The Village Show (Tales from Turnham Malpas) (23 page)

Louise howled like a stricken animal. ‘I can’t bear it! I can’t bear it!’

‘Gently now, gently now. If you want to talk I’m willing to listen. When you’re ready, that is.’

Louise’s red eyes peered at her over the tissue. ‘How can I? I can’t tell anyone.’ Fresh storms began and Muriel sat quietly waiting. Ralph would be wondering where she was, but dear Ralph would have to wait: Louise needed her more than he.

‘I’m the soul of discretion, I truly am. I’m top of the class where keeping secrets is concerned. I shan’t tell.’

‘You won’t, will you?’

‘No, of course not, my dear. But perhaps your mother would be the best person …’

‘Oh no, not her. She wouldn’t understand.’

‘I think maybe mothers are more understanding than daughters realise.’

‘Mine isn’t.’ Louise made up her mind. ‘It’s Peter, you see. It’s Peter.’

‘Ahhh, right, I thought perhaps it might be. He needs all the love and prayers he can get right now.’

‘So do I. So do I.’

‘Surely not as much as he.’

The whole story came out, burbling and tumbling over itself, like a stream in full spate, here deep and bottomless, there shallow and swift, swirling along, hurrying here, idling there, and Muriel listened to it all in silence. Finally the stream of words fell still and Louise sat drained, awaiting the comfort of Muriel’s words.

Muriel stroked her hand while she searched for words of wisdom. Before she married her dear Ralph she wouldn’t have been able to understand even one jot of how Louise must be feeling, but marriage and love had given her an
insight into feelings she never dreamed existed before she met Ralph.

‘My dear Louise. Peter and Caroline are two very privileged people. They’ve found the one person in the world who means everything to them. They could no more be separated than … than … well, I can’t think of it now, but they’re welded together. It brings tremendous joy but also tremendous heartbreak sometimes. You’ve got to realise that you having Peter is impossible, so it’s no good going down that route either in your thoughts or in what you do.’

Louise cried, ‘I know that now.’

‘Of course you do, you’re not a fool, my dear. Now you’ve got to take yourself in hand, make a new life for yourself. Get a job, search out things to keep busy with, and build on the pain to make yourself a better person. Don’t, whatever you do, become
bitter
. Not bitter. That’s the worst thing to have happen. Bitterness twists everything. Now’s the time to step forward bravely and take hold of life. Don’t look back at the past, but ahead to the future because the future is yours. Don’t waste your life grieving over someone you know you cannot have.’

‘Oh, but I
am
grieving – for me it’s as though Peter has died. I’ve lost him, you see. Though if I think rationally I never really had him in the first place, did I?’

‘No, I think perhaps you didn’t. He and Caroline belong, you know. One day you’ll find someone like that and then you’ll be privileged too. You’ve to put all this behind you and get on with life. Perhaps what’s happened will make you more understanding, more sympathetic.
Build
on this experience, use it as a foundation of something new, don’t let it destroy you. I’m quite sure you’ve plenty of courage. You’ll do it if you try hard enough. There, I’ve talked for far
too long.’ Muriel stood up, giving Louise’s shoulder a last comforting pat. ‘Now I’ve got to find my umbrella. I expect Willie’s put it in the vestry – I’ll just go and look.’

It was half-past two before Louise had finished cataloguing all the music and storing it away again in the cupboard. She was beginning to feel hungry. She’d had a drink of water from the tap in the vestry wash-basin; it tasted bitter and flat, but she didn’t mind – it was all part of her punishment. There was still lots more to do; neat packages of some kind were needed to keep all the copies of one sort together, but the essentials were done. When she got home she’d get on the computer and make her lists for Gilbert.

The air was cooler now, and she enjoyed the walk across the Green. Some tourists were taking photographs by the stocks. They looked expectantly at her, so she went across and let them explain the workings of their camera to her and she spent a few minutes taking snaps for them and chatting about the village. Some children from the school were out sketching by the old oak tree and she smiled and waved.

She pushed open the cottage door, glad to be home. It wasn’t such a bad place really. ‘Hello-o-o! I’m home!’ Ron and Sheila looked at each other in amazement, rapidly straightening their faces when she came in. ‘I’m back. Just making myself a sandwich and then I’m typing up this stuff I’ve done for Gilbert. Had a good morning?’

Sheila was surprised, as she’d fully expected to be asked to make lunch for Louise. ‘Yes, thanks,’ she said. ‘Have you?’

‘Yes, thanks. Excellent. Would you like a cup of tea?’

Ron said he would and so did Sheila; it was hard to disguise the fact they were in shock. Sheila listened for sounds of Louise in the kitchen and when she heard the
kettle being filled, she whispered, ‘Does she know, do you think?’

‘I can’t tell.’

‘There’s something fishy going on.’

‘Let’s keep quiet and make hay while the sun shines.’

‘You don’t think she’s been to see him and they’ve … you know. Got an understanding?’

‘Sheila, for heaven’s sake! With the best will in the world you couldn’t think for one minute he’d be interested in her.’

The disdainful tone in Ron’s voice cut Sheila to the quick; after all, she was their daughter. ‘Sometimes you’re very unkind. She’s not a beauty, I know, but she’s attractive in her own way. It’s just her
attitude
.’

The telephone rang. It was Mr Fitch for Louise.

Louise made the coffee at the next committee meeting, having arranged to do so with Caroline before she went to Devon. How on earth she was going to tell them what had happened that very day up at the Big House, she didn’t know. These last four days had been hectic for her. The phone call Mr Fitch had made on what she now called her ‘Revelation Monday’ had changed her life. Of course, it was only supposed to be a temporary job but between themselves they knew it would be permanent because Fenella, his receptionist, sadly had terminal cancer. Louise was therefore in an admirable position for being the first to hear about the new development. The conclusion she’d arrived at was that they might as well cancel the entire Show.

Jimbo, Michael and Linda arrived together.

‘Isn’t it exciting, Mr Palmer, you moving away. And such a big school too.’

‘I don’t know about exciting, Linda. Certainly it’s challenging.’

‘Where will you live?’

‘I’m going to rent somewhere to begin with, till I’ve had a
chance to look round and find somewhere I like. I’ve never been a homeowner before.’

‘Alan and I are moving in to Hipkin Gardens next week. It’ll be so lovely, having somewhere with a bit of space. Alan’s got all sorts of ideas for the garden. The cottage is a bit big for just the two of us but,’ she giggled, ‘hopefully we shan’t be there on our own for long!’

‘Seems I’m not the only one with a challenge then.’

Jimbo thanked Louise for his coffee. ‘Two months and this Show will be over. Let’s drink to its success. Old Fitch will have something to say if it isn’t. If he could order the weather he would. No stone unturned is his motto.’

Louise didn’t join in the general enthusiasm. She’d wait until they were all there to break the news. Barry came next, disappointed that Jimbo had taken his seat on the committee again; still, he was seeing Pat afterwards, and he’d brought her a present from London too. He tapped his pocket to make sure it was still there. Then came Bryn and Jeremy together, and her mother arrived last. Louise hadn’t told her; if she had, Sheila would have been round to the store in a jiffy spreading alarm. She’d have been right too; it
was
alarming.

Louise tapped her spoon on her cup. ‘Right, ladies and gentlemen. Can we be seated, please?’ When they were settled she drew in a deep breath and said, ‘I’m afraid I have some disquieting news.’

Barry interrupted, ‘Don’t tell me, bet I know: the sewers won’t be finished in time. Been doing a job up in Mr Fitch’s London flat. Only got back this afternoon – didn’t look like much progress to me. They’d all stopped working.’

‘Actually, yes, you’re right – they
had
stopped working. This afternoon,’ she cleared her throat, ‘they found what looks like Roman remains.’

Sheila said, ‘You didn’t tell me! Do you mean bodies?’

‘No, I don’t. I mean remains of a building. Well, there might be bodies, but I don’t think so.’

Jimbo was aghast. ‘I can’t believe it! This Show is destined not to happen. First sewers and now this. I thought they’d taken all possible precautions to make sure they
didn’t
disturb anything.’ He shook his head in disbelief.

Bryn twirled his moustache and said, ‘Is there anything else fate could throw at us? It’s just not possible.’

Sheila, affronted that all her well-constructed plans might come to nought, said matter-of-factly: ‘Why the blazes can’t they just pretend they haven’t found anything? Lay the sewer-pipes and fill it all in. No one will be any the wiser. We can have the Show and the building or whatever it is can stay there. Who wants blessed Roman remains anyway? Just a few old stones. If they’ve been there for centuries let’s leave ’em in peace. It won’t make any difference to them, will it? This Show’s a lot more important.’

Linda said, ‘Oh, you can’t do that. I know someone in Culworth whose house is close to Chantry Gate and they were digging to make a pond in their garden and found funny pottery an’ that, and before they knew it the place was full of archaeologists and nearly the whole garden got dug up. Weeks, it took.’

Jimbo slapped his forehead with the flat of his hand. ‘Thank you, Linda, for that contribution.’ He asked Louise whereabouts the remains were.

‘Under the front lawn beyond where he had the gravel laid for the car parking, just where we’d planned to have all the stalls. It’s been a lawn since the year dot, so it’s never been disturbed, literally for centuries. The trouble is, they don’t know how large an area it might cover. It could be a
terribly important find, or very minor and not worth bothering about. It’s not on any of the maps, you see; so they didn’t know it was there. The sewer people refuse to ingore it – more than their job’s worth, they say. Right brouhaha there was the last time this happened and they tried to cover it up and say nothing. Some busybody leaked the news and there were questions in the House, they said. With working there this week, I had the job of ringing Mr Fitch to let him know. I don’t mind telling you there was an awfully long silence. I swear the phone grew hot.’ Louise grew uncomfortable at the memory. ‘His language! He can’t decide whether to be thrilled to bits or completely devastated.’

Barry said in a disgusted tone of voice, ‘They’ll be digging for months.’ He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at the floor. ‘All that wood and all that work I’ve done with the stalls. It can’t be true.’

‘Well, it is.’

‘What about Gilbert?’ Michael asked.

Puzzled, Louise echoed: ‘What about Gilbert?’

‘Well, he’s an archaeologist.’

‘Is he? I didn’t know.’

‘Well, he is. He’ll probably be called in. He’s only home at weekends at the moment. He’s doing a dig out Salisbury way. He finishes this week, he said, and then the engineers are covering it over and getting on with the road. It’s been delayed eight weeks to give them a chance to rescue what they can. Peter’s been standing in for choir practice.’

Linda, latching on to something they were all bursting to talk about but hadn’t, said, ‘Isn’t it a pity about Dr Harris? So sad. He looks like a lost soul. They say he’s back at work, as you might say, on Monday but how he’ll manage no one knows. Poor thing.’

Jimbo, seeing a gossip session in the offing, said firmly, ‘Let’s get on with deciding what we shall do about the Show.’

Sheila said, ‘If
they
can shovel it under tons of earth, why can’t we do the same with this one? No one will know if we don’t say anything.’ Jimbo and Bryn looked at her sceptically; the thought of Sheila not saying anything was almost laughable.

Jimbo said, ‘Look, Louise, you’re up there at the hub, you keep your ear to the ground as you might say, and let us know. We’ll keep everything on hold until a decision’s been made. Everything’s organised thanks to you, so we can accelerate our plans at the last minute, surely?’

‘Yes, but …’

‘It’s all right saying that …’

‘How about if …’

Jeremy protested, ‘But we’ve ordered the marquees, and the deposit’s paid.’

‘The printer has to be paid, too.’

‘I can’t bear to think about all the work we’ve done …’

‘Neither can I.’

‘It’s in the Red Cross schedule as well. Mrs Redfern hates her schedules being mixed up.’ This from Linda who had been looking forward to sporting her new uniform in front of all the people she knew.

Louise took the lead. ‘Look, there’s nothing we can do tonight, that’s a fact. I’ll keep you well-informed. We’ve just got to sit tight and hope. The one plus tonight is that the sewer people are working fast, or at least they were. I’m seeing Gilbert on Saturday morning about the choir music I’ve been cataloguing for him so I’ll have a word with him, see what he has to say. We’ll tentatively arrange an emergency meeting for next Thursday and I’ll let you
know.’ Diaries came out, the date was written in and they left in a babble of speculation.