Village Matters (9 page)
Authors: Rebecca Shaw
‘But if it means houses to rent, then perhaps that will be the best way to go about it. We’ll see, we’ll see.’ Ralph bent his head to kiss her cheek. He smiled down at her and said, ‘Best day’s work I ever did, coming back and marrying
you. Do you know that?’
‘Best day’s work I did too. Let’s get Pericles and walk round Hipkin Gardens, shall we, and do a bit of planning?’
‘Lovely idea. Come along Pericles. Walkies! You’re getting an extra outing today.’ Pericles rose stiffly from his favourite position by the french windows, shook himself and wagged his tail.
‘How old is Pericles now, Muriel?’
‘Twelve.’
‘Living on borrowed time, then.’
‘Oh Ralph, don’t say that in front of him, he might understand.’
‘I know Pericles is clever, but he’s not a philosopher.’
‘No, you’re right he isn’t, and you do right to prepare me for him . . . well, going to glory.’
‘Now look Harriet, if you wish I shall cancel this trip, and stay at home.’
‘Under no circumstances, James Charter-Plackett, do you cancel! You can’t let them down like that at the eleventh hour. I may be about to give birth but I still have a brain left. Our business would fold if you cancelled.’
‘I’m sure the staff could do it without me.’
‘And I’m sure they couldn’t. Heavens above man, I’ve three weeks still to go. Three whole weeks. Now. Off you go. Mother’s here, Caroline’s just across the road and anyway I’m going out for the evening. You’ll be back the day after tomorrow.’
‘I know but . . . Where are you going tonight, then?’
‘You’ve forgotten it’s Caroline’s Coffee and Gâteau Evening at the rectory in aid of the refurbishment of the small church hall. Remember? You donated a gâteau?’
‘Oh right, yes. I’d forgotten. A right hen party that’s going to be. What about the children?’
‘Mother’s coming.’
He smoothed his hand across his chin and said, ‘You will take care?’
‘You’re brilliant. Thanks for all you do. When the baby gets here, I don’t want to see you anywhere near the business for at least three months. I’ve got these new people organised, thank heavens there’s a lot of unemployed, and we shall manage very nicely.’
‘Don’t, you’re making me feel redundant.’ Harriet kissed him, and pushed him out of the door. ‘See you when you get back.’
‘I’ll ring.’
‘Got your phone?’
‘Yes!’ Jimbo raced out of the house, leaving Harriet shaking her head at him.
She was looking forward to the Coffee Evening. It might be her last outing for months. Jimbo had a dread of leaving very young babies with babysitters, and she knew once it had arrived they’d have to entertain at home if they needed company. She’d caught him one day poring over a newspaper article about cot deaths. She’d been expecting Finlay at the time, and he’d looked up with tears in his eyes and said ‘I can hardly bear to read about this. God help us if we ever, ever, have this to face.’ Harriet had stood beside him and cradled his head against her body. He’d put his arms round her and hugged her tightly and they’d said no more about it, but she knew he still carried the dread. So yes, Caroline, here I come.
Muriel arrived early at the coffee evening, as she always did at any function she attended.
‘I know I’m the first one but I thought I might give you a hand. Here’s my gâteau, it’s Ralph’s favourite. I hope I’ve
not gone over the top with the lemon, he loves it really sharp but of course not everyone does, do they?’
‘Come in Muriel. Come and put it on the dining table. It looks absolutely splendid. Sylvia and I have organised everything, there’s nothing to do except look charming.’
‘If there’s nothing to do now, I’ll stay behind afterwards and help clear up. Ralph’s away visiting a friend at the moment so I shall be quite glad to stay. I’m surprised how lonely it feels being on my own. Before I married I never noticed being alone, but now I do. Doesn’t the table look beautiful! Where did you get these gâteaux? They look marvellous.’
‘Some are from friends, one I’ve made, this one Sylvia’s made and Jimbo gave me the other one. I hope plenty of people turn up or I shall have a freezer full of cake, not that Peter would mind.’
‘Is he here this evening?’
‘No, he’s playing squash at the club in Culworth. I’ve turfed him out for the evening. Time he got away from the parish and nappies for a while.’
The door bell rang again and Caroline excused herself while she went to answer it. Muriel heard her shout. ‘Venetia! How lovely that you could come, and you’ve brought a gâteau, how kind, I didn’t expect it you know, you’re supposed to be here to eat them.’
‘Thank you for inviting me, I really was thrilled. You’re more than kind.’
‘Not at all, I’m pleased you could make it. Come in the dining room.’
Venetia came in wearing a sizzlingly spicy orange trouser suit. Only Venetia, with her jet-black hair and well tanned skin, could have carried it off. Anyone else would have been obliterated by the powerful colour. Muriel almost wished
she was wearing sunglasses.
‘Hello, Venetia, how are you?’
‘Very well, thank you, Lady Templeton. Is Sir Ralph here?’
‘No, it’s ladies only tonight, I’m afraid.’
‘Pity, he’s so charming and so kind.’
Caroline showed her to an armchair. ‘Do sit down, Venetia, I’ll put your gâteau here in the middle. It is perfectly splendid, you must be very gifted to be able to make this. I don’t know how you manage to fit everything in, Jimbo says it’s very busy up at the Big House.’
‘Oh, I didn’t make it. I was in Culworth at the sports shop getting some things we need for the leisure complex when I spotted that new cake shop that’s opened opposite and I couldn’t resist. Yes, we are busy. Very busy in fact. Jeremy is in his element in charge of the estate and things and I’m doing what I love, which is supervising the leisure activities. So, yes, it’s busy. Bit different from when it was the health club! It’s going to be busy every week until August. Then Jeremy and I are having a holiday.’
Suddenly everyone was arriving, among them Harriet. ‘Had to come. Mother’s sitting in for me. Hello, everybody.’ She was greeted by a chorus of ‘Hello, Harriet.’
‘What have you done with Jimbo?’ Venetia asked.
‘He’s in Bristol doing the VIP food at a big toy fair.’
Caroline came in from the kitchen carrying two coffee pots, which she put down beside the cups. She tapped a spoon loudly on the side of one of them. ‘Right, ladies, I think we can begin. Please do come along and help yourselves, you’ll be glad to hear we’re not counting the calories tonight! Eat as much as you can! There’s a dish on the gâteaux table and one where we’re serving the coffee for your money. Muriel and Sylvia are in charge of the gâteaux
and I’m serving coffee. Sheila Bissett, just back from her round the world trip, see how tanned she is, hardly recognised you Sheila, is in charge of the bring and buy. Enjoy!’
Muriel and Sylvia, stationed behind the table to serve the slices of gâteau, had a busy time. Muriel loved the delicate china plates and the silver cake forks and the delightful flowered napkins she folded and presented to each person as they took their plates. When she had a moment to spare between serving, she glanced round and thought how lovely the dining room looked. Caroline had put a crystal chandelier in place of the bulb dangling on the end of a piece of cable that Mr Furbank had had all those years. Lovely vases of flowers stood on any and every surface, and the carpet and the curtains had a slight oriental look which Muriel adored. If she’d married Mr Furbank, she’d have been stuck with a lifetime of dangling light bulbs. She blushed at her narrow escape. Well, not escape, because he’d never asked her and never would have done, but she had fancied him.
Georgie Fields came carrying her empty plate.
‘More gâteau, Georgie?’
‘Yes, the raspberry meringue this time, please, Lady Templeton.’
‘Left Bryn in charge of the bar have you?’
‘Yes. Couldn’t miss this. The first elegant social “do” there’s been since we got here.’
‘Business doing well?’
‘Oh yes. We were a bit apprehensive about moving out into the sticks as it were, we’ve always worked in towns before you see, but I must say it’s been a complete success. Especially now with the dining room, that’s really made us take off.’ She placed a large piece of meringue in her mouth
and, waving her cake fork at Sylvia, mumbled had she settled down to married life now?
‘Yes, thank you, best day’s work I ever did.’
‘Wish I could get Alan married off. As a barman he’s second to none, but at the moment he’s sex mad. He can think of nothing else. I’ve told him, he’ll find the right one eventually, but no, he’s after anything in skirts. At thirty-two I expect he thinks it’s time he got cracking.’
‘You’ve known him a long time?’
‘He’s worked for us since he left school, he hasn’t a family so it’s good for him that he can live in. But I’ve told him, no girls on the premises, thank you. I won’t have it.’
Pat Duckett overheard the conversation as she waited for Muriel to serve her a slice of the chocolate gâteau Venetia had brought.
‘Nobody likes him, yer know,’ she said. ‘Good at his job but he’s not liked.’
Georgie was upset. ‘No one likes him? That’s the first I’ve heard. Why ever not?’
‘Slimy ’e is, slimy.’ Muriel who agreed with Pat but didn’t like to say so, muttered that ‘perhaps that was a little unkind’.
‘Unkind it might be, but it’s the truth.’ Pat thanked Muriel for the gâteau and, helping herself to another napkin, wandered off for what she hoped would be a worthwhile chat with Venetia.
Muriel did her best to pour oil on troubled waters. ‘You’ll have to excuse Pat, I’m afraid, she’s very upset at the moment and doesn’t know what she’s saying.’
‘Why?’
‘Short of money and the children getting more expensive each year to feed and clothe, and now her father’s coming to live with her, because he’s just lost his job.’
‘Oh dear, poor Pat. Yes, well, she does have problems, I suppose.’
‘Yes, she does.’ Muriel looked across the dining room to where she could see Pat talking to Venetia. They looked very intent.
‘You see, my dad knows everything there is to know about gardening and then some. He’s done it all his life. All he needs is a chance to prove it.’
‘Well, I could ask Jeremy if he needs anyone.’
‘He specialises in glasshouse work, but he can turn his ’and to anything actually.’
‘You mean greenhouses?’
‘Yes, he’s been growing vines and peaches and figs and things all his working life. If it’s under glass, you name it ’e grows it.’
‘Look Pat, it’s nothing to do with me, Jeremy’s in charge of the estate, but I’ll certainly have a word. I mean we never looked after the greenhouses when we owned it, and nothing’s been done since Crad—Mr Fitch came, so yes, I do know they need attention. But then he’s so forward looking. Cut your losses and start a new project, you know the kind of thing. He could quite easily say, pull the lot down, they’re not worth the trouble. But I promise I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Thank you, yer’ve no idea what a help it would be if he got a job. I can’t stand the thought of him round the house all day and nothing to do. I mean he was only nineteen when I was born so he’s still got plenty of go in him. He’s not ready for the scrap heap yet. More coffee? This one’s on me.’
Harriet came to the table asking for another slice of raspberry meringue.
‘I’ve no doubt I shall regret this around two o’clock this
morning and will be lying in bed munching indigestion tablets, but there you are.’
Sylvia handed her the meringue and a fresh napkin, and was about to ask Harriet if the children were excited about the baby when the uproarious arrival of a crowd from Penny Fawcett put paid to any further conversation they might have liked to have.
It was quite late when Caroline’s guests began to leave. Muriel stayed behind to help clear up.
‘What a wonderfully successful evening, Caroline. How much money have we made?’
‘Believe it or believe it not, I’ve counted up and it’s a hundred and eighty-five pounds, seventy-five pence. Isn’t that marvellous? The bring and buy stall just helped to top it up and we had far more people than I expected. I couldn’t believe it when the minibus from Penny Fawcett turned up. I knew some of them intended corning, but a minibus full! There were so many they were sitting on each others’ knees. Good thing the sergeant didn’t catch them!’
‘Brilliant!’ Harriet said. ‘That’s just a bit more than we needed to finish the refurbishment, isn’t it? Now, I’m going to give a hand.’
‘Oh no, you’re not, you can be purely decorative, Harriet, and entertain us with dynamic conversation while we work. Muriel and I will clear up. There’s not that much to do now. Pat did a lot for me before she left.’ Caroline smiled at her as she bent over the dishwasher. ‘Sit in my rocking chair and watch. I won’t put this plate of yours in, Muriel, it might be the worse for wear if I do, we’ll wash that in the sink.’
‘By the way, Jimbo’s asked Pat Duckett if she’d like some evening work waitressing when he has an outside catering job.’ As she said this Harriet bent forward for a moment,
and then continued. ‘I know she would welcome the money and I’m sure she’d be relia— Gosh I’ve got the most incredible indigestion. I should never have eaten like I did. There’s not enough room left any more for overeating. My insides can’t cope. Hell, I don’t know what can have made it so bad. Wow.’
‘I’ve got some indigestion tablets, Harriet, would you like one?’
‘Yes, please.’ Caroline searched in a cupboard for them and eventually found the packet. Harriet took one gratefully. She sat quietly chewing the tablet and waiting for it to take effect.
‘Would either of you like a drink before you go? Tea or something?’ She turned to ask Harriet what she would like. ‘Tea for you . . . Are you all right?’
‘Things have improved I must say. It must be that meringue thing I had to finish with.’
Caroline said, ‘Are you sure it’s indigestion?’
‘Yes. It must be, the tablet’s eased it now. Where’s Peter tonight?’
‘Playing squash with an old college friend. He felt guilty, but I said it’s a ladies’ evening and we can manage perfectly well without you, so off you go.’
‘It never ceases to amaze me that men think we can’t cope without them. Jimbo was all hot under the collar before he left. You’ve got to go, I insist, I said . . . Oh dear, I’ve a nasty feeling it’s not . . . indigestion.’
Caroline put her hand on Harriet’s stomach and felt it harden as a contraction took hold. ‘You’re in labour.’
