The violent anger and fear that Olivia had first felt had largely evaporated as she walked home through the town. She was still livid, she still wondered how she was going to be able to talk to Nigel without giving in to the urge to hit him, but, at least, she was now able to think straight. No matter how difficult and painful it was going to be, she had to know exactly where they stood financially, how big the debts were, how much had to be paid off each month and how much that would leave them to live on. One of the first things she had to know was, would Zac be able to continue at St Anselm’s? Much as she didn’t think she even wanted to be in the same room as Nigel right now, she and he were going to have to have a conversation.

She was about to walk past the coffee shop in town when she decided that treating herself to a large cappuccino wasn’t going to make the family finances any more precarious and it would also delay going home for a few more minutes. She felt she deserved that little indulgence, given the morning she’d just had.

She went in, went to the counter and placed her order.

‘Two sixty,’ said the barista.

Olivia opened her wallet purse and looked for a bank note. She could have sworn she had a twenty. Just as well she had enough in change. When her coffee was ready, she took her drink to a corner table. She sipped her coffee then extracted the Beeching Rise sales brochure from her bag and flipped it open.

‘Can I join you?’

Olivia’s coffee slopped onto the page she was looking at. ‘Heather! You made me jump.’

‘So I see. I’ll go and get a coffee. Back in a tick.’

Olivia mopped the shiny page with a tissue and then slid the bumph into her handbag.

A couple of minutes later Heather returned with her latte and a large slice of cake and two forks. ‘You look like you could do with cheering up and I certainly could.’ She handed a fork to Olivia. ‘Tuck in.’

‘I spoke to Nigel.’

Heather put her fork down. ‘Oh... And?’

‘And he’s not having an affair.’

‘Oh, Olivia, I am so relieved for you. Thank goodness.’ She went to attack the chocolate gateau again.

Olivia rolled her eyes. ‘It’s good news and bad news.’

Again the fork went back on the plate. ‘Oh goodness. He’s not ill, is he?’

Olivia shook her head. ‘In a way.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know how to tell you this...’

Heather pushed the gateau towards Olivia who dug her fork in. Heather followed suit.

‘I’m listening.’

Olivia took a mouthful, chewed it and swallowed. She took a deep breath. ‘Nigel has gambled all our money away.’

Heather choked, crumbs spraying over the table. ‘What?’

Olivia nodded. ‘All of it.’

‘Bloody hell,’ whispered Heather. ‘Well, that puts my problems in perspective.’ She snarfed another lump of chocolate goo.

‘Oh, Heather, I’m sorry. Me, me, me. I should have asked why you felt like you needed cheering up,’ said Olivia.

Heather reached across the table and patted Olivia’s hand. ‘No, you shouldn’t. And not with what you’ve got going on. Goodness, if I had a bombshell like that to contend with I don’t think I’d even be functioning, let alone taking an interest in other people. No, the last thing you need right now is anyone else’s problems. Honest.’ She ate another forkful of cake.

Olivia gazed at her. ‘Brian still a worry?’

Heather sighed. ‘Not like Nigel. Or at least I don’t think he is. He won’t talk to me and I want him to, because something’s really worrying him. He says it’s a parishioner but...’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, it’s not important.’ She smiled. ‘Some wives might be delighted to have such a taciturn husband.’

‘No... not talking isn’t good. I know that.’

Both women ate some more cake.

‘Poor Brian, poor you.’

‘Poor you,’ said Heather. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘I don’t know. Not till I know how bad things are. After I’ve had this I’m going to head home and have a talk to Nigel – a proper talk. After he told me... well, I lost the plot a bit and had to go for a walk to calm down.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘He says we’ve got to sell the house. He seems to have an idea that if we sell ours and move into a place like Beeching Rise we might be OK.’ Olivia tapped the brochure. So that’s where I’ve just been. And I ran into Mags Pullen while I was there so the whole town will know by now.’

‘You can’t keep secrets in a small place like this.’

‘No. Only she thinks I am about to join the ranks of bloated plutocrats and we’re buying to let. I don’t know which is worse – the shame of being threatened by bankruptcy or Mags telling the world I’m the local Rachman.’

‘Who?’

‘Oh, he was a slum landlord in the fifties, the original buy-to-let guy. Had a shocking reputation.’

Heather smiled.

‘OK, I am exaggerating but if... when we move out of The Grange, rumours are going to be rife and I don’t know if I can bear it – especially if the truth gets out. As you said, you can’t keep secrets in a place like this. The easiest thing would be to move away, but Little Woodford is my home. I love this town.’

‘I know. And you’re a real asset to the place. You do so much.’

‘Thank you.’ She pushed the plate back towards her friend. ‘You finish this, I need to get back to Nigel. And thanks for the cake and the chat.’ She stood up.

‘You know you can come and talk to me at any time,’ said Heather.

‘I know, and the same goes for you too. Husbands, eh?’

‘Indeed.’

As Olivia left and headed for the cash machine to fill up her wallet the first spots of rain began to fall.

*

Heather let herself back into the house, unable to shift out of her mind the awful news that Olivia had told her. She was surprised to hear the sound of humming as she hung her damp jacket up on the newel post.

‘Brian?’

‘Yes, dear.’

She followed the sound of his voice. He was in the kitchen, making tea and toast.

‘How was town?’ he asked.

‘Much the same as it always is. I had coffee with Olivia.’

‘Oh yes, how’s she?’

‘She’s had a bit of a shock.’

‘Oh, glory. Poor Olivia. What’s happened?’

Heather relayed the gist of Olivia’s predicament.

Brian looked stunned. ‘Nigel? I find that hard to believe. To be honest I’ve always had him down as the kind of dull stick who wouldn’t do anything risky.’

‘And gambling is certainly that.’

The toaster popped. ‘Do you want some?’ offered Brian.

‘I had cake in town.’

‘How nice.’

‘I wanted cheering up.’

Brian began to butter his toast. ‘Why on earth?’

‘Because I’ve been worried sick about you.’

Brian put his knife down. ‘I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately.’

‘A bit! You’ve been a nightmare. You’ve been moping around, as miserable as sin, and every time I tried to reach out to you I got batted away.’

‘I’m sorry. I’ve hurt you.’

Heather nodded. ‘Yes, you have. I felt shut out. Brian, we’ve been married for nearly thirty years and if you can’t confide in me, lean on me, then what use am I as a wife?’ She stared at him. ‘I’m your wife, Brian, not the live-in housekeeper.’

‘I know. Anyway, the problem has been resolved.’

‘Good, and I’m glad and, I must say, you seem much happier.’

‘I am.’

‘So, are you going to tell me what the matter was?’

‘One day, maybe.’

Heather shook her head. ‘I suppose I’d better be grateful that you’re feeling more chipper. Let’s hope it lasts.’

Brian went back to buttering his toast. ‘I think it will.’

‘Good.’