,’ she reassured both me and herself before, shivering slightly in the damp atmosphere and sneaky cold wind that had suddenly appeared, she gave a warning nod towards big black clouds moving in from the west. ‘Looks like rain,’ Jess said pointedly. ‘Maybe we’d better get on?’ We all turned our heads to the left, looking across the road and moorland at the Cow and Calf, the large rocks that could be seen in the distance.

The other three didn’t appear ready to go anywhere.

Ashamed that, as a Yorkshire girl, I’d never visited this iconic spot, I’d spent the previous evening, when I should have been getting stuck into a pile of marking, googling its history. ‘You know’ – I turned to the others – ‘according to local legend, the Calf was split from the Cow when a huge giant called Rombald was fleeing an enemy.’

‘Right?’ Rick appeared more interested in his pint, which he downed quickly before reaching for the whiskey chaser.

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