The best fiction!
• A lively 1970s drama by Margaret Skipworth • Moira Gee’s story set beside lovely Loch Awe
ELAINE wheeled her bicycle into the garden and knocked on the door of the house. While waiting for an answer she pulled a notebook from her bag and checked through the notes she’d made before leaving the newspaper office.
Mrs Ruth Wade, aged seventy, retiring from her role as director of the Amateur Operatic and Dramatics Society.
Mrs Wade had directed around 25 productions and had played the lead in several musicals. She was now working on her final show – a lavish production of “My Fair Lady”.
Elaine was sure an interesting article about Mrs Wade would would impress the editor, Mr Grindle, who would then trust her with a proper news story.
She sighed. Who was she kidding? Nothing seemed to please Mr Grindle. He never smiled and rarely uttered words of praise or encouragement to her or the other reporters, Ronald and Trevor.
Mr Grindle grumbled about everything.
Elaine had moved to the town four months ago, after leaving school, to work on the weekly newspaper as a cub reporter. Since then, she’d covered fetes, weddings, lost cats, the AGM of the Flower Arrangers’ Association and chimney fires.
Still, as she reminded herself, Mr Grindle had given her a job. Several editors she’d written to had scoffed at the idea of a woman reporter. One had sent her a curt reply saying it was a waste of time employing girls because they always left to get married and have babies.
What an old-fashioned, chauvinistic attitude, Elaine thought, tapping on the door again and shaking her head. This was 1970, for goodness’ sake, not 1870!
She loved her job. Seeing her work in the newspaper gave her a glow of satisfaction and pride. She enjoyed meeting people and she knew most she wrote about were delighted to see their names in print.
After waiting several more minutes Elaine pushed her bicycle back to the road. Mrs Wade was a busy woman and it had obviously slipped her mind that Elaine was calling to interview her.
She mounted her bicycle to head to the office. As she waited at a junction for the traffic lights to turn to green, she heard a familiar voice calling her name from the doorway of a café.
Elaine pulled her bicycle on to the pavement, pleased to see Billy. His father owned the town’s photography shop, and as well as selling the latest cameras, cine-cameras and rolls of film, Billy was the newspaper’s photographer.
Since Elaine had started at the paper he’d been like an older brother to her, giving her advice and cheering her up when she was feeling homesick.
“Hello, Billy,” she said. “What are you doing around here?”
“The owner of this café has won an award for his new vegetarian recipes,” he replied. “I’m taking pictures for an advert feature.” Elaine rolled her eyes. “That means the boss will make me write the copy.” Billy laughed. “There are worse jobs than sitting around in a café. Come on, I’ll buy you tea and a scone.”
Elaine glanced at her watch. Mr Grindle was at the printers putting the
newspaper to bed, and Ronald was manning the telephones, so she could spare half an hour.
After locking her bicycle, Elaine followed Billy into the café.
“Who’s covering the meeting about the community garden tonight?” Billy asked once they were seated. “Ronald.”
Billy pulled a face. “Not Trevor or Grindle?” “Mr Grindle won’t be back from the printers in time for the meeting,” Elaine said, sipping her tea. “Trevor’s away at college on a block release course. He’s not back for a couple of weeks. Why?”
Billy stirred his tea. “Have you heard about the garden?”
Elaine nodded. The secretary of the Flower Arrangers’ Association, Mrs Parker, had told her about the community garden on the outskirts of the town.
The garden had been created during the 1960s by one of the residents in the grounds of his home.
Mrs Parker had told Elaine her daughter, Janice, had loved spending time there. Unfortunately, Janice had been killed in a car accident just over a year ago, shortly after her eighteenth birthday.
The garden was now under threat because the owner was suffering from ill health and his son, who lived in America, was handling his affairs and a local builder had approached him to sell the land. The builder was hoping to build a restaurant on the plot.
“My friend, David Richards, is leading the campaign to keep the garden. He called a meeting a few months ago to gauge people’s reactions to the news.” Billy placed his cup on the table.
“When Ronald’s report appeared in the paper it gave the impression that most people in the town wanted to get rid of the garden, saying it was an eyesore and hardly used.
“It was a very biased report. It implied that the builder and property developer, a man called Jones, would be doing the town a favour if he acquired the land and got permission to build on it.”
Elaine nodded.
“I don’t like Ronald much. I know he’s the senior reporter, but he talks to me like I’m stupid.”
She wrinkled her nose. “When Mr Grindle’s out of the office he leaves most of the work to me and Trevor. But, as far as I know, there haven’t been any complaints about his work.”
“He is Jones’s nephew.” Elaine’s jaw dropped. “Really? I wonder why he doesn’t work for his uncle, then. He doesn’t seem all that bothered about being a journalist.”
“I think Ronald wanted to join the family firm when he left school, but his uncle insisted he got experience elsewhere first.”
He popped a piece of scone into his mouth.
“Have you visited the garden?”
Elaine shook her head. “If you’ve time, I can put your bike in my van and give you a guided tour.”
Elaine folded her napkin and placed it on the table.
“Why not? It won’t hurt Ronald to hold the fort until I get back!”
Elaine and Billy strolled around the garden. Billy pointed out the well-tended flower-beds and lawns, a fruit and vegetable plot where several people were working, a wildlife pond and a “fun garden” for children to plant seeds.
“It’s only been open for a few years so there’s still a lot to do,” Billy remarked as they sat down on a bench near the pond. “It’s always busy at weekends. People come along to work or to relax and have a picnic.” He smiled. “David’s a teacher and, sometimes, he brings the children here for lessons. I reckon kids can learn a lot from a place like this.”
“It’s beautiful,” Elaine said, looking around. “It’s no eyesore and it’s so peaceful. Why didn’t David complain to Mr Grindle about Ronald’s report?” Billy shrugged.
“I think Grindle was on holiday at the time. Then Jones started renovating an old cinema in another town. Things were put on hold for a while.” He frowned.
“Jones has been in touch with the owner’s family again. That’s why David’s called another meeting.”
When Elaine arrived back at the office, Ronald was reading the sports page of the newspaper.
“You took your time,” he growled.
“Mrs Wade wasn’t in. I’ve been talking to Billy.” She flashed him an impish smile. “Billy’s a mine of local information.”
Ronald narrowed his eyes, but before he could reply Elaine rushed on.
“I think I’ll go to the garden meeting tonight. I can practise my shorthand. It’ll be good experience.”
“Please yourself,” Ronald mumbled.
****
After having seen the garden, Elaine wasn’t surprised how many people turned out for the meeting.
As well as residents there were town councillors, family members, a man describing himself as the owner’s legal and financial advisor, and a team – including Mr Jones himself – from the building firm.
The meeting had been called so that all interested parties could voice their feelings, Billy had said.
“We’re hoping the owner’s family will realise the importance of the garden to the townspeople and refuse to sell the land to Jones. If they do decide to sell, David will form an action committee to discuss what can be done.”
Before the meeting started Elaine chatted to several people she knew, then decided to introduce herself to David Richards.
She made her way to the front of the hall and one of the residents pointed David out to her. He was tall with wavy, corn-coloured hair and was, Elaine thought, handsome in an unassuming way.
He had nice eyes which were clouded with worry and his shoulders sagged as if they had the weight of the world on them. Elaine felt she’d seen him before, but couldn’t place him.
She approached him and held out her hand.
“Hello. My name’s Elaine Williams and I’m a reporter for the ‘Courier’. Billy . . .”
“Yes, he mentioned the paper had a new reporter,” David said coolly.
He looked down at her and scowled.
“I hope you can manage to write a more balanced report this time.”
Ignoring her outstretched hand, he strode away and took his seat alongside the other speakers.
Snatching her hand to her side, Elaine felt her cheeks start to burn with embarrassment and indignation.
How dare he speak to her so rudely? He hadn’t even given her the chance to say she wasn’t writing the report.
As she turned round she caught sight of Ronald, seated on the second row. He was watching her, an arrogant smirk on his face.
Ignoring him, she walked to the back of the hall and found a vacant chair.
As the meeting progressed, she tried to concentrate on the speeches, but found her attention being drawn to David.
Most of the time he was looking down at his notes, a thoughtful and sometimes troubled expression on his face.
When it was his turn to speak, however, his whole face lit up with enthusiasm.
He went through all the reasons for keeping the garden: it brought people together; children learned social skills as they worked in groups; it
The community garden was a beautiful, peaceful spot
provided a retreat from the noise and bustle of the town . . .
The list seemed endless and Elaine had to concentrate to get everything down in her notebook.
David finished his speech to loud applause and cheering. Elaine felt tears of admiration in her eyes. He might be ill-mannered, but there was no doubting his dedication and passion for the garden project.
The following day, as Ronald typed up his report of the meeting, Elaine worked her way through a pile of wedding forms. Neither of them spoke about the previous evening.
Normally, Elaine disliked writing about weddings. It was boring and repetitive work. There were only so many ways to describe white lace bridal gowns and pretty bridesmaids’ outfits.
But the garden meeting had lasted several hours and this morning she had a headache, so she was pleased to be tackling something that didn’t challenge her too much.
She was trying to enthuse about a honeymoon in Scarborough when Mr Grindle burst in.
“Have you finished the garden report?” he snapped at Ronald. “Just checking it.” “Leave that for now. Get yourself to Primary Road. A lorry’s shed its load on the roundabout. No-one’s hurt but it’s caused damage to other vehicles.”
Ronald got to his feet and shoved his notebook into his pocket.
When he’d left the room, Elaine sighed. If only Mr Grindle would give her the chance to cover a major news story.
She chuckled to herself. She’d wait a long time for a big story to hit this sleepy town. Nothing exciting ever happened – no spaceships landing in the square; no scandals involving local dignitaries; no murders.
The last time she’d attended court the most interesting case had concerned a pensioner who was refusing to pay his TV licence.
As she placed the wedding forms on her spike, she saw Ronald’s copy for the garden meeting on his desk. She couldn’t resist peeking.
As she read through the report Elaine felt anger well. Ronald had enthused about his uncle’s proposals for the site and the benefits a new restaurant would bring to the town.
He’d given David’s speech only a couple of paragraphs. There was no mention of community spirit, the restful haven the garden provided, or the advantages to children that David had spoken about.
Without giving a second thought to what she was doing, she stormed to Mr Grindle’s office. As soon as she entered the room, she launched into a complaint about Ronald’s report.
When she’d finished, Mr Grindle sat back in his chair, steepled his hands and studied her through jet-black, fathomless eyes.
The doom-laden silence was broken only by the tick of the wall clock and Elaine’s heart slamming against her chest.
She tried not to feel intimidated, even though she was certain he was going to fire her.
She was finished as a reporter before she’d had her first scoop. How tragic was that? If she hadn’t been fighting back tears of disappointment and regret the idea might have made her laugh.
“So, you think you can do a better job, eh?”
Elaine jumped at the sound of Mr Grindle’s voice. She took a deep breath. “I think I could write a more accurate and fairer report.” She tried to sound confident but the words came out strangled and squeaky.
Mr Grindle thrust out his hand for Ronald’s report. “Do it, then, lass.”
His lips twitched and Elaine thought for a second that he was going to smile. Instead, he cleared his throat.
“I might start a campaign in the ‘Courier’ to save the garden.” He picked up his pipe and tapped it on the ashtray. “Might generate a lot of interest.”
After writing her report, Elaine placed it in Mr Grindle’s in-tray. She was anxious to know what he thought about it but he made no comment.
For the rest of the week, she tried to keep out of Ronald’s way and avoided talking about the garden. She didn’t want him to find out what she’d done until it was absolutely necessary.
The following Friday, the day the newspaper hit the streets, Elaine arrived at work early. She wanted to see how Mr Grindle had edited her story – if, indeed, he’d used it at all – before Ronald saw the report.
As soon as she entered the office Mr Grindle’s secretary, Vera, gave Elaine a copy of the paper and informed her that Ronald had handed in his notice.
She added, with a twinkle in her eye, that he was taking some holidays and was unlikely to return.
Elaine made a mental note to ask Vera why Ronald had left. For now, however, she was just relieved she didn’t have to face him.
Sitting down at her desk, she turned her attention to the paper.
She gasped. Not only was her report the lead story on the front page, but Mr Grindle had given her a by-line, too.
She stared at her name, reading it over and over as if she’d never seen it before.
Resisting the urge to jump on her desk and scream with delight, she carefully read through the report. Apart from a few minor alterations, it was exactly as she’d written it.
She grinned. Billy and her parents would be so proud of her.
As she was flicking through the rest of the paper, she received a message to say that David Richards was waiting to see her.
Refusing to let him spoil her good mood, she picked up her notebook and pencil and wondered what he was going to complain about.
As she walked towards the office counter, she noticed he was holding a copy of the paper.
“Can I help you?” she asked politely.
“Yes. I mean, I hope so. I wanted to apologise for my behaviour the other night.” He smiled nervously. “I know it doesn’t excuse my rudeness, but when you introduced yourself all I thought about was that bad report . . .” His voice trailed away and Elaine was surprised to see tears glistening in his eyes.
He took a deep breath to compose himself.
“Apart from being a great asset to the community, the garden is very important to our family.
“You see, my sister was passionate about gardening and when she died the garden’s owner gave us permission to scatter her ashes there.”
“You’re Janice’s brother?” Elaine said, realisation dawning on her.
Mrs Parker had shown her a photo of Janice, as a child, with her older brother. No wonder he’d looked familiar.
“I’m so sorry about your sister.” After a short pause, she added, “But your name’s Richards, not Parker.”
“Richards was my father’s name,” David explained. “After he died, my mother remarried.” He held up the newspaper. “I also came to thank you for the report. It’s fantastic. You’ve done a wonderful job.”
“Thank you,” Elaine said, feeling a wave of joy sweep through her.
“I’d like to buy you dinner to say thanks for the report, and to apologise again.”
He gave her a dazzling smile that made Elaine’s heart skip a beat.
Voicing her thanks, she returned his smile.
She had her first by-line, a story on the front page, and now a date with a gorgeous man!
How could she think nothing interesting ever happened in this town?