Village Secrets

by Shaw, Rebecca

  Peter was in his study when he heard the doorbell ring. Shortly afterwards, Sylvia tapped on his door.

  ‘Rector, have you time for a word with Pat Duckett?’

  ‘Of course. Come in, Pat.’

  ‘Thank you, Rector.’

  ‘Here, sit down, make yourself comfortable. Is it too early for coffee, Sylvia?’

  ‘Seeing as it’s you sir, no, it’s not. Milk and sugar, Pat?’

  ‘Just milk, please.’

  When she’d left the room, Peter turned to his visitor. ‘Now, Pat, what can I do for you?’

  Pat peered closely at him. ‘Aren’t you well, Rector?’

  ‘I’m fine, thank you.’

  ‘Oh, but you don’t look it. Anyways, Rector, I’ve come to tell you that I’ve made a right mess of things. Given in my notice.’

  ‘Kate Pascoe told me so last night when we went to her house for dinner.’ Pat tut-tutted at this. ‘I’m very sorry indeed. You’ve always done such a good job, come hail or shine. Seven, eight years is it now?’

  ‘Thereabouts. I got on really well with Mr Palmer. We ’ad our ups and downs but it was mostly ups. But … well, I can’t see eye to eye with Ms Pascoe. I’m not saying she’s in the wrong, it’s just that we’re not on the same wavelength, if you get me. We had a flaming row. She wanted this doing and that doing, all extras and some quite unnecessary, I think, and it’s sending me timings all wrong and I’m nearly dizzy with it. Anyway, when I got home and cooled down I thought, You fool, Pat Duckett, giving yer notice in just when yer need the money. So I ’aven’t actually written it, only said it – so do you think you could put in a good word for me and get me job back? I wouldn’t ask but we all know how persuasive you can be.’ Head on one side she grinned at him. ‘Would you?’

  ‘I very likely could, if that’s what you want. I mean, why can’t you get on with her?’

  ‘I don’t really know – can’t put me finger on it. It’s just that I’m worried, like – don’t know whether I’m coming or going. Barry says I’m imagining it. Anyway, I’ve decided I’m being daft and I’d like to carry on and I shall try to adapt.’

  Sylvia came in with the coffee. They chatted for a while as they drank it but Peter came no nearer to finding a clue as to why Pat was upset with school. It was as she said: she just didn’t feel right.

  ‘Not long now, Pat.’

  Pat raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t know what you mean. Oh, the wedding! Our Michelle’s that excited.’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘He’s a lovely man, is Barry. Honest, hardworking, good at his job – and he really likes the children and they like him.’

  ‘That isn’t what I asked.’

  Pat put down her empty mug. ‘I can’t quite believe it’s happening to me, you see, Rector. I’ve had years of struggle, and never expected to be happy again. Truth to tell, I wasn’t that happy with me first. Now and then I get a glimmer of how happy I’m going to be, but I’m not going to get too excited.’ Pat fidgeted with her beads. ‘You never know, I might be making a big mistake.’

  ‘Well, you are going to be happy again – I’m sure you are. I’ve had a long chat with Barry and I’m positive everything will be fine. Believe me. You deserve it. Barry’s a great chap.’

  ‘He’s wicked, he is.’ She grinned at him. ‘I won’t take any more of your time, I’ll be off. When that Ms Pascoe said she’d be glad for me to leave, she meant it, she really did. You could have a difficult job on your hands. If you don’t succeed don’t worry, it is my fault. After all, it might make me take the plunge and do more jobs with Jimbo. I don’t quite believe in myself enough you see, to do that.’

  ‘Jimbo’s a very astute businessman. He wouldn’t be asking you if he didn’t believe in your capabilities.’ Peter stood up and saw her to the door. ‘I’ll give you a ring when I’ve seen her. I’ll do my best. Good morning, Pat. God bless you.’

  ‘Thank you, Rector, thank you.’

  Chapter 8

  Beth watched her mother getting her boots out from the hall cupboard, then Alex’s and then her own. ‘Mummy, no playgroup morning?’

  ‘No, darling. We’re going for a walk in Sykes Wood to see if we can spot Mimi.’

  ‘Sylvie coming?’

  ‘She is.’

  ‘Don’t like playgroup. Don’t like Pascoe.’

  ‘Ms Pascoe, Beth. Why?’

  ‘Funny.’

  ‘Oh, come on, she’s nice. Here, lift your foot. That’s it. You can do the other one yourself, can’t you? Show Mummy.’

  ‘Can’t.’

  ‘You can.’

  ‘Can’t.’

  ‘Won’t, more like. I’ll do it then. Here’s your coat, put it on.’

  ‘Can’t. Mummy do it.’

  ‘Alex has got himself ready except for his buttons.’

  ‘Beth can’t.’ She stuck her thumb in her mouth and took her lover from her pocket. Caroline kissed her and dressed her herself. If dressing Beth was what it took to make her happy then she’d dress her.

  ‘Not going to playgroup ’morrow.’

  ‘We’ll see. Ready, Sylvia?’

  ‘Coming.’

  The four of them left the rectory and walked along Church Lane. The world and his wife seemed to be out and they exchanged greetings with two of the weekenders who were spending a holiday week redecorating and were off to get food at the Store, then with the gardener sweeping the drive of Glebe House. When they passed the gate to the Big House, they read its smartly painted notice telling them it was TURNHAM HOUSE and in small letters underneath Fitch plc London and Brussels. They climbed the stile into Sykes Wood and followed the well-worn path which led right through the middle of the woods. Alex rushed along ahead of them with Beth following slowly in his wake.

  ‘Jimmy Glover buried his dog Sykes here, do you remember?’

  ‘I certainly do, Dr Harris.’

  ‘Along with all his snares; he said he buried them really deep so the foxes couldn’t dig them up. Mimi! Mimi! Shout for Mimi, darlings.’

  Alex and Beth shouted until they were hoarse, but Mimi didn’t appear. They came to a clearing and Alex pounced on a burnt stick. Right in the middle of the clearing was a large circle of ashes and burnt branches and twigs.

  ‘Look, Mummy, bonfire.’

  ‘So there is.’ She felt the ash. ‘It’s cold. Fancy having a fire in the woods in the middle of winter.’

  Sylvia looked down at the ash, and poked it about with her boot. ‘Could have been in the summer. It’s difficult to tell when it was.’

  Alex rushed to Caroline. ‘There’s a glove – look, Mummy. Man lost a glove.’ It was a large, thick black-woollen glove with a big hole in the thumb, a kind of burnt hole as though the owner had been wearing it while tending the fire. But it wasn’t wet or dirty or going rotten. It had been left quite recently.

  ‘Throw it down, Alex, there’s a good boy. How odd!’ Caroline shivered with the cold.

  Sylvia persuaded herself she knew the answer. ‘It’ll be the Scouts on one of their midnight hikes. Cooking sausages and things, you know what they’re like.’

  ‘Of course, you’re quite right. It will have been them. Beth, what have you found? What is it?’

  ‘A stick, a big stick.’ She dragged the stick along the ground. The end was burnt as though it had been used for poking the fire. As she dragged it along, some rags from just under the surface of the ground became entangled with it. There’d been a half-hearted attempt to bury them.

  ‘Curiouser and curiouser!’ Caroline bent down to look at the rags, which turned out to consist of an old shirt and a woman’s blouse, dirty and wet.

  Sylvia, still poking about with her boot in the soft loamy soil close to the ashes, suddenly glanced at Caroline to make sure she wasn’t looking, and bent down to pick up something and put it in her pocket. She said, ‘Let’s go. It’s nothing to do with us. Come on, Dr Harris, let’s leave it be. I don’t like it here. We shouldn’t go any further.
Let’s turn back.’

  ‘Very well. Come along, children, we’ll go home. Mummy’s cold and I’m sure you must be too. We’ll have to forget looking for Mimi today.’

  Sylvia was shuddering. ‘There’s something unpleasant here and no mistake. Hurry up, children, please. Come on, Dr Harris, let’s get away from this place!’

  ‘Why, you’re shaking!’

  ‘I am. There’s things here not for the likes of us.’

  ‘You mean it wasn’t the Scouts?’

  ‘I hope not. Baden Powell will be spinning in his grave if it was.’

  ‘Are you psychic or something?’

  ‘No, but there’s a funny feeling here I don’t like.’

  ‘Now I’m frightened. Two grown women getting the wind up, this is ridiculous.’ Nevertheless Caroline took the hands of Alex and Beth and hastened them along. Both she and Sylvia breathed a sigh of relief when they had climbed the stile and were standing out in the road. Then, they both burst out laughing.

  ‘We are stupid, really we are!’ Caroline kept tight hold of the children as Barry Jones hurtled by in his van. He waved, slammed on his brakes, came to a screeching halt, and then reversed dangerously up to them.

  ‘Morning! What’s up?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. We just talked ourselves into being frightened in the wood back there. Sylvia reckons there’s something there not for the likes of us. We’re searching for my cat Mimi – she’s been missing for three days now, and she’s the smallest of my Siamese, so I’m worried. Don’t suppose you’ve seen her on your travels?’

  ‘Sorry, no I haven’t. I’ll keep a look out for her though. Bye, Dr Harris, keep smiling. Bye, Sylvia, bye kids!’

  ‘There’s no two ways about it. I’m going to have to accept that my Mimi is gone for ever. It’s one whole week today since I last saw her.’

  Jimbo offered his sympathy. ‘I’m really sorry. It’s downright awful not knowing, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is. Leave the card on the Village Voice noticeboard a little longer will you, Jimbo, please? Just in case. I’ve been round Rector’s Meadow twice and once into Sykes Wood but no luck. You never know, someone might have found her though and given her a home. They might even see the card.’

  ‘She was quite old?’

  ‘Twelve – no, thirteen. However, there we are. No Mimi.’

  ‘Shall you get another?’

  ‘No, I shan’t. Your two cats are all right, are they?’

  ‘Yes, why do you ask?’

  ‘Just wondered if we had a phantom cat-stealer, that’s all. Silly of me really, but you do wonder.’

  Jimbo began adding up Caroline’s purchases. ‘Beth’s getting better at playgroup?’

  ‘Yes, thank you – a little. Alex is perfectly all right, that’s what’s so odd. You’d think they’d react the same, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘That’ll be ten pounds ninety-seven pence, please.’

  ‘Thanks. Flick liking her new teacher?’

  ‘Oh yes. Thinks she’s lovely.’

  ‘Good, I’m glad. I’ll be off then.’

  Caroline carried home the shopping, put it away in the fridge and the cupboards. Having decided that Mimi was a closed chapter in her life she was feeling in need of sympathy, and Peter being the only one who could satisfy her need, she went to find him. But he’d left a note on his desk to say he’d ‘gone to Penny Fawcett, back for lunch’.

  Caroline sat down in the easy chair in his study and thought about her cat. She’d been sweet and gentle in the house, but a holy terror where hunting was concerned. Chang and Tonga had always accepted that she was the senior cat and, if she so chose, they allowed her to push them aside and finish off their food. Now, as if in answer to her thoughts, the two of them stalked into the study.

  ‘Come on then, come up.’ She patted her knee and they both jumped up onto her lap. She stroked them each in turn, enjoying their companionship. She thought about Mimi when she’d first got her, a small creamy-coloured tiny thing, soft and warm. The tears began to fall and she had to fumble in her pocket for her handkerchief. Sylvia came in.

  ‘There’s a letter come through the door for the rector. I’ll— Why, whatever’s the matter?’

  Caroline sniffed. ‘I’m being silly. I’m thinking about Mimi and how I shall miss her. But she’s only a cat. I’ve got to keep things in perspective, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yes, but I can understand.’

  ‘She was my first cat before I met Peter, you see, and it was lovely to come home to my flat and find Mimi waiting; it made all the difference. It’s not knowing the end that’s the worst. I know she wouldn’t have gone off to live with someone else. Anyway, at least I’ve got these two.’

  ‘Indeed you have.’

  The children came bursting in through the door.

  ‘And these two!!’

  ‘Mummy, play tiddlywinks. Come on.’

  Caroline pushed the cats onto the floor and stood up. ‘I certainly shall. What else are mummies for? Come on.’ She grinned through her tears at Sylvia and said, ‘Sorry for being such a fool.’

  ‘Not at all. I can quite understand.’

  Chapter 9

  ‘Far be it from me, Ms Pascoe, to criticise your methods. Taking the children here there and everywhere is lovely, but when the end result is that it shortens the time the children spend on the three Rs, then it is not at all beneficial. In fact, I think it’s a retrograde step.’

  ‘Hetty! There’s more to life for children of this age than pen and paper. What on earth can they find to write about if their experiences are so narrow? If they lived in a city they’d be doing all sorts of exciting things, but country children’s horizons are so limited.’

  ‘But think of the money. I know it’s lovely to walk on the walls in Culworth and learn about the Romans first-hand as you might say, but that will be the second outing your children have had this term.’

  ‘So, what’s wrong with that? You can take your children whenever you like.’

  ‘I know that, but you see a lot of the children round here are not very well off. Two outings in the first half of the term is a lot for their parents.’

  ‘Nonsense! No parent minds providing money when it’s to the children’s advantage.’

  ‘What if they’re unemployed like the Watsons? They’ve got two in your class.’

  ‘Then we shall use school funds if they can’t afford it.’

  ‘We only used to have an outing in the summer term when Mr Palmer was here.’

  ‘Mr Palmer isn’t here, is he? I am. And I shall be obliged if you don’t keep telling me about what used to happen, Hetty! Now is now.’

  Hetty turned to Margaret. ‘What do you think, Margaret?’

  ‘Well, I …’

  But Hetty interrupted her. ‘This business of the children coming straight into school the moment they arrive in the mornings. We’ve never allowed it before.’

  Kate grew impatient. ‘There you go again, Hetty. In the past. It won’t do.’

  ‘I’m thinking about our responsibilities. I was here at quarter past eight on Tuesday morning and there were already three children in the school. It’s not right.’

  ‘Pat Duckett is here.’

  ‘She is not legally responsible, as well you know.’

  ‘Oh really! What harm can come to them?’

  ‘Once the parents realise that the children can come straight into school they’ll be sending them at some ungodly hour, just to get them out of the way so they can get off to work. Speaking of ungodly, I took real exception to you talking about Hinduism in that manner yesterday. None of us are Hindu and the children must be very puzzled. They never see a coloured person from one week to the next.’

  ‘All the more reason why they should learn about them then.’

  ‘I disagree. What do you think, Margaret?’

  ‘Well, I …’

  ‘The rector won’t be at all pleased.’

  Kate smiled. ‘Don’t tell him then. It
is my school.’

  Hetty encouraged Margaret to support her. ‘Say something, Margaret.’

  ‘I think—’

  ‘I have been employed as Head, and as far as I can, within the bounds of the national curriculum, I shall teach as I see fit, and if going on an expedition helps them to understand the world better, then on an expedition we shall go.’

  ‘My children will be complaining. It makes me look mean.’

  ‘You arrange an outing for them, then. Broaden their outlook, encompass the world if you can. Isn’t that so, Margaret?’

  ‘Oh! Yes, I supp—’

  Realising she was fighting a losing battle, Hetty asked Margaret: ‘Whose side are you on?’

  ‘I don’t—’

  Kate got up to go. ‘Time I was off. Got people coming for a meal. I’ll love you and leave you.’

  Hetty Hardaker waited till she was out of earshot then said bitterly, ‘Well, some support I got from you, I must say.’

  ‘You didn’t give me a chance to speak.’

  ‘I asked your opinion.’

  ‘I know, but you interrupted or Kate did.’

  ‘It’s not right. I know it’s not right.’

  ‘Where shall you take your class then?’

  ‘Heaven alone knows; I’ll have to think of somewhere. I hate school outings, it’s the worry of losing someone.’

  Margaret gathered her things together. ‘I’m off. She’s only trying to do her best and she does have a point.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About the children’s limited experiences.’

  ‘You could be right.’

  ‘I am. She’s like a breath of fresh air.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘Mr Palmer was not at all flexible, you know.’

  ‘Yes, but the children were well-taught. We shan’t be getting anyone into Prince Henry’s or Lady Wortley’s is if we do as she says. We’ve three children sitting the entrance exams next week; there’s not a word about that, is there?’

  ‘There’s more to life than academic success.’

  ‘You try telling the parents that!’

  ‘Harriet? Kate Pascoe here. Hello. Would it be possible to pop into school to see me this week? Round about four when the children have gone?’