Village Fortunes (Turnham Malpas 17) (3 page)

Seeing that she’d finally got him to listen to what she had to say Greta secretly smiled. ‘No. But my steward is that chap I’ve left snug in bed at home. His name’s Vince Jones.’

Harriet burst into peals of laughter. Fran shrieked her amusement, and Greta winked at them both in turn.

Eventually Jimbo had to laugh too. ‘I didn’t mean that. I meant you supervise and I get a junior person straight from school to work in here; and your Vince could do the meat, and you could supervise him too. He could lend a hand when necessary, and between the three of you you could manage. And then when it takes off – there’s loads of room in the Old Barn for expansion isn’t there?’ He nudged her in a friendly way. ‘So what do you think? Eh!’

He got no reply.

‘I might even move the whole of the mail order to the Old Barn, if and when such a time came. There’s air conditioning there too. You’re always complaining in the summer about the heat.’

Greta extracted a beautifully printed sticky label from a pack she kept conveniently to hand, wrote the customer’s address on it in copperplate handwriting and stacked the parcel in a plastic crate labelled ‘Ready for Posting’. Not until then did she turn to answer Jimbo. ‘I’d need a rise. My Vince would need to know how much you’d pay him; and I want to interview the junior alongside you.’

‘I don’t know about that, the final decision would be mine. Vince’d have to go for training, food hygiene and such. Wear the right uniform, fancy hat and that.’

‘You’re on. I’d insist on the proper equipment for the meat. Get organised like it is here. The only way I get through the work is by
organisation
.’

‘I have to say I admire your organisation, very much. I don’t know where we’d be without it.’

Greta threw him a look to check if he was pulling her leg but realised he wasn’t; his compliment was genuine. He meant it. From that moment on Greta became his devoted slave. If he’d said she had to have the mail-order office on the moon, she’d have booked a season ticket with Virgin immediately.

Fran had to admit her dad could persuade anyone to do anything at all; she just hoped she had the same skill. She also hoped that he would never find out what she was up to at the moment as, knowing him, he’d bring in every argument he could to persuade her otherwise, and so she stood in the corner by the tinned soup shelves and sent up a silent prayer: he must not find out.

‘I’m taking my break, Dad, OK?’

‘Of course. You could always step in if the junior didn’t work out, couldn’t you?’ Jimbo saw the astonishment followed by the resistance in her eyes; he backed off. ‘Temporarily, for a day or two, just until I got sorted.’

‘Temporarily, that’s all. Not my cup of tea at all.’ Fran saw the advantage in her of being willing to do the kind of work she hated. ‘But yes, help out, of course I would.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’m better working with the customers, as you well know. Does your mind never stop thinking up new ideas? Taking on meat by mail order is a whole new ball game, speed of delivery to the customer, who would be flexible enough to provide the meat, etc? Doesn’t matter if the jams and chutneys get delayed for a day or two as nothing goes off. But meat . . .’

Jimbo mock punched her jaw. ‘Can’t stand still. One door closes another opens.’ The two of them laughed and Fran relished their compatibility. She had a far closer relationship with her dad than the others, mainly, she supposed, because they were the same kind of people. Fran went to find her mum who was applying herself to the icing of a wedding cake of the old-fashioned kind; three tiers, sugar flowers, artificial orange blossom and, waiting on her worktable, were the plastic bride and groom for the very top. It made Fran cringe.

‘Mum, it’s such bad taste. I don’t know how you can bear to do it.’

‘They’re
paying
me to do this, and this is what they want and so this is what they will get. Just because you think it’s in bad taste . . .’

‘Mum! You agree with me.’

‘I know I do. But what they want to make their day perfect is what they will get. I can’t wait for the day when I can ice a wedding cake for one of my own children. Those three up in London are having a far too exciting life to settle down to marriage and babies, but I’m hoping you might decide on a more normal life. Will you, do you think?’ Harriet skilfully finished another icing flower and laid it to dry out on a sheet of greaseproof paper. Getting no reply she looked up at Fran and saw she wasn’t going to get one. A shut-down look had come over her daughter’s face, and she was already leaving. ‘Going for my half-hour break as I’ve been cracking on since half-past six. Back soon. You’re clever with the flowers, Mum.’

Fran was glad to escape. Why did everyone appear to be intent on probing her about her life? Her life was her life and no one else’s. She’d taken an old wholemeal loaf from one of the wheelie bins at the back of the store and was about to feed the geese. This morning there were mallards too and, unusually, a couple of coots. She supposed the cold weather had persuaded these strangers to try elsewhere for food. Just as the loaf was almost finished Peter came across the grass from the direction of the church. Now this was another person she didn’t really fancy talking to. She wasn’t in the mood for his piercing blue eyes that seemed to be looking right into your soul; she’d had enough of inquisitions for today.

‘Good morning, rector. Cold, isn’t it?’ He towered above her, but not threateningly so, nevertheless she needed to escape.

‘Good morning, Fran. Taking a break?’

‘Well, I started work at half-past six this morning like you always do, and so I take a break about this time.’

‘It’s always surprises me that you didn’t go to university like your sister and brothers did.’

‘My choice. I just wanted to follow in Dad’s footsteps and so I didn’t want to go. Nowadays it’s so easy to work hard, get a degree, and then it leads absolutely nowhere.’ Fran squinted up at Peter to see the effect her comment had made.

‘True, very true.’

‘Time I went back to work.’ It wasn’t, but it suited the moment to tell a fib.

‘Fine, that’s where I’m heading.’ So instead of getting rid of him he escorted her back to the store.

Now Fran had stopped going to church it embarrassed her to be seen with Peter. As a child she’d adored him, but now she’d put away childish things.

He opened the shop door for her as though she was some kind of fragile Victorian creature. The doorbell jangled joyfully as always and even that annoyed her. With a brisk nod and a smile to say thank you to Peter, she vanished into the back, washed her hands thoroughly and then began to restock the bacon display, which she’d noticed, as she stormed in, was looking empty. Absorbed in her work of restocking any item that needed it because she liked the displays to look tempting, Fran’s objective was really to keep out of everyone’s way, especially Peter’s. Why had she so surprisingly found talking to Peter so difficult? In her heart she knew very well why. It was because he was a totally honest person. In fact,
shiningly
honest. And she wasn’t.

By the middle of the afternoon, Fran was her charming self once more. After all she was an adult now, and was doing only what adults did, so why should she feel so guilty? Mr Fitch had come in to get some bits and pieces his wife Kate had forgotten to include in her weekly order. While she packed Mr Fitch’s carrier bag for him she decided to ask how he liked living in Sir Ralph’s old house, having now had plenty of time to settle in. ‘How long is it now, two years?’

‘Almost. Never will, but as Kate would say, beggars can’t be choosers.’

‘Oh! Come now. Beggars? I think not.’

Mr Fitch, slightly surprised by the frankness being displayed by the girl at the checkout – Fran was it? – contemplated his answer while he put his debit card away. ‘Perhaps not by today’s standards, I keep thinking up all kinds of ideas for starting anew, but then I change my mind when I think of the expense and the effort.’ He picked up his carrier from the counter top and swung away, saying as he left, ‘Be seeing you soon, no doubt.’ He went out to untie his dog Sykes and set off for home. He paused by the school wall to watch the children leaving for the day. There was far less chaos with the two minibuses taking the children home to the outlying farms and villages now. To think he’d been rich enough to pay for it himself at one time and then later had been relieved when the council took over when he couldn’t afford it any more. Sykes began scrabbling at the wall asking to be lifted up. So he grabbed him under his ribcage and hoisted him up. Some of the children out playing came to have a word.

‘Hello, Sykes. You’ve been out for a walk, your legs are all muddy.’

‘Hello, Mr Fitch. Why do you call him Sykes? Funny name for a dog.’

‘Because a long time before you were born an old man called Jimmy lived here and had a dog called Sykes named after the big wood no one likes.’

‘It’s haunted, that’s why.’

‘Well, that’s as maybe. But then Sykes died, and not long after that a little dog came to the village following a huge accident on the bypass, and he was so much like the first Sykes that old Jimmy kept him and called him Sykes too. Then he disappeared one day and never came back, and so that’s why I called this one Sykes. In fact when I went to choose a puppy I chose this one because he looked so much like the first Sykes.’

‘He’s a nice dog, he never growls.’

‘He does when he sees a cat. Can’t abide cats, can’t Sykes.’

The children ran off to find their mothers or to climb on to one of the two waiting minibuses, leaving Mr Fitch with only Sykes for company.

Hearing the hubbub outside that always meant the end of school, Fran thought there was only another hour and then she would be finished for the day. After her late night and early morning she was ready to leave. The doorbell jangled vigorously and in came the Lord of the Manor, Johnny Templeton, and on his face there was a broad grin.

‘Fran. I’m just back from the hospital.’

‘The man of the moment! We all know your news. Wonderful, everyone’s so pleased! Everything OK?’

‘I should say so. He’s beautiful, and Alice is thriving. He’s had his first feed and he’s as fit as a flea.’

‘So no doubts about the inheritance then? Two sons now to take over after you. You must be chuffed.’ Fran went round the end of the counter, kissed Johnny and gave him a hug, shouting as she released him, ‘Dad! It’s Johnny.’

Jimbo dashed in from the back office and slapped Johnny on the back as he congratulated him.

‘Wonderful news. Everything all right?’

‘Everything’s fine, thank you.’

Tom came out from the post-office cage to congratulate Johnny; and then Harriet, hearing the commotion, came in from the back to hug Johnny and add her congratulations.

‘Is Alice all right? It all went well did it, no hitches?’ Harriet asked.

‘He’s a big baby and the delivery was fast, but she’s doing great.’

‘Ah! Does he have a name?’

‘Not decided yet. I’m keen on one of the traditional Templeton names. I know they’re not very fashionable, Bernard and Ralph, but I do like the sense of tradition.’

Fran laughed and then said, ‘Well, with your good looks, there’s one thing for certain, he’ll be handsome.’

Her mother joined in the teasing. ‘Good looks run in the Templeton family; you only have to look at your brother Chris to know that. Is your other brother in Brazil just as handsome as the two we know? You know, the blond hair and the dark brown eyes, and the aristocratic nose?’ Harriet winked at Fran as she said this to let everyone know she was only teasing Johnny. Except it was true, they were an outstandingly good-looking family.

Johnny looked embarrassed. ‘Well, I have to admit Nicholas is quite good-looking.’

Harriet said, ‘By the sound of that modest admission Nicholas is definitely very handsome.’

They all burst out laughing. Jimbo, putting an innocent expression on his face, said, ‘How about James for the new addition? Charles and James Templeton sounds good, doesn’t it?’

‘Only because it’s your name, Dad!’ said Fran. ‘But it does sound good, I’ll admit, Charles and James. Give Alice our love, Johnny, and tell her how pleased we all are, won’t you?’ At the same time Fran made a mental note to get out all the spare stock of ‘Welcome to your new baby’ cards for boys. She groaned inside, thinking she was getting more and more like her dad the longer she stayed here. Maybe going to university would be a good idea after all. She’d think about that another day, but at the moment a nice cosy evening watching the TV and then off to bed early to catch up with her sleep was the only decision she intended to make. Fran didn’t want her dad to find reason to criticise her for being tardy, not right at this moment in time. She needed to keep him sweet.

Fran was about to leave when the bell signalled the arrival of another customer. It was Chris, Johnny Templeton’s brother. Since he’d arrived about eight weeks ago he’d been a fairly frequent visitor to the store and they all knew him.

‘Good afternoon, everyone. Johnny! Isn’t it wonderful news, everybody, about the baby? He’s coping very well. Flowers. I’ve come to buy flowers for the new mother. Have you got any?’

Fran didn’t offer to assist him but Jimbo did, acknowledging the smell of money that surrounded the Templeton brothers. ‘Here we are, Chris. This is what we have left. If we’d known . . .’

‘I’ll take the lot. Make them into a bouquet, would you? I’m going up there to see my newest nephew. I expect you’ve all heard the news. Johnny was like a man walking on hot coals all yesterday but I told him time and again that everything would be fine. And here we are, with another strong healthy baby boy who has just joined the human race! Brother Chris knows, and I’ve been proved right once again.’ He thumped his chest like a gorilla in acceptance of the approval he got. ‘It seems we Templetons can do nothing but breed boys. Nicholas has two, there’s three of us, and now Johnny has two.’

Chris slapped Johnny on his back and rather ostentatiously gave him a great hug. They were all used to Chris’s larger than life reactions to everything, and took it as being part and parcel of this younger brother up at the big house.