Village Matters

by Shaw, Rebecca

  Muriel had tears in her eyes. Her heart had nearly burst with pleasure when she saw Sebastian helping Ralph. She felt so proud of Ralph. So proud. Two Templetons lighting the fire. How fitting. Things did have a way of working out. She pulled her wool hat a little closer about her ears. She’d forgotten how sharply the wind blew straight across this open field. Her jacket potato held in her gloved hands, Muriel went to find Ralph.

  Pat still hadn’t found the rest of her family. She’d been looking for them before the bonfire had been lit and still hadn’t made contact. She just hoped Michelle was OK. The girl was so confident, like as not she’d wandered off. Pat didn’t like the skin of jacket potatoes, so she found a convenient bush and popped her skin behind there, content in the thought that a badger or a fox might be glad to eat it during the night.

  ‘Caught in the act. What you up to?’

  Pat jumped and spun round to see who it was.

  ‘You stupid thing, Barry. Gave me the shock of mi life, you did.’ Pat pressed her hand to her heart.

  ‘Pleased with yer kitchen, are you? Put a lot of work into it, I have. I bet you’ll be cooking some real nice meals in there, and I thought that bit of blank wall near the door yer could have a table and chairs. Nice warm kitchen to eat yer porridge in on a morning.’

  ‘Well, there’s one thing for certain, you won’t be eating your porridge in there.’

  ‘Aw! Pat! I’m cut to the quick. We could make a right go of it, you and me!’

  He tried encircling her with his arms, but she gave him a hefty push on his chest. ‘Daft thing you are. Get off with yer. You’ve been drinking!’

  ‘I haven’t! It’s you, yer get my blood racing! Don’t send me packing. We’ll go for a drink in the beer tent and toast your good luck. Right?’

  Why not? Pat argued to herself. ‘Right, yer on.’

  ‘Tuck yer arm in mine, don’t want yer tumbling on this rough grass before you’ve even had a drink.’ The first person they met was Venetia, wending her way back to the Big House. Venetia winked and gave Pat the thumbs-up. How embarrassing. Then she thought, who cares?

  Peter and Caroline had got separated again. Beth was tired and fractious and obviously wasn’t going to stay awake long enough to see the fireworks. ‘Harriet! Have you seen my dear wife anywhere?’

  Flick spoke before Harriet could reply. ‘Wasn’t Sebastian lucky to get chosen to light the bonfire, Mr Harris? I wish it had been me. Are you staying for the fireworks? I am. I’m having a lovely time, are you, Mr Harris?’

  ‘I am indeed, Flick. I’m glad you’re well enough to come tonight. Don’t overtire yourself, will you?’

  ‘Daddy says I’m almost Ai at Lloyd’s now. So no, I’m not tired. Dr Harris is in the marquee, we’ve just left her there.’

  Harriet laughed. ‘When this daughter of mine allows me to get a word in, she’s looking for you because Alex is tired and she’s wanting to go home.’

  ‘Right, I’ll head for the marquee, then. Hope the rest of the evening goes well.’ He waved and turned to go, but was stopped by Sheila Bissett. With her was a tall girl, a feminine edition of Ronald Bissett.

  Sheila, bubbling with pride, introduced her daughter. ‘Oh Rector, this is my daughter Bianca, you’ve never met, have you? She’s come back home to live with us. Bianca, this is Peter Harris, our rector.’ Bianca held out her hand to shake Peter’s. He changed Beth over to his other arm and shook hands saying, ‘Welcome to Turnham Malpas, Bianca. Nice to meet you. You’ve got a new job, then, somewhere close?’

  ‘No, not yet. The bank where I worked was downgraded, someone had to go and it was a case of last in, first out. I’ve got various feelers out, so I’m hoping to get somewhere shortly. Mother tells me you have a very vigorous choir at the church. I’m a choral singer, sang Verdi’s Requiem only last month. I should love the opportunity of singing in the church choir.’

  Peter, never wishing to turn down an offer of help in the church, hesitated a moment before replying. It was all male, and the choir master intended it staying that way.

  ‘I should have to speak with the choir master, he prefers an all male choir, and the St Thomas à Becket choir has been all male since time immemorial . . . so I’m afraid . . .’

  ‘Surely you’re not going to exclude me on the basis of sex?’ Bianca’s dark eyes began to spark. There was something about the way she hesitated before she said ‘sex’ which made Peter feel uncomfortable.

  ‘Oh, no, no certainly not on that basis. I wouldn’t like to be thought old-fashioned, but he is in charge not me, but I will have a word with him.’

  ‘I have very good secretarial skills, so while I’m at a loose end perhaps I could do some work for you?’

  Sheila decided to put a word in for Bianca. ‘You’d be pleased for some help, wouldn’t you, Peter? You’ve got excellent computer skills, haven’t you, dear?’ Bianca, not taking her eyes from Peter’s face, nodded and smiled. Pressing the matter further, Sheila continued. ‘You have a computer in your study, haven’t you, Peter?’

  ‘Good evening.’ They hadn’t heard Caroline approaching. She’d been listening to the conversation and had decided to interrupt. ‘Sheila. Bianca.’ She nodded her head in greeting. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Peter’s wife, Caroline. I wonder if you would mind awfully if Peter and I took the children home? They’re both very tired and I think they’re going to have the screaming abdabs once the fireworks start. Perhaps you could discuss your contribution to the parish another day. I really am anxious to leave.’

  Bianca surveyed Caroline. She noted the expensive suede jacket, the well cut trousers, the Jaeger scarf at her neck, the air of authority. Caroline observed Bianca’s bleached hair, her strong features, and she recognised the hungry speculative look of a woman reaching thirty and still without a man of her own, and desperately wanting one.

  Peter, a little surprised by Caroline’s manner, agreed they needed to leave. ‘I’ll think about what you’ve suggested and let you know. Nice to have met you. Enjoy the rest of the evening, won’t you? Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight, Rector, ’night, Dr Harris.’ Sheila and Bianca waved as the rectory party left.

  Out of their hearing Peter said, ‘You were rather abrupt, darling.’ By the light of Caroline’s torch they crossed the field towards their car.

  ‘Sheila Bissett and I will never get on. The woman thoroughly irritates me. If that Bianca wants to sing in the choir, it will take all your diplomatic talents, believe me, to achieve a result.’

  ‘I know, but I couldn’t say no straight out, could I?’

  ‘You’re too kind and I love you for it. I can’t spot the car. Where did we leave it? Oh, there it is. Perhaps not, but be warned. Open the door quickly, darling, Alex is getting awfully heavy, I think he’s already fallen asleep. Predatory females are the last thing an attractive rector needs.’

  They drove home in silence. Peter pulled up outside the rectory, switched off the engine, and turned to look at Caroline. ‘My darling girl, you may well be right. I simply didn’t notice. I don’t need to say, do I, that I shall do everything in my power to keep the woman at arm’s length?’

  ‘Just watch your step. Occupational hazard, I’m afraid. Extraordinarily uncanny, how like her father she is in her looks. Come on, let’s get the children to bed.’

  By the time the firework display was over Jimbo was shattered. It had been a busy Saturday in the Store, and the organisation of the display had been more taxing than he had anticipated. Clearing up had to be left until Sunday, and he was glad. Rhett Wright and Dean Duckett were lined up to help clear away first thing Sunday. He wasn’t too sure about Rhett. There seemed to be something odd about him. But if he did a good job then Jimbo decided he wouldn’t complain. He collected Harriet and the baby, Flick, who was looking as shattered as he felt, and the two boys, and they went into the Big House to say their goodbyes and thank yous to Mr Fitch.

  He was standing talking to Ralph, Muriel and Sadie. As soon as Mr
Fitch saw Jimbo he broke off his conversation and went across to speak to him.

  ‘Charter-Plackett! Brilliant display. Brilliant! Thank you very much indeed. Send your invoice in and it shall be paid immediately. Now, children, you’ve got your toffee apples I see?’

  The children thanked him. He picked up a cardboard box. ‘Look, I’ve some spare ones here in the box. Why not take an extra one home, each of you? Would you like that?’

  The three children said in unison, ‘Yes, please, Mr Fitch,’ and helped themselves from the box he was holding.

  ‘Clever husband you have, Harriet. When I heard what he’d done, left the bank and opted for a village shop, I thought, what a fool. But maybe he isn’t as much of a fool as I thought! I’m quite taking to this country life.’

  Harriet thanked him and, making her apologies, shepherded the children out. Frances was sleeping in her pram and Mr Fitch pulled back the blanket and took a peep at her. His face softened. He patted her arm, said, ‘Goodnight, young lady,’ and went back to Ralph and Muriel.

  ‘Now, have the three of you time for a drink in my flat before you go?’

  They followed him up the stairs and along the corridors to his flat. When he’d settled the two ladies with their drinks he handed Ralph his whisky, and as he did so Mr Fitch said, ‘I’ve a proposition to make to you, Ralph. I should like to own some land around here – myself that is, not my company. These houses you’re going to build. Now you’ve got planning permission, I wondered if you might be interested in selling the remainder of the land to me. Just the rest of the field, not the land the houses will be on. What do you say? I’ll give you above the market valuation.’

  Ralph was so staggered by his unexpected proposal that for a moment he was speechless.

  Muriel answered indignantly. ‘Certainly not! I wouldn’t agree. It’s Ralph’s. It’s ours. I won’t allow it.’

  Mr Fitch looked at Muriel and said, ‘It’s a joint venture then, is it?’

  ‘Oh yes, it is.’

  ‘I can’t tempt you with money then? Not even above-market valuation? Surely it will tempt you, just a teeny little bit?’

  ‘No, it won’t. Will it, Ralph?’

  Having collected his wits, Ralph ignored Muriel’s question and asked Mr Fitch what he proposed to do with it; if he knew what he wanted it for he might, just might, be tempted. Muriel fumed. Mr Fitch smiled a little and replied, ‘My ideas are not for public scrutiny yet. Suffice to say I want it and I’m willing to pay well for it. Now what do you say?’

  ‘On the face of it, the offer is very tempting. Selling you the land would help finance the building of the houses, but I would want a good price, believe me, oh yes, a very good price. One can’t afford to turn down a good offer, can one? I could well be tempted. Oh yes! I certainly could. Most definitely.’

  Mr Fitch laughed triumphantly and thumped his fist against the palm of his other hand. ‘Ha! I knew you’d see common sense.’

  Muriel began to tremble with anger. She kept a tight grip on herself; after her last exhibition in front of Mr Fitch she daren’t take any risks with her temper. But wait till she got Ralph home.

  Ralph asked, ‘What do you want to use it for?’

  ‘As I’ve already said, I’m not disclosing that for the moment.’

  Sadie interrupted their discussion. ‘You know full well what you want to do with it Craddock, for heaven’s sake stop playing the business magnate and be honest for once.’

  Mr Fitch’s lips tightened into a straight line. He sometimes felt Sadie had too much to say for herself.

  Ralph pressed on with what he wished to say. ‘The use to which my land is put is of paramount importance to me. If I’m not told what you will use it for I simply will not sell, no matter how much you offer. What’s more, when I think about it, I couldn’t trust you not to do something which would spoil the whole village, and this village of ours takes precedence over any get-rich-quick schemes you might care to come up with.’ He calmly put down his glass and, slowly taking a cigar case from his pocket, nonchalantly selected one and then asked, ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ The others shook their heads and watched him light it.

  Mr Fitch, exasperated by his attitude, permitted his anger to break through his iron control. ‘Hah! You country gentry think you own the world. I’m sorry, but it’s laughable.’

  ‘I do own the world. Round here, that is.’

  ‘Well, I have to say I’m here to stay and I intend to buy up every cottage that becomes available, every piece of land I can. I love it around here, I really feel as though I’ve “come home”.’

  ‘Indeed! That’s good! I’m glad you love it, I do too and no one can stop you buying up houses and land. But there’s one thing you won’t buy and that is their hearts. They’re mine!’ He stretched wide the fingers of his upturned right hand and then, tensing his fingers, slowly closed them as though encompassing the entire village in his grasp. He held up his clenched fist to Mr Fitch. ‘Mine! You can’t buy their love and loyalty, they have to be earned over the years. And think on this, most of them only came tonight because they knew I’d agreed to come.’ Ralph refrained from smiling triumphantly. He stood up. ‘Now, Muriel, you must be ready to leave, I know I am. Thank you, Craddock, for a lovely evening. Very generous of you. Very. Goodnight, Sadie.’

  Mr Fitch stood up when Muriel rose to her feet. He shook her hand and said, ‘Well, I’m sorry you won’t sell, very sorry. Sleep on it. You might change your mind. I can always live in hope!’ He smiled pleadingly at her and then offered to see them to the main door. Ralph refused his courtesy. ‘No thanks, Craddock. I actually do know my way out.’ As the door to the flat closed behind them they heard Sadie say ‘Touché!’ and burst into peals of laughter. Ralph took Muriel’s hand in his and led her along the corridors and down the staircase into the hall. He opened the main door and they stood looking out at the winter sky, enjoying the now frosty air and watching the glowing remnants of the bonfire across the field. Ralph blew a cloud of cigar smoke into the air and followed it with his eyes as it disappeared.

  ‘Oh Ralph! You were wonderful! I’m so proud of you. To my shame, for one dreadful minute I really thought you were going to sell it to him.’

  ‘He won’t give up easily. But Fitch is not getting it. That land is the only land I own. Arthur Prior owns more than me. The years ahead could be very interesting, I’m looking forward to the challenge.’

  He closed the door behind them and by the light of Muriel’s torch they went down the neglected path to the gate in the churchyard wall, down the church path, out of the lych gate past Willie Biggs’ and the rectory, and on to home.

  AN ORION EBOOK

  First published in Great Britain in 1996 by Orion.

  This ebook first published in 2010 by Orion Books.

  Copyright © Rebecca Shaw 1996

  The right of Rebecca Shaw to be identifed as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the copyright, designs and patents act 1988.

  All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN: 978 1 4091 4021 4

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