Village Matters

by Shaw, Rebecca

  Some two weeks later, when Muriel popped home for some fresh clothes for Ralph, she checked the messages on the answerphone and found a call on it from the architect, asking to come to see them with the final plans for Hipkin Gardens. Muriel knew how pleased Ralph would be, but he wouldn’t be able to be there, she’d have to put the architect off till Ralph was better. Yes, that’s what she’d do, tell Ralph and then put him off. He needed to be there to walk round the site and crystallise their thoughts, yes and that would be weeks yet. Yes, she’d postpone his visit. Now Ralph was no longer connected to all the wires and pipes and could sit in a chair in his clothes he really did seem to be making progress, but he was by no means capable of dealing with business matters, not yet.

  ‘When do you say he wants to come?’

  ‘Next Wednesday.’

  ‘And today’s . . .’

  ‘Friday.’

  ‘Right. Don’t put him off, we’ll let him come.’

  ‘Oh Ralph, I’m much braver than I was, but I really don’t think I could talk to him, what if I get it all wrong, and you don’t like it and he does the plans and then . . .’

  ‘Don’t worry my dear, I shall be there, I’ll deal with it.’

  She jumped to her feet, her hands clasped under her chin. ‘You’re not coming home, Ralph, you’re not ready yet, not by any means. You’re teasing, aren’t you, teasing?’

  ‘Never been more serious. I’ve had enough of this place. I’m discharging myself.’

  ‘You can’t, I won’t let you.’

  Ralph chuckled. ‘That temper of yours is getting the better of you, my dear.’

  ‘I shall ring for a nurse. They’ll make you see sense.’

  ‘They can’t keep me here against my will.’

  ‘I can.’

  ‘Not even you can, Muriel. I’ve made up my mind I’m going home. I want to sit in front of the fire, and eat scones and drink tea with my wife. Go to bed in a proper bed with my wife beside me holding my hand. There’s no better tonic, believe me.’

  ‘I shan’t make any scones and I shan’t hold your hand, so you might as well stay here.’

  ‘Come here to me.’ She went closer to his chair. ‘Closer. That’s it. Now give me a kiss. A lovely long lingering kiss, and then tell me I can’t go home.’ Ralph’s arms around her shoulders and her arms tucked between his back and the cushions, they kissed one of those deep satisfying kisses which say so much more than words. ‘Oh Ralph, yes, please come home!’

  They were disturbed by a polite cough. Muriel straightened up to find Peter waiting in the doorway.

  ‘Shall I come back later?’ His eyes were twinkling. ‘I can if you wish, I have got someone else to see.’

  Muriel blushed, and held her hands to her hot cheeks. Ralph beckoned to Peter. ‘Come in, you’re just the man I want to see. My wife is insisting that I go home . . .’

  ‘I am not, it was your idea. Really it was, it was Ralph’s. He’s going to discharge himself. He shouldn’t, should he?’

  Peter gravely considered her question. ‘No, he shouldn’t, but being at home is a marvellous pick-me-up, I must admit, and he would get every care wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Oh yes, of course he would, but I . . .’

  Ralph interrupted decisively. ‘It’s settled then. Muriel, ring for the nurse. Peter, give me an hour, I’ve got to see the consultant and persuade him I’m doing the right thing, I’ve got to pack and pay my bills, and then could you drive me home, if you’re going straight back?’

  ‘Certainly. An hour then.’

  Ralph, resting his hands on the arms of his chair, had heaved himself upright before Peter had left the room. ‘Now Muriel . . .’

  They talked that evening sitting in front of the fire, drinking tea and eating scones.

  ‘I like to sit in the firelight, you know, it smoothes out all my wrinkles and I can imagine I’m young again. More tea, dear?’

  ‘Yes, please, and another scone.’ When Muriel had placed his scone on his plate and made sure his tea was to hand, he asked her to listen to what he had to say.

  ‘I have something to talk to you about and then we shall never, never mention it again. Not ever mention it again. I spoke to the consultant, as you know, and to sum up what he said, if I sit in a chair and do nothing, and be pernickety about my diet, and turn myself into a doddery old fool, then I might last ten years. But, Muriel, I don’t want to be a foolish old man. I would much rather have five years living a full life than ten years watching TV and doing the crossword to pass the time. I know it’s a difficult decision to make and we’ve never talked about it because we didn’t know we would have it to face, but I wondered how you felt about the situation?’

  Muriel picked up her cup and drank some of her tea while she found the right words to say. Then she answered him.

  ‘Well, I certainly don’t want to be married to a doddery old man. I love you as you are and I’m sure you would get quite miserable with nothing to do, then we’d get on each other’s nerves and it wouldn’t be lovely any more. So I’ll watch over you and get advice from Caroline if I get stuck, and we’ll try to carry on as if nothing has happened.’

  He took her hand and said, ‘Thank you, my dear, for being so understanding. Let’s hope we shall have many more wonderful years together. The doctors have told me that I shall need regular checkups and will have to watch my diet and my weight and take sensible exercise, and they’ve given me a list of the foods I need to avoid. I know it will cause you a problem having to make a new approach to your shopping and cooking, and I’m sorry.’

  ‘There’s no need to be sorry, I shall be only too glad to help. And we shall have many more wonderful years together. First we’ve got to see the architect, and then you’ll have to supervise the plans and make sure they’re not skimping on anything, and then we shall need a holiday before they start building and . . .’

  ‘You’re turning into a martinet!’

  ‘Oh, I shall be, don’t worry. Enjoy that scone, because I don’t think you’ll be allowed many of those after today.’

  ‘Help! The woman’s a tyrant!’

  When she’d cleared away their tea things, Muriel went into the garden in the dark to put the remaining two scones on her bird table, because she hated ‘second day’ scones. She stood by the cherry tree pretending to be looking at Pericles’ headstone. With her back to the house, so Ralph couldn’t possibly see, she wept painful scalding tears.

  Chapter 21

  Muriel had a list with her to remind herself of the things Ralph needed for his new regime. She was wandering round the shelves waiting for Jimbo to cut her two very lean lamb chops when Flick appeared with a friend.

  ‘Hello, Lady Templeton.’

  ‘Hello, Flick dear. I see you’re managing very nicely without your sticks now. You must be pleased.’

  ‘Yes, I am. The specialist says I’ve done extremely well, but he says it’s only what he can expect from someone with as much guts as I’ve got.’

  ‘Well, naturally.’ Muriel smothered a smile. ‘Who’s this friend of yours?’

  ‘This is Sebastian Prior from Prior’s Farm. You must remember him? He’s in my class at school and we both play the recorder too, don’t we Sebastian? And we both share the same birthday. Isn’t that odd?’

  ‘It is indeed. Of course I remember you, Sebastian. My word, you have grown. When I played the piano in school you were quite the smallest boy in class. I can hardly recognise you.’

  ‘I know, he’s had a growing spell since he had his tonsils out, haven’t you?’

  Sebastian nodded. Muriel studied his face. So this was Arthur Prior’s grandson. The same very fair hair, the same dark brown eyes. The nose wasn’t quite right, but that might come with age. The germ of an idea which had come to Muriel just before Ralph’s heart attack emerged again in her mind. This might be the trigger she needed.

  ‘Are you spending the afternoon with Flick?’

  ‘Yes, he is.’

&nb
sp; ‘Ask Mummy if you and Sebastian could come to tea with me and Sir Ralph, would you, Flick? Would you like that, Sebastian?’

  ‘Yes, he would, wouldn’t you? I certainly would.’ Sebastian nodded.

  ‘Tell her I’ll bring you both safely back.’

  While Muriel waited for Flick to run home to ask her mother, she finished her shopping. She remembered she needed stamps for Ralph. Muriel felt a tug at her skirt. It was Flick and Sebastian back.

  ‘Mummy says yes, it’s all right.’

  The two children helped her to carry her shopping home. She hadn’t yet heard Sebastian speak; no doubt he would, given half a chance. The accident hadn’t put a stop to Flick’s chatter.

  Muriel opened the front door and said, ‘Ralph! Ralph! Where are you, dear?’

  ‘Here.’ His reply came from the study. She opened the door and said, ‘I’ve brought two visitors for tea. One is Flick and the other is her friend from school, they share the same birthday, isn’t that a coincidence? He’s called Sebastian Prior. I thought you’d enjoy talking to them both. Flick is walking without her sticks now, isn’t that wonderful? Come in, children.’

  Sebastian stood quietly in the doorway looking at Ralph, who had stood up abruptly when Muriel had told him the name of Flick’s friend. Flick rushed straight in. ‘Hello, Sir Ralph, you’re looking much better than you were. Come in, Sebastian, come on.’

  ‘You talk to my husband while I get the kettle on. Do you both drink tea?’

  Sebastian nodded. Flick said ‘Yes, we both do.’

  When Muriel took the tea tray into the sitting room Ralph had already seated the children in there. He and Sebastian were talking about horses.

  ‘You ride, then?’

  ‘Oh yes, Sir Ralph, every weekend and in the holidays. My daddy rides too, when he’s got time.’

  ‘And your grandfather?’

  ‘No, he’s never learned.’

  ‘I see. Do you ride sometimes, Flick?’

  ‘No, but it would be a good idea.’

  ‘Do you have your own pony, Sebastian?’

  ‘No, I share with my sisters.’

  ‘How many sisters have you got?’

  ‘He’s got four, haven’t you? All older than him.’

  ‘You’ve got cousins who ride though, haven’t you?’

  ‘No. My Auntie and Uncle haven’t got any boys and girls.’

  ‘I see.’

  Muriel placed a small table beside each of the children, gave them napkins which they spread on their knees, and then served tea. Sebastian watched her pouring from the silver teapot with the coat of arms.

  ‘Your teapot has letters on it. What do they say?’

  Ralph explained. Sebastian brooded over the reply and then said, ‘I see. Are you royal?’

  ‘No, not royal at all, but a very old family, we go back about five hundred years.’

  ‘I see. Silver teapots are very posh, aren’t they?’ Flick kicked his ankle and said, ‘Shush.’

  Ralph, feeling a little embarrassed by this conversation, said, ‘Well, yes, I suppose they are.’

  Muriel diverted Sebastian’s curiosity by handing him a plate of chocolate biscuits.

  ‘Thank you, Lady Templeton.’ For some reason, Sebastian saying that drove home to Muriel the task she had set herself. It really was sad that this little boy was, in his own way, as much a Templeton as anyone alive, and yet he had no rights to silver teapots, nor titles, nor anything else. She patted his head as he took two of the biscuits. Flick took one and nibbled delicately. She was obviously enjoying being a grown-up.

  Ralph and Flick and Sebastian chattered away together until Muriel finally had to say it was time they went or Flick’s mummy would be wondering where they’d got to.

  Ralph said, ‘I could take Sebastian home.’

  Flick jumped at the chance. ‘In your Mercedes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Could I come too? It’s only polite to take my guest home isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh yes. Muriel ring Harriet, please, my dear, and ask her if it would be convenient.’

  It was and he did. Muriel stayed at home to clear up and left Ralph to take them himself.

  When he got back he went straight to his study and stayed there until his evening meal was ready. Their dessert was pears poached in honey and lemon juice. When Ralph finished eating his, he laid down his spoon and said, ‘Those pears were delicious, Muriel. The lamb chops were grilled to an absolute turn, and now all I need is my coffee and I shall be ready for anything.’

  She poured his coffee for him, laying her hand over the sugar bowl as he reached for it. ‘No! Ralph, remember!’

  ‘Are you guilty of trying to organise me?’

  ‘Well, you know you have to watch your weight, I’m only doing my wifely duty.’

  ‘You were quite right to stop me putting sugar in my coffee, but I wasn’t thinking of the sugar.’

  Muriel looked down at her cup as she stirred in the sugar and said nothing.

  ‘Well?’ Ralph bent his head and tried to catch Muriel’s eye.

  ‘Only with the best of intentions. He’s a very nice little boy, I knew him at school, you see, but of course I didn’t know the rest of his story till you told me.’

  ‘He is a very charming boy, when he gets a chance to speak! Have you noticed Flick limps quite badly?’

  ‘Yes, but not nearly as badly as she did, she’s improving all the time. He’s got your colouring, well, till your hair went white.’

  ‘Brown eyes and fair hair, you mean.’

  ‘Yes. It’s very distinctive. It does come out strongly in each generation, doesn’t it? It must be an enduring link, musn’t it?’

  ‘What do you have in mind?’

  ‘I have nothing in mind, Ralph, nothing at all.’

  ‘Muriel!’

  ‘No, really, I haven’t anything specific in mind, truly I haven’t, but I do feel something should be done.’

  ‘I see. Give him or them money, you mean?’

  ‘Oh no, indeed no, they’d be much too proud to take money, that wouldn’t be right, something more significant needs to be done.’

  ‘I don’t really see why.’

  ‘If you had descendants things would be different, but you haven’t. So they are a branch of the family, aren’t they, in a way.’

  ‘Illegitimate.’

  ‘Oh yes, but they can’t be blamed for that. But it must be true or Sebastian wouldn’t have the Templeton colouring. They’d just have been dismissed, so your grandfather knew – oh yes, he knew.’

  ‘Yes. It’s true all right. I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Did you meet anyone when you took him back.?’

  ‘Arthur’s son. Sebastian’s father.’

  ‘So what’s Arthur’s son like?’

  ‘Tall, very tall, not like a Templeton, but the same colouring. Nice chap. Have you laid your plans for New York?’

  ‘Are we going still? I thought perhaps you wouldn’t, not after . . .’

  ‘But yes, we are. We both said we’d carry on as usual and we shall. You can do your Christmas shopping on Fifth Avenue, how about that?’

  ‘I should be terrified of getting lost in New York, you will look after me, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course. They’ll be starting work on Hipkin Gardens while we’re away. I know that’s a long way off, but how about before the weather gets too inclement we have a little ceremony? You put in the first spade. What do you think?’

  Muriel clapped her hands and said, ‘Oh, what a lovely idea! We’ll have reception here for everyone afterwards. Drinks and things to nibble, shall we? Whom shall we invite?’

  They made a list. ‘Add Arthur Prior and his wife to the list. See if they’ll come.’

  ‘Should we?’

  ‘They can say no, can’t they, if they don’t want to come?’

  ‘Oh dear, after the fuss they all made do you think anyone will accept?’

  ‘Of course they will, they all
love a chance for a chat and food. We’ll have champagne, and you can cut the first sod with a silver spade.’

  ‘Oh Ralph! We’re not building the British Library or a museum or something. I think a brand new stainless steel one would be sufficient!’

  Chapter 22

  ‘Muriel!’

  ‘In the kitchen, Ralph.’ She glanced up as he came in. ‘You’re going out, dear?’

  ‘Yes, I’m off up to town for the day.’

  ‘To town? Today?’

  ‘Yes, just something I need to talk over with the solicitor.’

  She looked at his face, but could detect nothing that would give her a clue to his intentions. ‘You’re not driving up and back in one day?’

  ‘No, I thought I’d take the train. Leave the car at the station.’

  ‘How about if I pack you a bag and you stay overnight? It does seem a long way to go, there and back in a day. It’s already nine o’clock.’

  Ralph stood undecided. Muriel watched him, puzzled by his secretiveness. He looked out of the window for a moment and then said, ‘Yes, I will then. If you’re quick I shall be able to catch the ten five.’

  ‘I’ll be quick.’

  Instinctively, Muriel didn’t inquire his intentions, and didn’t ask to go with him. He’d been struggling with some dilemma ever since she’d brought little Sebastian home. Presumably he had come to some conclusions on which he needed legal advice. She waved him off, and then set about tidying up before going to the rectory for morning coffee. While she tidied up she worried. What right had she to interfere? The Priors were Ralph’s problem not hers, but somehow the situation did need clarifying. She went to Caroline’s very preoccupied.

  Ralph came back in time for lunch the following day.

  ‘You must have left very early, dear?’

  ‘Caught the nine ten. It’s a rattling good train, that one.’

  ‘I’m making sandwiches because I hadn’t expected you back so soon.’

  ‘That’s fine.’

  Though the central heating was perfectly adequate, Muriel had lit the fire in their dining room because the weather had turned really cold. After lunch they pulled their chairs close to the fire while they drank their coffee.