Village Fortunes (Turnham Malpas 17) (27 page)

‘She adopted them.’

‘When you and she married I assume?’

He didn’t get an answer from Peter, so Chris, who was struggling to get the matter straight in his mind, asked, ‘So, it isn’t she who is the guilty one?’

‘That’s absolutely right, Chris. There’s a very apt sentence I can quote you from the Bible.
Let he who is without sin amongst you, cast the first stone
. You might do well to remember that. Unless it is, of course, that you are entirely without sin, in which case you are a very exceptional person and worthy of great praise, and I for one am very envious of you.’

Chris, tough and self congratulating as he was and always had been, fought to subdue the guilty shudder that began crawling relentlessly up his spine.

Peter looked Chris in the eye with a steady but compassionate expression that challenged his very existence. ‘But somehow I think not. I think you are as guilty of sin as the rest of us, and have been all your adult years.’ Peter sustained the challenge in his voice by adding, ‘But it is never too late to change. Never ever too late to treat others as you would like to be treated, to be honest and truthful, to put a stop to the unkind rumours, to give generously of your time, to think of others first and yourself last. Never too late.’

For once in his life Chris was speechless, for he recognised that Peter had very astutely described Christopher Templeton’s own shortcomings; and that feeling of guilt he’d sensed crawling up his spine finally exploded into his brain and with it, it seemed, the whole of his past life lay exposed to the world.

Peter collected the files he needed, and said, ‘I must press on, unless there’s something else you have to say?’ Peter waited but getting no response he suggested that they left.

As they walked down the aisle together Peter asked Chris how long he was staying, and what was Rio like because he’d never been there, and how was the hotel business nowadays. And then they were out in the sun shaking hands, with Peter wishing Chris a good journey home, and then Chris was on his own walking back up the drive to the Big House and everything was so normal, as though their conversation about sin had never taken place.

But it had, and try as he might, he knew that today the deepest truth about him, Christopher Templeton, had been declared out loud by a very perceptive man. And he didn’t like the sound of it.

The notices about Bonfire Night had been put through every letterbox in Turnham Malpas, posters were nailed to trees, there was a full page advert in the church magazine that announced all the fringe activities, and as Bonfire Night was conveniently this year on a Saturday no one bothered to have a fire in their own garden. Fireworks provided by Johnny promised a spectacular show, and all they had to pay for was food and drinks if they wished.

Jimbo was delighted. At last the village was becoming the centre of everyone’s lives once more, and he loved it. His Fran was getting better as each week passed, the Old Barn was firing on all cylinders, sometimes there’d be three or even four events each week, and although it was hard work keeping up with all the catering and the fringe requirements for the very varied happenings, Jimbo thrived on it. Now he’d got a wedding licence, people could both marry and have the reception in the Old Barn and so his calendar for weddings was rapidly filling up to capacity. And it all meant more money in the coffers.

He stood, in the early morning of Bonfire Night, on the doorstep of the store looking out over the village green. Cold, yes, but not so cold that he couldn’t stand there for no more than a minute; it was a bracing, uplifting kind of cold, and the skies were bright blue with the promise of a brilliant day. Not a cloud in the sky, thank goodness. He had a wedding at 11 a.m. today so the whole thing would be over well before the bonfire was due to be lit.

Next week he and Harriet would be off to South Africa for ten days and goodness didn’t they deserve it? He couldn’t wait. Leaving, of course, Fran in charge. Fran. He dwelt on her for a few moments. His darling Fran, the youngest of his flock. How could he have been so careless as to allow her to go out with that Chris Templeton? He should have put his foot down right at the start. But he knew he couldn’t, shouldn’t, mustn’t, because that was the way to drive her away. The outcome would have been the same though, with her pregnant, and Chris careless and fancy free. Which he was. Damn the man. How could a lovely gracious man like Johnny have a brother like Chris? They were as different as cheese and chalk. Johnny thoughtful and already more like Ralph than anyone had ever thought possible. Chris hard-faced, selfish, thoughtless, although he was off back to Rio tomorrow, thank heaven. The sooner the better.

Jimbo felt rather than heard Fran come to stand beside him. ‘You’re just like me, Dad. I like to have a moment here first thing, sniff the air, see how the world’s doing today.’

‘It’s doing rather well, methinks. How about you, love? Are you doing rather well?’

‘Just about, but it’s not easy to put it all to one side and bash on. It’s all certainly taught me a lesson.’

‘What kind of a lesson?’

‘To take a long deep breath before commitment, to pace myself, to be more certain. To assess people better, hold back till I’m certain.’

‘That sounds like common sense to me.’

‘I was too young for him, and if I met him now I’d know better how to deal with him. The bigger the distance between us though at the moment, the better it will be for me.’

‘The world is full of wonderful people, as well as the charlatans, Fran. Before long there’ll be someone else who will really love you, believe me.’

Fran slipped her hand into the crook of her father’s arm. ‘He’ll have to be very much like you, Dad. Kindly and strong . . . and round and bald.’

The two of them laughed uproariously, and Willie Biggs coming in for his morning paper enjoyed their happiness. ‘Good morning, you two. Come for my paper, as if after all these years I have to tell you that.’

Willie stood beside the till, fumbling in his pocket for the right change as he always did, on the principle that at that time in the morning he couldn’t expect them to have any change when all he was buying was his newspaper; but they’d never let on that before they opened up they filled the till with a fresh supply of change every single day. ‘You know, Willie, you could always have your paper delivered. The boys set out at seven-fifteen on their rounds so you wouldn’t have to come out in the cold and the rain,’ said Jimbo.

But Willie straightened his back and marched out as best he could, saying just before he closed the door, ‘The day I can’t pick up my own newspaper is the day I shall be put in my box. See you at the bonfire, I’m right looking forward to it, same as always. We’re lucky to have that Johnny inherit.’

The two of them watched Willie make his way home and the exact same thought was in both their minds, that Willie Biggs, the very last of a long line of the Biggs family living in the village, was running out of time. Fran thought about life in the village of Turnham Malpas and how much she loved it; but at the same time there remained in her mind a very strong interest in the gorgeous man she knew really belonged in Brazil, and she decided she wasn’t going to avoid him like she’d first intended, because she felt strong enough to make a point of saying goodbye to him tonight at the bonfire. After all, it wouldn’t be the last time she’d see him because he’d certainly be back to see Johnny and Alice and the little boys, and so she might as well get used to it. She simply would not allow him to
hurt
her any more, that was the thing. No more allowing him to draw close, no more meeting at the Wise Man, no more . . .

Jimbo suddenly remarked, ‘Do you know, Fran, although in one way I’m glad I haven’t the responsibility of the firework display, at the same time I shall miss doing it. What will I do all evening without the responsibility for it?’

‘How about
enjoy
yourself for a change?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘We never used to see you on Bonfire Night, this time we will and that will be lovely. I wish the other three were coming though, we never see enough of them, do we?’

‘They’ll have to know about, you know, the baby . . . Your mum’s not told them yet.’

Fran gripped hard on his elbow. ‘Don’t tell them, I don’t want them to know. I feel such a fool. Flick will be sad for me, but Felix and Finlay will laugh.’

‘They most certainly won’t, Fran, they’re not that hardboiled; they’ll be sorry just like Flick, I know they will. But
we
won’t tell them, we’ll leave it to you.’

‘Thanks, Dad. I’m sorry to have caused you trouble like I did, you don’t deserve it.’

Jimbo placed a kiss on her forehead. ‘Must press on, work to do.’

They were busy all day in the store, people came into shop whom they didn’t see very often, and Fran made sure they all got an enthusiastic greeting to encourage them to come again. Of Chris they saw nothing and for that Fran was grateful. Johnny came in for bananas as young Charles had decided that bananas were the food of the day. Merc and Ford came in full of the holiday they’d just booked to the States in the New Year, and Craddock Fitch came in, not on his own, but with his newly acquired family. Immediately the store felt too small to accommodate them all. ‘Can I introduce everyone?’ asked Craddock, beaming with gratification at having his whole family with him.

Jimbo and Fran said together, ‘Of course. Please do!’

During the hubbub of sorting out who was who and shaking their hands, in came four more customers, and as Craddock was armed with a shopping list as long as his arm, and the four who’d just come in equally charged with lists, Harriet was called from home to help, and eventually the backlog went away well satisfied with their shopping.

The Fitch family, however, lingered, enjoying the atmosphere of a village store, comparing it favourably with the huge impersonal supermarkets they had at home. Jimbo and Graham were sitting in the coffee corner engrossed in conversation, the children were admiring the gateaux in the dessert freezer, and Michael, ever the loner, was studying the selection of computer magazines on the newspaper stands and choosing which of them might have something in them that was new to him.

When the Fitch family had eventually decided to leave with their purchases, Harriet said, ‘Aren’t they a lovely family? Who’d have thought that Mr Fitch would have relatives as nice as them? The grandchildren are a delight, and his sons. Except maybe the computer wizard. He’s a bit odd.’

‘They’re coming to the bonfire tonight, Mum,’ said Fran.

‘Really?’ said Harriet. ‘The children will enjoy that. Just a pity they live so far away.’

Jimbo suggested that the family were making a much nicer man of old Fitch than he used to be. ‘It’s done him good, being able to count them as his own. Graham thinks he’s lovely, and the children are glad to have a granddad because Anita’s parents are long gone.’

‘I wonder if he knows they think he’s lovely? Still, why shouldn’t he have a family; there’s nothing better for rounding off the corners and warming the heart,’ Harriet declared. ‘Five o’clock! It’s Saturday. Bonfire Night. Let’s pack up. Six-thirty is lift-off time. Apparently the Guy Fawkes that Evie’s made is perfectly wonderful, I can’t wait to see it. Greta Jones says it’s a crying shame to burn it.’

Soon the entire population of Turnham Malpas were streaming up the drive, full of eager anticipation as this was what made living in a village worthwhile. There was Pat, and Barry the master-builder of the bonfire, which was truly the largest they had ever seen, along with Grandad Stubbs, who only needed to walk from the head gardener’s cottage and down the well-worn path past the glass houses, which were still Greenwood Stubbs’ pride and joy, and over the field and he’d be right by the refreshment marquee in minutes. Others, such as Craddock Fitch and his family, had further to walk, but Craddock took them the secret way through the churchyard to the wall at the back where he made use of the little gate that had featured in Muriel and Ralph’s romance all those years ago, past the Plague Pit, which was now not so threatening since the bodies had been removed and buried in the graveyard. The eager chatter of the children soon joined with the chatter of other children making their way up the drive.

Some, of course, like Sheila and Ron Bissett – sorry, Sir Ronald and Lady Sheila Bissett – went by car and parked in the car park at the Old Barn. Jimbo and Harriet, along with Fran, walked up from their house due to Jimbo’s newly pledged decision to get more exercise. Dottie Foskett, who had stayed behind to help clear up from the wedding they’d had earlier in the day, had only to comb her hair, dig out her anorak, thick gloves and a warm scarf, and she was ready for the fray, walking only yards to reach the refreshment marquee and a much longed-for tea and bun. Sylvia and Willie got a lift from Tom and Evie, and so it went on. Villagers making their way up to the Big House as they had been doing for centuries. This time for the bonfire in celebration of that reprobate Guy Fawkes who had wanted to put an end to democracy.

Baby Ralph Templeton, cocooned in his pram and little Charles in his one-piece winter suit, warm socks and Wellingtons, trudging across the well-cut grass with their parents towards the site of the bonfire, were too young to know why they were doing it; but Charles was old enough to catch the atmosphere of excitement of the people who greeted him. With them was Uncle Chris, who was well wrapped-up against an English winter evening. He had resolved to speak to Fran if she was there, perhaps even buy her a drink in the marquee with the pub sign, the Royal Oak, flapping in the breeze above the entrance. Inside for the first time ever were Georgie and Dicky Tutt, who were loving the whole idea of closing the pub for the evening and instead serving here, at Johnny’s special invitation, in the marquee. They intended to make a real go of it and as six-thirty struck on the church clock the crowds began to file in. Georgie grinned at Dicky, and he grinned back, and Alan Crimble and Mary-Lee squeezed hands and grinned at each other too, delighted to be in each other’s company for the whole evening, each glancing over their shoulders to confirm Linda Crimble hadn’t seen them. Poor Linda, thought Mary-Lee, but it was her own fault for not making a go of her marriage. If Alan was finding contentment with someone else it was all her own fault. She squeezed Alan’s hand more tightly and enjoyed the feeling of passion she saw in his eyes as he glanced at her. Yes. She was glad, in fact, very glad, that he fancied her.