Trouble in the Village (Tales from Turnham Malpas) (3 page)
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Authors: Rebecca Shaw
Beth wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and said, ‘Sylvie! How’s Willie?’
‘He’s very well, thank you.’
Alex asked, ‘And how are you, Sylvie?’
‘I’m very well too.’
‘Don’t you miss seeing us every day?’
‘Well, Alex, yes, I do.’
Beth said, ‘We miss you. Are you looking after some different children now?’
‘No.’
‘I’m glad, because you belong to us and other children wouldn’t be the same, would they?’
‘No, they wouldn’t, Beth.’
Alex finished his drink and wiping his mouth on his handkerchief said, ‘I expect like Mummy said now Mr Biggs is retiring you want more time to spend with him, going out and things.’
‘Well, it would be nice.’ She guessed what this was leading up to and felt angry that Caroline had permitted them to come to ask her back instead of asking her herself.
‘I expect we shall have to learn to do without you.’ Beth struggled to get her handkerchief from the pocket of her shorts. ‘Mummy’s a doctor again now and it being the school holidays … And we don’t want any mouldy old person looking after us, do we, Alex? We want you!’ Fat tears rolled down her sweet rounded cheeks and she brushed them away with her handkerchief, but they wouldn’t stop coming. Leaping from her chair she flung her arms around Sylvia’s shoulders and wept.
‘There, there, Beth, don’t cry, I only live next door and
you can come to see me as often as you like. In fact I could invite you to tea sometimes, couldn’t I?’
Beth brightened up, lifted her head from Sylvia’s shoulder and said, ‘Really?’ Then cold reason made her see sense. ‘But it’s not quite the same, is it? I like it when you meet us from school and we sit in the kitchen at home and talk and things. Next to our mummy you’re my very best person. Except for my daddy, that is.’ Beth looked at her apologetically for adding that.
Sylvia smiled and said, ‘But of course, that’s understood, it’s only right. I’m very proud to be third best.’
Alex got up from his chair. ‘Come on, Beth, it’s no good. We’ll go.’ He tugged at Beth’s arm, took her handkerchief from her and wiped her eyes. ‘Come on. ’Bye, Sylvie. See you soon.’
Beth put her hand in his hand and the two of them left the kitchen by the back door, wandering slowly down to the back gate like two lost souls. Sylvia watched them, remembering how many times she’d ironed those red shorts and the red and white shirt Alex was wearing and how she’d had to mend the split in Beth’s shorts because they were her favourites and she couldn’t bear to throw them away. And that little T-shirt Beth was wearing was the one Willie had chosen for her when he and Sylvia had taken a holiday in Spain last year; sunny yellow with a wavy white stripe, it really suited Beth’s fair colouring.
The two dear little things. It was no good. She’d have to go back: she’d accused Caroline of almost breaking their hearts and here she was doing the very same thing all because of anger and pride. First thing tomorrow she’d go
next door and ask for her job back. Yes, definitely she would.
Sylvia didn’t tell Willie what she intended because if they didn’t want her back she’d look a right fool and she wasn’t having that. But school holidays! Just how would those children cope, passed about everywhere? That mustn’t be allowed to happen.
Sylvia had had a key for the front door all the time she’d worked at the Rectory but, of course, now she hadn’t and she wasn’t sure if knocking on the front door was quite the right thing to be doing in the circumstances: it made it all official like and one thing she didn’t want was the Rector answering the door and taking her into the study. No, she preferred the kitchen and as it was Tuesday Caroline would most likely be around.
The back door was standing open when she got there so Sylvia called out, ‘Helloooo! Anyone at home?’
Chang and Tonga, the two cats, came out of their basket and condescended to weave around her legs mewing. Well, at least the cats remembered her. No one was about so she called out again, ‘Helloooo! It’s only me.’
The door from the hall opened and there was Caroline. A short silence followed and then Caroline greeted her: ‘Why, Sylvia, how nice. Do come in. I was just going to make coffee for Peter, would you like some? Do you have time?’
‘That would be nice. Thank you.’
‘Do sit down.’ But Sylvia remained standing, uncertain and nervous.
They were silent while Caroline filled the kettle and got out the mugs. Sylvia had almost offered to make it, but
thought better of it. Take things steadily, she reminded herself.
With her back to her Caroline said, ‘Lovely long summer we’re having, aren’t we?
‘Yes, we are. We could do with some rain for the garden though.’
‘We could, you’re right. The pleasure of watering it every evening soon palls.’
‘It does. Your roses are looking wonderful.’
‘I’ve really made an effort with them this year, pruned them back hard and fed them well. Here we are. I’ll just take this to Peter, won’t be a moment. Please, do sit down.’
‘Where are the …’ but Caroline had gone. Perhaps they’d manage better if the issue wasn’t clouded by Alex and Beth being around. When she came back Caroline sat opposite her at the table. They sipped their coffee without speaking. Well, the silence couldn’t go on for ever so Sylvia cleared her throat and said, ‘Are you serious about getting Mr Fitch to change his mind? About the hedge?’
‘Oh, yes. I am. It’s tantamount to sacrilege to destroy such a wonderful old piece of village history.’
Sylvia hadn’t seen it quite like that but she agreed it was. All went quiet again and Sylvia knew she must brace herself and come to the point. She flushed bright red and then out it all came in a rush. ‘I was wondering what arrangements you had made for the school holidays. For the children, I mean.’
‘Patchy at best.’
‘I see.’
Caroline looked directly at her and said, ‘What have you come to say? Something special?’
Sylvia shifted uneasily in her chair. ‘If you can forgive me …’
Head down so her face was hidden Caroline didn’t answer.
‘If you can forgive me and have me back I would be pleased.’
Caroline still didn’t answer.
‘I should never have shouted at you nor deserted my job so abruptly. I can only say I’m very sorry.’ Was Caroline even listening to her? She really couldn’t tell. ‘I was so worried, you see, about you and the children. And the Rector, come to that. I thought you were going to leave them, you see, and I couldn’t bear it. We’d all been so happy.’
Caroline’s head came up and Sylvia was appalled by the drained look of her face. ‘We were, weren’t we? If you will come back it will be such a relief to me. I just didn’t know what to do about you.’
‘Then I will. Three days, is it?’
Caroline nodded. ‘That’s right. Monday, Wednesday and Friday, all day in the holidays, of course. But schooldays perhaps you could pop home for a couple of hours in the afternoon.’
‘Then you can rely on me. I shall be glad because seven days a week living hand in glove with Willie now he’s retiring … much as I love him, absence, you know. Doesn’t do to live too close, you lose the spark if you’re not careful.’
Caroline stood up. ‘When shall you start?’
‘How about tomorrow? Eight o’clock?’
‘Yes.’
Sylvia smiled, warmed and thankful that peace had been restored between them.
‘Friends again then?’ Caroline came round the end of the table and stood in front of her.
‘Oh, yes!’
‘You’ve no idea how pleased I am. All water under the bridge. Eh?’
‘Of course.’
‘I’ll give you your key for the morning.’
‘Thanks.’ Tears came into Sylvia’s eyes as her fingers closed over the key that had been hers for so long. It still had her name on it so … ‘It’s the children, you know, I have missed them. I love them dearly.’
‘I know you do, and I’ve missed you. And thank you for coming to heal the breach between us, I’m so grateful, please believe me, I really am. It puts my mind completely at rest.’
The morning was cloudy and chill, and a stiff breeze came up once she had left the shelter of the trees which ran along the church wall. Muriel was wearing a jacket and skirt, having decided that a skirt and cardigan would categorise her as a country woman, when this morning she couldn’t have felt less like one. She’d rehearsed her approach to him time and again, but knew full well that despite her preparations she would say the first thing that came into her head at the time. She’d have to tread softly: Mr Fitch was an intimidating man, and a head-on confrontation would be the last thing that would achieve her objective.
She crossed the Tudor garden and reached the gravel laid to make a car park immediately in front of the house. How incongruous. Muriel, concentrate, she told herself. The huge ancient front door stood open, and Muriel walked straight in savouring the beauty of the door by trailing her fingers along the old weathered wood as she went.
The receptionist recognised her. ‘Good morning, Lady Templeton. Mr Fitch is ready for you. I’ll take you straight through.’
Muriel, though she knew which way to go, allowed the girl to lead her and inform Mr Fitch she’d arrived.
He got up from behind his desk and came round to greet her. Taking her hand in his he didn’t shake it but held it between both his own, saying, ‘My dear Muriel, what a pleasure. May I offer coffee? No, don’t answer that. I have no other appointments this morning so I think we’ll be much more comfortable upstairs in my flat. Charlotte! Ring my housekeeper and tell her coffee for two immediately.’
This morning he was dapper in the shining black shoes on his small feet, the light grey pinstripe suit, the white shirt, putting the seal on his efforts with a remarkable tie which, for some reason, reminded her of Isadora Thingummy who
used to dance with scarves. He was still as lean as the day he arrived in the village though the hair was whiter than ever, and the blue eyes still as icy.
He led the way up the beautiful Tudor staircase taking each step with great precision as though he’d practised time and again to make his ascent as perfect as he could for a film. Muriel trotted after him, uneasy and tense, well aware he was doing this to intimidate her. Did he know her reason for coming?
He unlocked the door of the flat and ushered her into the sitting room. It was inclined to be a dark room and the cloudy day made it worse. He indicated a chair and then went round switching on lamps on the low tables so the room was flooded with a soft glow.
Mr Fitch sat down, placed his elbows on the arms of his chair, put his fingertips together and said, ‘Well, now, Muriel. All on your own? Ralph’s not ill?’
Muriel knew full well he didn’t care how Ralph was, nor come to that how she fared either, but she answered him politely, assuring him that Ralph was in good health.
‘I’m sorry I missed his party on Saturday. Did it go well?’
‘I was sorry you missed it too, but it did go well, thank you.’
She hesitated and he filled the gap with ‘So …?’
‘I have heard something which I truly cannot believe, so I have come to ask you for the truth.’
‘Am I to get a roasting?’
Muriel smiled as cheerfully as she could in the circumstances. ‘Certainly not. Nothing of the kind. I’m not that kind of a person.’
‘I see.’
He busied himself with the coffee, placed a table beside Muriel’s chair and put her cup on it.
‘Thank you. I’ll come straight to the point. Katherine Charter-Plackett says you are intending pulling up the hedge around Rector’s Meadow and replacing it with a fence.’ Muriel put such scorn into the word “fence” that Mr Fitch could have been in no doubt how she felt about the idea. ‘I’m sure, we’re all sure, she must have misunderstood.’
Mr Fitch sipped his coffee and looked at her over his cup. The icy blue eyes seemed to bore straight through Muriel.
‘She’s right. I am.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I am.’
‘But you can’t.’
‘It is my hedge. I bought it. I do own it. Do you ask permission of me before you uproot a rose tree or dig out a lupin in your garden? No.’
‘But …’
He held up his hand to silence her. ‘No, Muriel, I won’t listen to you appealing to my better nature. My mind is made up. I have bent over backwards to accommodate the wishes of the people in the village time and again, but the hedge I shall have my own way about. That is the end of the matter.’ He stood up in a dismissive manner, and Muriel felt compelled to stand up too and make ready to go.
‘It’s such a beautiful hedge. I’m very disappointed in you, I had thought …’
Muriel had to agree with what he said: it was all true, he had done all those things. Just the same she’d try once more. ‘When you come new to a village like this you have to tread carefully, so very carefully, and this is one instance when you could prove your good intentions by changing your mind. Like over the presidency of the cricket team, you stood down and it won you countless Brownie points. This is another case in point. Please say you’ll change your mind. Once it’s gone that will be the end of it. It’s all the wildlife, you see, the plants and the birds and such, I’ve even seen wild violets growing in the shelter of that hedge. Could you think about them, please? They’re all so precious.’
Mr Fitch glanced away from her pleading eyes and said, ‘This might work with Ralph but not with me.’ Sarcastically he added, ‘After all
he
is a gentleman. You can’t expect the same response from me.’
Mr Fitch’s answer stung Muriel and left her with nothing more to say.
‘I rather imagine from the look on your face he has pointed that out to you, so I’m amazed you should think I would be subject yet again to your particular brand of genteel persuasion.’ He moved towards the door. ‘You can tell everyone you meet that I am adamant that hedge is coming down. The fence will be in good taste, I assure you. Even I can manage that.’
The cold smile on his face made Muriel shudder. She
picked up her handbag and left, finding her own way to the front door, having declined his offer to escort her. She wouldn’t let the receptionist see her tears, but as soon as she was in the Tudor garden they did come, mostly brought on by the thought of that little wren losing his stamping ground and the wild rose being pulled up by its roots.
Well, he wasn’t the only one who could be determined. Oh, no! She’d see Caroline tonight and report to her. By the time Muriel had reached the little gate in the church wall she had pulled herself together, stiffened her shoulders and determined she wouldn’t tell Ralph what Mr Fitch had said about being a gentleman – well, about not being a gentleman. Which he wasn’t, and couldn’t be, but it needn’t stop him from behaving well, now, need it?
‘Well, my dear, how did you get on? Worked your charm on him as usual?’
‘No. Nothing worked.’ Muriel told Ralph everything they’d said except that bit about … ‘I can’t help feeling that he is very hurt somehow. He’s blaming it on people never being grateful, and he’s right, they’d die first before admitting to being in his debt for what he does for the village, but I don’t think that’s the real reason. There’s something else. However, I shall ask Caroline round tonight and we’ll discuss tactics.’
Ralph smiled ruefully at her. ‘I did tell you he wasn’t a gentleman.’
Muriel blushed.
‘He wasn’t rude to you, was he?’
‘No, of course not. No, he wasn’t.’
Muriel went round to the Rectory that night to discuss
strategy. When Caroline had rung to invite her she’d been told that Peter was out and could Muriel come to the Rectory. So she did.
They sat comfortably in the sitting room, with a bottle of wine between them.
‘This seems awfully naughty for a business meeting, sharing a bottle of wine. I mustn’t have more than two glasses or I shall not manage to get home. It tastes wonderful.’
‘Why not? It might get the brain cells working.’
‘Well, mine certainly need some stimulus. One gets very rusty if one is not careful.
University Challenge
defeats me completely nowadays.’
Caroline had to laugh. ‘Really, Muriel! Come along then, tell me what happened.’
So Muriel did, and included the bit about him saying he wasn’t a gentleman. ‘I tried my hardest but had no success and am completely stumped about what to do next.’
‘So am I.’
‘I had thought Peter might have some ideas. He is on our side, isn’t he?’
‘Of course. More wine?’
‘That will be sufficient for me. Thank you. Have you had a chance to discuss it with him?’
‘No, I haven’t. The only thing I can suggest is contacting the environment people. They’d advise, wouldn’t they?’
Muriel clapped her hands. ‘Oh, Caroline, of course. How sensible you are. Peter always admires your common sense and here it is again.’
‘Neville Neal, now he’s a councillor, isn’t he on the environment committee?’
Caroline didn’t appear to be paying attention. She was fiddling with her wine-glass, turning it round and round and round in an abstracted fashion.
‘My dear, you seem … not well.’
‘Worried. You know.’
‘Would it help to talk to me? I’m very discreet.’
Caroline half smiled at her. ‘I know you are. It’s Peter. He’s gone.’
Muriel, appalled at her news, tried in vain to keep the shock from her face. ‘For a little holiday, you mean.’
‘Kind of. Just needed to get away.’
‘I see.’
‘It’s me you see. Can’t quite cope. Not since I made such a mess of things.’
‘But you need him more than ever, then, surely?’
‘He’s been under a lot of strain.’
Muriel went to sit beside her on the sofa and put a tender hand on hers. ‘Of course. Of course. He’ll be back, my dear, believe me.’
‘He has to come back because of the church, but … I don’t know … Enough of my troubles. Will you see Neville or shall I?’
‘I will. You’ve enough on your plate without all this.’
‘I need to keep my mind occupied.’
Muriel stood up. ‘I’ll see him at the weekend then, and let you know. If you come up with any more bright ideas share them with me.’
‘There’s certainly something the matter, I know that.’
‘I thought we’d do a leaflet and put it through people’s doors, and posters for the trees and the noticeboards in the church hall and in the Store, in the Royal Oak and such. What do you think?’
‘Oh, excellent! Of course. We make a good team, don’t we?’
‘We’ve got to move smartly. Knowing Mr Fitch he’ll have the diggers in before we have a chance to protest.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that. He could, couldn’t he?’
Caroline nodded. ‘He will, without doubt.’
‘Ralph knows someone who does posters. I’ll get him on to it straight away.’
‘We’ll have to hold a protest meeting. I’ll see Tom about that.’
‘Of course.’ Muriel put her hands to her temples and groaned. ‘My head’s in a whirl.’
Caroline laughed. ‘I’m determined we’ll win.’
‘So am I.’ Heading for the door Muriel turned back to say, ‘You’ve got Sylvia on track again, I hear? That must be a help.’
‘I have. Thank goodness. She’s saved my life.’
‘Good. Things will work out, I’m sure. He’ll be back, you wait and see. Good night, my dear. God bless.’ Muriel leaned forward and kissed Caroline’s cheek.
As Muriel walked between the Rectory and her house she chanced to meet Neville Neal walking home with Liz.
