The Sixpenny Cross Collection

by Victoria Twead

  “Thank you, Sixpence, that looks very good,” said the Captain.

  “Look what the Captain just gave me,” said Babs, showing Sixpence the exquisitely carved ivory elephant that usually sat on the hall table next to the telephone.

  Sixpence said nothing.

  “My grandfather brought that back from India a hundred years ago. It has a raised trunk which is supposed to be lucky,” said the Captain. “It was much prized by my mother. She always said that if it stood facing the front door, it would protect all who live here. I’m glad you like it.”

  “I’ll put it here, out of your way,” said Sixpence, moving it to the sideboard before returning to the kitchen.

  When they had finished, Sixpence cleared away the empty soup plates.

  “Excellent soup,” said the Captain. “It’s a pity you can’t enter it in the fête this weekend, I’m sure it would win a prize.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Sixpence and brought in the next course.

  The fragrant roast chicken steamed as he served it. He was lifting off the lids to the fresh vegetables when the telephone rang.

  “Who can that be? You get it, Sixpence,” said the Captain, “we can manage.”

  Sixpence hurried to the telephone in the hall, trying to ignore Babs’s voice behind him.

  “Let me serve you, Captain. You just tell me when to stop…” and her laughter rang out.

  The hall table looked strange and empty without the ivory elephant.

  “Sixpenny Manor,” he said into the telephone receiver. “Who’s calling?”

  “Sixpence, is that you?”

  13

  “Sixpence speakin’, who am I talkin’ with?”

  “Sixpence, it’s me,” said the voice, “Stan Cooper. Can you talk or might you be overheard?”

  “It’s not a good time,” Sixpence said quietly.

  “Right, answer yes or no. I’m guessing the Captain and Babs Mason are within earshot?”

  “Yes.”

  “Listen carefully. I found out something rather disturbing today. I was going to tell you at the pub but Angus just told me that you and the Captain were holding a dinner party for Babs tonight. It’s just possible that you and the Captain may be in some danger. Babs Mason is married to a villain.”

  Sixpence gasped and found himself glancing over his shoulder.

  “She’s married to an old con with a record as long as your arm. He’s a thief, but that’s not all, he’s violent. I’m guessing that he’s sent her to case the manor. Has she walked round the house?”

  “Yes.”

  “As I thought.”

  “What shall I do?” whispered Sixpence.

  “Nothing. Don’t do anything yet, leave it with me. I don’t think you have anything to fear from her, it’s what her husband is planning that worries me. Make sure you lock all your doors and windows tonight, and stay on the alert.”

  When Sixpence replaced the receiver, his hand was shaking.

  I knew it! he whispered to himself. I just knew it!

  He stood for a moment, digesting this latest news, then entered the dining room.

  “Ah, there you are, old man,” said the Captain. “Who was it? Anything important?”

  Always the gentleman, the Captain had been doing his best to be as pleasant as possible, aware that Babs and Sixpence were wary of each other.

  “No, no. Just my old mother calling from Worthing. I’ll phone her back another time for a proper chat. How’s the roast chicken?”

  “Delicious, old boy! You surpassed yourself. Barbara is really enjoying it, too. Aren’t you, my dear?”

  Babs nodded as she chewed.

  “I’m a good cook, too, Captain. You’ll have to let me cook for you one day,” she said, her mouth still full.

  “Nothing would give me more pleasure, my dear,” said the Captain gazing at her fondly, and his tone spoke volumes.

  Sixpence retreated to the kitchen as fast as etiquette would allow.

  The evening dragged on.

  Sixpence served the dessert, followed by coffee and liqueurs in the drawing room. Then he tidied the kitchen, waiting impatiently for the evening to end.

  At last he heard the Captain call.

  “Sixpence, Barbara is leaving. She’d like to thank you.”

  “I bet,” he growled, but joined them on the gravel driveway.

  Although it was after ten o’clock, it was still quite light, as is the norm during British summers. Babs was already sitting in her car with the window wound down and the engine running.

  “Thank you for the meal, Sixpence,” she called.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  The Captain patted her hand which was resting on the steering wheel, then leaned down through the window to peck her on the cheek.

  Suddenly, her hand flew to her mouth in alarm.

  “My elephant! I forgot my elephant!”

  “Don’t you worry, my dear,” said the Captain, swinging round. “I’ll get it for you in a trice. I know exactly where it is.”

  He hurried past Sixpence and into the house, intent on his act of chivalry.

  Babs looked up at Sixpence and her eyes widened a little.

  “Who are you staring at?” she asked.

  The rage that Sixpence had been trying so hard to keep in check was threatening to bubble over.

  “You, actually.”

  He stepped forward then leaned down into the car, bringing his face close to hers.

  “What … what do you …?” she stammered.

  “I know who you are, Barbara Mason, and I know what you’re tryin’ to do. If you, or that villain you’re married to, harm a hair on the Captain’s head, I swear, I’ll…”

  But he never finished his sentence.

  Babs’s foot stamped on the accelerator pedal and the car shot away, showering him with gravel and leaving gouges in the driveway.

  Sixpence turned to see the Captain standing on the doorstep, white-faced, frozen in astonishment, the elephant still clutched in his hand. He ran over to his employer and, taking him by the arm, guided him back into the house.

  “What happened?” asked the Captain. “Why didn’t she wait for me?”

  “Captain, I think we need to talk…”

  “Wait! It was something you said, wasn’t it? You chased her off!”

  “No! Sir, that woman isn’t right for you. Please listen, I’ll explain!”

  “That woman? Did you just call Barbara that woman?” The Captain held onto the mantlepiece for support. His complexion had turned from white to red.

  “Sir, I…”

  “I was planning to ask that woman to marry me,” spat the Captain. “I think you guessed that and you’re jealous, aren’t you? You don’t want her to join us here, do you? I don’t know what you said to her, but I can tell you this, Peter Anderson, my debt to you ends now.”

  Sixpence gaped, but the Captain hadn’t finished. His eyes narrowed to slits as he hissed his next words.

  “You may have saved my life back in London all those years ago, but I’ve repaid you. Remember, I pulled you out of the gutter. I employed you. I gave you a roof over your head. I shared my home with you. Now I intend to ask that woman to be my wife.”

  “Captain!”

  “But you can’t let that happen, can you?”

  “No! Captain! Babs isn’t who you think she is! I beg you, please listen…”

  “You ungrateful, scheming wretch! I will not listen to you,” he said through clenched teeth, his lips bloodless with fury.

  He slammed the elephant down on the mantlepiece and folded his arms.

  “Listen to me carefully, Peter Anderson, I intend to give Barbara this elephant tomorrow, and I’m planning to ask for her hand in marriage.”

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” said Sixpence gently, “but I don’t think that’s possible.”

  He hoped that his tone might calm the Captain, make him listen to reason and return him to his senses. Unfortunately, it had the
opposite effect.

  “Do you intend to stop me?” asked the Captain, barely able to contain his rage.

  “Not me, Captain, but the law. I believe that Babs is already married.”

  “Now you’ve gone too far. I think it’s better if you go. I want you to leave Sixpenny Manor,” he said, his eyes glittering. “Pack your things and go. I never want to lay eyes on you again.”

  “You must listen to me, Captain! Babs Mason cannot be trusted! She’s playin’ you for a fool…”

  “Get out!” the Captain shouted. “Get out!”

  “Captain…”

  But the Captain was bereft of all reason.

  “Get out!” he screamed.

  14

  It was Friday evening and the Dew Drop Inn was buzzing.

  “On your own tonight?” asked Angus when the Captain entered the pub. “No Sixpence?”

  “No,” said the Captain shortly, then took a breath. “Sixpence has left Sixpenny Cross.”

  “Oh, really? Problems with his mother in Worthing?”

  The Captain didn’t reply. His eyes were downcast and his face was expressionless.

  Jayne Fairweather had overheard the exchange.

  “Captain,” she said, “the entries are closed now for the produce and flower competitions for the fête on Sunday. Did I hear you say Sixpence has gone away?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “That’s good news!” chipped in Archie Draper, always the comedian. “Now my Emily has a chance of winning this year’s rose competition.”

  Everybody laughed, except Babs, who stood behind the bar, listening and watching intently. Without looking up, the Captain made his way to the inglenook and sat down. Only then did he raise his head to search for Babs. His eyes lit up when he spotted her behind the bar. Babs treated him to a wink and a little wave of her hand. The Captain blushed.

  PC Stan Cooper stood in the shadows, watching. He saw Babs pull back the handle of the pump, allowing beer to rush into the pint glass she held.

  “Mind your backs,” she called, pushing through the crowd to reach the Captain.

  “There you go, Captain. How are you today?”

  “I brought you your elephant,” he said awkwardly, relishing her nearness as she leaned down to place the pint in front of him.

  “Oh, you darling man!” she said, putting her hand on his arm and enjoying seeing him blush. “You shouldn’t have!”

  The Captain put the elephant down and reached for her hand.

  “Barbara, I’m so sorry about last night. I don’t know what Sixpence said to you, but he had no right, no right at all.”

  “Well, I don’t think he’s ever liked me…”

  “I told him that I didn’t intend to give you up.”

  “Oh!”

  “He’s gone now, and won’t trouble you again. And I hope you will continue to spend time with me.”

  “Of course I will, silly, it’ll be my pleasure.”

  The Captain beamed, then looked more serious. “Barbara, I need to talk to you about … about matters close to my heart...”

  “Babs! Customers!” called Angus, and Babs turned away.

  “We’ll talk later,” she said, with a wink. “Don’t want to lose my job!”

  “If you’ll be mine, my dear, you’ll never need to work again,” he said under his breath, as Babs walked away.

  The bar was particularly busy that evening, as the fête committee had just had their final meeting.

  “Weather forecast looks okay for the weekend,” commented Daisy Grainger, “thank goodness.”

  “We’ve been lucky most years,” said Jayne Fairweather. “The marquee company will be here tomorrow to put the marquee up, and, fingers crossed, I think everything is pretty much in place.”

  “Yes, I’ll get the tractor out and give the green a final mow in the morning before they come,” said Archie. “The vicar has done a good job of pulling it all together, as usual. Barring an act of God, it should all be smooth sailing on Sunday. But then we do have the vicar on our side,” he added, and everybody laughed.

  Talk of past fêtes, interspersed with cries of, “Who’s for another drink?” filled the pub, and Babs was spared only a few minutes to chat with her admirer. Realising he was unlikely to enjoy much private time with her that evening, the Captain left early.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Babs, and squeezed his hand.

  “Yes, yes! Good night, my dear. I shall look forward to it.”

  Stan Cooper remained in the shadows, one hand in his pocket, fiddling with the books of raffle tickets that Jayne had handed him earlier. He waited for a lull, then approached the bar.

  “Excuse me, Babs,” he said lightly. “Totally out of interest, you know. I wondered if you knew where Sixpence had gone.”

  Babs jumped, reddening.

  “How should I know?”

  “Weren’t you having dinner at Sixpenny Manor last night?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Well, did Sixpence say anything about leaving the village?”

  “Not to me, he didn’t.”

  “So you don’t know where he went?”

  “No, why should I? But he did get a phone call from his old mother in Worthing though.”

  “Did he, indeed. Thank you for that information.”

  Babs backed away, but Stan beckoned her forward again.

  “Just one more thing,” he said quietly. “Not many people know who you really are, Babs. But I do. And now that Sixpence has gone, the whole village will be looking out for the Captain. He’s very well liked here.”

  Babs’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, and Babs, give my regards to Rick.”

  Jayne Fairweather eyed the skies on Saturday morning as she opened the post office and general store. All clear, she decided, and therefore a good day to prepare for the village fête the next day. Archie Draper waved as he rumbled his tractor onto the green, the attachment he towed already scything through the lush summer grass. Jayne sniffed. She loved the smell of newly mown grass.

  A steady stream of customers kept her busy that morning, but she noted the arrival of a truck with Marilla’s Marquees emblazoned on the side. The village always used the same company. Six men jumped out and, after consulting a map, identified where the marquee should be set up on the far side of the green.

  When Jayne next looked, she saw the men marking out the site, driving pegs into the ground. Even at this distance, the rhythmic hammering filled the air.

  Suddenly, a man shouted. The banging stopped and, to her amazement, the men flung down their tools and ran as though chased by bulls. The first two burst through the shop doorway.

  “Quick, phone the police! We’ve come across an unexploded bomb!”

  Jayne didn’t need telling twice and grabbed the telephone.

  “Stan? Jayne here. I’m with the marquee people. They’ve found an unexploded bomb on the green.”

  Following a short conversation, Jayne put down the receiver and looked up. The men had crowded into the shop, waiting for her to speak.

  “PC Cooper is alerting the bomb disposal unit now,” she said. He’s on his way but he’s asked if we can make sure nobody goes near the area. Unfortunately this isn’t the first time unexploded shells have been found around here.”

  The men nodded and went outside. They stood in a huddle for a moment then fanned out, keeping a healthy distance from where they had been working.

  Jayne snatched up the receiver again and dialled the rectory’s number.

  “Vicar? Jayne here. We’ve got a bit of a crisis. The marquee men found an unexploded bomb on the village green.”

  “Good heavens! Has Stan been told?”

  “Yes, he’s informed the bomb disposal squad. Everything is under control. But the big problem is, I doubt we’ll be able to use the green for the fête!”

  “Oh my goodness. You’re right, by the time they diffuse the bomb there’ll be no time to put the marquee up.”
>
  “And the bomb people will want to scour the whole green in case there are more.”

  “Yes, yes,” the vicar thought for a moment. “Well, we can’t move it here, the rectory gardens are just too small. There’s only one other place really.”

  “Sixpenny Manor?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Do you think the Captain will agree?”

  “I think so. I’ll reassure him, tell him that nobody will disturb him or invade his privacy. We only need the gardens and I’ll promise him that the committee will make sure everything is as we found it when we leave.”

  Saturday had been a rough day for the Captain. The visit from the vicar had turned his world upside down. As if he didn’t have enough on his mind, with Babs and Sixpence, now he was being asked to allow the general public into the grounds of the manor house.

  “We’ll put No Entry signs up,” the vicar had said. “The public will only be allowed on the lawn, not the walled garden, and definitely not in the house. Just keep all the doors locked, Captain, and nobody will bother you.”

  The Captain knew that his parents would have agreed immediately, as would Sixpence, had he been there, so he reluctantly relented. A simple man, he found it difficult to cope with any changes to his routine, Lately, there had been just too many.

  From the drawing room window he saw the marquee go up. Then Archie Draper arrived on his tractor, pulling a trailer heaped with trestle tables and chairs. Simon Grainger helped him unload and the pair carried the tables into the marquee to set up. In and out, in and out, like bees in a hive.

  It was enough to make a man dizzy.

  Members of the committee kept arriving all afternoon, bringing items like blackboards and stacks of white tablecloths.

  But the Captain’s mind was only partially diverted. Most of his thoughts were centred on one person: his passion, his hope for the future.

  Barbara.

  The pub will be busy again tonight, he mused, and I doubt I’ll be able to get Barbara on her own. I’ll just pop in for a quick pint. But when the fête is over, then I’ll ask her if she’ll be mine. Nothing will stand in my way.