The Turn Of The Page. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 I know, the garden needs dealing with. And it will be, in a moment. But I’m seizing time to read the paper…and it’s really nice taking ten minutes for myself. I’ve stopped feeling guilty about the, taking time for myself. I’ve realised that I need it, like I need food and sleep. And it does help that the girls are older – a lot older, from their point of view, I guess: they’re all walking, talking, potty-trained and they have each other for company. They’re not lonely.
Me, in one way I’m only a bit older. If I’d gone to university, as we’d been planning I should do, I wouldn’t even have finished my first year yet. In another way – I feel like I’ve aged a hundred years. Whilst simultaneously feeling totally out of my depth. I’m going to write to old Mr Mellish this week. I don’t know why I’ve been putting it off, feeling reluctant to do so.
I always read the business pages. After all, this is what I would have been studying. In fact, I usually turn there first and today was no exception. North Chocolates has never been floated, so I can’t check their share prices, but I do look for any articles about the firm. So far there haven’t been any that I’ve seen…
Oh. Today was bucking that trend.
And it looked like I’d missed quite a bit when I wasn’t getting a paper, as the writer was doing a recap of previous articles from those dates. I could check them out on line in full – if I’d had a line and a signal and a working phone or computer.
It was worrying reading.
“…Now that probate has been granted” (this was from a previous article) “Mr Garratt-Oldsby, the executor, is proposing to sell North Chocolates to a conglomerate, arguing that this is the best way to provide job security…” Jill would have hated that!
Another previous article. “In a surprise twist in the drama of North Chocolates, another player has entered the stage. Most of our readers will remember the tragedy that overtook the family…” This was never a financial page article originally! The writing was far too emotive. “Mr Mellish, who has equal powers and, most importantly, power of veto, says that for all he knows the seventh shadowy player in this story may not have perished. No proof of death has been presented, owing to the impossibility of recovering the wrecked vehicle…Amanda Woodridge, their adopted daughter, has executive powers invested in her as well, and he considers it his sacred duty to preserve …”
I bet old Mr Mellish never said “sacred duty.” Not his style at all.
And then the current stuff. “This weekend’s worrying events (see full article on page 3)…” I turned to page 3, a feeling of dread washing over me.
“Solicitor’s lucky escape…” I breathed again.
But it still wasn’t good news. Mr Mellish’s office had been burgled. And then burnt down. And his home had been burnt down too: both at the same time and in the middle of the night.
What had saved him was the fact the he hadn’t been there. He’d been hiking in the woods as usual, staying in his cabin hidden away up in the hills.
Garrett-Oldsby has expressed his sympathy, saying that it was probably someone local who had a grudge against Mr Mellish. I just thought: this is all about the firm. Still. Thank goodness I hadn’t written to him! My letter would have been there, and whoever was behind this would have known that I was still alive and so were the girls. Thank goodness I’d wanted to wait until I’d cleaned and tidied the little house that had sheltered us. I was tending the garden almost mechanically, thinking about what I’d just read. The danger to the girls was still real. The danger to me too. It wasn’t safe yet to claim their inheritance. And mine as well, from the sound of it. I was going to have to rethink everything. It felt like going back to square one, back to the living from day-to-day, unable to plan for any future. But as I started to deal with the weeds that were threatening one of my seedlings, I thought again. I would be planning for a different future. A future on this island for the time being. But I also needed to bring the girls up to be ready to take up their inheritance.
Whilst simultaneously keeping them safe. And keeping them in ignorance of it. Hmmm… Something I’d learnt in school came to my mind a couple of weeks later while I was fishing. Monasteries used to work like this! A stewpond for the fish (eels featured a lot, apparently) vegetable and herb gardens…When the girls got older, they could help me with all of this. And I was pretty sure that if things got desperate, I could ask Mr Miller and his wife for help. I wasn’t alone.
I needed to work out how to make a business of my vegetable patch. I had an outlet, so what I needed to do was ramp up production. Was there any part of it that I could mechanise to speed things up? I’d have to think about that. Right. That’s the girls safely penned in with loads of toys and books to keep them happy. Those dungarees aren’t going to fit beyond this year – I’ve got the shoulder straps extended as far as they’ll go! And just about everything else they own is also too small. Another problem… This is everything cleared out of the house (memo to self: get those pans properly cleaned up). And this is me, ready to get the walls and ceiling scrubbed down and cleaned up. I was planning to do this before we left: now that we’re staying, it’s even more important. And this is afterwards! Not bad, huh? I just need to get those pans cleaned up, and this will look great. Let’s get this lot on the line, and start another day. I’ve been planning…now all I need is to earn enough money to start making my plans a reality. What could I do to make the gardening more efficient? Fishing is so my thinking time. We scraped by last year, with some help over the winter, but this year I’ve started much earlier, and I’m planning to grow a lot more. However, there are still only so many hours in the day. I reckon if I can cut the time I spend watering, that’ll help. I’m hoping that there’ll be something, some ideas in the DIY books Jill had sent up for Mark and her to learn from.
Time’s a resource too, isn’t it? Not one that I can write down on my balance sheet, but it’s limited, and I have to think how I use it. Someone has dropped off a pair of gnomes. Go figure! The children love them – they keep moving them round the garden, given half a chance. When I have time to keep and eye on them, I let the three of them out of the pens! They’re pretty good at understanding No now, and they do stay away from the pond, but I can’t do anything else at the same time. So they don't get much chance to be totally free-range. It has taken weeks to earn enough for the parts for this, but I’ve finally got there. And it will make life a lot easier. Once I get it up and running, that is… It’s pretty, isn’t it? “Take a couple of nice dresses with you,” Jill had said. “And we’ll go out all three of us one evening for a nice meal, and we’ll do an afternoon tea, you and I together. I want to say thank you for all you’ve done for us, all you’ve been to us, before you go off to university.”
This was going to be for the evening meal. I couldn’t resist putting it on one last time. But actually, I’m about to unpick it and use the fabric to make something for the girls. They have practically nothing to wear! And I’m going to need the money I’m saving up for winter clothes. I’ve got a detailed financial plan now… And there we are. Three little girls in cute matching dresses. I made the pattern out of the ever-useful newspaper. I’m glad they’re all still small – hand-sewing is not quick, and I couldn’t just tack the dresses together. I would never have believed that my school sewing lessons would have come in useful for something though! And thank goodness for beach sandals – their toes can poke out of the ends as much as they need to. This folder, and the paper in it – they were going to be for me to make notes on those textbooks. Ready for my course starting. Now I’m making notes on our finances, on my business plan, counting every last penny. Twice. And using this year’s figures to forecast for next year, working out what I can put aside for when they outgrow the cots (we are going to have four beds!). And clothes and shoes: they’re a constant need.
Mr Miller said that there is a place where I can sell all their stuff that they’ve finished with later on – the potty, the cots, the toys, the books. I’d love to keep the books as a memento of Mark and Jill, but that’s not going to be possible. We’ll need every penny.
We’ll need every penny, but this is going to work. We can – just – do this.