Witches’ Knickers

A story to make you smile

It’s bad enough that my mum’s the crazy woman who collects witches’ knickers,” Martha heard Zoe complain to her friend. “But now she’s talking about it on local radio!”

“Oh, Zoe,” sighed Martha, as she left the house. “You don’t know the half of it, my girl.”

She chivvied the dog into the car. Why was she doing this? It had started as a crusade, but now it felt like one more rut she couldn’t get out of.

“Why carry on, then?” Stuart had shrugged. “No-one asked you to do it.”

She half suspected that if she started pole-dancing in a sleazy dive, Stuart would just shrug and say, “Whatever.”

“For goodness’ sake,” she wanted to shout at him. “Engage!”

Was he like this with everyone? He was working late a lot and locked himself away in the shed most evenings. Wasn’t that one of those signs you were meant to look out for?

“Don’t go there,” she told herself. “Just… just don’t.”

She switched on the radio and set off.

Today we are talking to Martha Ham es. Hello, Martha. Hello, Judy. Martha winced at how squeaky her recorded voice sounded.

Now, Martha, you’ ve come to our attention because of a rather unusual pastime; collecting witch es’ knickers.

You make it sound a lot more exciting than it really is.

Could you explain it to our listeners in your own words?

OK ,“witch es’ knickers” is a rather colourful term used to describe discarded carrier bags that get tang led up in trees and hedges. Litter, in other words. Yep, that’ s the stuff. Martha reached her destination and heaved the car up onto a grassy bank. And you collect this litter. “Yep,” Martha agreed. She fiddled with her phone. It still amazed her that she could continue listening with a few taps of the screen.

Of course she’d never admit that to Zoe, who was convinced that anyone born in the last century couldn’t understand the modern world.

“C’mon Rufus.” The dog jumped from the car as she grabbed a bin liner and litter-picker, and they set to work. What inspired you to do this? I’ m not sure I remember precisely. Actually she could remember all too well. Zoe had been going through a phase of hating everyone, especially Martha. And Stuart seemed oblivious to everything around him. I guess I’ d been having a bad day. Understatement. Martha snorted.

A shopping bag broke as I was loading the car .‘ Right, that’ s it !’ I said. I don’ t need their crummy bags.

Admittedly the actual words she’d used at the time might have been a bit stronger than that.

I know where there’ s a perfectly good bag. It’s been there for months! And I drove off to this bag that had been hanging in the hedge for weeks. Judy laughed. What happened then? Standing there, holding that stupid little bag felt like the most successful moment I’ d had all day. It was completely useless for shopping of course, all grey and gritty and horrible. But it was fine for holding the other rubbish strewn around, and that’ s what I did. I spent half an hour ti dying the hedge while the ice cream melted in the car.

Is melted ice cream a bit of an occupational hazard, then?

Oh yes. Ice cream-gate. Anyone would have thought the world had ended.

The next time, I put a bit more thought into it before setting off. Have you found anything interesting? I once found an engagement ring. She’d recognised Sally Wheeler’s ring at once. Sally had burst into tears when she’d returned it. She’d thought that David had been cheating on her, and had been so mad that she’d stopped the car and thrown it out. What if Stuart…? No, don’t go there. You’ ve been doing this for nearly a year now. I gather you’ ve become part of the local colour and people look out for you. Hmm. Isn’ t that a good thing? I suppose it would be nice to set an example. But then it’ s not exactly anyone’ s career choice, is it?

Speaking of careers, you fit this between working and bringing up a family, don’ t you?

Yes. I work part time, and my daughter is still at school.

Thank you for coming in, Martha. Keep up the good work! After the break we’ ll be taking calls from our listeners. What do you think about Mar th a’ s activities? We’ d love to hear from you.

“She’s CRAZY. She should LEAVE IT to the PEOPLE whose job it is”

The interview had been recorded yesterday, so she hadn’t been there for the phone-in. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to hear it but listened for a few minutes anyway.

She’ s crazy. If she wants to walk the dog, why not go to the park?

She should leave it to the people whose job it is.

But it doesn’ t seem to be anyone’ s job. If it is, they’ re not doing it.

Then it’ s an opportunity to create work and she’ s taking that away from someone who needs it.

I think she’ s great. There should be more out there like her. Martha switched off in disgust. “Great – I’m an embarrassment to my daughter, my husband might be having an affair and everyone else thinks I’m crazy. There we have it.” She stabbed viciously at the hedge. Hello! Excuse me!” “Mrs – uh… what’s she called?” “Martha… Martha! Yoo-hoo.” She wiped her face on her sleeve, and turned. Three young women were hopping out of a car. “We heard you on the radio.” “We’ve been looking all over for you.” “Can we help?” They looked keen, fresh and held bin liners. Two more cars drew up. “Let’s start over here.” “…we thought, Why hasn’t anyone else done this?” “…great community spirit.” “…said it’s about time we showed some support.” “…that last call…” “…so here we are!” She looked at the crowd of eager helpers and struggled to think of something to say.

Then a figure emerged from a familiar looking car with something strapped to its back. She blinked hard, but it still looked like Stuart. What was he doing here, and what was that?

He made his way through the crowd, ignoring Rufus who jumped excitedly up at him, and came to stand before her.

“It’s for sorting the litter.” Stuart jerked his head at the thing on his back. “I’ve been making it in the shed. See, this section is for plastics, this is for anything non-recyclable. There’s a compartment here for anything interesting, a slot for hand gel, and look! This crushes cans.”

The thin veneer of doubt over Martha’s heart cracked. She gave a shaky laugh and smiled mistily at him.

He shrugged. “Well, considering what Zoe said, I’m glad I made it.” “Zoe?” she echoed, puzzled. “Surely you heard?” one of her new helpers cried out. “It was the last call!” “You can’t have missed it!” “Here...” One of the women tapped the screen of her phone a few times and held it up for everyone to hear. …one last call. Zoe, from Exeter. My name’ s Zoe Ham es. I just want to say; that’ s my mum you’ re talking about. I think she’ s brilliant and I’ m really proud of what she’ s done.

Martha burst into tears and threw her arms around Stuart.

As one, the helpers tactfully drew back, and left them alone.

“If you don’t like it,” Stuart was saying anxiously, “I can take it off.”

“You leave it right there,” she told him. “That contraption tells me you love me more than any stupid old ring could.” “What are you talking about?” “I thought… you’ve been working so late,” she sniffed. “When you are home, we barely talk. I was afraid that you weren’t happy any more.”

Stuart produced a hankie and shook her affectionately.

“I’ve arranged with work to stay late some nights so that I can take an afternoon off a week to help you with this.”

She looked at her new workforce. They were desperately scratching around for some speck of rubbish from the area she’d spent the last half hour clearing.

“With all this new help I could take an afternoon off to take on Zoe,” she said. Stuart wrapped an arm round her, “You might need two for that.” He watched the small crowd. “D’you think they’ll start polishing the grass soon?”

Martha giggled. She knew just what she wanted to do with her unexpectedly free afternoon …