Episode 131 - Call me Philippa
Previously in Leeford Village:
Stephen Miller is instructed by Interpol to make an arrest. Frank Watson is told by Councillor Lindale to submit the census forms. Frank hasn’t posted them because the post office is shut…
~
‘Angry, Pippa? You think I’m angry?’
Pippa touches Frank’s arm as Harry gives him a sarcastic smile.
‘Oh, Frank,’ replies Philippa, ‘be happy for us. And please call me Philippa. What have you got against Harry?’
‘H-Harry? What the blazes has he got to do with it? I needed to get the census forms to the council and⸺’
‘Well, why didn’t you?’ interrupts Harry.
‘Eh? What do you mean?’
‘Why didn’t you get the forms to the council?’
Frank looks like he might burst. Even he thinks he needs the soothing influence of his daughter.
‘Look here, you, well whoever you are!’
‘Harry Smestow,’ Harry quickly replies, ‘husband of Philippa Smestow, ex-spinster of this parish, who used to be Pippa Philpotts, and who still is in charge of this post office.’
Frank is floundering now.
‘Well, yes, and… what was the question?’
‘The census forms?’ says Harry with a triumphant grin. He has the measure of Frank.
Frank replies, somewhat deflated.
‘The post office was shut.’
Harry, very much in charge of the situation, with his new wife beaming at his side, strikes the killer blow.
‘Couldn’t you have taken them up to Banfield yourself?’
Frank gives the only reply he can muster as he storms off down the street.
‘Harrumph!’
~
Stephen cannot bring himself to speak to Gary on the way to the hostel in East Banfield. It was unprofessional of Stephen to tell Linda that he ‘should have sacked Gary while he had the chance’, but after everything he has done for the struggling officer, he is finally running out of patience. Gary’s behaviour has been strange of late – even stranger than usual – and the first words that Gary utters as they drive to the hostel pull Stephen up short.
‘She’s coming out next week, you know.’
‘Who’s coming out from where, Gary?’ asks Stephen.
‘Gail Perkins.’
Without correctly checking his mirror, Stephen snatches at the indicator and pulls into the side of the road.
‘You’re kidding, Gary, aren’t you?’
‘No, boss. I’m sorry my mind hasn’t been on the job. I still love her, you know.’
‘After everything she did?’
‘Yes, but she helped us to get Martin Frobisher.’
Stephen pauses, places his hand on Gary’s shoulder and forces a smile.
‘Look, mate, we’ll talk about this over a pint tonight. Let’s go and get Carlos, eh?’
~
The daily trudge down the hallway to the letterbox can be a somewhat depressing routine for Jason. As he leaves the kitchen with hope in his heart, he dampens expectations by saying to himself it will never come – why would they want to publish my work? By the time he reaches the front door, knowing that the postman has left something, he has convinced himself that today will be the same as any other day. Today, however, will be different for Jason Owens, aspiring author. He picks up the envelopes strewn across the carpet. Same as ever, he thinks – bill, bill, double-glazing, block-paving, animal charity…
He pauses. London postmark. Walking into the living room, he throws the other offerings from the postman onto the coffee table near the sofa. He sits down, holding the envelope up to his face. London postmark. First class. Open it, for pity's sake, open it, or you’ll never know. Very carefully, he prises open the pure white envelope and takes out what could become his passport to success. Oh my God, he thinks. He unfolds the 100-gram, beige-coloured, quality sheet of paper, and there it is. The sender’s name. Leech, Grab and Rattle (London).
Dear Mr Owens, we have assessed the manuscript for your debut novel, ‘Longford Village’. We all agree – we love your writing style and ‘Longford Village’ has serious potential. Please contact us at your earliest convenience on the telephone number below. We would like to arrange a meeting at our London offices, to discuss the next stage. Yours, etc etc.
Jason drops his ‘passport to success’ onto the living room carpet. London offices. Wow.
Wait till I tell Ted – we would like to arrange a meeting at our London offices to discuss the next stage.
~
‘Ah, Frank! Just the man!’
‘Sorry, Cody, I haven’t got time for this.’
Frank has only just recovered from his clash with Harry Smestow. Usually, Frank Watson doesn’t know when he’s beaten, but on this occasion he has decided to lick his wounds, lose the battle but fight on to win the war. Leeford will not be defeated, he thinks.
Being approached by Cody and Agnes Thornton on the high street is not what Frank had in mind.
‘You don’t know what “this” is yet!’ replies Cody, as Agnes nods her head and gazes lovingly at her husband. Recent events may have had some influence on her current behaviour.
‘Okay, Cody. Good morning, Agnes. Right, you’ve got two minutes.’
Cody and Agnes, verbally tripping over each other, try to explain the ambiguity of Frank’s question on the census form. Frank understands – to a point – but does not have time to extend the debate beyond the allotted two minutes (now stretched to five) for said debate.
‘Sorry Cody, Agnes. Got to go. Please let me have your completed forms today.’
As Frank walks away, Cody wants to have the last word.
‘Fine, Frank! On your head be it! No one understands how to answer your flippin’ question!’
Frank hears Cody’s outburst, partially clarifying his “two-minute” explanation. Frank decides to give it some thought over a sherry back at home. Megan will know what to do, he thinks, realising that, as he gets older, he is increasingly dependent on his only daughter.
~
Zack stands in the doorway of the bedroom.
‘What are you looking at?’ asks Clare.
‘Nothing. Well, you, of course.’
‘What’s brought this on?’
‘The obvious, Clare, but also that green dress you’re putting on. It’s so sexy.’
Clare looks at the floor, avoiding eye contact.
‘Thank you, that’s lovely,’ she says.
Zack retreats to the hallway and makes his way towards the living room, but spins around to ask Clare another question.
‘Clubbing tonight again?’
‘Well, we’ve had a couple of nights in watching telly. You know I like to catch up with my college mates.’
Clare looks for a reaction as she combs her hair, checking in the mirror to make sure that a lock of hair – the one that Richard likes – falls over her right eye. Just so.
‘Have a nice time then. Richard picking you up?’
‘Don’t be childish, Zack. You get so jealous.’
‘Couldn’t give a stuff,’ he replies.
‘Fine!’ she snaps.
Zack decides it’s time for some music. He finds a Seventies Pop Video Special on Channel 4 and turns the volume up just a little bit too much for Clare’s liking, but she avoids a further confrontation. Ready to go, she grabs her bag and keys.
‘See you then. Don’t wait up.’
~
‘Doctor Roberts, I trust you have a good reason for convening an extraordinary parish council meeting?’
‘Yes, Frank, a very good reason.’ replies Jeremy Roberts, deputy to the deputy chair of the Leeford Village Parish Council.
‘I see that everyone is present,’ says Frank. ‘This must be an important meeting. But where is our illustrious deputy or should I say Sergeant Stephen Miller, chief of Keystone Cops?’
‘Frank!’ snaps Jeremy, ‘Stephen has been a bit busy today with police business and I, as his deputy, am exercising my right to call this meeting.’
Cody coughs, and Ken mutters, ‘get on with it.’
Jeremy stands up, placing both hands on the table.
‘I call this meeting of the Leeford Village Parish Council to pass a motion of no confidence in the chair.’
‘What?’ exclaims Frank.
‘You know we have the right.’ replies Jeremy.
‘Go on then,’ a defiant Frank Watson declares. ‘But just tell me one thing – why?’
Cody can’t help but interrupt.
‘You completely cocked up the census form and put the future of Leeford Village in jeopardy!’
‘Is that how you all feel?’ asks Frank.
A few mutter ‘yes’, Cody slams his fist on the table and shouts ‘yes!’ and the general consensus is made clear.
‘In that case, I hereby resign as chair of the Leeford Village Parish Council!’
Frank stands, pushes his seat under the table and exits the room and the community centre.
~
Zack follows Clare to the front door. As she leaves, he waits a minute to give her time to get to the bus stop. He opens the door and peers down the street. Richard’s car stops at the corner, just past the bus stop. The passenger door opens and Clare gets into the car. Catching up with my mates indeed, Zack thinks. More like getting it on with the wonderful Richard.
Richard and Clare arrive at the Gresty Club in the centre of Manchester. He is a member (paid for by his dad, as is the VW Golf he is driving). As they find a free table, Clare asks, ‘where is everyone?’
‘Everyone?’ Richard enquires with a smile.
‘Our fellow students,’ Clare replies.
She moves awkwardly in her seat.
‘No one else is joining us, are they?’
‘Of course not. This is what you want, isn’t it?’
At that, Clare pushes her chair back and storms out of the club, pursued by Richard. As she reaches the pavement, looking for a taxi, Richard grabs her shoulder and spins her round. He pulls her towards him and kisses her. A group of club members passing by hear the sound of the slap that Clare imparts across Richard’s face. He falls back but recovers his composure. A taxi stops, and Clare gets in before Richard can respond.
She is back at the apartment in fifteen minutes. The place is in darkness, and as she switches on the light in the kitchen she spots the note:
Gone home, taken car. Hope you had a nice time with Richard. Nice knowing you.
Zack.
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