My grandmother – now, we’re going back a bit – used to describe pregnancy delicately as “being confined”. It’s a phrase that suits Helen very well. Ever since she became pregnant, she has been a wraithlike presence, a pale face at the window of Blossom Hill Cottage, lank-haired and wearing the charity-shop clothes her husband, Rob, prefers, making occasional disconcerting distressed forays into an oblivious Ambridge. Wilkie Collins would have spat on his hands and whistled.
This sorry situation burst into flames recently when a toad-in-the-hole caught fire. Who Torched the Toad escalated into a full-scale fight, with Helen showing a flash of spirit, Rob hitting her and five-year-old Henry, entering into the spirit of things, shoving a small school friend called Xanthe. Though, frankly, I think any child called Xanthe is just asking to be shoved.
It is, as you can see, a madhouse. Rob actually believes his own lies, a dizzying phenomenon usually only encountered on a rostrum. Those who confront him end up, rather to their surprise, in the wrong, or Poland, or Perth. Or, if Helen isn’t careful, a psychiatric ward. Now that’s what I call confinement. This is a fine, toe-curling psychological thriller with a ruthlessly long gestation period and, queasily, an unborn child in the mix.
Unaware of the black hole in the middle of the village, David and Ruth have bought 200 multicoloured cows, a hard-bitten bunch who laugh at the weather, while Rex and Toby are buying Welsh hens (nothing much to look at, but beautiful voices). All free to wander wherever they want. Freedom is very much the buzz word now in Ambridge. Except, of course, in Blossom Hill Cottage.
I must say I am disappointed in Pat, Helen’s mother. She is the only person in Ambridge to buy the Guardian, but she obviously doesn’t read it. I feel I’m wasting my time here. Helen’s best hope is Kirsty. You remember Kirsty? Last seen waiting at the church wreathed in orange blossom, doves and harpists (it is possible her wedding plans got a bit out of hand), while Tom, an ever-diminishing figure in the distance, legged it to Canada. This sort of thing can cause a certain coolness between a couple, but Kirsty and Tom have one thing in common. They distrust Rob even more than they distrust each other. It’s a bond.
Brainteaser of the month: “Why does Penrith have to be so far away?” (Pip Archer)
A month in Ambridge returns on 12 April
