Page 28 of Second Chances at the Farm on Muddypuddle
‘You could have broken yours.’
‘But I didn’t.’
‘Gah! There’s no talking to you!’
‘Don’t, then. See if I care. I’m fed up with you bumping your gums.’
‘And I’m fed up of everything aboutyou!’ Walter yelled.
He liked to think that he whirled on his heel and marched inside, but what actually happened was that he did an awkward shuffling about turn, involved hopping, then limped slowly indoors.
He could feel Peg booping him on the leg in concern, and he guessed that the dog mightn’t be getting her walk after all as Beth stomped in behind him and reached for the handbag that she’d looped over the back of one of the dining chairs.
‘I’m going out,’ she announced.
‘Where?’
‘Shopping. Your milk is off, and your bread is stale.’
‘The milk seemed alright to me.’
‘It would,’ she growled. ‘If I said it was white, you’d argue that it was blue.’
‘What are you rabbiting on about?’
‘Can I get you anything? A gag? A sedative? Some manners?’
Walter stared at her in shock. She had the cheek to ask him abouthismental health whenshewas the one who was talking gibberish? He lowered himself in his usual chair. ‘Take your time.’
‘Don’t worry, I will.’
‘Good.’ Walter had to have a last word. He didn’t know why, he just had to.
Listening to her car door slam and Beth gunning the engine, he let out a sigh. So far, this day was an unmitigated disaster. Goodness knows how bad the rest of them would be whilst she was under his roof.
‘Nasty, horrible, vile, obnoxious,’ Beth muttered under her breath as she tore off down the lane. ‘Pig-headed, crabby, bloody-minded…’ she added, braking as she rounded the corner,to reach the junction at the bottom of Muddypuddle Lane at a more reasonable speed.
Feeling a sudden urge to see if they’d started work on her house (this was only day three of Hot Water Tank Horror, but she hoped they would have donesomething) she parked outside and got out.
The house was as quiet as the grave and when she peered through the window, her hands cupped around the glass, she was dismayed to see that the living room looked exactly as she had last seen it. Not a single piece of plasterboard had been removed.
Beth felt like crying. But instead of having a weep, she drew on her infuriation with Walter and strode off in the direction of the high street.
‘I’m here about my house,’ she announced as soon as she stepped inside, ignoring a youngish couple who were sitting at the desk and talking to Zander.
He had frozen in the middle of a sentence, his eyes darting from her face to the office door and back again as he muttered, ‘Oh, god.’
‘No, just Mrs Fairfax. What are you doing about my house?’
‘Um…’
‘I’ve just come from there, and nothing’s been done. Not. A. Thing.’
‘We’re, um, awaiting instructions from the landlord.’
‘What’s his phone number? I’ll give him a ring myself.’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Fairfax, but we’re acting as the letting agent so everything needs to be done through us.’
