Still Waters by Judith Cutler Page A

Matters; Clubs, Groups, Societies, Organisations and Gatherings; Focus on Youth; Our Rural Environment; History of Lenham; Thoughts and Reports from St Mary’s. And lots of local ads.’
    ‘So it will be invaluable now you actually live in the village full-time. It really is a very pretty little place, isn’t it? Fran?’
    She struggled to her feet. ‘Drat. To think a couple of years ago I could go from squat to stand with no effort at all. More important, it’s got a bit about our water in it. Here – continued reports of a strange smell…complaints to Invitaqua… Mr Patel was right, wasn’t he? I wonder what the latest is. Come on, let’s go for a walk,’ she wheedled. ‘Just as far as the corner shop.’
    ‘Why there?’ The chair in Fran’s living room that had become his was exceptionally comfortable.
    ‘Because Mr Patel will know the latest about the water – who’s phoned, who’s written, who’s whatever.’
    ‘OK, you’ve talked me into it. So long as we can stop off at the Dog and Bear afterwards for a glass of proper beer.’
    She beamed. ‘And whoever’s behind the bar there will have the latest news too.’
     
    Fran hooked her arm matily into Mark’s as they strolled home. Funny, she remembered her parents doing that – never holding hands, as she and Mark often did. And she recalled heroes in classic A-level novels offering arms to young women, even without a romantic attachment. Why had it gone out of fashion?
    ‘So at least twenty people have complained to Invitaqua about this taste – and one woman claims she found a greeny-blue thread in her hand bowl. And Mrs Green, whoever she may be, says she’s found a blonde hair in her sink, as does Mrs Carter, but we can’t trust her because everyone knows what a copycat she is! Is there anyone in the village the Patels don’t have an angle on?’ he demanded with a laugh. ‘But so far nothing appears to have been done,’ he summed up more soberly. ‘Why not?’
    She laughed. ‘I can feel your spine straightening and see your chin taking on its official jut! I should imagine it’s because no one’s got through to the right person. You know how these enterprises work, all pre-recorded messages and press this and then press that. Everything’s designed to make people give up.’
    ‘You wouldn’t give up.’
    ‘I wouldn’t try the conventional way in the first place. And since a good half-dozen have tried writing and had zero response, I shan’t be doing that either.’
    He laughed. ‘So what will you be doing?’
    ‘One of two things – maybe both. The obvious people to contact are Ofwat, since they’re in charge of all the water companies. But I suspect they’ll tell me to go through all sorts of official complaints channels, forgive the pun, and you know how I’d love doing that.’
    ‘The other, then?’
    ‘Pull in a favour.’
    He drew her to a halt. ‘Is this legit?’
    ‘Would I ever bend a single rule? Little me? Well, I should think it’s legit, but Maeve Burton will soon tell us if it isn’t.’
    ‘Maeve as in wispy little Bill?’
    Fran suppressed an inapposite joke. ‘Maeve’s pretty senior in Environmental Health, remember. She’s always telling us to call on her if we need something doing.’
    ‘People often say they owe you a favour without meaning it,’ he warned. Fran always took them at their word.
    ‘Perhaps it isn’t a favour – just one organisation helping another organisation. It’s got to be a criminal offence, selling dodgy water, and the police and Environmental Health would naturally work in tandem.’
    It was easier to agree. ‘Your phone call or mine?’
    ‘Mine. Tomorrow morning. When we did Shakespeare for A level there was something about beer provoking the desire.’
    ‘And the rest of the line says it takes away the performance!’
    ‘I’m quite sure it doesn’t…’
     
    ‘What I was thinking,’ she began the following morning as she drove them into work, ‘about