Mystery.
At Meadowbank Cottage.
An original story.
Written and performed by by Stephanie Poppins.
Where's it?
By my brother.
John Miles Carter.
Chapter 14 The telephone rang twice before Justin picked it up.
He was elbow deep in paperwork.
And busy with his accounts.
Tuesday.
He tucked the phone against his shoulder.
Everything alright?
There was a pause.
He'd been worried about Tuesday for a while.
Robert's chafe turning up unexpectedly had not been good news.
Not really,
No.
Set Tuesday.
Justin put his pen down.
The conversation ran on hurriedly.
She told him the way she'd always told him things she'd been carrying for too long.
About Robert,
Colleen,
The pregnancy,
The miscarriage.
Then,
Of course,
Jonathan Green.
He married her even though she'd been pregnant.
With Robert's child?
He thought it was the right thing to do.
Tuesday was having trouble believing it herself.
She'd said this sentence in her mind so many times.
Just to test whether it holds weight.
She lost the baby and she was in a state.
You know Jonathan.
I never took him for a mug.
Said Justin.
Tuesday thought this was a bit harsh.
But then again,
She was being a bit too soft on Jonathan.
Hadn't he said he thought he'd done the right thing?
Or words to that effect.
Anyway,
Whichever way she looked at it,
She was still cross with him.
Justin,
Meanwhile,
Leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
He could just picture the scene now.
Tuesday over in Leighton,
All by herself,
With Jonathan,
Broad-shouldered and burdened,
Deciding in that quiet way about how he had to do right by women.
He was just down the lane.
Than Robert turning up in all his disaffected glory.
He hoped his sister wouldn't feel sorry for him again.
And then there was Jed Norman making a nuisance of himself.
He knew as a good brother he should be there for her.
And he knew it was time to make a stand and go anyway.
Regardless of what Betsy said.
Jed Norman was becoming a problem and he needed to protect his sister and deal with it fast.
So Jonathan knows his ex-wife's gone to live with him,
Right?
Yes.
It sounds very messy to me.
And they've been at log heads ever since.
It's been one thing after another in this lane.
And as you know,
I'm supposed to be looking after it.
It's my responsibility to make sure it's not compromised.
Oh,
Don't take any notes of that deed nonsense.
Just keep yourself to yourself and stay out of it,
T,
Until I get there,
Okay?
Then we'll go together.
You,
Me and Jonathan.
We'll face Colleen and Jed and get this all out in the open.
No!
Tuesday was serious.
Justine,
Stop and listen to me.
You're not going to say a word to Jonathan about any of this.
Nothing about Jed's threats,
Nothing about his intimidation.
We have to deal with this ourselves.
It's our land after all.
Jonathan's furious enough with him.
We don't need anything else on top of that.
I'm terrified of what will happen if it gets any worse.
I've never seen him like he's been lately.
You sure you haven't said anything to him?
What Justin?
Sounds a bit like frustration to me,
If you know what I mean.
Honestly,
Don't start with all that.
There's nothing between me and Jonathan.
This needs sorting,
Justin.
I really need you here.
We've got to go and see that Jed and sort this lot out.
And as for that Colleen.
.
.
She probably absolutely loves the idea of two men losing their minds over her.
I don't know whether it's over her.
Said Justin.
Sounds like Jonathan had enough of her anyway from what you said.
I know,
But none of that matters.
That's how she'd tell everyone.
That's how she'd feel it.
You know what she's like.
Tuesday felt tired now.
She'd been turning this over in her mind all night long.
And what did it matter what Colleen thought,
Said or did?
Justin,
Meanwhile,
Looked into the jacket on the arm of his chair.
He thought about Tuesday being all alone.
And then he thought about Jonathan.
Whose capacity for calm he'd always admired.
And whose capacity for rage he had apparently underestimated.
Please come up.
It's a Tuesday Saturday.
We can deal with this,
Just you and me.
If we go in clear-headed and we make it plain we're not selling,
We're not going anywhere.
Maybe you'll back down.
I somehow doubt it.
Said Justin.
It's going to take a lot more than that to get that man out of our hair.
Well,
We'll just have to deal with that when it happens.
Tuesday's voice was firm now.
I'm not handing it to him.
I'm not putting it in his hands and watching him do whatever he wants.
He can't get his way like that.
Down the line,
Justin laughed.
He liked the sound of his sister when she was like this.
It had been a long road since losing their parents.
And it sounded like she'd finally come into her own.
Only to have this Jed put a spanner in the works.
Okay,
I'm coming up.
And for God's sake,
Tell me if you hear anything more of that layabout Robert Sheaf.
Can you come Saturday?
Justin looked at his diary.
Then he closed it again.
This wasn't a case of whether he had the time.
This was a case of whether Betsy would let him or not.
Yep,
I'll be there.
He said before he knew what he was saying.
I'll be there Saturday.
We'll go up and see Jed together.
And we'll leave Jonathan out of it.
Okay?
Then he picked up his pen,
Looked at his paperwork,
And wondered what on earth he was going to say to his wife.
That afternoon,
Old Tom Bucket wandered up the lane the way he always did.
Slow and sure.
With his sister,
Sissy,
Ambling behind him.
Tuesday watched as they arrived at her gate.
How nice to see you,
" she said.
As Spike ran towards them.
They looked so similar.
They could have been twins,
Tuesday thought.
She loved the character written over the pair of them.
Come in,
Come in,
She called,
As Sissy led the way.
Tuesday was warming more and more to her every time they met.
It was nice to have an older woman about the place,
Especially seeing as she had no mother anymore.
Sit down and I'll put the kettle on,
" she said.
They sat down in their heavy corduroy trousers and jackets that smelled pleasantly of wood smoke and something herbal Tuesday couldn't identify.
It's been a busy day,
" said Sissy,
Handing Tuesday her eggs and milk.
Sissy was a small woman who moved quickly and missed nothing.
Tuesday could see she had probably been very pretty in her youth,
And now she held a warmth that arrived in her eyes first and her smile second.
Got any cake to go with that?
She said.
Tuesday laid out the things on the table around the stub of beeswax candle.
Melted in the centre.
There was a jar of old honey,
Small jar of salt,
A length of black ribbon looped once,
A handful of dried rosemary bound with thread.
A piece of paper with something written on it.
And in between all of that.
.
.
A nice plump honey cake,
And three of Old Mother Green's teacups.
Watch out now,
The pot's hot!
She said,
Placing it down.
Tom looked at the arrangement on the table but did not comment.
He rarely commented on tea's workings in any sense of the word.
He just observed them with the same attention he gave to weather patterns and behaviour of animals in the field.
Tuesday was always brewing up something now.
She always has some spell planned.
And he knew better than to question her before she was ready.
Pulling up a chair,
Tuesday sat with them.
Her feet bare on the flagstone floor.
Her hair was pushed back behind one ear.
And she was looking at the arrangement on the table too.
Thinking about the potion she would be brewing later that day.
I know what you're thinking,
You two.
She said,
And I've no idea how long this will last.
But I've got to try something.
Jonathan and Jedward Loggerheads Whatever's between them,
It's getting worse,
And as keeper of the lane.
.
.
She stopped mid-sentence.
The other two nodded slightly.
They knew what responsibility it was having this title.
But this young woman seemed to be doing a very good job so far.
I wanted to talk to you both about the footbridge over the stream.
It's a Tuesday.
The little one at the bottom of the lane.
Something's been done to it.
I don't know whether it's rot or whether someone's helped it along.
But the boards on the right side,
The weight-bearing side,
Have been compromised.
Jonathan crosses that bridge every day,
Every single morning.
I have a bad feeling about it.
What sort of feeling?
" said Tom.
The sort I don't ignore,
" said Tuesday.
There was a vehicle in the lane last night,
" she continued.
It was dark out there,
I couldn't really see what was going on and it didn't have its headlights on.
I heard the engine though and I came to the window that I could see nothing.
That bridge needs looking at before Jonathan walks over it tomorrow morning and I don't want to say anything to him.
It'll only rile him up still further.
I thought maybe we could all do it together.
I know you're a bit of a carpenter sissy.
And Tom,
If you could help.
I'm not great at that sort of thing.
She picked up her box of matches and lit the candle.
Then took the rosemary and began.
Tom and Sissy,
Meanwhile.
Took a piece of cake.
Sat sipping tea and watched.
This was not theatrical in any way.
There was no performance,
No discernible effect.
But Tuesday spoke words just below the threshold of hearing.
Powerful words,
Meant for whatever she was addressing,
Rather than anyone else.
They were mystified by her hands,
So steady,
Her face so alive.
Then the candle flame went very still.
Old Tom swallowed his last mouthful.
And grabbed his folded cap.
His pale eyes said nothing but thought for a number of things he did not want Tuesday to say.
He had known this cottage a long time.
He knew in his heart the way fields and streams and bends in the lane work together.
The cottage had been waiting for her.
For a keeper who understood what the job meant.
Sissy,
Meanwhile,
Watched her brother's face then looked back at Tuesday.
And felt something.
She could not have put into words.
A kind of uncomplicated love for this young woman.
Who had been here such a short time.
But who had made a bigger impact on Leighton Lane.
Than anyone else had done.
For years.
