Village Matters (13 page)
Authors: Rebecca Shaw
‘Ralph, I couldn’t bear it if Peter didn’t like what we were doing.’
‘Between the two of you, nothing controversial will ever get done. It’s in the village interest for us to do what we said, believe me.’
‘But if no one speaks to us . . .’
‘They will, don’t worry.’
Come Sunday evening Jimmy, taking Sunday as a day off that week, was ensconced in his favourite spot in the bar, with a willing audience of Pat and Vera, eager to hear any gossip going the rounds. None of them had been in church that morning, but they had heard about Arthur’s rebellion.
Pat didn’t take long to air her views when the subject came up. ‘How he dared do that I’ll never know. What an embarrassment for Sir Ralph, eh?’
‘A lot of venom there, yer see.’ Jimmy rather knowingly tapped the side of his nose.
Pat bent forward so that she could hear better. ‘When you tap your nose, I
know
you’ve got a tale to tell. Go on then.’
‘Yes, venom, stands to reason.’
‘What stands to reason, what are yer talking about? Have they had a row before, then?’
‘I can see you ’aven’t ’eard. Here’s Willie, he knows more than me – come and sit with us Sylvia, while ’e gets the drinks in.’ Sylvia came across and greeted them all as she sat down. Vera shuffled further along the settle to make room for her. ‘We’re talking about Arthur and the collection plate this morning.’
‘I know! I didn’t know where to look. I thought the rector dealt with it wonderfully. Willie was furious. Opening up old wounds, he called it. Do you know what he meant, Jimmy?’
Pat, fast losing her temper with all the secrecy, said, ‘Will someone tell me what’s going on please?’
Jimmy wanted to wait until Willie joined them.
‘Well-1-1-1-1?’ Pat said.
‘Go on, Willie, you tell her about Arthur.’
Willie appeared to be weighing the matter up, and then he decided to speak. ‘I’m amazed yer don’t know. Arthur is a relative of Ralph’s.’
Pat and Vera were scandalised. Pat was the first to recover. ‘A relative of Sir Ralph’s? Never! How can he be? On his father’s side he’s a Prior from down Shepherd’s Hill, on his mother’s side he’s a Goddard, and his wife’s a daughter of the old headmaster of the Grammar School in Culworth. ’Ow can ’e be a relative?’
Willie took a deep draught of his pint and began his story. ‘Ralph’s grandfather was a right well set up young man, handsome yer know. Sir Bernard, he was called. Well, he was an army officer and he fought in the Boer War. They do say . . .’
‘How do you know all this?’ Pat queried.
‘’Cos my grandma was a young woman at the time and she knew all about it. They do say that he was a right ladies’ man. No one was safe if he took a fancy to ’em, from servant girls to high society. A right charmer he was and not half. Well, his parents persuaded him to get married, calm ’im down a bit they thought, put a stop to the scandal and that. He married just as the Boer War started, goes off after a few days’ honeymoon to serve Queen and country in South Africa. Gets wounded, gets sent home. Right glamorous he looks with his arm in a sling and a walking stick ’cos of his bad leg. Goes back after a few months’ recuperation, leaves Lady Templeton expecting, and what
no one realised until later, he leaves Mrs Beattie Prior expecting too.’
Vera sat back amazed. ‘No!! It all went on then just like it does now, it’s no different is it?’
‘Beattie Prior’s husband was right set up, thinking that after ten years of being married he’d at last proved himself. Well, ’e ’ad dark hair, really dark hair, and she was dark like a Spaniard.’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Pat asked.
‘You’ll see. One night there’s this terrible thunderstorm, the night that big branch fell from the royal oak and they all thought it would die. That same night Beattie and Lady Templeton both ’ad their babies. The doctor attended at the Big House, and the old woman who acted as village midwife attended Beattie. They both had boys at dawn within an hour of each other. It was only when Prior saw the Templeton baby at its christening that his suspicions were really aroused. They had a big do yer see, ’im being the son and heir, and all the village was invited. So there’s Beattie Prior standing there with ’er little lad in her arms and her husband beside her and up comes Lady Templeton with her little lad in
her
arms. Both babies were as fair as it’s possible to be, with dark brown eyes like all the Templetons. So alike they could ’ave been twins! Arthur’s grandad looked first at one and then at the other and so did Lady Templeton and snap! The terrible truth dawned.’
Drink forgotten, Pat said, ‘What happened then?’
‘Don’t know. It was all hushed up. All I can say is that Beattie Prior and her husband suddenly moved into their farm down the bottom of Shepherd’s Hill. Up till then they’d been as poor as crows, ’im only a labourer on Home Farm. Sir Bernard and his wife ’ad another two boys after that first one. Anyway, First World War put a stop to it,
‘cos Sir Bernard got killed and his son did too. Only just seventeen he was, lied about his age when he joined up.’
Pat shook her head. ‘I don’t believe a word of it, you’ve made it up. Arthur Prior a Templeton! That’s a laugh.’
‘I’m telling you the tale as my grandma told me, and she wasn’t a liar.’
‘So,’ said Vera, ‘Arthur is the son of that Beattie’s baby?’
‘That’s right.’
‘So,’ said Pat, ‘Arthur Prior is a kind of cousin to Sir Ralph?’
‘I think that’s what he’ll be.’
‘Does Sir Ralph know all this?’
‘I don’t know, no one mentions it any more.’
‘Well, by heck, what a story. No wonder he’s against Sir Ralph making more money. He’s jealous, that’s what. Maybe he thinks he ought to own the spare land. Maybe he thinks his eldest ought to inherit from Sir Ralph with him having no children. Maybe he even thinks he ought to be
Sir
Arthur.’ She giggled at the thought. ‘I wonder which one was born first? That could make a difference, could it?’
‘’Ere, wet yer whistle with another drink. My round.’ The three women pushed their glasses towards Jimmy and while he got the drinks in they sat contemplating the implications of what they had just heard.
Sylvia asked Willie if he remembered both of them at school.
‘Oh yes. Ralph as bright as it’s possible to be, always leading, always ahead, always thinking up tricks to play and Arthur, good old Arthur sensibly plodding along. As kids we didn’t know any of the history of course. It never dawned on us.’
‘I tell you what Willie, maybe your Sylvia’s married into the aristocracy!’
Sylvia laughed. ‘Sir Willie! Surely not!’
‘What d’yer mean?’
‘I mean that maybe your dad was one of Sir Bernard’s mistakes, yer never know, with ’im spreading it about so much!’
Willie took offence. ‘That’s enough, Pat, thank you, I’ll have you know my grandmother was a Methodist, strict teetotal she was. Never a drop.’
‘Can’t say you’ve inherited her qualities! This building of the houses could be quite a story before the year’s out, couldn’t it? Wait till the papers get on to it!’
After the evening service Peter went home, changed from his cassock into a shirt and jeans, and went downstairs to spend time with Caroline. It being summer, they had left their evening meal until evensong was over and the children in bed. Caroline had pulled the dining table closer to the french windows to catch what small amount of breeze there was, and the two of them sat eating their supper together.
‘Too hot for cooking tonight, hope you don’t mind a salad.’
‘Of course I don’t mind. It’s a prince of a salad and delicious. I’ve been thinking, my darling girl, it’s time we had a Sunday morning crèche.’
‘I had the very same thought myself, in fact someone mentioned it when I was shaking hands after the service. They said there’s our two, there’s baby Frances, and there’s the four Nightingales, and that’s just for starters. They can’t possibly come with four of them, so, yes, something will have to be done. We’ll need toys and things to keep them busy, a room and a rota for helpers.’
‘I’ll leave that to you, then. Although it’s sweet of Alex to
shout “Dada”, it’s not conducive to worship, is it? He must be distracting for other people besides me.’
‘Yes, I’m sure he must be, but in the nicest way.’
‘Yes, of course. Caroline, do you ever feel a little worried by Beth?’
‘Worried? What about?’
‘Well, she seems so quiet. She tags along behind Alex like a shadow. He’s talking and making himself a nuisance, but Beth is so quiet. Those big blue eyes of hers take everything in but she doesn’t talk and I mean! Going to sleep as soon as she sees me come in!’
‘Are you saying you think she’s retarded?’
‘No, no, not at all, but there is something worrying me, and I’m not sure what.’
‘You used the words “takes everything in”–you’re right, she does. If I say I want something and it’s within her reach, she goes straight to it and brings it to me. If I say it’s bathtime she’s half way up the stairs before you can say knife. If I’ve mislaid something she knows exactly where it is and takes me to it. She’s not daft, believe me, just overshadowed by Alex.’
‘I see. Well she is only nineteen months, so we’ll give it a bit longer.’
‘You watch, she’ll surprise us all.’
Peter offered Caroline more potatoes. She shook her head. ‘No, you finish them, I have enough. Peter, what do you think is behind that scene in church?’
‘I’m convinced it isn’t just the houses. You should have seen the look they gave each other, something goes very deep between the two of them. Arthur said he disliked Ralph’s Lord of the Manor look, which I thought very scathing. No doubt, my darling girl will find out before she is much older.’
‘I’m most concerned about these houses, though. Ralph is determined to go ahead with his plans, but I’m not too sure they could . . .’
‘I think the whole matter depends on how many houses are built. Six or eight or even ten for renting would be ideal, but twenty or more would throw the whole village out of balance, and I would feel I should protest.’
‘I don’t know if we can get involved. I’d rather work from the sidelines to influence things. We certainly can’t align ourselves with Arthur Prior’s petition, nor with Ralph.’
‘Why not?’
Peter, noting the challenging tone of Caroline’s voice, searched for a diplomatic reply. ‘Unfortunately, you and I have people from both persuasions under our care and we can’t be seen to side with either, I have to do what’s right by both of them.’
‘I know.’
‘You won’t take sides will you?’
‘I might.’
‘Caroline!’
‘I only said I might.’
‘Look, we had all that trou . . . misunderstanding about Jimmy and his rabbit snares, please don’t, darling, please don’t begin another crusade.’
‘Crusade? Well, really!’
‘I mean it, Caroline, everything is going so well at the moment. The attendance figures are way up, all the things I’ve started are taking shape, and I don’t want anything to mar it.’
Caroline left her chair and went to sit on his knee. ‘Move round; that’s it. It’s ages since I sat on your knee. You and I promised we wouldn’t trespass.’
‘Yes, I know, but . . .’ He couldn’t go further because Caroline was kissing him.
‘Peter, let’s leave all this and go to bed.’
‘You abandoned woman you, what will Sylvia think in the morning when she comes?’
‘“Good on yer, Pete,” she’ll say!’
‘You’ve watched too many Australian soap operas.’
‘When do I get time to watch soap operas?’
‘Never.’
‘You lock up, I’ll go up to bed.’ Caroline trailed her fingers along his bruised jaw. ‘Handsome man you are, did you know that? Handsome.’ She got off his knee, kissed his cheek and ran up the stairs.
Peter decided he’d clear the table and stack the dishwasher. After he’d turned out the lights, checked the cats were in and the doors were locked, he followed her upstairs. Caroline was standing looking at herself in the mirror. The clothes she’d been wearing lay in a heap at her feet.
‘Peter, I’m getting old. Look, everything I possess is beginning to sag.’
He kicked her clothes aside and stood behind her, locking his hands around her waist. She smelt of soap and toothpaste. She must have had a shower, for her skin was warm but at the same time slightly damp. Speaking to her reflection in the mirror Peter said, ‘You look wonderful to me, and quite superbly tempting, Dr Harris. What’s made you decide to take stock?’
He watched his own hands as they began to wander about her body, enjoying the feel of her smooth flesh. He bent to kiss the nape of her neck where her hair curled childlike against her skin, and he looked over her shoulder into the mirror to observe her reaction. She rested her body against
his and taking his hand she held it to her breast, smoothing her fingers along the back of it, enjoying its strength, and twisting his wedding ring round and round. Then she took his hand to her mouth and gently kissed each of his fingers.
