A month ago, Richards son married for a second time. Just a few weeks after the wedding, he drove to the peaceful village of Little Wrenford, bringing along thirteen-year-old Florence, his new wifes daughter and Richards new step-granddaughter for a whole weeks stay.
Before she left, Florences mother pulled Richard aside and whispered urgently,
Just so you know, Florence has never been to the countryside before. Shes at that age, you know how girls can be. She has a very particular temperament. Please, dont go easy on her. If theres any trouble, ring me and Ill come collect her at once.
What do you mean, if theres trouble? Richard blinked in confusion.
But Florences mother only smiled, pecked him on the cheek and hopped into the car with her husband, leaving Richard and Florence standing outside the old cottage.
Florence, pop round to the well and fetch some water for us, would you? Richard asked, handing her an empty pail.
Where do I go? Florence squinted at him, bewildered.
To the pump, love.
Whats a pump?
Its just a water-pump, he explained. Just outside the gate, not far from the garden. Theres a handle you work up and down to fill the pail, then you carry it back in.
But Granddad Richard, really? Florences wide eyes stared at him in disbelief. You just turn on the tap, in the kitchen. Surely youve got working taps?
Richard gave a sheepish grin. The taps there, but nothings flowed from it for a week now.
Why ever not?
Well, he sighed, the plumber Old Pete from down the lane turned off the water in our row. Says he needs to replace a valve, but hes taking his sweet time. So, it’s off to the well for now. Always fresh water there.
Florence fixed him with a petulant glare. No. I wont do it. If theres a tap, water should come from the tap.
Alright then, Richard shrugged, undeterred. You can still wash up here. He led her to the giant, battered rain barrel beside the kitchen door. Just scoop some rainwater out with your hands.
Florence wrinkled her nose. Granddad, are you serious? There are bugs wiggling around in there!
Theyre just mosquito larvae, nothing thatll trouble you, Richard said kindly.
And for brushing my teeth? she grimaced. I have to use that too?
Fraid so. No water in the sink.
Fine, Ill go, Florence snapped, grabbing the pail and stomping off down the path.
She returned a quarter of an hour later, red-faced and breathless, holding barely three litres of water.
What took so long? Richard asked.
I didnt know how to work the pump! Thankfully some man walking past helped me figure it out.
Good job, Richard smiled. He poured her hard-won water into the basin. Now weve some for washing but youll need to fetch a few more for tea and supper.
Florences jaw dropped. For cooking too?
Of course! Unless youd rather I use rainwater from the barrel Richard offered innocently.
No, no! Florence gasped, snatching the pail and making off once more toward the pump, desperate to avoid the rain barrels wildlife. She fetched water five more times, huffing and puffing, as Richard set about starting supper.
Granddad, why dont they just fix the plumbing? Florence demanded, exhausted. At home, if something breaks, you call the council and within the hour someone comes, fixes it, and the waters back on.
Richard let out a chuckle. Here you have to let Pete know in person he lives at number 58, on the next street. And the thing is, Petes own water works just fine, so he doesnt see the rush to fix the rest of us.
Well, why dont you go round and demand it?
Oh, Ive asked him enough times, Richard waved a hand. But Petes always out with his sheep or down at the pub or fiddling with the tractors. Says hell sort it tomorrow but tomorrow never comes. Only plumber for miles.
Florence was silent for a moment, then straightened. Which house did you say?
Fifty-eight.
And which way is that?
Down there, Richard gestured down the lane.
Ill go see him myself.
Before Richard could stop her, Florence had slipped out the gate and vanished into the hedgerow. When half an hour had passed with no sign of her, Richard grew worried and hurried over towards Petes house.
Did my granddaughter come by? he asked Mrs. Baxter, Petes no-nonsense wife.
Is that stroppy little thing yours? Mrs. Baxter scowled.
What did she do?
She marched in here, demanding I fetch Pete immediately, then started giving us a piece of her mind said Pete was selfish for not caring about the neighbours! Tried to guilt us, as if Pete doesnt run ragged fixing everyone elses problems from dawn till dusk. When I shooed her away with my broom, she said if Pete didnt fix your water today, shed burn our shed down! Can you imagine?
Oh heavens, Richard clutched his chest. Did Florence really say that?
Florence? More like a terror, Mrs. Baxter grumbled. Heaven help anyone who crosses that child Where is she now? Lord knows, probably off chasing Pete herself.
Where is he?
In the fields, isnt he? Mending the combine, I expect. Me, Ive enough trouble with one menacing youngster underfoot!
Richard barely waited, dashing out towards the meadows where harvesters rattled by. He didnt make it far before a tractor rumbled across the lane toward him Pete behind the wheel, and a rather grim Florence beside him.
Spotting Richard, Pete braked hard. Yours?! he hollered above the engines din, nodding at Florence.
Richard nodded nervously, Youre not taking her to the police, are you, Pete? Mind, shes only a child! You cant arrest her!
Police? Pete laughed. Im off to replace your valve, mate. Or else your granddaughter here the little firebrand threatened to lob herself under the combine. Told me if I didnt sort your water, shed start popping tyres with nails. She doesnt know you cant just puncture a combine tyre like that, but by heavens, we could use a few more lively teens like her! This village would be running like clockwork in a years time. So, what do you say, mischief-maker, fancy driving the tractor?
Yes, please! Florences eyes lit up.
Climb up then, take the wheel. Lets get your water sorted but only if youll pass me the spanners when I need them, Pete grinned.
Alright! Florence whooped, delighted, grabbing the steering wheel.
Her parents only collected Florence from the countryside twenty days later, on the thirtieth of August just in time for the new school term. She wasnt in any hurry to leave, though; there was more work in Little Wrenford in autumn than anyone had time for.
