Village Fortunes (Turnham Malpas 17)

by Shaw, Rebecca

  Merc looked up and swiftly intervened when she realised Ford wasn’t prepared to reply. ‘He is innocent but we just couldn’t prove it.’ She reached across and patted Ford’s nearest skinny leg. ‘It’s made life very difficult, you know, not being able to prove it.’

  ‘I see.’ Grandmama was stunned. She’d been very prepared for being magnanimous about his guilt and being in prison, and here they were claiming he was innocent. Well, maybe he was. Barry from the estate had said how difficult it was for Ford to know whether the metal he’d bought was stolen or genuine.

  ‘Help yourself to more juice if you wish, and I’ll clear the table. Then we’ll have pudding. It’s lemon passion with fresh cream.’

  Merc and Grandmama chattered on about what had happened in the village since they’d done their moonlight flit but still Ford hardly said a word. He enjoyed the pudding and had two cups of coffee, and then out of the blue he said he must go. ‘Got to supervise everything. You never know.’ He left a big silence behind him. Eventually Merc said, ‘He’s taken it all very badly. But now we’re back where we love to live, he’ll soon pick up, I’m sure.’

  ‘I’m sure he will. Everyone is delighted you’re back and by Monday afternoon you’ll know I’m speaking the truth. By the way, they’re starting a new project, the embroidery group are, this very Monday. They’ve been very secretive about it.’

  ‘Come back at the right time then, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yes, you certainly have.’

  After Merc had gone, Grandmama cleared the kitchen, set her dishwasher going and then hurried over to the store to see her favourite daughter-in-law. Well, her only daughter-in-law, Harriet. She found her in the kitchen at the back, as she guessed she might, making things to fill up the dessert freezer at the front of the store.

  ‘Trifle? That looks wonderful. Single portions? What a good idea. I’ll take a couple when I go. I love trifle.’ Grandmama established herself on the chair Harriet used when she’d been on her feet for too long, and before she could say a word Harriet asked, ‘Enjoyed your company?’

  ‘Well, really, you can do nothing in this village without everyone knowing before you’ve even thought of it yourself. Yes, I did. Apparently . . .’ The two members of staff who were assisting Harriet stopped working and came to listen. ‘They claim that Ford was innocent and he went to prison when he shouldn’t have. Ford has lost four stone in weight. I don’t know what that is in new money; you young girls will know I expect. But whatever you calculate it in, it’s a lot of weight. Very quiet he was, not himself at all. You won’t recognise him. Merc’s just the same though, and dying to get back to embroidering again.’

  ‘They all say that. “A miscarriage of justice” it was, he’s entirely innocent of any crime. Oh yes.’

  ‘Harriet! How unkind. I’ve no reason to disbelieve them.’

  ‘Makes everyone feel sorry for them though, and it let’s them slip back into life as respectable people when they are patently not.’

  ‘Harriet! You’re working too hard, you must be. You need a holiday. Tom’s good at being in charge and so you persuade Jimbo to fly you somewhere exotic. By the way, how’s my Fran? She hasn’t been round to my house for weeks.’

  ‘No. We scarcely see her nowadays. Always out.’

  Grandmama sat up attentively. ‘Boyfriend?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘No idea.’

  Grandmama shot to her feet. ‘No idea? Hasn’t Jimbo questioned him about his intentions?’

  ‘We haven’t met him.’

  ‘Not met him! Huh! Whyever not? You should have.’

  ‘You don’t do things like that now, Katherine.’

  ‘I suppose not. Still, Fran has always been very sensible. I expect he’s thoroughly respectable.’

  Harriet didn’t answer straightaway, and when she did Grandmama was not reassured.

  ‘We will meet him, I expect, all in good time,’ Harriet said.

  ‘I think you sound worried.’

  Harriet finished the last of the individual trifles with a glace cherry and looked up at Grandmama, who, having known her daughter-in-law for almost thirty years, recognised the underlying worry in Harriet’s eyes. ‘Tell her I’m feeling lonely and need some company. I want to see her,’ said Grandmama.

  ‘Will do. Can’t promise she’ll come though.’

  ‘If she doesn’t, I shall come to her. Right, I’m going. Bye, everybody.’

  Not seen the boyfriend. It sounded very suspicious, and as though Fran was ashamed of him. And then, as though the spirit world had called Fran up for her, Fran appeared from Church Lane just as Grandmama was crossing the road from the store. She was on the old bike Jimbo kept for local deliveries. Fran slid to a halt but stayed on the saddle. ‘Hello, Grandmama, fancy seeing you.’

  ‘Seeing as I live just round the corner from the store . . .’

  ‘Well, yes. I’ve been busy.’

  ‘Delivering?’

  ‘Yes, someone down the Culworth Road is just home with a new baby and I’ve delivered a present from a friend. Groceries and such.’

  ‘I see. I’ve just been saying to your mother that I haven’t seen much of you lately and she says that could be your boyfriend’s fault.’ Grandmama left a significant pause, hoping for a revelatory reply.

  Fran shrugged. ‘You know what it’s like.’

  ‘I don’t. I haven’t got a boyfriend. Those days are long gone.’

  ‘Well, yes.’

  Drat the girl. Her honesty had always been the stumbling block between them. ‘I have to be honest, Fran. You and I have always been frank with each other and that’s why we didn’t get on well when you were younger. Is he so disreputable that you daren’t let me meet him?’

  ‘No, he is not. Got to go. Busy, busy. Bye, Katherine.’

  If there was anything more calculated to anger Grandmama, it was one of her grandchildren addressing her by her first name, and, as she was angry to begin with, she was steaming with fury as Fran cycled off. Using her first name was a sure sign that Fran was being defiant. Obviously the boyfriend wasn’t suitable for her, and she didn’t want the family to find out who he was. That’s what came of her not getting into the independent school her sister went to. Grandmama had always known that comprehensive school in Culworth was totally lacking in moral fibre. Well, if Fran thought she was going to keep it a secret, she was very wrong. Her Grandmama had time on her hands, even if her parents hadn’t. She’d find out.

  Chapter 5

  An impromptu party took place that very night in the saloon bar at the Royal Oak. It had been in Georgie’s mind but it hadn’t really materialised until the habitués of the old table with the settle down one side had rung up one after the other, and suggested it.

  ‘Shall we, Dicky?’

  ‘Why not? Best be prepared, you know what they’re like round here. Any excuse for a party.’

  The village telephone network went into action and the information was passed round the houses, from right down the Culworth Road, along Church Lane, past Glebe House, down Shepherd’s Hill, as far as Dottie Foskett’s and Stocks Row, and finally down Royal Oak Road, until everyone knew about the party to welcome Merc and Ford back to the village. Grandmama was put in charge of making sure that Ford and Merc, no matter how tired they were after moving, had to be inveigled into the bar by nine o’clock. Prompt.

  Grandmama was only too willing to undertake the mission, and was dressed and knocking on the door of Glebe House by eight-thirty. ‘I’ve come to insist that you let me buy you a drink tonight in your favourite watering hole. And I won’t take no for an answer.’

  ‘We’re not tidy at all, but come in.’ Ford ushered her in and shut the door behind her. ‘I don’t think Merc is able to come out; she’s absolutely knackered.’

  ‘So would I be if I’d just moved. It took me weeks to get over it when I moved into my little cottage. But please, will you come? Just one drink and then I’ll
let you go.’ She knew full well she was lying but she was determined they would go to the pub that night, even if they never went again.

  Merc’s kind heart couldn’t resist Grandmama’s pleading and she agreed to go. ‘I shall fall asleep after one drink, I’m sure, but yes, we’ll come.’

  Grandmama rubbed her hands together with glee. ‘I’m so glad. You’re a pair of angels.’

  ‘Give me a chance to tidy up and get changed. These old trousers won’t do at all.’

  ‘No need to get all done up. It’s always quiet on a Monday night. In fact there may only be us there.’

  ‘Sit down, Mrs Charter-Plackett, I’ll be as quick as I can. Ford, you don’t need to change, you look absolutely fine.’

  ‘Please, Merc, call me Katherine. We’re old friends you know.’

  ‘Katherine it is then.’

  Being asked to call her Katherine meant to Merc that she had been included once more in the intimate echelons of village life, and she felt greatly encouraged by Grandmama’s kind gesture. So they had done right to come back here where they’d first felt so welcomed and were obviously so well liked still. Thank heavens it had all worked out right and at last they could settle down to living their normal lives again just when she thought they never would. Like Katherine had said, it was Monday night and it would be quiet, and so they could edge their way in to village life quietly.

  Quietly? Someone, namely Dottie, was on look-out and the moment she spotted the three of them coming round Stocks Row she called out, ‘Hush everyone!’ Every single seat was taken apart from three at the table with the long settle down one side, because they were being reserved especially for Merc and Ford. Everybody sat motionless and silent, waiting. Suddenly the outer door shot open and before they knew it Grandmama had pushed open the inner door and ushered in Ford and Merc.

  A great cheer went up and everyone got to their feet, shouting, ‘Welcome back!’ in one great thrusting voice.

  Merc burst into tears of joy, and Ford, after a moment of emotion, called out, ‘Nobody here on Monday nights! That was a whacking great fib you told us, Katherine. Good evening, everyone.’ He bowed low in appreciation in every direction and surreptitiously wiped away a tear.

  ‘Now you’ve to sit here, look, on the best table in the bar and your first drinks are, according to Dicky, on the house. What would you like?’ Grandmama was delighted that her scheme turned out so well.

  ‘A gin and tonic for me, please, and I know Ford would like a half pint of Dicky’s home brew. He’s been longing for that for months. Haven’t you, love?’

  ‘Indeed I have. Lovely to be back, and thank you all for making us so welcome.’

  Ford sat down no longer needing to squeeze himself in as he used to do. They were all surprised at how thin he was and how quiet. Maybe he was exhausted after moving, or perhaps embarrassed about being an ex-prisoner. But whatever was the reason, he certainly had lost that big personality they’d all grown accustomed to, and loved.

  The people who’d come to welcome Merc and Ford back to Turnham Malpas were queuing to buy them their next drink, or eagerly hovering around to bring them up to date with the latest village news.

  When she could get a word in, Grandmama wanted them to know about the changed circumstances up at the Big House. ‘Sir Johnny has pots of money, believe me, and the alterations he’s doing on the estate, well, they are costing a fortune. But it doesn’t bother him. He’s rolling in money.’

  ‘He’s married you say?’ inquired Merc.

  ‘Oh, yes. He married Alice. You remember, the music teacher, and they’ve just got their second son yesterday. We don’t know his name yet.’

  ‘What about Craddock Fitch? We haven’t seen him,’ asked Ford.

  ‘Well, he’s moved into Sir Ralph’s old house. Renting it from Sir Johnny. But he’s gone up north doing some research they say. But what on earth he has to research I don’t know. He’ll be back in a day or two.’

  Their impromptu welcome-back party was in full swing but not everyone there was as enthusiastic as Grandmama.

  One of the less keen was Harriet. Jimbo, thinking of future trade that Ford and Merc might bring to the store, had insisted on her attending the party. But she only decided to join him because otherwise she’d be in the house alone as Fran was out with her mysterious boyfriend.

  ‘It’s all very well is this, Jimbo. But I don’t normally socialise with ex-prisoners.’

  ‘Hush. For heaven sakes! They’ll hear you.’

  ‘And if they do, I’ve a right to say how I feel. I didn’t lie, did I? It’s the truth. He is a liar.’ Harriet glared at Jimbo and raised her eyebrows. ‘Isn’t he? Go on, admit it.’

  ‘Yes. But now’s not the time.’

  ‘Be honest, you’re only welcoming them because it’s good for trade. I haven’t been married to you all these years without knowing what makes you tick.’

  ‘Well, for now, hush, and try to look as pleased as everyone else is.’

  ‘Are they really? I wonder. I can’t say Ford looks particularly pleased. In fact he looks as though he’d rather be at home with the door locked against the chance of unexpected visitors.’

  ‘You’re talking nonsense, Harriet; he’s always a very sociable kind of man. Mother’s thrilled to bits they’re back, and she’s a good judge of character. She always has been.’

  ‘I’m not talking nonsense. Anyway I’m going home as it’s late and I’ve a lot to do tomorrow. I need an early start.’

  ‘It’ll look very obvious if you go now. There’s another hour to closing yet.’

  ‘Sorry, Jimbo, I’m off.’ Harriet got to her feet and called across to Merc and Ford that she was leaving. Merc tried to persuade her not to go, but Harriet made the excuse of a bad headache coming on and disappeared, leaving Jimbo feeling an inconsiderate fool of a husband. Maybe she was right. After all Ford had been found guilty of condoning theft. He’d made a lot of money at it too, no doubt, if he could afford to buy Glebe House. But Jimbo hadn’t finished his glass of home brew yet and he decided he’d leave when his glass was empty.

  Harriet stood for a moment as she enjoyed the sight of the village in the light of a brilliant moon. The thatched roofs and the gleaming white walls of the cottages around the green appeared more spectacular than usual, and she savoured the privileges that living in such a beautiful rural place afforded her. She spotted Fran’s bright yellow mini creeping gently round the green and felt relieved her daughter was home safely.

  Harriet raised her hand thinking Fran might have noticed her standing there in front of the pub, but her wave wasn’t returned. Behind Fran came a bright red sports car which Harriet instantly recognised. The driver paused to give Fran a wave and then pulled away leaving Fran to park. No wonder Fran refused to tell them whom she was seeing. He was much too old and much too sophisticated for a girl of Fran’s age and experience. Harriet couldn’t think what to do. If she went home right now Fran would know she’d seen his red sports car and there’d be no avoiding a confrontation. And Harriet couldn’t face this. In fact, she decided, she’d pretend she’d seen nothing at all, she wouldn’t even tell Jimbo. She’d ignore it. Blot it out of her mind, and then one day when the time felt to be right, Harriet would let Fran know she knew and give her some motherly advice. Of all people. Chris Templeton!

  Chapter 6

  Finding no one at home Fran went straight to bed in order to avoid both her parents. Being out, they wouldn’t know what time she’d come home, and so as long as she kept her eyes shut if Mum came in to say goodnight she’d be all right. Fran wondered where they’d gone. Usually they shared all their news with her but tonight they hadn’t. Maybe they’d had an unexpected invitation somewhere. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to worry herself about them, they were grown-ups after all. Instead she’d lie warm and snug in her very own bedroom, and think.

  About Chris. Jimbo and Harriet would be certain to disapprove. He was too old for her, wildly sophisticated, with
a much broader knowledge of the world than she had. All she’d done was go to school, have a few holidays abroad in well-civilised places in Europe, and work in a village shop (which by his Brazilian hotel standards was minute and pathetically local). And what had he done? Been to the Arctic on a school expedition, nearly been killed in an avalanche on some mountains somewhere in South America, canoed down the Amazon at a back pack and tent level. He always had loads of money available, and had actually lived with two girls, although not at the same time of course, before he’d come to England.

  Fran Charter-Plackett had been a virgin until she’d met Chris and by comparison she was totally inexperienced in all aspects of life. Why he fancied her she didn’t know. But fancy her he did and she loved every moment of the time they spent together. He could arouse her with one gentle touch of his beautiful hands on her bare arm, and when— Fran heard the front door slam.

  Drat it. That sounded like Dad coming home. Just in case her dad could read her mind she decided to shut out all thoughts of Chris, which was stupid. But the thought of her dad, and worse, her mum knowing who she was seeing . . . No, it wasn’t Dad, it was Mum. Definitely Mum, because she was coming upstairs. Fran’s bedroom door opened and Mum said, ‘Hello, darling. Been home long?’

  Fran pretended to stir slightly.

  ‘Sorry, we’ll talk tomorrow.’

  Fran waited till the door had closed again and then she sighed. She had all this brave talk about being an adult and being able to come and go as she pleased, when all the time she couldn’t face up to her parents. At almost twenty-one. If she was at university she’d be doing exactly as she liked. With one bound Fran was out of bed, pulling on her dressing gown and heading downstairs.