Somewhat astounded by Beth’s statement, as he’d always found the Bishop’s wife very pleasant and helpful, Peter asked, ‘What’s wrong with her, Beth? She’s extremely kind.’
‘At the back of her mind there’s always the thought that we, Alex and I, need special attention because of our circumstances. She kind of glosses over it without actually mentioning it, but her concern is always there.’
Peter, taken aback by her frankness, said, ‘I didn’t realise that. She means well.’
‘Exactly, Dad, but she needn’t because Alex and I are perfectly all right.’
To Peter this appeared to be a heaven-sent opportunity to clear the air. ‘Those letters you got the other day, from Suzy Meadows. Are you perfectly all right about them?’
Now it was the twins’ turn to be surprised. Alex spoke first. ‘We didn’t know you knew.’
‘Mum told me. She didn’t know, just suspected. On the same day, you see, Jimbo had a letter from her . . . Suzy . . . telling him her husband had died.’
‘She did? Whatever for? Why Jimbo?’
‘Why Jimbo? Because he was very supportive of her when her first husband died.’
‘Killed himself, you mean.’ Beth came out with that remark very abruptly, and there was bitterness in her voice. ‘She must be a crazy, mixed-up person, in my opinion.’
‘Beth!’ Peter was at a loss for words.
Alex said, ‘We didn’t say anything because we didn’t want mum to be hurt. We’ve not known what to do.’
‘Why has she written to you?’
Beth unzipped her bag, glanced at Alex for his approval and gave Suzy’s letter to Peter to read.
‘Are you sure about this? Because I don’t know if I sh—’
‘Read it, Dad, and stop being tactful. All this tip-toeing about is getting me down.’ This from Beth, who’d reached the end of the road with all the secrecy.
Peter unfolded the two-page letter and began to read.
Dearest Beth,
I know this is a surprise to you because I have never written to you before, but I know you know the circumstances of our relationship and felt you should be aware that my husband Michael died a month ago. It has nothing to do with you but is everything to me, and I thought you should know.
The man I truly love is your father, and I have never stopped loving him since the day I first met him. But with three little girls to feed and clothe, and their father dead, I simply could not manage to work and support two new babies in addition to them, so the answer was to give you to your own father, knowing you were being given the best possible chance in life. As for me, I now have none of my girls at home and no husband, either, which is a desperate state to be in.
Now you are sixteen - see, I know your exact age, I haven’t forgotten - and starting in the sixth form and having minds of your own, I’ve no doubt, I wondered if you might like to get to know me better. I should love more than anything in the whole world to get to know the two of you.
I suggest you come to stay for a few days at half-term. It would be just the three of us. What an exciting time we would have, learning all about each other and sharing our lives! Just think of it!
My address and email address are at the top of this letter. Believe me, it would be the most wonderful thing in my life for you to come to stay. I’m looking forward to hearing from you.
All my love,
your mother
Beth broke the silence. ‘All about her, isn’t it? That’s what strikes me. All about her. No mention of whether or not my mum will find it wonderful. Or my dad. Oh, no! Well, as far as I’m concerned, I am not going. Full stop. I can’t speak for Alex. We’re not joined at the hip, so he can decide for himself.’ Beth snatched the letter from Peter and tore it into shreds. ‘There, that’s that.’ She concentrated on spooning the cream from the top of her hot chocolate into her mouth and refused to look at her dad.
Peter didn’t know what to say. This letter was so unexpected! He’d have to tread carefully. Maybe Alex would want to go.
To Alex, the bit about her loving his dad had been the biggest shock. Two husbands and still loved him? Was it reciprocated? he wondered suddenly. No, of course not. Mum and Dad were crazy about each other. He knew every day of his life how much in love they were. Didn’t he? A terrible doubt invaded Alex’s being.
‘Well, Alex, how do you feel about it? Are you going to see her?’
Alex looked Peter full in the face, an unasked question in his eyes, but Peter couldn’t read what the question was. ‘I shall write a polite letter on behalf of the two of us and say we’re not going. She gave us to you and that’s where it ends. Her chance has gone.’ Alex hadn’t brought his own letter with him, so he couldn’t make Beth’s dramatic gesture. ‘When I get home I shall write one letter and tear mine up the minute I’ve done it.’
‘I see. Shall I tell your mum, then?’
‘No, Dad. We will.’
Beth protested. ‘I’d rather she didn’t know.’
Alex said, ‘It was you who said the secrecy had to end, so let’s do that. Mum must know and then we can all lay a ghost to rest.’ But he promised himself that one day when he found the right words, he would ask his father about Suzy and whether he had ever felt love for her, and if he still did.
Chapter 3
‘Do you think we’d better tell them at the Rectory that Suzy’s Michael is dead? They perhaps ought to know in the circumstances? ’ Jimbo’s voice was muffled as he bent down behind the TV, wondering why on earth they suddenly had no picture at all.
‘Honestly,’ said Harriet, ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what to do for the best, Jimbo. I suppose eventually it’ll get round to them on the village grapevine.’
‘But will it? Pass me the torch. After all, we’re every one of us acutely aware that we’re talking dynamite, aren’t we? Thanks.’
Unaware that Fran had come in, Harriet replied, ‘The next time Caroline comes in the Store I shall corner her and tell her. She should know, and the twins should, too. How’s that for a promise? There’s still no picture.’
‘Blast.’
Fran suggested, ‘It’s Dottie. She’ll have caught a cable again when she was vacuuming. Here, let me see.’
Jimbo emerged, tousled and hot, reluctantly admitting to himself that she would most likely solve the problem in no time at all.
Fran tinkered about with the wires at the back and then said, ‘There we are. What’s the picture like, Mum?’
‘Excellent. What it is to have a qualified TV engineer in the house!’
Jimbo grunted. ‘Hmm! Luck, that’s what, pure luck.’
‘Dad! It was me put it right the last time you couldn’t get a picture.’
Jimbo feigned memory loss. ‘Maybe it was. I don’t remember.’ ‘I don’t know why you bother asking him, Mum. Just send for me, OK? By the way, I think they should know.’
‘Who should know what?’
‘The twins should know that Mr Palmer has died. After all, it will affect their mother.’
‘Why should Michael Palmer dying affect Caroline?’
‘Well, the twins, you know, the twins.’
Harriet, who was more astute than Jimbo at understanding teenagers’ shorthand, said, ‘What do you know about the twins that I didn’t know you knew?’
‘Well, that . . . well, they’re the Rector’s and Suzy what’s-its, and Caroline’s not their biological mother.’
Jimbo moaned, ‘Oh my God. I didn’t know you knew. You’ve never said.’
Harriet demanded to know who had told her.
‘Oh, for goodness sake! I’ve known for years.’
Jimbo, still sitting on the floor, looked up at her and said, ‘It isn’t discussed openly amongst your crowd is it?’
‘No, but we know.’
‘You never say anything, do you, to Beth? Nor Alex?’
‘Give us credit for some sense, please. I wouldn’t dream of it.’
Harriet hugged her. �
��Of course you wouldn’t. It’s not our secret, you see.’
‘No. But it must have been big news at the time. My God! In a village like this, the gossip must have been flying round the tinned soup shelves like fury. Just wish I’d been old enough to know. People like Sheila Bissett must have had a field day.’
Jimbo and Harriet exchanged glances, both of them reflecting on the accuracy of Fran’s comments.
Harriet, who fully understood Caroline’s motives in being willing to adopt the twins, found it harder to forgive Peter. She decided to change the subject.
‘Right, well, I’m going for a box of chocolates that have been in the cupboard a whole week and never been touched. Don’t you think I’ve been good? They’re Belgian chocolates from the smart shop in Culworth, present from a grateful client.’
These diversionary tactics on Harriet’s part cut no ice with Fran. At fifteen there wasn’t much that got past her because she loved gossip as much as her dad did. In fact, she was better than him at picking up the latest news now she worked in the Store on Saturdays. She had her wilder moments when she planned how she would expand the business by starting another Store in another village. How she’d love to be in charge of it all by herself.
The three of them sat very comfortably, eating the chocolates and watching TV for at least an hour, when the doorbell rang. Jimbo got up to answer it.
Standing on the doorstep were Ford and Mercedes Barclay, dressed to kill.
‘Good evening. We’re Ford and Mercedes from Glebe House, just moved in. It’s not a social call. It’s business. May we come in? We know it’s late but we’ve been out all day and made a decision, and we want to sound you out about it.’
‘Certainly. I’m Jimbo Charter-Pl—’
‘Yes, we know, that’s why we’re here.’ This was Mercedes speaking. ‘Can we come in?’
‘Oh! Sorry, I beg your pardon. Yes, please do. Shall we sit in my study or—’
But Ford was already in the sitting room greeting Harriet. ‘My dear Mrs Charter-Plackett. I understand you are a cordon bleu chef. I’m honoured, yes, honoured, to meet you.’
‘Ah! Right. You must be—’
‘Ford Barclay. And this is—’
‘This is Frances. We call her Fran.’
‘What a very pretty young lady. Do you work in the business? ’
‘I’m the Saturday girl, that’s all. I’m still at school, you see.’
‘Ah! Young ladies grow up so quickly now. This is the wife, Mercedes.’
They all shook hands, then Jimbo offered them a drink.
‘Thank you. A gin and it for both of us.’
Harriet suggested they sat down. By the time the drinks had been served Mercedes was quizzing Fran about school. ‘I loved school. Do you love school?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘What’s your favourite subject?’
‘Well, I’m best at French.’
‘Oh! Hear that, Ford? Fran is best at French. She could come in useful when we go to our gite in the summer. Have you been to France?’
‘Yes, several—’ But she got no further because Ford interrupted her, so anxious was he to get on with the business he had in mind.
‘Now see here, Jimbo. I’ve heard on the village grapevine that you do catering.’
Jimbo almost choked at being reduced to ‘catering’. It seemed rather to lower his treasured gourmet standards. He nodded.
‘I understand you own the Old Barn on the estate belonging to that old man . . .’ he snapped his fingers while he tried to remember the name, ‘Craddock Fitch, and you have parties there - balls, smart lunches, weddings. That right?’
‘It most certainly is, yes. You name it, we organise it. I have the highest standards . . .’ Jimbo intended expanding on the idea but was stopped by Ford.
‘Well, I have this idea, you see. Now I’m not working I’ve got time to spare thinking up original ideas and I’ve come up with one.’
‘Right!’
‘It’s soon to be our twentieth wedding anniversary and Mercedes wants us to have an Elizabethan banquet. Different, you see, from the usual wedding anniversary party. How do you feel about it? Of course, we’d have to see the Old Barn, decide if it’s suitable for what we have in mind.’
Jimbo, ready for anything, cut in. ‘It was a Tudor barn originally; we’ve kept all mod cons as discreet as possible. Last year we had a whole cow roasting on a spit. It gave the guests a real thrill. They had roast beef for the meal but not all of it from the cow roasting outside, obviously. Logistically that wouldn’t have been possible. We served—’
Mercedes burst in. ‘Could we have serving wenches with all their bosoms showing? I’m very keen on that - makes it realistic, you see.’
By this time Harriet was almost in hysterics. Jimbo’s mind was too busy encompassing the whole idea to take in what Mercedes had said, but Fran had to leave the room before she made an exhibition of herself.
The plans were discussed for a whole hour and a half with Jimbo busy making notes, and Mercedes coming up with even more surprising ideas. Eventually Jimbo grew too tired to care. There was so much to take in. ‘Look, before we go any further, come tomorrow at 9 a.m. to see the barn and judge for yourself if it’s OK. We have a business lunch on so we must be there on time. The staff need to lay tables etcetera, because my clients have drinks at eleven-thirty and lunch at twelve. So, 9 a.m. sharp, right? In the meantime I’ll have a think. We’re well booked up, so any decisions have to be made pronto. Lovely to meet you.’ He stood up to shake hands, and finally the pair of them made their way to the door. Mercedes was still coming up with ideas as they were leaving.
Afterwards Harriet fell back in her chair exhausted. ‘God! What a pair! I need a drink after all that. Are you willing to fall in with their plans?’
‘Oh, yes! It’s the ideal venue. We’ll have Ford as the Earl of Leicester and Mercedes as Queen Elizabeth. They’ll love it. Could have some “strolling players” coming in to entertain them, couldn’t we? Mead by the gallon, though it’s very potent. We’d have to ration it as she suggests serving wenches. The whole idea is brilliant. Afterwards we could do them for the general public. Eh, what?’
‘You’re over-reaching yourself. Let’s do this first and see if it’s successful.’
‘See if it’s successful? What does that mean? Of course it will be successful. How can it be anything else?’
Harriet leant across and kissed him. ‘You’re right. I’m going to bed with my gin. Goodnight, darling.’
‘You’ll never sleep.’
‘Try me. And don’t start talking to me when you come to bed. I need my sleep even if you don’t. Write your ideas down and I’ll read them in the morning.’
On her way upstairs Harriet put her head round Fran’s door to find her still reading. ‘Fran, you really must get some sleep. It’s awfully late.’
Fran laid her book on the bedside table and snuggled down. ‘Mum, they’re not quite us, are they?’
Harriet thought about this. ‘No, not quite, but it doesn’t mean to say that diminishes them. They are very worthwhile people, even if they don’t sing from the same hymn sheet as we do.’
Fran giggled. ‘Mum, you sound just like Peter. He sees the best in everyone.’
‘Well, he’s right, isn’t he? Everyone has their slot in life, you know.’
‘I can’t stand snobs.’
‘Do you think I’m a snob?’
‘No, but Dad is.’
‘Fran!’
‘When she said about serving wenches and could they have all their bosoms showing, I thought I’d die laughing.’
‘Fun way to go! Goodnight, darling.’
At 9 a.m. sharp Jimbo was pulling up at the Old Barn, but Ford and Mercedes were there before him.
‘Early bird catches the worm. We decided not to go in until you arrived. Lovely morning, isn’t it? We can’t wait to see the barn.
‘Is it really, really old, Jimbo? Genuine?’ Mercede
s asked, staring up at the old redbrick walls.
‘My word, yes. It really was an old barn, the biggest in the area. You should have seen it. There was a lot of work to do. We did a very sympathetic conversion, you see, which takes time. Let’s go in.’
Rather than let them in through the side door which the staff used, Jimbo opened up the huge main doors so they got the very best impression as they entered. It gave him a lift each time he walked in, so he knew the impact for them would be tremendous.
The Village Newcomers (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Page 4