Monday 20 March 2023

The Turn of the Page Chapter 5

Chapter 5 “So what are we going to do today?” It was getting cooler in the mornings now, and there was only a week of the summer holidays left.
“I’m going to practise baking some more,” Fern said. “I’m getting better at it.” Which she was.
“Then I’ll help Madda with the house and garden stuff. And fish.”
“And I want to go to the library,” Daisy finished. “There’s a book there called Accounting For Dummies. And it’s just about my level." “That book’s written for adults, Daisy. If you can understand that, then you’re doing well.” Daisy flushed with pleasure at the compliment.
“Yes. I can’t take it out on my ticket. And there’s bits in it that I don’t understand.”
“I’ll take it out on my ticket then. And we’ll have a look at it together. Hazel, I’d love some help with things – thank you.” Maybe these weren’t her best cakes. The oven did work, but it could be a little erratic and she hadn’t been checking as closely as she might have done. It was outside in the bike shelter because there was simply no room inside for it. “I wish we were older,” Fern thought disconsolately. “And could earn proper money.” Hazel looked at the rather burnt cakes as she dealt with the dishes. “Never mind,” she’d said to a rather sorry Fern. “Keep trying. Yours are better than mine – mine didn’t rise at all.”
We’ll get there, she thought. The three of us and Madda together. “Mr Miller will be here in a minute or two – we’d better get the rest of these vegetables outside ready to be loaded.”
“Two seconds,” Hazel said cheerfully. “And then we’ll go and see what we can sell today.” As usual, they were there really early. “Well, the cakes look good,” Hazel thought. “And I like our pictures. Now we just need some customers…” “Well, how did it go today?” I didn’t need to ask them if they’d remembered to say thank you to Mr Miller: I was really proud of their nice manners.
“We sold some, but not all,” Fern said a bit sadly.
“We covered our costs,” said Daisy, “but nothing more.”
“So there’s some back in the fridge that we’ll have to eat, and we gave some to Mr Miller as a thank you.”
Mrs Miller was an excellent cook! But I knew she’d still really appreciate the children’s cakes. “Fawn Annan was there,” Daisy said thoughtfully. “So she and I played chess while her mum went round the stalls. And I was telling her about this – roasting apples round the firepit – and she said that she envied me.”
“Why?” Hazel asked. “They’ve got pots of money, and her parents are really nice too.”
“But she’s the youngest. And often there’s no-one to play with. We’ve always got each other as well as Madda.” “So maybe having pots of money isn’t everything,” Fern said. “Though I’d still like to be able to earn more than we can at the moment.”
“That time will come,” I said consolingly. “And at the moment, you’re learning how to handle money without money handling you.”
That got Hazel’s attention. “What do you mean..?” And life wasn’t all worrying about money, or trying to earn it. The beach at the back of the house was one of our favourite places to go – to play, to fish, to paddle on chilly days and swim on warmer ones. Not many people came there, which was nice in one way, but a bit sad in others. Meeting up with their friends on the offchance tended to happen at the market place, not here. I was glad that the girls had each other to play with otherwise life would have been a bit solitary. “I’ve got some great news. We can afford to extend! And we should be able to get it done before the winter comes too. What I was thinking about doing was making this into a bigger space and we’ll have the kitchen here and – maybe – a proper bathroom. We’ll keep the outhouse as well though, but move it to the other side of the wall – that won’t require too much re-plumbing. What do you three think?” “Board meeting!” Hazel said gleefully, and Daisy added, “We want to see your costings for this project, please.” “It’s all coming out of savings, Daisy. Out of the building fund. I’ve budgeted for winter clothes, food and bills, and there’s also a little in the contingency fund. We can get all the building work done, re-use the current kitchen furniture and definitely put in an indoor toilet and washbasin. We might have to save up for a bath, but we’ll put the plumbing in ready while the other work is being done.”
“Okay,” Daisy said, “but I still want to see the actual numbers tomorrow.”
Hazel and Fern were already planning the best way to rearrange the furniture in the main room! “I’m getting better at this,” Fern said to me, quite rightly as she set out her table. She did have a good sense of taste, and her recipe variations generally worked very well. We got the building done well before winter! Mr Miller pulled a few strings on our behalf, and the job got done in record time. I don’t think I would have been able to cope if it hadn’t been for him and his wife taking us all under their wing.
“Weren’t nothing,” he said when I tried to thank him, but he did like the card the girls carefully drew and coloured for him.
Now that school had started again, there were only weekends for their bakery business. School and homework ate up most of their days. And I’d noticed that the accounts were suffering: Daisy was short of time to do them. Could be time for a surprise audit. “Okay, this is your investor calling.” The girls’ faces lit up. They liked it when I joined in with their games. And I was working hard at keeping this as a game for them. Yes, they were learning lessons they’d need later, but I didn’t want to steal their childhoods. They already knew way more than a lot (though not all) of their friends about the reality of making money go round.
“I’d like a quick update on your accounts, your cash flow and your projections.” Daisy got ready to step forward, but I stopped her.
“Fern, you tell me about it.” “Me? But it’s Daisy who does the accounts. You know that.”
“Tell me what you know,” I said, calmly but firmly. "This is your investor asking one of the board about her investment.”
Of the three of them, Fern was the least mathematically inclined, and she’d quite happily handed the accounts over to Daisy. Hazel was looking quite sober too – I think she’d realised that she couldn’t answer the question. And even Daisy didn’t look too happy. “I don’t know about the accounts either,” Hazel said straight away as I turned to her. “We’ve just been letting Daisy do it because she’s so good at it.”
“What I actually wanted to ask you about was the current product development.”
Hazel looked puzzled, so I elaborated.
“What type of cakes and biscuits…”
“Oh, I know that! Fern’s making biscuits in two flavours and muffins in two flavours…”
Of course she knew that. We ate the leftovers. And very nice they were too.
“No. What kind of cakes and biscuits are you planning to make. Where are you taking the product next?” “Daisy, I would ask to see the accounts, but we both know they’re not up to date. And I know that’s because life has got a lot busier now that school has started.”
Hazel looked sympathetically at a rather stricken Daisy. Of all of them, Daisy understood the most about how careful we had to be with money. I made my voice very gentle.
“I know you and Hazel do Fern’s chores so that she can have time to bake. Well, Fern and Hazel need to help you have time to do the accounts. And you need to keep Fern and Hazel up to date with where the money is going. Every fortnight. And Fern needs to keep you two up to date with her baking. Everyone on the board has to know about everything.” “But why?” Fern asked, a bit mutinously. “You know Daisy’s much better with numbers that I am!”
“Suppose she started stealing from the business…”
“Daisy wouldn’t do that!”
“No. She wouldn’t. But people do. That happens. I’ll find you some stories…”
“So are you going to pull your investment?” “No,” I said, hugging her warmly. “I think you’re doing really well, all three of you.” That cheered Daisy up a bit too.
“I want this to work for all of you, and work well.”
“For all of us,” Hazel said thoughtfully. “Because it is real money, as well as being a good game.” I ended up spending more time with Hazel, while the other two were cooking or working on the accounts. Every cloud…
“I don’t know what I’m good at,” Hazel said. “Yet,” she added after a moment’s thought.
“Daisy and Fern are both better than me…”
“I think you’re right about the Yet,” I said sympathetically. “This baking, and the lemonade stand, they’re the only things you’ve been able to try so far. You’ve got time and enough to find out what your other strengths are. And you will go on learning new skills…”
“Other strengths?” Hazel perked up a bit.
“I spoke to your teacher – remember? And she said that your writing skills are really impressive, that you have a real flair with language…”
Hazel brightened up a bit more, remembering that.
“And don’t forget that she said that all three of you are way ahead of the class in basic number skills.”
I’d liked that story. The teacher had said to the class, “Does anyone know anything about interest?” and Fern had put her hand up and said, “Simple or compound? I can do simple interest, but I find compound a bit harder. Daisy and Hazel can do compound no problem though.”
“Not the answer I was expecting,” the teacher had said, grinning wryly at me. “But I know money’s always tight…”
“And you know that we always have enough. We may not have lots, but we have enough. And we have each other. And kind neighbours. And we live in a lovely place.”
“That’s true. We don’t need to go away to the seaside because it’s here already.”
“You are fed, clothed, warm, loved, happy, healthy and safe.”
Especially safe. “Everything else is just extra to that really.”
Hazel let out a long breath, as if a worry had dropped from her shoulders.
“Yes. You’re right.”

Saturday 11 March 2023

The Turn Of The Page. Chapter 1.

This story would not look anywhere near as good without the custom content made by two very talented people. I have used a lot of stuff by Cyclone Sue (atTSR) and by Sandy at ATS3, and I am deeply grateful to them both for their skills and the joy their making has brought me.


Okay, this is me. And if our lives are stories, then I’d better give you a bit of the background to mine.
I’m Amanda Woodridge. I’m nineteen years old, and just about to start a new chapter in my life. I guess the bit I’m writing now is either a prologue to a brand-new story, or one of those bits you sometimes get in stories: you know – they’re about a page long in between chapters and they give you some information that you need to make the transition to the next part of the story.
Yes. Transition time. That’s what these next few weeks are. These are not my children by the way! I was far too busy studying these past few years (I had a lot of ground to make up) to waste time on boys, love affairs and making babies! But they are – sort of – my sisters.
Their parents adopted me. Not when I was little, but when I was fifteen, after Mum died. Our solicitor, who looks at least eighty years old, but is still as sharp as a tack and goes hiking for miles every weekend in the mountains, got in touch with Mark. A bit tentatively, because Mark's only a twice-removed cousin, and we both knew how well-off he was, and I didn’t want to sound like someone just wanting to touch him for some money because he was rich.
“Don’t worry,” old Mr Mellish said. “I’ll make sure he understands how you feel.” And he did. Mark came to meet me, with Jill, just to see how he could help to start with. But we hit it off amazingly well, once Jill had seen past my defensiveness about not wanting to be seen as a scrounger. I went to live with them, just while I finished my schooling, but it worked so well that they decided to adopt me. That’s a bit of an abridged version, but it’s the essentials. So if my cousins-who-adopted-me are so well-off, what are we doing outside what I can only call a shack. Or hut. Or possibly shed, but not really house.
Ah, that’s another story. And to understand that one, you have to know a bit about who my cousins are.
Mark’s quite a bit older than me – late thirties, but Jill is only twenty-six. And before they got married, she was Jill North. As in North’s Chocolates.
That’s right – the luxury brand. The one that is also famous for its highly ethical approach to chocolate growing and production. The trouble with being highly ethical is that you can start to make enemies among other producers who aren’t quite so ethical. Fairly deadly enemies. And if you are about to bring out a documentary highlighting best practices (on your part mostly, but not solely) and exposing not only bad practices but also highly illegal practices on the parts of others, then the stakes get higher yet.
The plus of being highly ethical and fair to your employees and the land you’re growing on is that you make friends. Friends in low places, rather than high ones. Friends who have relatives who are doing the cleaning or waiting on people in high places. And who overhear things and pass the information on. We were warned that someone was trying to suppress the documentary and they weren’t too fussy about the means they’d use. Once it was out, there’d be nothing they could do, but the next few weeks…
So we’re going up to the island. Mark’s great-grandmother (and my great-great aunt) grew up here: in this very house in fact, and it doesn’t look like it’s had much done to it since she died. It’s really hard for strangers to come up here to the island unspotted. And they’re not telling anyone where they’ve gone. I’ve come up ahead, with the children, and Mark and Jill are pretending that the children are still with them, just in case anyone’s planning a kidnap attempt. Sounds a bit melodramatic, but there was a rumour about that.
It was quite a journey, I can tell you! But now I’m here with them, and I should be able to cope for the next two or three days (“four at the most,” Jill said) and then Mark and Jill will be here. And then in a few weeks I’m heading off to university! I’m going to study business and economics (okay, it might sound boring to you, but it fascinates me. And living with Mark and Jill has taught me so much!) and then if I want a job with them at the end of it, I’ll have one.
“You can work in all the areas, and then we’ll find where your passions lie and where you fit best,” Jill had promised. So that’s how come I’m here, outside what, let’s face it, is a shack, and wondering where the facilities are – ah, I think I’ve found them. Hmm. Another minor problem. I’m here with all three girls, and there only seems to be two cots. Someone didn’t read the delivery instructions very well… We’ve got plenty of tinned stuff, and some fresh food as well though. And lots of baby milk: good. I’m now hoping I haven’t bitten off more than I can chew here. They sleep really well, all three of them, but what do I do with only two cots? I can’t stay awake all day and all night… I am exhausted! I’ve never been so busy! The trouble with this place is that the girls can crawl under the doors. And we have a pond. I thought at first I should fence off the pond, but I realised it was easier to fence in the house. So I’ve cleared all the dead wood and built two fences with it, and that’s made life much easier. I can nap when two of them are asleep in their cots and not worry about the third one falling into the pond or off the edge of the cliff.
I found a vegetable patch too as I cleared up. I think it might come in useful. I’m starving all the time and getting down the fresh food at a fair rate. I was hoping that Mark and Jill would arrive today (though I knew that was wildly optimistic), but instead a large parcel has arrived. Addressed to The Woodridge Place, Cliff Road. Nice address, huh? And it’s a box full of books! Mostly for the children, but some of them are for me: ones for my course and a few novels too. And a letter. And a sealed envelope that looks very important. I think I’ll start with the letter.
“Amanda, we’re going to be a bit later than we hoped. Things keep coming up and going wrong. Hang on in there – we should be sorted in the next couple of days. Here’s some of their books – always helps – and I thought you might like to take a break on the island (at the Island Inn: not with us!) so I’ve sent some of your books up too so that you can do some reading for the autumn as well if you want to.
The big envelope – it’s got the girls’ birth certificates and everything in it. And we’ve made you their legal guardian too. Just in case anyone has found out where you are and tries to pull a fast one, claiming they’re taking them into care or something.
I’m sure that won’t happen: I’m just feeling jumpy, nervous…It’s like there’s gremlins everywhere. I got your old solicitor to draw this up: I don’t really trust ours for some reason. He’s been the cause of at least one of these delays. Mark says we’re changing him as soon as the documentary is out, but if we do that now, there’ll be yet more delays. But I’ve also given your Mr Mellish some pretty sweeping powers over our estate if they’re needed: that’ll put a spoke in Garrett-Oldsby’s wheel!” With the children safely and happily reading, I could deal with the vegetable patch and think about the rest of the letter.
“Mark says he knows it’s a bit primitive up there, but when we arrive, we’ll sort that out. We didn’t want to be sending building materials up in advance though – it felt a bit too obvious. And once we’re there, we’ll put you up at the Island Inn, which even has a spa, and you can recover in peace!
I am so looking forward to getting up to the island. I just feel uneasy all the time at the moment. I keep looking over my shoulder. And I’m very glad that the girls are safe with you. See you all as soon as possible! Love, as ever, Jill xxx” I haven’t introduced you to the girls yet, have I? Daisy’s the blonde one, Fern the redhead and Hazel is the darkest of the three. Actually, their real names are Margaret, Fenella and Rachel, but one way and another, they picked up these nicknames on the way! I banned them from calling me Mandy though – I don’t mind Manda, but I can’t stand Mandy. It had tipped it down with rain that morning – the newspaper that I hadn’t had time to even pick up was a soggy mass of pulp, that I was just about to drop straight into the bin without even attempting to look at it – but the rain had blown over and the day was looking lovely. “Your Mummy and Daddy will definitely be here today,” I told the girls. “Let’s wash everything so that it’s all clean for when they arrive.” Especially the bedding I’d been sleeping in. Well, napping in and on.
I’d been expecting Mark and Jill yesterday, to be honest, but figured that if they hadn’t got away until late, they’d have stopped somewhere on the way overnight. No phone signal did make communication difficult. Of course, if I went over the ridge I’d have a signal, but how did I do that, with three children who weren’t walking yet? But as the day went on, I began to worry. I negotiated nap times, feeding times, potty training sessions (they were getting there, as long as I caught them at the right moment) and then went out to see what we had in the way of vegetables that were ready to pick, as all the fresh stuff that had been here when I arrived had been eaten up by yours truly. It was well after dark now. Fern and Hazel were asleep, and Daisy was playing happily on the floor (I’d made sure she’d had a mega-nap earlier on). My turn to grab a nap: I’d wake if Daisy cried for any reason, and she couldn’t hurt herself on anything. And Mark and Jill still hadn’t arrived. I fell asleep, uneasy about the delay, wondering what had gone wrong. Next morning I found out.