The Village Show (Tales from Turnham Malpas)

by Shaw, Rebecca

  ‘Well, Louise, all right is it now?’

  ‘Oh yes, come and look.’ He did and he was pleased, so very pleased. ‘How absolutely fitting, Morris Dancing at a village Show. I wonder how many years that’s been going on?’

  ‘Hundreds – right from the dawn of time, some say.’

  ‘You can’t get more English than that, can you? And tell that Gilbert to get himself better organised. Oh, of course, you don’t know him, do you?’ He winked and handed her a gin and tonic. ‘You deserve that, my dear.’ He smiled and they stood together in the doorway listening to the music and watching the ribbons flying, the sticks crashing, the feet prancing, and above their heads the hot-air balloon swaying steadily up into the bright blue sky, its red and yellow and orange stripes echoing the colours of the Morris Dancers on the grass below.

  A group of young men who’d spent too much time in Bryn’s beer-tent came in looking for trouble. Pat cast an anxious eye in their direction and decided to treat them politely and hope it would calm them down and they wouldn’t cause trouble.

  ‘Hello, my darling! Three teas, two lemonades, and what shall we have to eat, boys? Almond slice, cream cakes, butterfly buns, sandwiches? What will it be?’

  They argued and then decided on sandwiches and an almond slice for each of them. When Pat told them how much they owed they were flabbergasted. ‘Ten pounds? You’ve added up wrong, love. It’s never ten pounds.’

  ‘It is. One pound each for the sandwiches, fifty pence each for the drinks, and fifty pence each for the cake.’

  ‘Cor, that Charter-Plackett fella must be making a packet. You overcharging and putting something in your own pocket?’

  Pat began to grow cold. ‘No, I’m certainly not. That’s the charge, it’s here on the blackboard. You can see for yourself.’ Two of the men had already begun to carry the trays to a table, and two of the others followed. ‘Just a minute. I want paying first,’ she said firmly.

  ‘All in good time, my darling. ’Ere you two, lend us some money – I ain’t got enough.’ He poked his finger amongst a collection of coins in the palm of his hand. “Ere you are, seven pounds and seventy-two pence, and that’s all I’ve got. Come on, you two, give us some more.’

  ‘Shut yer face, it’ll do.’ Pat was about to acquiesce and let them have it to save more trouble, but the one left standing at the till shouted, ‘Come on, let’s be having yer, cough up.’

  The smallest of the five men shouted a reply. ‘Shut yer face, Fatty, and sit down.’

  ‘Don’t you call me Fatty, you little sod.’

  ‘Little sod, is it? Right?’ He stood up, pushed back his chair with a crash and lunged towards the man at the till. Pat hastily got her mobile out and dialled for Jimbo. Michelle, who’d been watching the argument from her perch on Barry’s knee, said, ‘Barry!’

  He tipped her off onto the grass and quietly stood up. The fighting began with the big man punching the smaller one in the face. He reeled around for a moment trying to regain his balance, and then fell helter-skelter onto the trestle table laden with the clean cups and saucers. The table collapsed under the shock of his weight and there was a tremendous crash as the cups and the saucers and the man fell to the ground.

  The heat had been almost unbearable before the fight, but now Pat felt as though the marquee was on fire. The customers began shouting, and some started to hustle their children and old grannies out before things got any worse. Pat shouted, ‘This won’t do, please stop it!’

  This was when Barry decided to take charge. He strode forward and took hold of the T-shirt of the big man by the till. ‘Out, you. Out!’ He marched him towards the exit and then came back for the man laid unconscious on the ground. He pointed to the other three men. ‘You lot, get him to the first-aid tent, pronto.’ None of them made a move.

  ‘Did you hear me? First-aid tent. NOW!’

  As the three of them approached Barry threateningly, Pat came out tiptoeing her way between the broken crockery. Determined she wasn’t going to let Barry rescue her, she shouted, ‘Look here, just get out and we’ll say no more about it. Go on – HOP IT!’

  One of the men roared with laughter. ‘’Ark at ’er! Come ’ere, love, and give us a kiss. I like a woman with spirit.’ He grabbed her by the arms and tried to kiss her. Pat brought her knee up hard into his groin and he loosened his grip and swore. His hand came back to strike her. Barry saw her cringe and begin to back away, and Michelle screamed, ‘Mum!’ Barry leaped forward and deflected the blow with his arm. From nowhere, it seemed, Jimbo arrived with the two men who’d been taking the money at the gate. Between them, they each took hold of one of the men and marched them out. The one who was unconscious on the ground began to come round, moaning and wincing as he gingerly touched his mouth, feeling the place where his lip had been split.

  Michelle flung her arms round her mother and cried, ‘Oh Mum, oh Mum.’

  Pat rubbed her back and stroked her hair. ‘That’s all right, love, I’m OK. Don’t worry.’ She looked at Barry and mouthed, ‘Thanks.’

  Jimbo returned. ‘Pat, you all right? Sorry about this.’ He looked down at the man sitting on the floor. ‘You can get up and go. The first-aid tent is just past the stalls. And don’t come back, right? Here, Pat, have a nip of this.’ He took a silver flask from his back pocket. ‘Brandy, do you good, sit down here. Trace, Moira, Denise, look after things, will you? Anne, you be on the till. Chop! Chop! Business as usual. I’ll get someone else to clear this lot up. Don’t touch it, you’ll only cut your hands. Thanks, Barry, glad you were on the spot.’

  ‘That’s OK. They’d had too much to drink, that’s all.’

  ‘Mmmm. One of life’s hazards, I suppose. Look after Pat. I’ll get someone with a shovel and some cardboard boxes.’ He stabbed a finger at the broken crockery. ‘That’s a large slice of the profit gone, dammit.’

  Pat tried to apologise. ‘I’m sorry, Jimbo, I just didn’t handle it right.’

  Barry protested. ‘She did, she did it absolutely right.’

  ‘I’m sure she did. Worth her weight in gold. Time you recognised that.’ He gave a brief nod in Barry’s direction and strode out.

  Pat blushed, Barry grinned and Michelle looked at them both. ‘You two speaking again then?’

  Pat said, ‘Might be.’

  ‘Yes, we are,’ Barry told her. ‘Aren’t we?’

  Pat thought for a moment and said, ‘We could be.’

  ‘The holiday’s on again then?’ Michelle asked excitedly.

  Barry raised his eyebrows at Pat. She gave a nod and all three of them hugged each other. When Dean came in with a shovel and a cardboard box, a pair of gardener’s gloves on his hands, he grinned at them all and said, ‘Better get your fishing rods out, Barry. Looks as if I shall be needing some lessons before we go on holiday.’

  They all four laughed, Pat the loudest of all. She screwed the top back on Jimbo’s flask, stood up quickly but the brandy had affected her head and she almost keeled over. Barry caught her and planted a kiss on her cheek and said, ‘With Jimbo’s recommendation I’ve no alternative but to ask you to marry me.’

  Michelle jumped up and down. ‘Say yes, say yes.’

  ‘All right then. Yes, I will.’

  ‘I’m going to have a dad!’ She danced out of the marquee to tell the world.

  Mrs Jones, having removed herself with her tea and cake to a table in the furthest corner as soon as the trouble began, sipped her tea and smiled. She’d get her box of patterns out tonight and look out one for a jumper for Michelle. She’d plenty of time to finish it before the winter set in. Perhaps she’d even do one for Dean. One day in the future she’d be able to say ‘my grandson at University’, and ‘my granddaughter, the one who designs gardens’. Now that was something to be proud of.

  An army of boys, enticed by Mr Fitch’s promise of great rewards and equipped by him with bin bags and plastic gloves, had begun clearing up the lawns and Home Farm field. The tractor had made dozens of j
ourneys pulling the trailer stacked high with trestles and tables and chairs. The crêpe paper had been torn from the stalls, the pots of flowers returned to the greenhouses, the platform with its banners and flags dismantled, the marquees emptied, ready for taking down and carrying away by the hirers. Mr Fitch and Louise with his guests were toasting their success.

  ‘To Louise! Many many thanks for all your hard work!’ There were murmurs of agreement. ‘Excellent! Wonderful day! Splendid!’

  ‘Thank you. I can’t make a speech because I’ve nearly lost my voice, sorry.’

  ‘And no wonder. Brilliant feat of organisation. I’m lucky to have you working for me. Keep all your notes, ready for next year!’ He raised his glass in recognition of her talent. Louise smiled and excused herself.

  She went to her car. Sitting in the front seat was Gilbert. Louise got in and put her key in the ignition. In a husky whisper she said, ‘I’m so tired, Gilbert, and my voice has all but gone.’ She laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

  Gilbert took hold of her hand. ‘Sorry about that damn foolish mistake over the Morris Dancing. I don’t really know how I managed to make such a gigantic mistake. After all, you didn’t definitely fix it with me, and knowing your propensity for having everything totally organised I should have known to query it. It was all my fault. Didn’t really intend to cock it all up.’

  ‘I’m sorry we never spoke about it properly.’

  ‘Too busy doing other things.’ He chuckled and she had to open her eyes and smile at him. ‘You know, Louise, there’s a whole bright shining wonderful person inside you …’

  She placed her finger on his lips and whispered, ‘It’s thanks to you she’s there at all. You discovered her.’

  ‘That was my privilege. You only needed someone to unlock the door.’

  ‘You’ve changed me, completely. I’m a new person.’

  Gilbert looked steadily at her, his head on one side, his eyes studying her face. ‘You’re going to let her out onto the sunlit slopes then?’

  ‘I think maybe this whole new person can already feel the sun on her face.’

  ‘Wonderful! I rather thought so. There are moments in life which, when you look back on them, you know, yes know that they were completely special and terribly important to the rest of your life.’ He kissed her fingers and then laying her hand on his knee and holding it there he said, ‘I’m sorry I refused to have you in the choir. It’s this all-male thing with choirs, you know how it goes. But I can’t bear to hurt people’s feelings.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter any more.’

  ‘Good. I was going to suggest that tonight we go to my cottage, and you allow me to cook for you. I’ve something rather special in mind.’

  ‘I didn’t know you could cook.’

  ‘My dear Louise, you don’t know everything about me, not yet.’

  Tentatively Louise said, ‘Question is, do I …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Oh, nevermind.’

  ‘You sit and relax whilst I cook and then we’ll spend what’s left of the evening reading or something, and go to bed early. To sleep, right? I think that’s what you need most of all, isn’t it? A good night’s sleep.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right there. Oh yes. That’s what I long for.’

  ‘Do you … that is, would you …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Could you ever get round to thinking long-term about me? Very long-term about me? Like … for always long-term about me?’

  Louise didn’t answer immediately. She stared straight ahead through the windscreen at the Big House and at Mr Fitch standing outside on the gravel saying goodbye to his guests. Then she turned to look at Gilbert. ‘I think that might be a distinct possibility. In time, you know, in time. With you … yes, I might. Quite definitely.’

  ‘I know Keeper’s Cottage isn’t exactly top of the shop where design is concerned nor convenience for that matter, but there’s a lot of love going spare and that’s what life’s about, isn’t it? Love.’

  ‘You’ve taught me that, Gilbert. I’ll go home and get my things.’

  ‘Don’t bother. I’ll lend you my Father Christmas nightshirt with the matching nightcap, and you can borrow my toothbrush.’

  Louise laughed. ‘Better give Mother a ring or she’ll worry.’

  ‘You can do that from my house.’ Gilbert kissed her full on the lips, leaped out of the car and went to find his own. Louise watched him walking away. Who’d have thought she would find a lover here in this village which she used to so despise. She’d only come back out of desperation – no job, nowhere to live, broken-hearted, home to Mother like a wounded child.

  There was something undeniably captivating about Turnham Malpas. In her mind she could see the old oak tree still stout and hearty after what – five, six hundred years? The cottages equally as old, the stocks, the pond. The Store where she’d had that hint of the villagers’ collective anger, the church where she’d experienced Revelation Monday, and the rectory where she’d loved and lost. There was something uncannily magnetic about this village; it drew people unto itself and enfolded them for ever. Something strong and comforting and healing – yes, that was the word, healing.

  Gilbert tooted his horn as he reached the drive and Louise started up her engine and made to follow him. Yes, she’d stay because there was quite simply nowhere else in the world she wanted to live.

  TURNHAM MALPAS

  SHOW

  Turnham House,

  Home Farm Field

  July 10th

  commencing 2 p.m.

  MAYPOLE DANCING

  HOT-AIR BALLOON RIDES

  CHILDREN’S FANCY DRESS

  MOTORCYCLE DISPLAY

  CHILDREN’S RACES

  PUB TUG OF WAR

  MORRIS DANCING

  STALLS

  REFRESHMENT MARQUEE ICE-CREAM STALL BEER-TENT

  PRIZEGIVING FOR ALL COMPETITIONS AT 5.30 p.m. ON THE PLATFORM

  (see schedule)

  FREE CAR PARKING

  Entrance 50p Adults Children and OAPs free

  ARENA EVENTS

  2.15 Opening Ceremony

  2.30 Children’s Fancy-Dress Parade

  3.00 Tug of War between Turnham Malpas and Penny Fawcett

  3.30 School Display

  4.00 Morris Dancing

  4.30 Demonstration by the Police Motorcycle Display Team

  5.00 Children’s Races

  5.30 Prizegiving from the platform

  During the afternoon there will be an opportunity to take rides in a hot-air balloon. The charge will be £5 per adult and £3 for OAPs and for children under fourteen years. All proceeds to charity.

  REMEMBER!! VISIT THE STALLS

  AND SUPPORT YOUR

  FAVOURITE CHARITIES

  SCHEDULE FOR

  COMPETITION CLASSES

  A certificate of merit for best exhibit in each group of classes.

  The Templeton Cup for the most points in the vegetable classes.

  The Fitch Flowers Cup for the most points in the flower classes.

  All judges’ decisions are final.

  Entries by 7 p.m. Thursday 8th July

  Staging 9.00–11.00 a.m. on day of show

  Judging 11.00 a.m.

  Show opens 2.00 p.m.

  Prizegiving 5.30 p.m.

  EXHIBITS MAY NOT BE REMOVED

  BEFORE 4.30 p.m.

  ALL EXHIBITS TO BE CLEARED

  FROM THE COMPETITION

  MARQUEE BY 5.30 p.m.

  COMPETITION CLASSES

  Large Flowered (HT Type) Roses

  1. One vase of one bloom.

  2. One vase of three blooms.

  3. One vase of six blooms.

  Cluster Flowers (Floribunda) Roses

  4. One vase of three stems.

  5. One vase of five stems.

  6. One bowl of roses (any type) three stems.

  General Floral

  7. Three vases of cut flowers, three
distinct types.

  8. One vase of cut flowers, mixed, up to fifteen stems.

  9. One vase sweet peas, same colour, up to six stems.

  10. One vase sweet peas, mixed, up to twelve stems.

  11. One pot plant, flowering.

  12. One pot plant, foliage.

  13. Hanging basket.

  Fruit

  14. Twelve raspberries, one variety.

  15. Twelve gooseberries, one variety.

  16. Twelve strawberries, one variety.

  17. Six bunches blackcurrants, one variety.

  18. Bowl of any three varieties of soft fruit.

  Floral Art

  19. Seaside.

  20. The Royal Albert Hall.

  21. Notting Hill Carnival.

  22. Japanese Garden.

  Children’s Classes

  UNDER 12 YEARS

  23. Four scones, arranged on a plate.

  24. Four gingerbread men arranged on a plate.

  25. A necklace made from sweets.

  26. A vase of flowers from a country garden.

  27. Miniature garden.

  12–16 YEARS

  28. Four butterfly buns.