Magnolia Close Episode 11. Call of Duty

Liam "Buster" Keaton’s night out didn’t go quite as he had planned. He had dropped in at The Petrel intending just to put the day behind him and relax with a couple of pints, maybe have a chat with some of his neighbours. He was definitely not "on duty," as it were. The only thing was, he was the community officer for Magnolia Close and surrounding parts of the estate, a job he took very seriously and with some pride – he liked to think that he was in some way looking after his neighbours and was grateful for the opportunity to do so – but it did mean in effect that he was never really off-duty, in his mind. It was always in the back of his head that he had a certain responsibility to the people and place where he lived.

He was also aware that, while people always welcomed a policeman when something was the matter and that he might be able to help – a lost bike or a child late home – and that most of his neighbours were kindly disposed towards him, there were always some folk for whom the police represented some kind of threat. At very least they felt uncomfortable. He was used to this. The way some characters would not catch eyes with him, and would look away if he glanced in their direction. And they would never even think of engaging with him in conversation. It wasn’t everybody who was like this, but he was used to the ones who were.

"They sound happy," he remarked to Maddy, behind the bar and putting away glasses from the washer.

"Who?" For a moment, Maddy didn’t follow his drift – she herself was so used to customers gradually getting louder and more boisterous as the night went on, she tended to filter it out of her mind. This was not least because, given the choice, she would have been with them and having some fun herself, rather than stuck serving drinks and working. She, too, felt herself trapped by her duty at times. "Oh, Tricia, you mean? And her new house-mate."

"Seems like they are going to get along well." Buster took a long draw on his beer.

"Hmm." Maddy was non-committal. She knew that not all friendships lasted outside the halo of an evening’s drinks. "She seems to be getting her feet under the table, as they say."

Buster caught the note of caution in her voice, but chose not to remark on it. "Wasn’t that your Douglas just dashing off as I came in?"

"Yes. He said he had some – " she broke off. "He just wanted a quick one, one for the road."

Douglas was one of the characters with whom Buster would never get a chat out of. He was also aware, however, that Douglas’s erstwhile drinking partner was avoiding his gaze. He continued to study Benson Fairhurst even while carrying on talking to Maddy. Benson was not one of the types that habitually avoided eye-contact. But he was doing so tonight. "So who’s looking after your Bethanytonight?"

"Oh, don’t worry," said Maddy, as much as anything to reassure herself. "That nice Brooke Ames volunteered to baby-sit."

Buster digested this snippet of information also, and remained silent. Something was amiss here. He was reasonably sure he had seen Brooke hurrying across the car park just as he was pulling in. After some reflection, he said, "Maddy, would you mind keeping this under the counter till I get back?" He handed her the glass of beer. that, up till now, he had been enjoying, with a slight sigh of resignation. Never off duty, he thought to himself. "I just have to run a little errand."

"No problem," said Maddy. "Will you be wanting a top-up when you get back?"

"Better make it lemonade," he said. "I wouldn’t want to have to arrest myself for being over the limit."

Even as he was about to leave the bar, he was aware of the newcomers, Robert Farrah and fiancée, approaching him in that way people did when they wanted to ask a police-type question, rather than just say hello. It was something in the body language and, again, he was used to it and could spot it a mile off.

"Mr Keaton!", Robert Farrah began, cheerfully enough. "I was hoping we might run into you. There’s something that Nas and I wanted to ask you about."

There it was. Buster could always tell.

"I’m awfully sorry, Mr Farrah. I’ve just got to pop out for a moment." Buster always wanted to be helpful to everyone, but sometimes it was just not possible. Sometimes, one thing took priority over others. He nevertheless could sense the slight shrug of disappointment in Robert Farrah’s shoulders. He was a body-language expert. Whatever it was, he would have to get back to it later. He made a mental note – clearly something was up that was disturbing Mr Farrah’s peace of mind. But it would just have to wait.

Buster hurried out of the door before he was stopped by anybody else needing favours.

"Well! That was a bit disappointing," Robert said. "He was more helpful this afternoon."

Maddy said, "Don’t worry – he’s coming back. I’ve got his drink here."

"He did look he had something on his mind," Nasreen added. "I hope it wasn’t something too important. I suppose, being a policeman is one of those jobs that isn’t nine-to-five. How would you like it if pupils kept coming up to you when you went out for an evening."

"Don’t worry about him," said Maddy. "Takes himself very seriously sometimes. I think he just wants to feel important, like he’s the town sheriff. Anyway, welcome to Magnolia Close. Can I get you anything?"

Buster knocked on the door of number 25, Magnolia Close. He found himself waiting for some little time, and was already drawing his own conclusions about the reason for this, when The door opened and there stood Brooke Ames. For her part, she looked surprised.

"Mr Keaton. What’s up? Is something the matter?"

"Oh, no… no I don’t think so." Buster attempted to sound very relaxed about everything. He often found this helped those he dealt with relax also and sometimes drop their guard a little. "I just heard that you were doing a spot of baby-sitting and thought I’d swing by, make sure you were alright."

"Why shouldn’t I be?" Brooke answered, but without rancour. "Are you checking up on me?"

"Yes, I am in fact" he laughed. "Bad habit of mine, sticking my nose in other people’s business. Seriously though, a young lady in on her own – it’s part of my job, just to keep an eye out."

"But I’m not on my own. Mr Gormley’s here."

"Is he really?" said Buster, genuinely surprised. "I thought you were baby-sitting for him."

Behind her, Douglas Gormley appeared behind her from the living room. "Oh. Hello," said Douglas. Still wasn’t prepared to get into conversation.

"I was for a while, because Mr Gormley had to go out. But he’s back now, so I’ll be getting off."

"I’ll walk with you," Buster said. This was not just his being solicitous. There were a few questions he wanted to ask her.

"There’s no need." At the moment, Behind Douglas Gormley, Maxwell Fairhurst stepped out into the hall-way.

"I’ll see her home, Mr Keaton." Buster stepped aside as the two youngsters set off.

"Were you wanting anything else?" Douglas asked, when Buster appeared reluctant to leave.

"No," Buster sighed. "Oh, Just one thing – have you been to the local off-licence tonight?

"No. Why?"

"On the floor there. Isn’t that one of their carrier bags?"

"Must be an old one," said Douglas, closing the door.

End Of Episode 11

Magnolia Close Episode 10. Unwanted Exposure

Brooke closed the inner door and was trapped in the vestibule for a moment. Should she just get out, maybe try the off-licences in the village instead? But it was a long walk and all she wanted was a couple of bottles. She opened the door a crack and sneaked another look. Benson was taking the camera from Douglas, who appeared to be whispering instructions to Benson. Almost reluctantly, she saw Benson slide the camera inside his own pocket. Why did that camera look so familiar?

Just at that moment, the outer door of the pub opened and in stepped Robert Farrah and his fiancée. And at that instant, she realised where and when she had seen that camera before.

Brooke turned and ran past the two newcomers and fled out into the night.

****

"I wonder what the matter was with her?" said Nasreen, watching the retreating sight of Brooke Ames.

Robert was already trying to get Maddy’s attention in order to be served. "Goodness knows," he said without even bothering to look. "I’ve spent enough time teaching young girls to not worry what makes them tick."

"That’s not very professional of you," said Nasreen, mock-serious. As Robert was getting their drinks she looked round at the other customers of The Stormy Petrel. It was a fairly quiet night, at least so far. But it was not an interest in how well business was doing – she had some time ago developed a consciousness of how white people sometimes reacted to her in various surroundings, especially pubs. On this occasion, however, she could see no reaction, just a few people sat around chatting and having drinks. In particular, she noticed Douglas, whom she remembered meeting earlier that day, and another man, in animated conversation, paying her no heed whatsoever – somewhat to her relief. She even noticed pass the other man an expensive-looking camera that the latter swiftly slipped into an inner pocket. Why, the camera reminded her of fiancé’s own camera, the one he said he couldn’t find… Just ordinary people going about ordinary things.

At that moment, two other women, one somewhat younger than the other but both less than middle-age, entered The Stormy Petrel. At least, though Nasreen to herself, there seemed to be no left-over of the old-fashioned notion that nice women didn’t go into bars alone. She thought she might get to like living in Magnolia Close.

"What do you want to drink?" Jade asked Tricia.

"No, no – my treat."

"Well, I was going to have a white wine. But if you’re paying, do you think I could have a vodka and tonic?"

Tricia hesitated. "Why not? It’s not every day you start a new job. Maddy?"

"Yes, Trish. And this is? – "

"Jade," she announced herself.

"What will it be?"

"Two vodka and tonics."

"Large ones," Jade added.

****

"You took your time," said Maxwell.

"I couldn’t go to The Petrel. I had to go all the way to the ‘Offy.’"

"Why?"

"Douglas and Maddy for a start. We’re supposed to be baby-sitting for them."

"Yeah, well. Douglas broke that deal. There weren’t any beers in the fridge all along. And I bet he knew it. Couldn’t you have got the landlord, old man Spencer, to serve you while Maddy wasn’t looking?"

"And there was your Dad, too. Talking with Douglas."

"What for?"

"How would I know what for…" Brooke bit her lip. "Was your Dad planning on buying anything off Douglas?"

"Such as what? He hasn’t even got the money for a pint half the time."

"I dunno. It looked like Douglas was giving him a camera."

"And where would somebody like Douglas get a camera from?" said Maxwell. He was also wondering what his father might do with a new camera.

****

Meanwhile down at The Stormy Petrel, Maddy was getting agitated. "Mr Spencer?" she said to the landlord – she always called him by his formal name whenever she wanted a favour – "Can you spare me for just a minute?"

Alan Spencer looked at his watch. "Make sure it is only a minute. We’re having quite a busy night for a midweek."

Maddy slipped from behind the bar and hurried over to Douglas. "Don’t you think you ought to be getting back to Bethany at this time of night?"

Douglas was about a third drunk. "There’s no need to rush back just yet. Brooke Ames and that you lad Max are looking after her."

"And who’s looking after them?"

Douglas ignored her point. "Besides, I’ve got a bit of cash to spare. I was thinking of making a night of it."

"How about making a night of it when we can both enjoy it?" She hissed.

"But everybody’s having fun," he protested. "Look at those two." He nodded in the direction of Tricia and Jade, who seemed to have their heads together sharing a huge joke. Although, to be fair, Jade was doing more of the laughing. At that moment, Liam ‘Buster’ Keaton also entered The Petrel. Douglas’ expression changed in a flash. "On second thoughts, maybe I ought to get back home. See what those young’uns are up to." Barely draining his glass, he was gone, leaving by the car-park exit.

Maddy was quick to get back behind the bar. "Yes, Mr Keaton, what can I get for you?"

Buster might have paid more attention to the sudden departure of Douglas, when Jade again burst out with girlish laughter.

"Whatever they’re having," he said with a grin. "On second thoughts, better make it a pint of bitter."

****

Some time later, Tricia and Jade staggered back into number 21, Magnolia Close. Jade seemed rather the worse for wear and Tricia had to help her upstairs.

"Oh I feel so… silly…" Jade sighed as she sank down on to her bed. "Can you help me take my shoes off?"

"Moxie," said Tricia.

"What?"

"Moxie. My cat. I must feed him before I go to bed. And don’t forget, we’ve both got to get up for work tomorrow." She lifted Jade’s feet on to the bed.

"Tomorrow’s a million miles away," Jade sighed, her eyes closing. As Tricia tried to draw the duvet over Jade, Jade put her arms around Tricia’s shoulders. "A million miles away." She pulled Tricia gently to her and kissed her on the lips. Tricia pulled back, disentangling herself.

"Moxie. Must go and feed Moxie," she said.

End Of Episode 10

Magnolia Close Episode 9. Snappy Business

Jade Sweet stood in front of the bathroom mirror, studying her reflection. She pulled a face, turned her head slightly one way and then the other, then pouted her lips in a kiss. She was always very conscious of appearance – her own and other peoples – and she felt she needed a ‘look.’ Some special kind of way to set herself off that would get her noticed. By whom she wanted to be noticed, she wasn’t quite sure. She was sure that it was something she needed to work on. She put her hands to her face and pushed back her cheeks till her cheekbones stood out, and made another kiss expression.

"Well? Do you like yourself?"

Jade nearly jumped out of her skin. "Good God, Tricia – I didn’t hear you come in!"

"Apparently," Tricia smiled. "I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you."

Tricia was retreating down the stairs as Jade followed. "I didn’t know what time to expect you in. I thought we would be coming home from the surgery together and then you said you had to stay late and I thought you might be ages."

"There were just a few things I needed to do."

"Should I have stayed on too?" Jade was anxious.

"No, of course not." Tricia tried to laugh off Jade’s apparent discomfort. "After all, it was your first day."

"Did I make a good impression?" Jade was still ill at ease.

Tricia reached the bottom of the stairs then turned. "I think you did OK for your first day as a receptionist."

"I want the doctors to feel I’m doing a good job."

"I don’t think, to be perfectly honest, that they noticed you." Tricia gave a conspiratorial wink.

"Really?" Jade was disappointed.

"No," said Tricia, "that’s a good thing. Trust me. Have you eaten?"

"Just a sandwich. That packet of ham."

"Fine. Help yourself. I think I’ll have the same."

Jade followed Tricia into the kitchen as she set about preparing her own food.

"I’m sorry, I’m just a bit nervous, with me just starting and being new here and moving in with you, and…"

"For goodness sake, Jade, you did fine. Why don’t you try to relax a little."

Jade turned away. "I’m being foolish now, aren’t I?"

Tricia put her arm across Jade’s shoulder. "Everybody’s nervous on their first day. It’s perfectly reasonable." Tricia studied Jade’s face for a moment. "I tell you what – let me have some tea, give me time to get washed and changed, then how about I take you out for a drink to celebrate your new job?"

"Really?" said Jade. She suddenly broke into a smile. "That’d be great. And I’ll treat you."

"We’ll treat each other," Tricia smiled back.

Jade was aware of Tricia’s arm still round her shoulder. She was aware of how nice it felt.

****

It was still quiet in The Petrel. Benson saw a few faces he vaguely recognised but none belonged to anyone he’d ever said more than "hi" to before. He studied his pint, wondering whether he should try to strike up a conversation. Where was the harm in that? He got on well with most people. On the other hand, he had things on his mind that didn’t fit sharing with relative strangers.

His thoughts eddied about how well Maxwell was doing at school, or not, as the case may be, and his comments about buying better equipment if he was going to get more photography business, but how money was tight. Ashleigh was doing her best. Perhaps he should have invited her along too for the evening, though, truth to tell, she was not that keen on going to pubs and she had treated his evenings out as "his time." He wondered what Douglas Gormley wanted to see him for and half-wished he’d return. Not that he was a close friend or anything, but someone to chat with at least.

Benson was just about to drain his pint and was thinking of heading back home to Ashleigh, when Douglas abruptly appeared from the side exit to the pub car park.

"I’ve been looking for you," Douglas announced with a mixture of cheerfulness and satisfaction that their acquaintance hardly merited.

"So I gather."

"Well, if you’re having another pint, mine’s a lager."

Benson did not appreciate having to shell out for two more drinks, when in another minute he would have been on his way home. But on the other hand, Douglas was company of sorts. "Why am I paying for your drinks?" he asked.

"Because I’ve got something for you. Something of a favour. Hey, Maddy," he called out to his partner working behind the bar.

"What are you doing here? Who’s looking after Bethany?"

"I got Brooke Ames to go and keep an eye on her."

"How? Anyway, I thought you were skint?"

He gave a sideways nod in Benson as if to say, not in front of strangers, and said, "Man here needs a drink."

Benson got the drinks. "What sort of favour?"

"How’s the old photography business going?"

"What? Well, I can’t say I’m rushed off my feet."

"Still using the old box Brownie? Still making money for Mr Kodak?"

"What are you on about?" This reminded Benson too much of the discussion he’d had earlier with his son, Maxwell.

"Well," Douglas continued, drawing on the pint Benson had paid for, "isn’t film a bit – what’s that posh word? – passé? – these days."

"Film’s been around a long time," Benson countered.

"Exactly! Time for something new! How would you like a new digital camera?"

"Where would I get one of those? Or should I be asking, where would you get one of those?"

Just at that moment, Brooke was trying to enter The Stormy Petrel as unobtrusively as possible with the money Maxwell had given her for drinks for what was not turning out to be the scintillating night she had had been hoping for. She was hoping that the Landlord would be serving, not Maddy, and that Douglas would not be at the bar, which was why she was using such caution. She was about to be disappointed. There was Douglas, right in her way, talking with Benson. She gasped, took a step back half-closing the inner door. She opened it a crack and watched the two of them in conversation. Benson was standing stoically, while Douglas seemed excited about something. Then she saw.

Douglas pulled an expensive-looking digital camera from his pocket, in such a way that it was concealed from anyone else in the pub by his jacket, while showing it to Benson. Benson, for his part, suddenly perked up, as if Douglas’s shiny new possession was of great interest. There was something about that camera…

End of Episode 9

Magnolia Close Episode 8. Greasing the Wheels

Brooke Ames said goodbye to her parents and set off for the evening. She was carrying a rather unflattering shopping bag that didn’t suggest she was heading for a night on the town.

"Hang about," said a voice. She turned. It was Maxwell Fairhurst.

"Huh," she said. "What do you want?"

"I was wondering whether you fancied going for a drink."

"What if I did? You wouldn’t be coming."

"Why not?

"Because you’re under-age."

"Only just. And I’m big for my age." Realising the double entendre in what he had just said, he added, "if you know what I mean."

"And where would we be going for this supposed drink? Down The Petrel? Nearly everybody there knows who you are."

"They don’t know when my birthday is. I could be turned eighteen already. You turned eighteen in your final year at Hope."

"But you’re not even in your final year yet."

"Oh, come on – you could go to the bar – I’d give you the money. Nobody’d bat an eyelid."

"I can’t," she insisted. "I’m going to my mate, Sasha’s, to do some revising together." She raised the bag, as if to suggest it was full of study texts.

"Oh, yeah? Revising what?" He grabbed the bag from her before she could react and pulled out a piece of clothing. Some kind of spangly top. "Revising going clubbing and how to pull on the dance floor?"

She snatched the bag back from him. "Just a bit of fun first. Then we come home and do some work."

"You mean before her parents get back from wherever, I’m guessing."

"All work and no play…"

"Exactly," Maxwell pounced. "You don’t want me becoming a dull boy. Come on – just the one drink."

"Get lost."

"What if I told your parents where you were going? What you were studying?"

This impasse in negotiations was interrupted by the arrival of Douglas Gormley. "What are you two arguing about?"

Brooke was unable to speak. "School work," said Maxwell, attempting to be helpful.

"Hey! – we can help each other out," said Douglas.

"In what way?" said Brooke.

"Well, if the two of you were looking for somewhere peaceful to do your swatting, how about at my house? Plenty of quiet there."

Brooke gave Douglas a look that would have withered a cactus. "You mean except for your baby daughter, Bethany."

Maxwell liked the idea of an empty house. "That would be very nice, Mr Gormley. No distractions."

"He means," Brooke turned to Maxwell, her tone matching her expression, "that he wants me to baby-sit."

"Just for a while," said Douglas, as lightly as he could. "Max, is your Dad going to be down The Petrel tonight?"

"‘Spect so. He’s there most evenings."

"Great! Well, we could do each other a favour. I want to do some work for your Dad, and I could pay you, Brooke, for keeping an eye on little Bethany. And it would be good for your experience for your college course."

"In what way?" Brooke’s voice dripped with derision.

"What is it your going to be doing again? Nursery care, isn’t it?"

"Media studies and sociology."

"Well. There you are then." Douglas hadn’t the faintest idea what media studies were, nor did he care. "And remember, Max, you owe me a favour already."

"I do?" Max tried to recollect.

"So we all scratch each other’s back," Douglas concluded. Max was still slightly tangled in trying to recall what favour he owed Douglas Gormley. However, he was alert to the opportunity presented by an empty house shared with Brooke Ames and a hopefully-sleeping infant.

"Just one thing," said Max. "I don’t suppose you’ve any beers in the house have you? Pay me in kind instead of the money."

Douglas was desperately trying to work out the cheaper option between cans of supermarket beer and hard cash, when Max added, with a nod towards Brooke, "baby-sitters get, what, a fiver an hour these days?"

"A fiver?" Douglas was still struggling with the sums. "What do you need beer for if you’re studying?"

"It’s brain-food," said Max.

Douglas caved. He had bigger fish to fry and he had to get to The Petrel to do it. "There’s some cans in the fridge I was saving for a special occasion." There was a note of wistful hurt in his voice. "You can have them."

Max led Brooke away towards number 25 as Douglas hurried off to The Stormy Petrel. Looking round, he murmured, "How can you be saving a can of beer for a special occasion? Tell you what – if I give you a fiver, you can pop in The Petrel and get a couple of take-outs.""

Brooke was less than impressed herself, but for different reasons. "‘Brain-food’? You should have told me you’ve been on a starvation diet."

Maddy had arrived at The Stormy Petrel and installed herself behind the bar for the evening. She didn’t dislike bar work – it meant you got to meet people and have a bit of a chat sometimes, which in her book put above being stuck in an office, but it wasn’t the sort of work she would have picked if she’d had a choice. For one thing, it didn’t pay that well. For another, despite knowing there was nothing wrong with it – it was honest work – she still felt it slightly demeaning to be at people’s beck and call like a servant. Also, there was being on your feet all evening after perhaps a long day and above all, she got to see other people having a good time and spending money when she couldn’t. But a job was a job and it wasn’t all bad. Occasionally she got bought a drink and the landlord didn’t mind. Her first customer of the evening was Benson Fairhurst and she wouldn’t bet on him having the money to spare for a tip. Times seemed hard for nearly everyone.

"Pint of bitter, Maddy, when you’re ready."

She placed the glass under the tap and flicked the leaver. "Douglas Gormley stuck his head around the door just a moment ago looking for you. Have you seen him?"

"Looking for me? And he didn’t even stop for a drink?"

"No, he said he would try again later. Seemed really keen to find you."

"I wonder what he wants. Nothing useful, I’ll bet."

"Nas?"

"Yes?"

"You haven’t seen my camera while you’ve been unpacking, have you?"

"No, Rob – I haven’t been doing your things."

"Well it wasn’t actually packed – I had it out earlier to take some pictures of our new home. Moving-in day. I can’t find now."

"Why don’t we knock this on the head for the day? We’ve done enough."

"Good idea. I tell you what – let’s go and check out this Stormy Petrel place. I’ll by you a scotch and some pork scratchings."

"I may be about to marry you, Robert Farrah, but I’m still a good Muslim."

"Glass of coke then. And we can get to see some more inhabitants of Magnolia Close."

"You’re on."

End of Episode 8.

Magnolia Close Episode 7. Occupational Therapy

Maddy entered the living room of number 25, Magnolia Close. “Right, Bethany’s gone down, so I’m off.”
“Off where?” said Douglas drowsily. He had been dozing in the armchair since he had returned home from introducing himself to the Farrahs. And having a look round number 23.
“Off to work, behind the bar at The Petrel, where d’you think, you pie-can?”
“I didn’t realise is it was that late already,” he said, trying to raise himself in the chair.
“Time goes faster when you’re sat on your backside all day.” She busied herself loading her handbag. “It would go a little more slowly if you were working.”
Douglas fidgeted. It was not the first time they had had this conversation. “Jobs are hard to come by the way things are. You know that.”
“Oh, they are. I can see that. When you’re waiting for them to come to the house and find you. How many jobs have knocked on our door recently? Oh, let me think… None, right? You have to go out and look for work.”
“I have been looking for work,” he protested.
“When?
“Just today, as it happens.”
“‘As it happens’? How’d it happen? You haven’t stuck your head outside all day.”
“That’s all you know. I went to see those new people at number 23. Moving in and all. I thought they might need a handy-man.”
“And you thought you’d offer your services instead.”
“There’s all sorts of things that need doing in a new house.”
“And?”
“They said they’d get back to me.”
“Them and Santa Claus.” She slipped on her jacket and was nearly ready to leave. Before she got to the door he put his hand on her arm.
“Do you know whether Benson will be down The Petrel tonight?”
“How they hell should I know? Besides, you’ve got no money for booze and you can’t leave Bethany on her own.”
“But I might have some business with him.”
Maddy stood in the doorway as if she intended to block it for as long as it took to get Douglas to give up all hopes of going out for the evening. “What business could you have with him. I don’t think you’re the photographic model type.”
“Just a proposal I wanted to run past him. Bring some people together perhaps.”
Maddy wrinkled her nose at him. “You’re not thinking of starting a dating agency, are you.”
“Not that sort of proposal.”
“Just as well. I’ve seen bunions with more romance in them than you’ve got.”
From upstairs came a faint cry. Douglas took it as a hint. “We had some romance once.”
She gave a pained smile. “If you can call the back seat of a clapped-out Astra The Tunnel of Love.”
“Hey!” Douglas risked trying to be stern with her. “I don’t regret us having Bethany. I hope you don’t either.”
To his surprise, she seemed oddly mollified. “No, of course not. But we can’t feed her on fresh air.”
“That’s why I want a word with Benson Fairhurst.”
“So why didn’t you go and see him before I had to go to work?”
“I wanted a business drink with him. Catch him in the right mood.”
“Whatever,” Maddy shrugged, as if feeling her breath wasted. “Just don’t leave Bethany on her own.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll work something out.”“Mum, I’m hungry.”
“Dinner’s nearly ready,” said Daisy. “We’re just waiting for your Dad to get back from the shop.” She busied herself preparing a traditional Caribbean dish of curried goat.
“And I’m thirsty.”
Daisy halted. She recalled the conversation she had had with Tricia at the surgery earlier that day about Luther’s apparent constant thirst and loss of weight. She had looked in at the local chemist’s to check the price of a set of scales, but, seeing again how dear they were, she had decided to delay making a decision about buying them. She would speak with her husband, Foster, about it. “What would you like to drink?”
“Doctor Pepper!” he answered with glee. It did seem to be his favourite drink. Sadly, she could not oblige.
“Would some orange squash do?”
Luther pulled a face and groaned a little.
“You can make it with fizzy water, if you like. I’ve got some bottled water from the supermarket.”
Luther’s expression brightened. Daisy poured him the drink and he gulped it down. Just then, Foster let himself in.
“Dinner won’t be long,” she said. “How was the afternoon?”
Foster sighed. “They say this is a country of animal-lovers. I wish they would come and show some of their affection by buying something from the shop. Do you know how many customers I had after you went home?”
“Go on.”
“Just two.”
“What?” Daisy exclaimed. Business had been quiet, but not to this extent.
“Two – one for some rabbit-straw and one for some millet for their budgie. She was an awkward customer too. Said her little bird didn’t like just ‘any old millet.’ I mean, how many kinds of millet are there? I talked her into buying one of those rings she can fit on a perch. This is no way to make a living. I’ve gotta think of something else to expand the business.”
She turned to him and put her hands on his shoulders. “Maybe I can show you some ‘animal-loving’ later on.” She winked.
“What are you after, girl?” Foster was on his guard.
“Nothing!” she said, feigning hurt. “And I got some good news – we’ve got new neighbours.”
“Why’s that good news? They got a pony or something?”
“You never know.”
“So what were you after, girl?”
“Who says I was after anything?”
Foster gave her a look.
“Alright. I want to buy some scales. From the chemist’s. But they’re a bit dear.”
“You don’t need to lose weight,” Foster protested.
“It’s not for me,” she responded, with a hint of outrage. “My weight’s just fine.”
“Well then?”
“It’s for your son. He’s skinnier than a bean these days.”
“So? He’s a growing boy.”
“Haven’t you seen? He’s growing ups but he ain’t growing out. I’m concerned for him.”
“If you’re so concerned,” he said, putting hands on her shoulder in an echo of her gesture, “you’d have dinner on the table already.”

END OF EPISODE 7

Magnolia Close, Episode 6. Hope for the future

Brooke and Celine entered the house in response to Martha, their mother’s, call.

"What’s up, mum?" said Brooke.

"We’re having tea early tonight," she said, retrieving three ready-meals from the freezer.

"How come?"

"Have you forgotten? We’ve got that parents’ evening at the Hope Academy this evening."

"It’s a bit late for making career choices for me isn’t it?" Brooke remarked. "I’m already registered for my ‘A’ levels."

"We can still discuss which university you’re going to."

"I already know." Brooke was querulous. "I’ve already put in my UCAS form."

"Just in case you don’t get your first choice," Martha said, trying to cover her previous remark.

"You mean if I don’t get my grades. Thanks a bunch."

"It’s not just you," Martha still trying to rescue herself,. "I’m hoping when I finish this secretarial course I’m on, I might be able to get a job at Hope. I’ve been a full-time mum long enough."

"What about me?" Celine piped up, picking up her school-bag. "I’m still going to be a full time kid for a while yet. Or are you packing me off too?"

Martha began to feel she was losing the debate to both her children. "No – you’re going to Hope as well. I’ll still be looking after you, and you would get to see me during the day too."

"Gee, thanks," said Celine. "‘Mommy’s pet,’ that’s what they’ll call me. What if I don’t want to go to Hope?"

"What’s wrong with the Hope Academy?"

"She’s worried about boys," Brooke taunted.

"You’re the one who should be worried about boys."

"What do you mean?"

"I’ve seen that Maxie Fairhurst looking at you. He was spying on you this afternoon. I don’t know what he’s doing home at this time of day anyway. He should be at school. I’ve a good mind to speak to his father."

"He was spying on the new neighbours moving in, not me!" said Brooke with some disdain. "Besides, he’s too young for me!"

"I’m very glad to hear it!" said Martha. Another thought occurred to her, and she would welcome changing the direction of the conversation. She unwrapped the frozen packages and pretended to be studying the cooking instructions. "By the way," she said as casually as she could, "what are the new neighbours like?"

Celine threw her bag down on the floor and stomped out of the kitchen.

"What was that about?" said Martha, puzzled. The older her children got, the less she seemed to understand them.

Max returned from his self-imposed exile in his bedroom. He hadn’t the slightest intention of doing any study, and had quickly become bored.

His father, Benson, was sitting at the desk that had effectively turned the lounge into a study, looking through wedding photos from his last commission.

"Has that Keaton woman gone?" Max asked.

The pictures Benson were looking at were old ones, no longer of any real value, and he was actually slightly relieved to have Max distract him. Without looking up, he said, "Have you done enough of being the nosey-parker for one day?"

"I’m not from the social, poking her nose into everything."

"I wasn’t talking about us. Was it Brooke Ames you had your eye on or the family moving in at number 23?"

Not for the first time Max wondered how his father knew what was going on outside when he had the curtains drawn. "Who says I was looking at either?"

Benson looked up. "You know, I think you are right. I really ought to think about getting a digital camera and a computer. If you got yourself a part-time job, perhaps we could afford a little more."

"I’m studying for my Mocks, Dad. How could I find the time for a job too?"

"Other kids do. And a computer could help you with your homework."

Maxwell wandered around the room restlessly before fiddling with something on his father’s desk. "It looks like Brooke was right – it is a new teacher for the Hope."

"How could she have know that? And leave my filters alone or you’ll get finger marks on them."

"She’s a woman, dad. They all gossip to each other. Motor-mouths. That’s why they always know everything."

"Don’t you let you mother hear you say that."

"Ashleigh’s not my mother." He put down the filters and started to push index cards from his father’s filing system around on the desk.

"I know, but I think she likes to hear you call her that. Gives her a sense of respect."

"Yeah but she’s only ten years older than I am."

"And do you prefer it when she calls you ‘Max’ or ‘son’?"

"Dad," Max shaded his eyes with a hand as if solving a difficult problem in his head, "I really don’t care."

"Still," Benson glanced up, "respect is respect."

"And I do respect her," he said, looking towards the window as if he might see Brooke, even though the angle was impossible. Unless she was standing outside in the front garden. "But she’s your girlfriend, not mine."

Benson turned away from his desk to face Max. "I’d like to think of us more as a family." Max said nothing. "And as for girlfriends, don’t you think you might be wasting your time a little with Brooke Ames when she’s just about to go to Uni? How are you going to compete with all those college boys?"

Max folded his arms across his chest, then raised a hand to his mouth and bit a knuckle. "Who says I’m after Brooke Ames?"

"Sometimes we men know some things too." He paused. "But perhaps you could tell me something. They have computers at school these days, don’t they?"

"Gosh, I wonder," Maxie mocked, "is this the 19^th or 20^th century – I can never remember."

"Do they ever sell any old ones off."

Max, realising this was not another veiled slight from his father, changed his attitude. "Yeah, sometimes, I think they do. I could ask them about it."

"There you go. If they’re cheap enough, it would help us both out, don’t you think?"

Max nodded. "If I could download porn with it, that’d be great."

Benson sighed. What it was like having a teenage son. "And next summer you’ll be getting your exam results and turning your back on Magnolia Close." There was a hint of anticipated relief in his voice.

End of Episode 6

Magnolia Close, Episode 5. Medical Matters.

Tall and slender as her Nigerian forebears, Daisy Woods was still well capable of turning heads wherever she went, even though into her thirties and with a son just entering his teens. From men, black or white, she was more or less used to it, found it tedious from time to time and occasionally even useful. However, as she entered Maplewood Surgery, she saw an unfamiliar female face at the reception desk.

"Hello – are you new here?"

"Yes, it’s my first day. My name is Jade Sweet."

"Pleased to meet you. I’m Mrs Daisy Woods." Just at that moment, Daisy was aware that someone else had entered the surgery and had taken a place in line behind her. "I was wondering – is Tricia McAndrew about?"

"The practice nurse? I should hope so – she’s my new landlady."

"Oh – so you’re moving in to Magnolia Close too. We’ll be neighbours."

Jade looked at the computer terminal showing appointments. "She got someone in with her just now. Is there anything I could help you with?"

"It’s something and nothing – I just wanted to have a quick word with her. I don’t want to go to all the trouble of a doctor’s appointment."

Jade looked at the terminal again. "I’ll just see if she’s free before her next appointment." Jade looked Daisy up and down, and smiled. "I think I might be able to sneak you in for a minute."

"Thank you, that’s very kind of you." Daisy turned away and took a seat in the waiting area.

Jade watched her as she walked away from the reception counter before turning to the next visitor. "Can I help you?"

"I hope so. My name’s Nasreen Siddiqi – well, it is for the moment – um, until I get married that is – I want to register myself and my husband – I mean, my fiancé – with a doctor."

"Are you new to the area?"

"Yes. We’ve just moved from the Midlands."

"Snap! Well, not the Midlands bit. I mean I’m new here too. Were you both registered with the same doctor before?"

"In the same practice. We were at college together."

"Ah, how romantic." Jade was apt to get dewy-eyed at the thought of going away to college and meeting up with their true love. She had studied to be a medical receptionist while still living with her parents. All that was changing now though. She searched around under the counter until she found what she wanted. She hated being the newcomer, not knowing where everything was kept, but was determined to ask for help from her fellow receptionists as little as possible. "Here we are. You’ll both need to fill in one of these forms and sign them, then drop them off back here. If you specially want a female doctor you’ll have to say."

"No, that’s no problem," said Nasreen, though in the back of the mind she had a slight niggle of doubt. The doubt being what her relatives might have had to say on the matter, given the chance. "We’ve all got nearly all the same parts, and I don’t think diseases make much of a distinction."

"No," Jade hesitated. "There’s just… the odd thing, though, isn’t there?"

"All doctors study the same thing, don’t they?" Again Nasreen didn’t feel as confident as she was trying to sound.

"You don’t need to see a doctor straight away, do you?"

"Good heavens, no. At least, not quite. Ask me again when we’ve finished unpacking!"

"And let us know when you change your name. When you get married, that is. Have you picked the happy day?"

"Soon." Nasreen looked at Jade. They were about the same age, but there was something about Jade that made Nasreen want to keep her at a distance. She turned to leave. "Thanks a lot."

Just at that moment, Jade spotted a patient come out of the treatment room, where Tricia McAndrew worked. She slipped from behind the desk and poked her head around the door. "Tricia, can you spare a minute to have a word with a Mrs Woods?"

Tricia, prim in her nurse’s outfit, a little older than Jade, looked round from her desk, cluttered with various medical bric-à-brac. "Daisy? Yes, send her in."

Jade beckoned Daisy over. "Thank you," Daisy said. Jade wanted to say something in return but could think of nothing, the moment passed, and the door closed.

Tricia got up from her desk. "Hello, Daisy. First of all, I’ve just got to thank you for that cat-food you recommended. Moxie loves it. He’s not looking so skinny now."

"I’m glad. I’ll tell Foster – he’s being trying to sell that stuff in the shop for a while now but I think the price has been putting people off."

"How can I help?"

"It’s about our son, Luther. I don’t want to go bothering the doctor over something and nothing, so I was hoping you could let me have some advice."

"I’ll try. If there’s something worrying you, you should really let the doctor see him, but I’ll do my best to put your mind at ease."

"You know what they’re like at twelve – they say it’s the new fourteen! I’d have to bring him in here kicking and screaming."

"Is he ill in any way?"

"That’s just it," Daisy shrugged. "He seems OK, but there’s a couple of things I’ve noticed. I mean, it might just be that he’s growing up. They all do, in time."

"What sort of things?"

"Well… the main thing is he seems to be drinking a lot just lately."

"Alcohol?"

"Lord, no! Foster would tan his behind if he caught him on booze at his age. No, I mean just soft drinks – squash, pop – he’s never without a can of cola – even just tap water. Then he’s going to the loo every five minutes. Can’t even sit through The Simpsons sometimes. He never used to be like that."

"I see," Tricia said. Her earlier levity was now replaced by her professional voice. "Anything else?"

"He seems tired all the time. He still eats OK, but I can’t help thinking he’s loosing weight. Of course, he’s getting taller so it’s hard to judge."

"Do you know his weight?"

"No. I’ve been thinking of getting a set of scales from the chemist’s but they’re a bit pricey."

"But worth it. You can get cheap, trendy ones from those big furniture shops, but the chemist scales are a lot more accurate."

"What do you think it might be?"

"It’s not for me to say. Above my pay-grade, as they call it. But I would recommend you get him an appointment with the doctor right away. And maybe get those scales too."

"Really?" Daisy didn’t like the sound of this.

"Really. After all, you can’t put a price on peace-of-mind, can you?"

End of Episode 5