Chapters (23)
‘It seems to me,’ Craven said, ‘that you take too much notice of Mr Grenville’s orders. You’re head keeper. He should leave you in charge.’
‘Maybe he should,’ Vic said. ‘But that’s my business. Not yours.’
Craven shrugged and they walked on in silence to the road. Vic felt awkward. He had managed the thing badly. He shouldn’t let Craven irritate him. When they got to the van he offered Craven a lift up the road to the Lodge, as a way of re-establishing understanding, and was pleased when the younger man accepted. But when they got to the house the state of the Lodge garden, overgrown and untouched, with rubbish blown into the hedge and a box of empty beer bottles outside the back door provoked him again. He could not hold his tongue.
‘You should do something to tidy up that mess,’ he said, as Craven was lifting his tools from the back of the van. ‘It’s a disgrace.’
‘I’m paid as keeper,’ Craven said. ‘ Not as gardener.’
‘All the same, I’m surprised Grenville’s not had a word with you. What sort of impression does it give to visitors using the east drive?’
‘I don’t give a sod what the visitors think,’ Craven said. ‘And if Grenville says anything I’ll tell him the same.’
He walked shamelessly up the overgrown path to the cottage door while Vic watched, astonished, from the front seat of the van.
Vic had still not returned to Keeper’s Cottage when the ambulance came with Cassie and by then it was nearly dark. Marie had been looking out for it and went to help. She stood by the tail gate, tapping her shiny black shoes on the road to keep out the cold, as the ambulance driver let down the lift for Cassie and her wheelchair.
Cassie was still on the lift when she saw Marie. She began to clap, nodding her head backwards and forwards. The light from the uncurtained sitting-room window which shone on to her face showed she was beaming.
‘Well, she’s pleased to see you, that’s for sure,’ said the ambulance driver as he locked the back doors on the empty vehicle. ‘Can you manage now?’
‘Of course we can manage,’ Marie said. ‘Can’t we, Cassie?’
And the girl began to clap again.
‘There’s a letter for you,’ the man said. ‘From the school.’
Marie nodded and took it. They’d be fundraising again, she thought. They never seemed to have enough money. She’d do what she could.
The ambulance drove off and she pushed the wheelchair up the ramp to the front door and through to the warm and brightly lit kitchen.