Village Matters

by Shaw, Rebecca

  ‘That’s understandable.’

  ‘But I do want to go. I can remember it you see, going in there when I was a little girl. His parents were lovely people. Out of the top drawer but so kindly. They never made you feel less than them. They never patronised.’ She looked wistfully up at him. ‘I would dearly love to go.’

  ‘Getting quite a social butterfly, then?’

  Muriel laughed. ‘Remember your fortieth birthday dinner? I thought I would die of shyness that night. I expect if he did agree I’d be so scared on the night I wouldn’t know what I was doing. I take up these challenges and then bitterly regret it.’

  ‘Take some advice from a man with fourteen years experience of married life. Don’t mention it when you go back home. Give the matter a complete rest. Behave as if it never happened. Be all sweetness and light. Tonight prepare him his favourite dinner, and then . . .’ Jimbo cleared his throat. ‘Well, the rest is up to you, but that’s the moment to tell him how very much you want to go to the dinner. Catch him off his guard, if you see what I mean, when he’s . . . well, when he’s feeling mellow, as you might say.’

  Muriel caught his eye and blushed. ‘Jimbo!’ She studied his idea for a moment and then said, ‘I believe you could very well be right. I shall take your advice.’

  ‘All part of the service. No charge! Did you come in to buy something?’

  ‘Yes, but I can’t remember what it was. I’ll wander about a little and see if it comes back to me.’

  From a sluggish start to the day business hotted up, and by lunchtime Jimbo was more than ready to leave the Store to his part-time assistant and go in the back for a quick bite to eat. He was sitting on his stool in the store room munching a pork pie which would be out of date by closing time, when he heard an excited voice shouting, ‘Jimbo! Are you there?’ It was Pat.

  ‘In here, Pat, having lunch.’

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Yes, come through.’

  ‘Sorry about this, but I thought you’d like to hear my bit of good news. Mi dad’s got the job up at the Big House.’

  ‘Gardener, you mean?’

  She nodded vigorously. ‘First off he’s to get the kitchen garden and the glasshouses in order, and then Jeremy says he’ll see after that! You’ve no idea how pleased I am. Pay’s good too. Dad wants our Dean to leave school and go work with him, but I’m not ’aving that and neither’s Dean, he wants to stay on at school. Talk about relieved!’

  ‘Relieved? I’m amazed!’

  ‘Amazed? What for? What’s happened?’

  ‘Well, you’ve had a change of heart and no mistake.’

  ‘Change of heart?’

  ‘Yes. I thought Mr Fitch was public enemy number one as far as you were concerned.’

  ‘Oh well, yes. I hadn’t thought of it like that.’

  ‘You certainly thought like that the night you and your Dean helped them with that effigy.’

  ‘Effigy? Oh! you mean that dummy.’ She scowled accusingly at him. ‘’Ow did you get to know it was me?’

  Jimbo tapped the side of his nose with his forefinger and grinned. ‘I have ways. Anyhow, you’ll have to change your mind about him now, won’t you? Now he’s the saviour of the Duckett family.’

  ‘I don’t know about that. It’s Jeremy’s given him the job.’

  ‘Believe me, Jeremy doesn’t make a move without first consulting Mr Fitch, he has him on a very short lead. That’s how the man works. I think you’re all part and parcel of his new strategy to make amends for the silver débâcle.’

  ‘Well, I don’t care whether I am or not. If it gets Dad a job, that’s what counts. Money talks.’

  ‘Talking of money.’ Jimbo reached into his desk and took out a clipboard crammed with papers. He flipped a few sheets over and then said, ‘You OK for the Freemasons’ dinner, and for a rugby annual dinner in Culworth, both on Fridays?’

  ‘Yes, be glad to. Write the dates down for me and I’ll put ’em in mi diary. You don’t need me for the dinner up at the Big House then?’

  ‘No, he’s asked for waiters.’

  ‘Pity! I’d have liked to be a fly on the wall! Who’s going to be there?’ Jimbo told her.

  ‘Could be interesting, couldn’t it? Sparks might fly, Sir Ralph going.’

  ‘My mother-in-law will be in charge.’

  ‘Whoever’s working that night ’ad better watch it then. She’s a tartar, she is. She misses nothing, she doesn’t.’

  ‘That’s how it should be. We don’t get asked again if things aren’t absolutely perfect. It’s people like you who help set the standard. You’re good at your job, you know, Pat. Next time I have a small do I might give you a chance to show your mettle. Put you as senior waitress, see how you make out. With suitable remuneration, of course.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh yes. Reliable people, who know what they’re doing and are willing to take responsibility, are few and far between, believe me.’

  ‘Thank you Jimbo. Thank you very much.’ Pat made to go and then came back in. ‘You’re right, I shouldn’t let mi dad accept this job, should I?’

  ‘Bleak economics dictate you should.’

  ‘Yes, I really can’t ’elp it, he’s got to take it. Maddening though, isn’t it, when money’s your master.’

  Chapter 18

  The night before the travellers were expected to move off his land, Ralph found he couldn’t sleep. Muriel’s restlessness was one reason, and the other was apprehension as to whether or not they would really move. The money was safely tucked under his pillow.

  ‘Ralph, I’m going to make a cup of tea, I simply can’t sleep. Would you like one, dear?’

  ‘Yes, please, and then I’m getting up. The tension is killing me.’

  ‘And me.’ They sat side by side in bed drinking their tea. Muriel looked at her little china alarm clock. Five thirty. Another hour and they’d be off. When she’d finished her tea she placed her cup on her bedside table and slid down under the bedclothes for five more minutes before getting up.

  It was the loud hammering on their door which awakened them both.

  Muriel checked the time. It was seven o’clock. ‘Ralph! it must be them. We fell asleep.’

  Ralph leapt out of bed, flung on his trousers and a sweater and raced downstairs, the money carefully hidden out of sight in his trouser pocket.

  ‘Right guv, we’re on the road. Not too early for you, are we?’

  ‘No, not at all. You’ve all moved off?’

  ‘Yes. Like we said.’

  ‘Right, I’ll walk round and take a look, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Don’t trust us, eh?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Got the money?’

  ‘I have. It’s yours when I’m sure everyone has gone.’

  He walked steadily round the green and on to the land. From the side of the Methodist chapel he could see right across to the beck. Not a vehicle in sight, but what a mess. Tins and dead fires, newspapers, old rusting scrap metal, bin bags swollen with rubbish, branches of trees, sawn down but not used. Litter over the whole area. Ralph didn’t care, they’d moved off.

  The man who’d hammered so loudly on the door waited.

  ‘Well, guv, I’m right you see, they’ve all gone like we promised. Money, money, money.’ He rubbed his thumb and forefinger, together anticipating the feel of the paper in his hand.

  Ralph took it from his pocket and began to count it out.

  ‘No need for that, I know you’ll be true to your word. Thanks.’ He folded the roll of bank notes and stuffed it into his back pocket. Ralph watched him climb into his old lorry beside a woman, two children and a big dog. He flung it into gear and rumbled away down Shepherd’s Hill.

  So, this was his land. The mess they’d left behind couldn’t spoil his pleasure. He saw the trees, ancient, gnarled, undisturbed for centuries, unconcerned that they had lost some branches, for their powerful life force would overcome their loss of limb
s. The beck babbled along the stones, not so deep as usual with the long hot summer they’d had. The willows providing welcome shade for the fishes still swimming along as they had done when he was a little boy. His father had brought him down here and they’d fished with a little net for minnows. What joy that had given him. Now it was all his, all his. Arthur Prior wasn’t going to win. Ralph Templeton still owned this land and he’d get those houses built if it was the last thing he did. He shivered in the cold morning air and turned for home. Next, the telephone call that would bring the men and the lorries to clear the grass of the rubbish and then fill the entrance with soil carried away from the road works the other side of Culworth. He clenched his fist and punched the air. He’d win, see if he didn’t.

  He watched all morning while the men cleared up. Two lorry loads of rubbish, they collected. They found some more boards and replaced the ones the travellers had pulled down from the chapel. By lunchtime the whole site was clear, and by mid afternoon the soil had been tipped to secure the entrance.

  Muriel was waiting for him when he got home. ‘Are you all right, dear? I’ve been so worried about you.’

  ‘I’ve only been watching, not doing anything, but I am tired.’

  ‘I’ll make a sandwich for you, you’ve had a long day. Sit down and rest. By the way Ralph, there’s been a telephone call from a man called Colonel something or another, I couldn’t catch his name, but he’s chairman of the County Council and he says he thinks he went to school with you. He’s ringing back in about an hour.’

  ‘I wonder who that is?’

  The telephone call came while Muriel was out with Pericles. When she returned Ralph flung his arms round her and danced her round the hall.

  ‘Muriel, Muriel, that was Nobby Winterton-Clark on the phone, he rang us several times that Sunday when we went out for the day. He’s been on holiday since then and just got back. Remembers me from prep school, we shared the same dorm and were in the cricket team together. He’s heard about my intention of having houses to rent, realised who I must be, and he’s weighing in on my side, by putting in some good spade work before the planning meeting this week. He wants to make sure my new application goes through. Delighted to be of service, very concerned about the drain of people from the villages hereabouts, and hopes my plans will bear fruit in other places too. Isn’t that marvellous?’

  ‘Oh, Ralph, how lovely, I’m so pleased.’ Muriel clapped her hands with glee. ‘We really will have Hipkin Gardens then?’

  ‘Yes, fingers crossed we will. We’ll go out for dinner tonight. Not the George, we’ll try that new place, the other side of Penny Fawcett. I’ll book the table right now. Everything’s turning out right, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh Ralph, I’m so pleased, you’ve just no idea. You see, the village will like what we’re doing won’t they? Just eight houses is absolutely right, isn’t it?’

  She wore her claret-coloured dress with the low neckline and swirling skirt, Ralph his newest suit, light grey with the finest white pin stripe. He looked so handsome, she was so proud of him. Her heart wept a little, wishing he had sons to follow on. He would have made a lovely father and his children would have been so good-looking. No more Templetons. No more at all. It was all very sad. Then it occurred to her there were Templetons of a kind, living and working on the land still. Templeton land. A germ of an idea came to her, but then they arrived at the hotel and Ralph was opening her door for her, and out of habit she braced herself for facing a new place. She took strength from the reassuring feel of Ralph’s hand on her elbow guiding her up the steps. With him there there was nothing to fear, it wasn’t like it used to be. Now she had Ralph to keep her safe.

  Ralph dropped her off at the front door while he took the car round by Pipe and Nook Lane to put it away in the garage. How odd, Pericles always ran to greet her. She went to his basket in the kitchen. He lay quite still, his eyes glazed. ‘Pericles? Are you all right, dear?’ His breathing was unsteady and kind of ragged, his tail wagged very slightly, and he tried to lick her hand as she patted him and then there was a long shuddering sigh.

  Muriel knelt down by his basket and laid her hand on his flank. There was only a very slight movement of his chest as he breathed, and then even that stopped.

  ‘Oh Pericles, oh no, oh no!’ Her tears dropped onto his head and she gently wiped them away. Her dear good friend, who’d been through thick and thin with her, troubles and joys, and now he was gone. His bright red collar, and his bright red lead. She’d loved them. They’d made him look so smart. Her hand hovered above his head for a moment and then she stroked him right from the tip of his nose to the root of his tail. Once, twice, three times. ‘Goodbye Pericles. Goodbye.’

  She heard Ralph’s footsteps coming up the garden path.

  ‘Muriel, I’ve been thinking . . . why, my dear, what’s happened?’ Muriel pointed mutely to the basket. Ralph looked at the old dog, lying as though he was still sleeping. He knelt down to lay his hand on Pericles’ ribs. There was an unwelcome stillness. ‘Oh, Muriel, I’m so sorry. Come here.’ He helped her to stand up and Ralph folded her in his arms and hugged her closely to him. ‘Never forget, my dear, he had the loveliest life and the loveliest mistress any dog has any right to expect. He wanted for nothing, and he’s gone before life became too much of a burden, and for that we must be grateful.’

  Muriel sobbed onto Ralph’s new suit. ‘I bought him because I needed someone to love and someone to love me. And he did, he did, he loved me. Now he’s gone.’

  ‘Will I make a good understudy?’ Ralph held her away from his chest and smiled at her. She lifted her eyes and smiled back, ‘Oh yes, you will, you will. No dog could match you, but it doesn’t mean I shan’t miss him at every turn.’

  ‘Of course you will, my dear, and if you really want we could always . . . No, I’ll save that for another day. Don’t you think it was splendid that you were here when he went? He must have waited for you to come home and then let go. Tomorrow, I shall dig a deep, deep, hole at the end of the garden by the cherry tree, and we’ll bury him there and then I shall go to the stonemason’s and get a simple block of stone and we’ll have whatever words you want engraved on it. That way he’ll always be sleeping close at hand in your garden. Never far away.’

  ‘Oh Ralph, what a lovely idea. Just “Pericles, a dear friend.” Could we get a blanket and cover him, please?’

  ‘Of course.’

  It was Neville Neal who rang to tell Ralph that the planning committee had passed his application by a majority of one.

  ‘How did you manage to persuade them to say yes? Not having taken my advice, I fully expected they’d all say “No” yet again.’

  ‘Simply a very good idea they couldn’t allow to be dismissed. And it is a good idea, and I’m very grateful for all the help you gave me. We can’t wait to get going with the actual building now.’

  ‘I did mention it before, Sir Ralph, but you didn’t take me up on it, should you be in need of some capital, I would be more than interested to be of use in that sphere.’

  ‘Thank you, but no. That won’t be necessary.’

  ‘I see, well, should circumstances change, then ring me any time, I shall be very willing to listen to any proposal.’

  ‘Thank you again Neville, best wishes to you and Liz.’ Ralph put down the receiver and shouted ‘MURIEL!’

  ‘Yes, I’m coming.’ She appeared in the study doorway wearing a white nightgown. Her feet were bare, her hair brushed and hanging loose, and for a brief moment Ralph saw the girl he’d known all those years ago, the one he’d kissed over the little gate at the back of the churchyard; he on one side, she the other, the shy youthful gesture of two young things who’d thought they would never see each other ever again. The finality of their parting had lain like a stone in his heart for months.

  ‘Muriel, my dear.’ He held out his arms and she ran into them and he hugged her tightly. ‘We’ve won, we’ve won, you and I, we’ve won.’ He kissed her hard, and
she kissed him back. ‘My dear, that was Neville. The meeting’s just finished and they’ve granted permission. Eight houses. Hipkin Gardens can go ahead.’

  ‘Champagne! I’ll get it.’

  ‘Certainly not, I shall, that’s my prerogative, Lady Templeton.’

  They stood together in their sitting room and toasted the success of their venture. ‘To the Templetons, long may they reign in Turnham Malpas!’

  Chapter 19

  Jimbo had been asked to cater for twelve guests at Mr Fitch’s dinner party. In the event on the night two people, friends of Mr Fitch, had telephoned to say their car had been involved in a multiple pile up on the Culworth bypass, and although not seriously hurt in any way, they were badly shaken and were returning home. So, gathered in the drawing room of Mr Fitch’s private flat were Peter and Caroline, Muriel and Ralph, Harriet and Jimbo, Sir Ronald and Lady Bissett, and Craddock Fitch and someone called Oriana Duncan-Lewis whom he introduced, with a slight hesitation, as a family friend. She was a small, slender woman in her fifties, elegantly dressed; carefully made-up face, socially very assured, with an effusive manner which didn’t quite ring true. Mr Fitch took her round introducing everybody.

  ‘Delighted to meet you, Jimbo. Craddock has told me so much about you. You and your wonderful food. I’m looking forward to sampling it tonight. This must be your wife. You must be awfully proud of your husband, he’s doing a wonderful job here. He’s lucky to have someone like you to look after his domestic matters while he fights the battles out in the market place, isn’t he? Behind every great man et cetera. You have children, Harriet, my dear?’

  Harriet, seething at the implication that all she was fit for was giving birth and doing the washing up, replied through gritted teeth. ‘Four.’

  ‘Four? Then you’ll be glad of the opportunity for an evening out, I’m sure. I expect you don’t get many opportunities to socialise.’ She swept on to Caroline.