A Change for the Better? Read online

  “Hermione?” asked Katie after getting lost in the story telling again.

  “No, no, my dear, Mo - your grandma. She looked terrible and all at a funny angle. Anyway that’s why I popped round as soon as saw a light on, to see how she was” Mary finally came up for air. Katie reflected that Mary must have been sitting outside waiting as she had only put the lamps on five minutes before, but she sensed in Mary a genuine concern and affection for Mo in between all the extraneous chatter and she sought to put her mind at rest.

  “Mo’s doing very well, I saw her yesterday she has a broken hip and some other bruises and bangs but she’s firmly on the mend and already looking forward to creating havoc on the ward. I’m sure she’d love some visitors if you wanted to go over and see her.” Katie moved towards the door as she spoke, hoping it might encourage Mary to get up and walk through it, but she was looking thoroughly settled at the kitchen table. It didn’t seem to have the required effect, in fact, quite the opposite as Mary turned towards the centre of the table and looked around expectantly.

  “Has that kettle just boiled my dear? I could murder a cuppa” suggested Mary, Katie knew she was beaten and resignedly got another mug out of the cupboard and fetched her own to refill.

  “I really would like to go and see Mo at St Thomas’s;” Mary sighed “Mo’s always been so kind to us, inviting us in for tea and biscuits.” Katie went straight to the biscuit tin and put it on the table, “making sure the flat was ok,” Mary continued “watching out when we were away, always making time for a chat. I really would like to go and see her. I’ll get Ken to check the bus timetables; we can make a little trip out of it.” Mary seemed so genuinely excited by the thought of this little outing that Katie realised Mary had probably missed Mo very much over the last couple of days. She doubtless didn’t get to go to many places or see many people. Katie’s reserve melted as she saw the real concern in Mary’s round and lively face.

  “Don’t worry Mary; I have my car here now I’d love to take you and Ken over to see Mo. You let me know when.”

  Katie was rewarded with a look of such deep thanks that it brought tears to her eyes. It was a long time since such a small thing as giving someone a lift had made Katie feel good about herself. In fact she reflected grimly, it was a long time since anything had made her feel good about herself. Katie decided to open the cream biscuits too.

  CHAPTER 2

  The following morning as Katie awoke to the sound of feet clattering up, down and possibly sideways in the hall, she was less bothered about feeling good about herself and more concerned with the bad feelings she had about everyone else living in Tolpuddle House. Getting out of bed, wrapping her dressing gown around her, Katie flung open the door of the flat to reprimand whoever was responsible for the unnecessary noise, but as she looked, she was greeted by an empty hall and staircase and a loud thud as the last person pulled the uncooperative door shut as they left. Mentally making a note to tackle everyone about it later and also to see about some thicker carpet than the thin effort currently on the stairs, Katie turned back into the flat and resigned herself to an early start despite the lie in she had promised herself the night before. Moving quickly into the kitchen, she set the kettle on the range and cut herself two thick slices of the whole meal bread she had baked the day before, spreading them with a generous layer of butter and honey. Making herself a strong mug of tea Katie realised she had used the last of the milk and the butter so therefore an expedition to the shop could be put off no longer.

  So it was that an hour later Katie found herself heaving shut the front door and heading into the village surrounding Tolpuddle House. Katie had decided to tackle the local shop rather going off in search of the nearest supermarket some five or six miles away on the edge of Rawlinston.

  Stepping out into the winter sunshine Katie reflected that cold but sunny January days were really quite beautiful and that Laxley Heath was a quaint picture postcard village. Katie mentally painted the roofs and trees with a light dusting of snow, lit the lanterns in front of the houses and composed as pretty a scene as pictured on so many Christmas cards over the years.

  Tolpuddle House stood on the lower edge of the village at the side of the main road that cut the village in two. It was the largest house in the main part of the village, although Burton Manor and Langley Farm, both about a mile out from the village were larger.

  Katie headed up the street towards the small parade of shops that had been there ever since she could remember. In addition to the local convenience store where Katie was headed, there was also the Laxley Heath Souvenir store and post office run by Ted and Tanya Taylor who, despite other post offices falling by the wayside in rapid succession, had managed to keep enough business from the store and post office to keep going. Then there was Mary Allen’s Ladies’ Fashions and Hairdressers, fashions from when, was less obvious but Ms. Allen had been fitting out and coiffeuring ladies of a certain age to their satisfaction for many years now. Lastly there was the tackle shop, which, as its name implied, sold tackle for fishing, riding and even golf. It wasn’t clear how the truculent owner Mr. Alan Kenworthy made his money but in fact he ran a successful mail order and Internet business from the shop to enthusiasts around the country which provided a very good income. Alan Kenworthy could be an awkward bugger but he was always open to an opportunity and as a result had a finger in many pies most of which, if not all, were successful to varying degrees. Of course as required in any picture postcard village there were the usual three or four antique shops alongside the village green. The green sat back from the road with a large stream tributary to the River Rawlin with ducks parading up and down and a small bridge ideal for playing “pooh sticks” under. The Rose & Crown Pub framed the second side of the green. Laxley Heath had become a very popular stop for tourists of all shapes and sizes, they walk down the quaint main street of the village, sit and relax by the green and wander in and out of the antique shops before moving on to Burton Manor or Laxley Castle a few miles further up the road. But before Katie reached this dazzling array of retail opportunities she noticed a new addition to Laxley Heath’s commercial sector. One of the small terrace houses edging the main road had turned the front entrance into a very small but exquisitely set out display area for a selection of beautiful hand painted and probably handmade pottery. Katie took a step up into the front entrance to take a closer look at the wares.

  Once inside the tiny display area Katie picked up a cup decorated with brightly coloured bold strokes diagonally across its bowl drawing the eye time and again to the rim. It wasn’t one of those delicate teacups favoured by mythical great aunts, but a cup for a frothing latte or a piping hot, strong tea. Katie could picture herself very clearly curled up on the sofa; fire burning, a good book in hand and a steaming hot drink in this beautiful cup. Katie rubbed her hands around the cup, very rarely could such an ordinary object inspire such a vivid daydream that Katie immediately wanted to buy it and run home to use it. Just as she was looking for a price she heard a noise behind her and turning round came face to face with a smiling, slightly wild-looking woman.

  “It’s a beautiful cup but it needs to be used doesn’t it?” the lady said

  “Oh absolutely” Katie replied “How much is it?”

  “Never mind that - come on through and let’s give it a test drive. I was just about to make a drink for myself. I’m Cliona by the way.” She held her hand out as she spoke.

  Katie shook the proffered hand “Katie Collins; I’m looking after Tolpuddle House whilst my grandmother’s in hospital.”

  “Ah yes, I thought you must be Mo’s granddaughter, you’re just how she described you. And the jungle drums, Laxley style, said you were coming to stay. How is she doing?” They chatted about Mo’s progress as Cliona led the way through the house. Katie was impressed by the artistic order of the house; although there were many throws, beads and books about, the house still looked ordered and clean. Katie had an impression that most artistic types were
too into their ‘muse’ to deal with such mundane tasks as dusting, vacuuming and polishing, but it seemed Cliona was able to set her mind to both the creative and practical aspects of life.

  After passing through the relaxed and soothing living area they crossed the dining room, complete with an old, slightly marked but lovingly polished mahogany table and chairs that had clearly seen many dinners and, if they could speak, would have many stories to tell, and passed into the kitchen. Here Katie was to receive her second surprise. She had been expecting a slightly frayed but warm and welcoming kitchen with bold colours, big old pots and solid wood furniture, the sort of archetypal farmhouse kitchen. Instead she walked into a state of the art, modern 21st century kitchen, straight out of a Kensington catalogue. Beech wood units, gleaming stainless steel tops and glass intersections. The colours were muted but warm. It was a staggeringly lovely (and expensive!) room but Katie found it hard to match it with the wild and free spirited Cliona in front of her, possibly sensing her confusion Cliona offered Katie a seat and continued

  “The kitchen is my partner Declan’s choice, he’s the chef of the house and as he cooks for me and all the little get-togethers I organise, the least I could do was let him have the kitchen he wanted. It’s a little too clinical for me” she confided with a wink. Katie smiled back and took the proffered seat, thinking how the style was so like her small kitchen in the penthouse flat she had just had to leave.

  “So what will it be?” Cliona’s question cut into Katie’s thoughts.

  “Sorry, what will what be?”

  “Your drink - I have coffee, decaf or caff, latte, cappuccino, mocha or tea, breakfast, earl grey. Hot chocolate, er hot water if you prefer.”

  “I’m sorry” Katie laughed “I didn’t see the ‘cafe’ sign out front. I’d love a latte - decaf please.”

  Katie observed her new acquaintance as she poured a shot of espresso coffee into the cup they had brought through and added the foaming hot milk. It was easy to feel at ease with Cliona, she had such a warm, but not intrusive personality with a huge dollop of mischief thrown in. She was the sort of person who could make even the dullest gathering a giggle - probably when you were least supposed to. As they sat down to drink the coffee and eat the custard creams Cliona had produced from another cupboard Katie felt more at ease and calm than she had for many weeks. Cliona eyed her curiously,

  “So what’s the story then Katie, what’s really bringing you to Laxley Heath?”

  Katie smiled “Well, I really am looking after Tolpuddle House as Mo’s in hospital, but you’re right I needed somewhere to be and something to be for a while.”

  Cliona raised a quizzical eyebrow, prompting Katie to continue, not that she needed much prompting Katie needed to tell someone about what had happened.

  Katie had wanted a job in London ever since she could remember, she was dazzled by the glamour of the idea, working for important people, living in penthouse apartments, earning good money and being secure for the rest of her life. Her chosen plan was to be an indispensable assistant to these important people initially and then become important in her own right later. It sounded ridiculous when you said it out loud but it was important to have a plan and know where you were going and why. Katie’s plan was to be financially secure and held in high esteem by all those around her. She had gained her degree in English at Bristol University and had then done a crammer course in secretarial skills at a private college, then she had applied for every PA position at a city firm she could find. Four years later having gained valuable experience at two solicitors firms in the centre of London, when a top PA position came up at Dawson, Philips & Chamberlain Barristers, considered to be among the top three firms in London and who had many glamorous, famous and extremely rich clients on their books, Katie had put everything into her interview and secured the job as personal assistant to Marcus Chamberlain. Marcus, at 44, was a brilliant lawyer but he was also devastatingly handsome in the tall, dark tradition, a sharp thinker, extremely charming with a wicked sense of humour that made him approachable and down to earth despite all his ‘god-like’ qualities. He also looked after his staff in many thoughtful ways, small presents to say thanks for a job well done, always treating successes as a team effort or remembering personal details that were important to them. It took Katie all of about three months to fall in love with her new job, her new lifestyle and her new boss! It took a further six months for Marcus to reciprocate. Katie had shut out the fact that Marcus was married with two children and had planned a precise campaign to win him over which she executed to perfection. This involved being the ultimate PA, loyal, unobtrusive, one step ahead of all his needs, always on hand, never complaining and with a ready smile for him. To this she added personal touches. His favourite biscuit with coffee, a drink ready mixed at the end of a tough day in court, an ear available to listen to all his woes but never imposing any of her own and most importantly she made him laugh. Katie always tried to leave Marcus with a smile on his face, that way she figured he would associate her with good times.

  Katie’s plan worked like a charm, soon Marcus was relying on Katie, not only to keep his working day as trouble free as possible, but also he needed her to relax and enjoy himself in a way he couldn’t’t at home with his wife and children making all the everyday demands on him that families do.

  It was soon a full blown affair; Marcus secured Katie an apartment in the docklands. It was exactly the sort of place she had dreamt of, a New York style loft space with polished floors, windows on two full sides, a balcony to relax on and it didn’t cost her a penny. Actually it cost Dawson, Philips & Chamberlain, as Marcus put it through the firm as a place for visiting experts and witnesses to stay, not that they ever did!

  Life continued in this way for three years, Katie didn’t really have any friends as she made sure she was always available for Marcus whenever he was free, but it didn’t worry her. She saw people at work, she emailed and visited a few old college friends who lived outside of London and, of course, she had Mo too. The loneliness she felt sometimes she thought was a price worth paying for all she had around her, the flat, the designer clothes, the state of the art gadgets in every room and last but definitely not least Marcus.

  Then it had happened, it had all come tumbling down and exposed the fragile ‘house of cards’ her life actually was. Katie and Marcus had been away on another business trip, they generally kept business trips very businesslike until they had concluded work and then stayed on for a couple more nights for themselves. Apparently Sarah, Marcus’s wife had had her suspicions and had employed someone to watch him, not that Katie and Marcus knew that then. No, the photos of their liaison were presented by Sarah the following Wednesday in the middle of the partners meeting when Katie was taking minutes.

  Katie paused in her story, shuddering as she recalled the horror of that moment. Cliona just reached out and patted her hand to reassure her. Taking a deep breath Katie continued. Sarah had stormed into that meeting waving the photos and spreading them round for all the partners to see. She then told Marcus where to go and called Katie a few choice names in the well-worn tradition of wives to mistresses. Then she’d turned on her Jimmy Choos and left. Katie was dumbstruck, horrified and had lost the use of any of her limbs and looked to Marcus for support. That, of course, was not forthcoming. He had looked at her with disgust and then shot out of the room after his wife leaving Katie to face the other five partners who were now all looking to her for answers. It was Jed Dawson, the most senior partner who had come to her rescue. Realising she was in no fit state to answer any questions relating to her position at the moment and that she didn’t have to answer the more curious ones about their relationship, he had dismissed the meeting, fetched Katie a drink of water and then once she had regained her composure he had sent her home telling her to take the rest of the week off. She was instructed to ring personnel once she was feeling better and they would take things from there. Somehow it was Mr. Dawson’s kindness, despite the
disapproval and disappointment that was clear in his eyes, which upset Katie the most. For the first time she really felt like the scarlet woman, the home wrecker, that no doubt, everyone in the office was branding her.

  At home, in her beautiful flat, Katie waited for Marcus to ring, and waited, and waited. She had thought he would at least ring to see if she was ok but by Thursday evening there had been no contact at all. So nervously Katie had dialled his mobile, it was switched off. Then she checked her e-mails to see if he had sent her a message under the guise of doing some work, but again there was nothing. By Saturday evening when there was still no word Katie realised she wasn’t going to hear from him, he was simply going to cut her out of his life as if she never existed. Katie had been asked to go in for an appointment at work on the following Tuesday where they had quietly dispensed with her services. She had gotten the call about Mo’s fall on the Sunday and found herself in Laxley Heath and Tolpuddle House by Wednesday.

  Katie paused at the end of her story, she looked briefly at Cliona, not wanting to see the dislike in this kind woman’s eyes but expecting it none the less. But instead Cliona just patted Katie’s clenched hands, smiled at her with genuine warmth and said

  “You made a mistake, you’ve paid the price and you’ll never do it again. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and do something new - and remember security in life only ever comes from within - someone else can’t give it to you, because they can always take it away again.”

  CHAPTER 3

  A few days later as Katie was returning from what was becoming a fairly regular morning coffee with Cliona, she arrived at the front door at the same time as one of Mo’s other guests. The girl was attempting to follow the guidelines for opening the door but with a folder under one arm and a long slim jersey skirt restricting her leg movements it was proving impossible. Katie arrived just in time to stop a string of expletives about to be uttered.