Surreptitiously, Joan glanced at her watch. She noticed that Moo had stopped writing, and was flexing and wriggling her fingers beneath the table, as writer's cramp set in. Joan's tolerance for the tedious formality of committee meetings had never been high and, now, listening to the vicar prattle on pointlessly about how he didn't recall ever meeting Terry Glasson and how the Glasson family were not churchgoers, she began to lose patience.
She caught Lester's eye and pulled a face that she hoped indicated indubitably to him that it was time to terminate the discussion. In a few minutes, Martin was scheduled to drop Louisa off and she'd planned to have trimmed the number of attendees that Louisa had to face to just the bare minimum. No need to make the circumstances any more stressful for the poor girl than they already were.
The policeman acknowledged Joan's glance, taking advantage of a melodramatic pause in the priest's rambling and dubious monologue, and interrupting him.
"Yes, thank you Reverend, I'm sure we all understand the perilous financial state of the Church of England much better now, and let's hope that you can sort out your leaky roof before winter."
There was an audible collective sigh of relief from around the room. Moo gave a derisive snort and Joan allowed herself a slight smirk. Before the vicar could wind up again, Helen Pratt pushed the plate of HobNobs in front of him, and he was distracted long enough for Lester to speak again.
"If you just bear with me a few moments longer, I'd just like to summarise the discussions we've had this morning, and then I think a cup of tea is in order." Lester said composedly, and picked up his notes.
"I know we will all agree that Karen's offer of board had been a godsend. Should this generosity be met favourably by Louisa, obviously there will be a lot more organisation required but I don't anticipate any official problems, so, once again Karen, we are hugely grateful."
He nodded in the direction of the now composed primary school teacher and she smiled back at him warmly. There was a murmur of agreement across the room.
"Now, we have Tamzin and Jago prepared to cover all the fees, uniforms, books and associated costs of Louisa's schooling and extra curricular activities, as long as she stays at Wadebridge Comprehensive. A very kind and philanthropic offer, Tamzin, thank you. Once we get everything sorted with young Louisa, we can confirm all the details with you."
He beamed at Tamzin and she responded with a demure smile, knowing that philanthropy was the furthest thing from her mind as she replayed last evening's events over in her head. A belligerent Caroline, defying her parents, clambering into the clapped out Capri belonging to that Delabole upstart, Tommy Bosman, and disappearing into the evening on a squeal of tyres. She'd thrown one of her slippers at the car as it sped away, and Jago had been so upset that he'd stomped off to bed, leaving her to watch 'Ever Decreasing Circles' on her own. Shuddering, she was brought back to reality by the policeman's deep voice.
"So, Joan and I are going to set up a bank account for the donations and the fund raising," he continued. "On behalf of Louisa, and we will both be signatories. Everyone was happy with that, yes? Joan, Muriel and Helen will be a fund raising, ummm, aaah, a sub-committee if you will. Which leads me on to summarise Lady Brading's exciting fundraising idea."
Lester glanced across at her. She was twisted to one side on her seat, legs crossed, with her arms draped provocatively across the backs of the adjoining chairs. She tilted her head and smiled at him invitingly, and he looked away quickly.
"She's like a snake charmer, that one." He thought, and shivered slightly, before continuing his summary in a loud and calm voice.
"She and Sir John have offered to open the grounds of Winwaloe Manor, for an annual fete. Lady Brading has suggested Colonel Spencer, with his logistics and ordnance background, would be ideal to help her organise it."
Joan cocked an eyebrow, not daring to meet Moo's obvious sideways glance.
"I think we all agree that this event has significant potential to raise funds not only for Louisa but the lifeboats as well. In fact, it could be a godsend for the village and I think everyone here is keen to assist in whatever way we can?" Lester added inquiringly, and everyone in the room affirmed his statement enthusiastically.
Joan nodded. There were only so many cake stalls the WI could hold, and sometimes, trotting out the same old fundraising events, year in and year out, was like flogging a dead horse. She wasn't sure how much teenaged girls cost to run but it was bound to be way more than they had managed to raise previously.
Lady Brading acknowledged their enthusiasm with a musical laugh.
"Look, I don't want to get anyone's hopes up but let's just say that Gilbert, ah, Colonel Spencer is acquainted with a lot of the right people." She said, breathlessly. "I wasn't going to mention it but he did say that he might be able to pull a few strings."
She paused for affect, and looked around the room.
"It appears that he and Hugh Scully are old chums. I know! Marvellous! What would you all say to an episode of Antiques Roadshow being filmed at the Manor?"
oooOooo
Louisa locked the door and walked away from the cottage without a backward glance; a small Philips radio/cassette in one hand and her uniform, stuffed in a carry bag, under her arm. She'd spent the last hour affirming to herself that she didn't care any more and she was doing her utmost to believe it.
Martin was, again, holding the car door open for her and she couldn't help a slight and enigmatic smile appearing as she passed, despite what she felt was an unspoken truce. He ignored her, his face stony and aloof. Waiting until she had arranged herself in the seat, he closed the door firmly, oblivious to Louisa slipping a tape from her pocket and pushing it into the car stereo cassette deck.
"Right." He said firmly. "Mary, ummm, Irons. I will need directions please Louisa. If you could stay focused this time, ummm, that would be good."
She looked over at him and pulled her best incredulous teenage face.
"Whatever!" She retorted sharply, before adding, condescendingly. "And, actually, her name's Muriel Steele."
Martin exhaled loudly.
"AND? I get there HOW?" He rejoined, equally as obnoxiously, giving the car engine a loud revving, and staring at her pointedly.
"Back the way we came til I tell you anything different." She said firmly. "And I found some music. Mind if I play it?"
He groaned. "Must you?"
"Be fair Martin, I listened to your musical silence all the way here. It's my turn now." She said matter-of-factly.
If Louisa noticed the withering look he gave her, she didn't respond. However draining the morning was, and however bad the afternoon might turn out, she was sitting in the front seat of the flashiest car she'd ever been in, the sun was out, and she was about to hit play on her current favourite song. In a few moments, they'd be speeding along the country roads and she would crank the volume, even though she already suspected that Martin wouldn't approve. When she'd asked Caroline to tape the song for her, her friend had had the genius idea of repeating it five times in a row on each side.
"No need to keep rewinding it." Caroline had explained as she'd handed it over.
However desperately Martin wanted to object, however abhorrent he personally found pop music, he had promised his aunt that he would be kind. He guessed that it was about a ten minute drive to the Steele woman's house and then he would hand Louisa back to Joan. He'd be absolved of all responsibility and would have carried out his duty to the absolute best of his ability. Ten more minutes and then it would all be over. He could manage that. Reluctantly, he pressed the power button, hit play, and braced himself.
The speakers sprang to life. A synthesiser melody, a little tinny but bearable, then a few words delivered in a shrill falsetto. It was bearable. Martin was just about to relax when the drum machine hit, followed by an unearthly shriek from the vocalist. Doof doof doof. Aaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiyyyyyyy.
Martin looked over at her, aghast, about to insist she turn it off, but he was shocked to see her some sort of trance. Her head was leant back and the look on her face could only be described as rapturous. As her eyes appeared closed, he reached up to at least adjust the volume downwards but Louisa's hand shot up and grabbed his wrist. A sly smile spread across her face and she kept her hand in place until he gave in and slowly lowered his arm.
After a moment, the rapturous look reappeared and she began to quietly sing along. Martin was quite surprised to note that she could sing in tune and he could actually understand the words she was saying, unlike the shrill falsetto of the vocalist which he found indecipherable. The more words she sang, the louder she became. He listened, and same sense of discomfort he felt after reading her poem returned.
'Pushed around and kicked around, always a lonely boy
You were the one that they'd talk about around town as they put you down
And as hard as they would try they'd hurt to make you cry
But you never cried to them, just to your soul
No, you never cried to them, just to your soul
Cry, boy, cry, boy, cry.
You leave in the morning with everything you own in a little black case
Alone on a platform, the wind and the rain on a sad and lonely face
Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away
Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away
Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away
Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away'
oooOooo
As Joan had predicted, leaving Moo's after the meeting was a disaster. Tamzin had managed to extricate her Range Rover by undertaking at least a 30 point turn, surrounded by her encouraging fellow committee members, shouting helpful instructions like: "Left hand down" and "Keep Coming". Once that beast of a vehicle had gone, Rev. Counter was able to depart, unfortunately flattening several of Muriel's prized hydrangea bushes in the attempt. Muriel stood on the porch and watched him drive away, throwing her hands up to her head in despair as Helen placed a consoling hand on her shoulder.
Lady Brading had no problem manoeuvring her nippy little VW Golf once the other two vehicles had gone, waving gaily at them as she sped away. Muriel and Joan were only the tiniest bit surprised to see her head in the opposite direction of her home but neither of them said anything. Karen Freethy had hesitated about whether she should stay and talk to Louisa but Joan had suggested that there would be a lot for the young girl to take in and perhaps it was better to come and meet with Karen at her home, once Louisa had agreed to the plans. That seemed like a reasonable idea so Karen had agreed, and clambered into her little, white Toyota, leaving the three older women, and Lester, standing thoughtfully in the driveway.
"That went well," Helen said gently, and they turned and went, single file, back into the house.
oooOooo
After the song ended for the second time, Louisa decided that it had been enough torment for Martin, and she turned it off.
"I love that song." She said simply.
"Yes. Errm. Good." Martin replied, trying to disguise the massive relief he felt as silence descended upon the vehicle once more. He relaxed his grip on the steering wheel and rolled his shoulders over as the tension left his body, listening to the satisfying growl of the engine as he negotiated a steep, swinging bend. They must be close to the woman's house by now he thought.
Suddenly, a car appeared in front of them. He heard Louisa squeal as he wrenched on the wheel and threw his car hard left. They hit the soft shoulder of gravel and their car fishtailed alarmingly. There was no where for them to go. At that moment, the other driver had finally twigged to the fact that he was too far over to the right and took evasive action, missing Martin by mere inches.
"Oh my god, it was that daft old bugger, Rev Counter!" Louisa cried in astonishment as the old car whizzed past. "He's probably drunk!"
Martin didn't say anything but his expression was grim. The stupid old fool could have killed them both. He found alcohol abuse abhorrent at the best of times but then for the selfish coot to get behind the wheel of a car was just too shocking. And him a man of the cloth too. What an appalling hypocrite. If Martin ever came across him, he would give him a severe tongue-lashing. He took a couple of deep breaths and his heart rate began to slow.
"That was a bit too close!" She turned to look at him, half laughing, half shocked. "Thank goodness you've got good reflexes, Martin. I think you just saved my life."
"What an arse." He muttered, thinking that it was more likely he'd just saved his own life. Feeling the adrenalin rush subside, he eased the car back out in to the road.
"Are you alright?" He asked, glancing sideways.
"I'm fine." She said, with more than just a hint of sarcasm. "Life's just a thrill a minute, Martin, can't wait to see what happens next actually!"
They drove on in silence for a few more minutes before Louisa indicated to him that they shortly would need to turn down Muriel Steele's lane. As they approached the house, the views were spectacular and even Martin was impressed by the prospect and mentally added a coastal walk to his weekend itinerary. He pulled to a stop beside his Aunt's decrepit old vehicle and paused expectantly, waiting for Louisa to get out.
She looked at him quizzically.
"What are you doing?"
"Umm, I'm dropping you off, as arranged." He said, matter-of-factly.
"No, you can't do that."
"What?"
"Please Martin, please come in with me." She was imploring now, her voice wavering.
"Whatever for?"
"You're on my side. I know you are. Please, Martin, please."
"On your side?" He scoffed. "We barely know each other."
She looked at him with huge frightened eyes. "Please come in with me. I'm really scared that they will make me go and live with mum. I couldn't bear it. You understand, I know you do."
Martin remembered the woman clearly. Even at the tender age of eleven, he'd been appalled by her, and the thought of what might happen to Louisa if she were placed back in that dreadful woman's care was too dreadful to contemplate. He had a vision of a teenage girl in the midst of the noisy parties, the drugs, the disgusting drunken men. Checkmate, Louisa, he thought and, sighing heavily, he switched off the engine.