Jimbo folded up the letter when he’d read it and replaced it in the envelope.
‘Well, what shall I do?’
‘My word, Pat, it’s a big decision and no mistake. First, does your Dad want to be up there permanently?’
‘Oh yes, he loves it. He’s got all sorts of plans and he’s itching to get cracking. Worked like a slave since he started and Jeremy’s delighted with him. I ’ave ’eard the house has been done up something wonderful, all new fully-fitted kitchen and bathroom and that and painted throughout, and there’s even a downstairs lav. Apparendy it’s ’ardly had anything done to it since Muriel’s father left, so yer can imagine, Gawd ’elp us, it was a tip. Four bedrooms, there is. Imagine that. We’d all have one each. And Barry’s mother says central heating too. Her Barry fitted the kitchen so she knows all about it. Bliss. Total bliss. Course we’d need new furniture. My stuff’s rubbish. But then I’d have the money to buy it, wouldn’t I? And there’s Dad’s redundancy money as well. It’s bloomin’ tempting, believe me.’
Jimmy Glover came to the counter to choose his meat for the weekend.
‘You two plotting something, are yer?’
Pat shook her head. ‘No, no, just ’aving a business consultation.’
‘Spect it’s about whether you’re going to accept old Fitch’s offer.’
‘What offer?’
‘That offer to buy your cottage. His typist was telling me about it last night when I took her to the station.’
‘She’d no business discussing my private affairs with you, Jimmy Glover.’
‘Great friends we are. She’s bought this car and it’s never been right since the day she got it, always in for something or another, and I’ve got to know her really well with keeping on giving her lifts. Any news I want to know about up there she tells me. It doesn’t take much to egg her on to reveal all.’
‘Well, honestly. What a cheek.’
‘So you’re taking it up, are yer?’
‘Mind yer own business!’
‘Yer’ll be a traitor if yer take him up on ’is offer.’
‘Traitor? Don’t you call me a traitor, Jimmy Glover. You’re rare an’ glad to ferry people back and forth to Culworth Station in your taxi, I’ve noticed. You don’t call that being a traitor, then?’
Jimbo intervened. ‘In purely hard cash terms, it would be a good bargain for Pat. She could invest the money and have a nice little nest egg growing against the time when her father retired. Think about it over the weekend, Pat, and we’ll have another talk on Monday. Yours truly would be glad to help with investments if you would like me to.’
Jimmy chose a pork chop and half a pound of braising steak. ‘Tell yer what, yer’d need a bike. Kill yer, running up and down that drive to the school three times a day.’
Pat laughed. ‘It’ud be worth it! Can yer imagine, a whole big beautiful house for us. If our Dean gets to university, I wouldn’t mind ’is friends coming to a house like that. I couldn’t ask ’em to my old cottage. Oh! no! Things are looking up for me, aren’t they Jimbo?’
Jimbo studied her face before replying. He’d known her something like five years now, and he’d never seen her looking so joyous. Years had rolled from her face, the deep lines between her eyebrows and her downturned mouth were gone. Her dark eyes were sparkling bright and for the first time in a long while she looked her age. She deserved good luck. She’d earned it.
‘They certainly are. And I’m glad. Must press on. Lots to do. Come in Monday after you’ve talked to the noble parent. We’ll have another discussion.’
Pat gave him the thumbs-up sign and said to Jimmy, ‘And you keep your trap shut about this. You’ve ’ad plenty of luck with your big win, this time it’s my turn.’ She spun on her heel and headed for the till.
Jimbo reflected that this was another move in Craddock Fitch’s master plan. He hoped Ralph would be astute enough to accept what he couldn’t change and still manage to maintain his place as the benevolent figurehead of the village.
Later that same day Ralph and Muriel were making the best of the autumn days by drinking their afternoon tea in the garden. The sun came round at just the right angle at this time of year and made a lovely pool of sunlight around four o’clock by their garden table and chairs.
‘A biscuit, Ralph?’
‘No, thank you dear, you have one though.’
‘Yes, I will. Do you remember how Pericles used to love a corner of my biscuit?’
‘Yes, or the whole biscuit given half a chance! Have you thought about getting a replacement for Peric . . .’ They became aware of shouting out in the lane.
Muriel said, ‘What’s that? Who’s shouting?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll go take a look.’ Muriel sat enjoying the sun and planning the end-of-season gardening jobs she would begin once her tea was finished. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun. She could still hear shouting and a curious chanting noise and when Ralph didn’t return, she went in search of him.
He was opening the front door when she entered the hall. Through the open door she could see banners. She called anxiously, ‘What’s happening, dear? What is it?’
Ralph stood four-square on the stone step. Facing him was Arthur Prior, holding a banner. Behind him was an assortment of villagers mostly holding banners, all of them chanting. The banners read:
‘NO MORE HOUSES IN TURNHAM MALPAS’
‘GREED! GREED! GREED!’
‘WE SHALL APPEAL’
‘OUT! OUT! OUT!’
‘WE SHALL OVERCOME’
Beyond the crowd were the onlookers, some watching gleefully, others apprehensively. Ralph, so boiling with anger he could recognise no one but Arthur, thought, Well I’ve won, so it’s all a waste of time. The fools. He waited for the shouting to stop and then, addressing Arthur, said quietly: ‘Kindly remove yourself and your band of followers from outside my house.’
‘Public road, can stand where we like.’
‘You’re causing a public nuisance.’
‘Who says?’
‘I do.’
‘Oh, well,’ Arthur said, ‘in that case we’d better listen.’ He turned to the crowd behind him and shouted, ‘The Lord of the Manor has spoken, doff your caps everyone, Sir Ralph has spoken.’ He took off his corduroy cap and stood humbly holding it in his hands, head inclined in submission.
Raising his head slightly and looking at Ralph somewhere at the level of his top waistcoat button, Arthur said, ‘We’re not going to let this go through. We intend to appeal.’
‘Appeal all you like. What’s done’s done and you won’t alter it. Eight houses for rent in a village this size is just right. Your sons won’t need them but there are plenty of villagers who will.’
‘And what about your sons? Will they be needing a house to rent?’
The crowd tittered. Ralph stared silently at Arthur. The demonstrators began tapping the ends of their banners on the ground, tauntingly keeping time with their chanting. Arthur waited on a reply.
‘There’s no more to say. The houses will be built and there’s an end to the matter.’
Arthur raised his banner and shook it in time with the chant. ‘GREED! GREED! GREED! MONEY! MONEY! MONEY!’
Some of the spectators joined the ranks of the protesters and swelled the shouting. Others, like Alan Crimble and Georgie, simply observed.
Georgie nudged Alan and whispered, ‘There’s going to be a fight!’
‘No, not them, two old geysers like them’s not going to fight.’
Alan stood on tiptoe and saw Ralph take a step forward. Arthur, mistaking his intentions, raised the banner in self defence. Ralph stepped back and stumbled against the edge of the stone step. The colour of his face changed instantly to a deathly grey, his hand went to his chest, and then he clawed at his throat as though trying to undo his collar to get more air. Beads of sweat appeared on his face and it went even more grey. The crowd fell silent. Muriel, who was still standing in the hall, a
nd trembling from head to foot, didn’t realise that Ralph was ill and it was only when he began to crumple to the ground that she let out a screech of terror. ‘Ralph! Ralph!’
He fell partly on the road, partly on the stone step, his head missing the boot scraper by inches. Muriel rushed to his side, loosened his tie and undid the top button of his collar; she shook him and shouted his name over and over again, but he remained silent, his grey, grey face glistening with sweat. ‘Do something, do something for him, please, please,’ she pleaded. In a harsh whisper Alan said, ‘God, Georgie, he’s had a heart attack!’
‘Do something! Alan! do something! Go on, you know what to do. That massage and breathing. Go on!’
‘I can’t, I’m scared.’
‘Go on, it might be too late if you don’t.’
Alan pushed his way through the crowd and shouted, ‘Get an ambulance, go on, get an ambulance, someone get Dr Harris!’ He roughly pushed Muriel out of the way and knelt down beside Ralph. He felt his neck where he knew the pulse would beat most strongly and, finding no pulse, began chest massage. One, two, three, four, five, then tilting back Ralph’s head he pinched his nose and bent down to blow into his mouth. Then both hands to pump his chest. One two three four five. Then blow, blow, blow, blow, blow. Someone said ‘There’s no one in at the rectory,’ and Alan thought ‘Hell’s bells, it’s up to me.’ The only movement was him working on Ralph. The crowd was silent and afraid. Muriel stood on the step weeping uncontrollably. Georgie, inspired by Alan’s competent manner, went to comfort Muriel.
In a shocked, quiet voice Arthur said, ‘God help us, is he breathing?’
‘Not yet.’ Alan continued working on him. After one more try he stopped and checked his pulse. ‘He’s got going again.’ A rustle of relief ran around the crowd, now swelled to twice it’s size with people who’d come out in surprise at the sudden silence and were standing on tiptoe at the back trying to see what had happened. Those who’d been demonstrating quietly put their banners out of sight.
Someone had brought out a blanket and Alan covered Ralph with it and stayed kneeling beside him, monitoring his pulse. Someone else brought a brandy for Muriel, and Arthur got a kitchen chair out of her house so she could sit down.
‘I never meant this to happen, Muriel.’ Arthur pleaded with her for forgiveness. She ignored him and kept her eyes on Ralph.
Alan, on his knees beside Ralph, waited desperately for the ambulance to arrive, constantly checking him, and worried sick that he shouldn’t die, at least until the ambulance arrived. He’d never prayed in all his life, but he did at that moment. The ambulance came. His prayers had been answered, Ralph was still breathing.
Muriel went with Ralph in the ambulance and as soon as it had moved off with its light flashing, Alan felt a tremendous surge of relief and his legs went to jelly and he felt sick. Georgie flung her arms round his neck and kissed him in front of the whole crowd.
‘Wonderful, Alan, you were wonderful! If it hadn’t been for you he would have been a goner.’
‘Thank goodness you were there, Alan!’
‘Where did you learn what to do?’
Alan laughed shakily. ‘Watched it on telly.’
‘Brilliant. Brilliant. Drink on me tonight, Alan, see yer in there. Right?’
‘Right! Thanks!’
‘Poor Sir Ralph! Hope he’ll be all right. What a thing to happen!’
‘That Arthur Prior has a lot to answer for. Where is he?’
Arthur had gone home, ashamed and fearful at what his pigheadedness had caused. He’d left his car parked in the village and walked all the way. If Ralph died, he knew he’d never forgive himself.
That night Alan served in the bar again. Bryn had to put a stop to the number of drinks he was expected to consume. ‘Can he accept the money and have it later? Do you mind? He’s already had three drinks and he won’t be able to stand soon,’ Bryn suggested.
‘Congratulations! Best day’s work you’ve done in a long time.’
‘You must be proud of him, Georgie. Really proud.’
‘Oh we are. I knew he’d turn up trumps.’ She kissed his cheek and gave him a hug. Alan blushed, unaccustomed to such adulation.
‘I only did what I learned from the telly. Anyone could have done it. Watched “Casualty” and that. Just hope his ticker keeps going.’
One of the customers said, ‘You’re staying in the village, Alan, aren’t you now?’
He grinned at Georgie. ‘I hope so, but we’ll see.’
Georgie agreed. ‘Well, of course he is. I’ve always known what a good bloke he is, always. He’s got to stay, hasn’t he?’
‘Certainly. How would you run this place without ’im?’
‘Exactly!’
Standing at the bar was Linda from the Store. ‘Gin and tonic, Alan, please, and get one for yourself.’
‘Hello, we don’t usually see you in here.’
‘No, well, I had to come to see our hero, hadn’t I?’
Alan blushed again. ‘Don’t know about that. I only did what anyone else would have done.’
‘Well, I certainly couldn’t have done it, could you Bryn?’
‘No, not me.’
‘Aren’t you drinking with me, then?’
‘Can I have the money instead? I’ve already had three, and that’s more than enough when I’m working.’
‘Yes, of course. Well, here’s to you. Our hero of the hour.’ Linda sipped her gin and then placed her glass down on the counter. She put the change Alan gave her in her purse and said, ‘What’s your night off this next week?’
‘Monday.’
‘I’ll give my aerobics a miss then and buy you a drink.’
Alan straightened the knot in his tie, served another customer and then said, ‘I’ll take you up on that.’
‘Pick you up then when I finish at the Store. Go into Culworth, you won’t want to drink where you work.’
‘No, that’s right. I’ll be ready.’
In the ambulance Ralph’s heart had arrested for a second time, and the paramedics had to work hard to start him again. For twenty-four hours Muriel never left his side. On the second day Caroline took her home to take a bath and get clean clothes, but all the time she was intensely afraid that Ralph would slip away while she was in Turnham Malpas and he’d die alone. That was the one thing she couldn’t bear, the thought that he might die alone.
When he’d been in hospital three days, wired to an unimaginable complexity of machinery, he opened his eyes and recognised her. ‘Why, Muriel, you’re still here.’ His voice, shaky and soft, sounded not one jot like the voice to which she was accustomed. All his vigour had gone, there was no strength left for teasing or anything else.
‘Of course I am, Ralph. Where would you be if it was I who was ill? Right beside me holding my hand. My dear.’ She stood up reaching round the wires kissed his forehead. ‘I do love you, Ralph. You gave me such a scare.’
Ralph smiled gently and closed his eyes. After a few minutes he said, ‘I can remember Alan, what was he doing?’
‘Just helping you, dear. We were lucky he was there. He’s sent you a card wishing you all the best. I’ve already written to him to thank him for what he did. When you’re home we shall think of something we can do for him to show our gratitude.’
‘I’ve forgotten what it was all about.’
‘Well, never mind, you concentrate on getting well.’
Muriel held his hand to her cheek and sat watching him. How she loved him. Really loved him. Her life could be divided into two halves, the second half being the year and three-quarters she’d been married to Ralph. More had happened to her in that time than in all the rest of her life put together. He made her feel so safe, and yet life was so exciting. She could face almost anything knowing she had him with her. What would she do if he . . . No, she wasn’t going to think about that. Be positive, that’s right, be positive.
‘Drink of water, please.’
‘I’ll get
the nurse.’
After the nurse had settled him again and checked the dials and adjusted the bedclothes, she said, ‘There’s a visitor just come, do you feel able to see him, Sir Ralph?’
Muriel said, ‘Oh that’ll be the rector. Yes, do ask him to come in.’
But it wasn’t Peter; it was Arthur Prior. He stood hesitantly in the doorway, waiting.
Muriel jumped up, surprised and alarmed.
‘I don’t think you should come in, if you don’t mind.’
‘Yes, I know, but I . . .’
Muriel put her hands on his chest and tried to push him out. ‘I don’t want him having another attack, he’s not really stable yet. You can see all the wires and things, he’s very ill. Please, please go away.’
‘Yes, but I want to say . . .’
‘You’re going ahead with the appeal, is that it?’
‘That wasn’t what I was going to say, all I’m wanting . . .’
‘Just please go away, I don’t want you here.’ Muriel stamped her foot and became very agitated. Ralph weakly called out, ‘What is it, Arthur?’
He stepped back into the room. ‘I can’t sleep for the worry. I’ve come to say I shan’t be making an appeal. I genuinely thought you would sell to make money out of it, but Neville Neal tells me you really do intend to build and rent. That’s all right by me. I wouldn’t want to cause a man’s d-I wouldn’t want to cause trouble and I’m very sorry you’re so ill.’
‘Thank you, we’ll talk another time when I’m feeling better.’
‘You intend coming round then?’ Arthur said smiling.
‘Oh yes, I’ve everything to live for.’ He painstakingly felt about on the counterpane for Muriel’s hand and when he’d found it he held it tightly.
‘Well, I’m glad you’re still going to be around. Can’t keep a good man down, can you?’
‘No, that’s right.’
‘I’ll be off then.’ Arthur nodded to Muriel, hesitated, and then said, ‘I want things to be all right between us.’ He nodded to Ralph and left the room.
‘I feel ashamed of stamping my foot and getting annoyed.’
‘I quite like you in a temper, it suits you.’
‘Ralph! Go to sleep! I’ll stay with you and then while you sleep, I’ll use your telephone and tell Caroline how much you’ve improved. You must have, if you’re starting to tease.’
Village Matters Page 18