Married Status
James Wilberforce gunned the car down the winding drive, gravel scattering like gunshot pellets into the thick shrubbery. The scarlet Ferrari scorched along the village main street missing Constable Blake by inches. Tom Blake sighed recognising Lord Wilberforce at the wheel and knew he’d have to book him. More damned paperwork and more trouble at the Hall no doubt. What was it this time he wondered, had her ladyship been on a spending spree with her credit cards, or had their wayward daughter been rattling his cage again?
Hetty Jones meantime cycled home from the beach having spent an extremely pleasant afternoon fossil hunting and sunbathing. It had been a glorious day and she sang as she cycled homeward, thinking how lucky she was. She hadn’t thought so a year ago, but today she felt truly liberated. Today she became a free woman after five years of domestic servitude. She wouldn’t have believed what a difference a year could make. Her husband Joe had always dominated and belittled her so much so that she had no idea of her own capabilities. Hetty had been shaken to the core that night Joe bluntly stated he wanted a divorce. She had no inkling that he was dissatisfied with their marriage. It wasn’t exactly riotous, she had always accepted that, but it was what she thought Joe wanted – a quiet, peaceful existence with no hassles or arguments. She cringed at the number of times she had bitten her tongue just to keep the peace.
What little confidence she had disintegrated along with their joint possessions when he left. She meekly accepted he had earned the money while she had been just a simple housewife. Just a housewife! Why did he make it sound so derogatory? Well now, through her own effort she had a home of her own, and a part time job. Her confidence and her life were improving daily, so today she had much to be joyful about. She was singing her favourite song from “The Sound of Music”, and as she rounded the bend half a mile from the village, she encountered the speeding Lord Wilberforce. His car flashed past so close the draught tipped her into the ditch before she had time to take avoiding action. She lay stunned for a moment unsure as to what had actually happened. Everything was a blur, but gradually the world stopped spinning and she recovered her composure. Tugging her dress down to cover her bare legs she was thankful her bike had stayed on the road.
‘I say, are you all right?’
Hetty took a deep breath and gazed in disbelief at the flushed face of Lord Wilberforce leaning over her, and finally managed to stammer. ‘I… I think so.’
Only when she came to stand and put some weight on her foot did she discover her wrenched ankle. She gave an involuntary gasp as she tried to climb out.
‘Here, lean on me,’ Lord Wilberforce said, helping to pull her out of the ditch. Very gently, he guided her to his car, apologising most profusely for his carelessness. He opened the door and carefully assisted her into the passenger seat before retrieving her scattered belongings.
‘I really am terribly sorry about all this,’ he remarked once again behind the wheel. ‘It was my fault completely. I wasn’t paying attention. I’ll have the bike collected and repaired, don’t you worry. But first we’d best have that ankle looked at.’
Hetty was dumbstruck. What would Joe think if he could see her now, sitting in the passenger seat of Lord Wilberforce’s magnificent Ferrari? Being an expert on motors, Joe had often admired it, declaring he would have one like it when he won the pools. He assured her he wasn’t going to be a mechanic all his life. Hetty felt he had aspirations far above his station and was never satisfied. It had rankled that he was often jealous of another’s good fortune.
As his Lordship slipped the car into gear and drove off Hetty recovered her voice. ‘It’s all right your Lordship, honestly. I’ll bandage it up when I get home. There’s no need for me to see a doctor. If you’ll just drop me off in the village.’
An hour later James Wilberforce was still chatting happily to Hetty in her bijou flat above the bakery, having regaled her with all his problems.
‘What you need is a housekeeper,’ said Hetty offering him another of her homemade scones.
‘Exactly,’ he replied. ‘But where am I to find such a treasure around here? You wouldn’t be interested in the job would you?’
‘Me! Good heavens above no. I’d be no good. Just ask my ex-husband. He thought me an incompetent scatterbrain.’
‘I can’t believe you are that,’ Lord Wilberforce said shaking his head. ‘You’ve done me the power of good just sitting here talking to you. Are you sure I can’t persuade you to take up the challenge? My wife will be gone for at least six months, and my daughter wouldn’t know a vacuum cleaner if she saw one. I don’t want the place to go to wrack and ruin, and of course I do have to eat.’ He looked around at her flat. ‘You like a tidy going on, I can see that, and I bet you’re a good cook too.’
‘But the Hall, it’s so big,’ murmured Hetty thinking the extra cash would sure come in handy. Most of what she did normally was for charitable causes that didn’t pay too well. His Lordship – or rather James as he asked her to call him, was much more human than she had ever expected. He wasn’t all high and mighty like Joe said. Perhaps… it would be one in the eye for Joe.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘How about I come for a month, and we’ll see how it works out? If you find I’m not up to the job it will at least give you time to seek another more suitable applicant.’
Two months later Lord Wilberforce interviewed four applicants for the job as chauffeur – he’d lost his licence for a year.
‘None seem quite what I’m looking for,’ he told Hetty,’ but I suppose I’ll have to take one of them. I can’t be housebound until my wife returns. Pity you can’t drive.’
‘Which…which do you think?’ Hetty asked cautiously.
Lord Wilberforce pondered for a moment. ‘I think it will have to be the last one - the married one. Married ones are more settled and a safer bet. I don’t want any Tom, Dick or Harry loose in the Ferrari. The fella Joe would have been my first choice if he’d been married, but he’s a little too sure of himself for my liking. More interested in the car than the job.’
Hetty smothered a chuckle.
‘Something wrong, Hetty?’
‘No. James. Only… Joe was my ex-husband. The way he talks he’s as good as Stirling Moss.’ Little does he know that he’d have been able to drive the Ferrari if he’d remained married to me she thought gleefully.
The end
