Village Secrets (5 page)

‘It’s no laughing matter, my darling girl. We’ve got problems there and no mistake. I dread to think what will happen next.’

Jimbo met Kate the following morning. She came into the Store carrying a large shopping bag. He raised his boater to her and said, ‘You must be Kate Pascoe from the school. Good morning to you!’

She put down her bag and reached out to shake hands with him. ‘Indeed I am. And you must be Flick’s father. She said you owned the Store. She was going to launch herself into a long story about how well you were doing, end-of-year accounts and that kind of thing, but I cut that short! But I do see what she means. It certainly is a wonderland. And I thought all village stores were on their last legs.’ She looked appreciatively around the Store. ‘I think perhaps I haven’t thanked you for sending me that starter pack for my pantry? I really did appreciate your kindness. I’ve got to stock up my cupboards now.’

‘We’ll deliver for you if you wish.’

‘No, that won’t be necessary, thank you. There’s only one of me. Soya milk?’

‘Ah! We do have some but I don’t get a great call for it – just one other customer who has a daughter allergic to cow’s milk. Check the dairy cabinet, I think you’ll find some.’

Kate wandered away, leaving Jimbo to carry on replenishing the fresh fruit display. The doorbell jangled and Kate heard Jimbo welcoming another customer. ‘Ralph, this is a pleasure! Don’t often see you in here.’

‘Hello, Jimbo. Milk is what we need for the moment. We used the last drop at breakfast-time and Muriel’s wanting her coffee.’

‘Indeed and why not. I’ll get it for you.’

‘No, no, don’t trouble yourself, I can get it. I’m going up tomorrow to see old Fitch about the cricket pitch. Care to come with me?’

‘Much as I would like to, I’m afraid business calls. I’m quite sure you can manage without me!’

‘Got to get it on a business footing, you see. No loose ends. Knowing his propensity for deviousness I want things quite clear-cut. Any more news about team members?’

‘Indeed. Ah, Ms Pascoe. May I introduce our new head teacher, Sir Ralph? Kate Pascoe, this is Sir Ralph Templeton. He and his wife Lady Muriel Templeton live in the village.’ Ralph extended a welcoming hand. Kate shook it with a half-smile on her face. He was certainly distinguished-looking – thin, tanned, with thick white hair, an aristocratic beaked nose, and the wearer of an extremely expensive overcoat.

‘How do you do, young lady. Very pleased to meet you. My wife’s already made your acquaintance; she said how charming you were and she was right. We needed new blood in the school. May I wish you every success?’

‘Thank you, Ralph.’ Kate didn’t notice Jimbo flinch when she omitted Ralph’s title. ‘That’s very kind of you. Did I hear you mentioning a cricket team?’

‘You did. We’ve spent last summer and this winter resurrecting the old cricket pitch. It’s a vast improvement on what it was but still not as good as Lord’s – not yet.’

‘I played cricket with my brothers when I was at home. Fabulous game.’ Ralph raised an eyebrow at the use of the word ‘fabulous’. ‘I wouldn’t expect to play in the team, but I’m a good hand at cricket teas. Would I be of any use? Or maybe you’ve got all that side of it organised already.’

Jimbo declared they hadn’t and he’d be glad of help. ‘I’m having nothing to do with the catering side. It’s all voluntary, you see, so I’m sure Muriel and Caroline – you’ve met Caroline –’ Kate nodded ‘– would be delighted by your offer.’

‘I’m certain they would. Thank you very much.’ Ralph smiled at her and went to collect the fresh milk.

‘I’ve found some soya milk, Jimbo. I’m a vegan – I don’t suppose you have many of those in the village.’

‘Ah! First time I’ve met one in the flesh, so to speak. Is there anything at all which you specially favour? If so, I’ll make sure we get it in. Can’t have you starving to death!’ Jimbo couldn’t help remembering all the food he’d sent her. Privately he wondered where it had all gone.

Kate heaved her overflowing basket onto the shelf by the till. ‘Today I’m OK. Thanks though, I’ll let you know. Don’t forget about the cricket teas, will you? I really mean what I say.’

‘Certainly shan’t. I shall pass on your offer to the appropriate quarter. There’s your change – thank you very much.’

‘What superb carrier bags! Much too nice for recycling as pedal-bin bags!’ Kate grinned at him and went out.

‘Well, Ralph, there’s one thing for certain – I shan’t be able to retire on what Kate spends in here. A vegan – God help us! Hope she doesn’t start a new trend!’

‘About the team …’

‘Oh yes. I’ve got a list. Here it is.’ He removed a piece of paper from a clipboard, and handed it to Ralph who put on his reading glasses and stood to one side while Jimbo continued dealing with customers.

Ralph read the list out in an undertone. ‘Dicky Tutt … he should be good behind a bat but can he run, that’s the question. Jimbo … Gilbert – oh that’s a surprise. Surely Little Derehams will have something to say about us poaching one of their star players?’

‘Well, it’s Gilbert’s decision. He asked me, not the other way round. Apparently he’s sick of having to kowtow to their Captain who’s high-handed and not the slightest bit democratic, and Gilbert says he’s not a child and won’t be treated like one.’

‘Oh well, then, we’ll have him! If I remember rightly he’s an excellent batsman.’

‘He is. Score average last season twenty-one.’

‘Excellent!’ Ralph returned silently to considering the list. Barry Jones … yes, Peter … yes, Neville … the slimy toad, Malcolm … the milkman, the Sergeant … Dean Duckett … Kenny and Terry Jones and Rhett Wright. An odd collection but some good may come of them; we’ve got to start somewhere. He flicked the list with the back of his hand and said aloud: ‘Well, Jimbo, I must say you’ve done well. A good start. Right, I’ll be off. Here’s the money for the milk. I’ll let you know how I get on. Strange girl, that Kate.’

‘Rather gorgeous, I thought! Those green eyes … Nice of her to help with the teas.’

‘Hmm.’ Ralph shut the door and went off home looking forward to his coffee just as Muriel was. As he walked round the village green, Ralph admired the houses and the church. Home, Turnham Malpas, that was where he really belonged. His heart was here, where he’d spent his first years. It didn’t matter a damn that he wasn’t in the Big House any more. He could cheerfully leave that to old Fitch, because he, Ralph, had what Fitch hadn’t – a loving passionate wife. Never mind all that hooey that passion belonged only to the young; he and Muriel had proved them wrong. As Ralph crossed Church Lane he said to himself, I just hope my damned ticker holds out and we have many years of fun before us.

‘Muriel, my dear, here’s the milk. I’ve just been introduced to Ms Pascoe from the school. Curious sort of girl – well, woman. Just hope she doesn’t let the village down with newfangled ideas.’

Muriel opened the carton of milk and poured some into the tiny china jug on the tray. She checked that she had everything – Ralph’s sweeteners, the coffee, teaspoons, cups, saucers. She was using the ones she’d brought from her own house when they’d married. She was so glad she had someone to share her nice china with. Dear Ralph!

‘There we are, I’ve got everything. Come and tell me what you think of her.’

‘All black – she’s dressed in black. One thing in her favour, though, she’s willing to lend a hand with the cricket teas.’

‘Oh excellent! She can’t be all bad then.’

‘No, she can’t, can she?’ Ralph chuckled. ‘I’ve that appointment with Fitch tomorrow. They’ll be starting on the pavilion as soon as the weather improves – won’t that be grand? We’ve fifty years of neglect to put right. I can just remember seeing my father batting. It was a hot summer day. My sunhat made my forehead sticky so I pushed it off; Mama wiped my face with cologne and put it back on again. That’s something I remember about her – she always smelt beautifully. God! I’m sounding like a very sentimental old trout. Got to stop.’

‘There’s nothing the matter with memories, Ralph, nothing at all. Especially lovely ones.’

‘No, you’re right. Thank you for the coffee, my dear. I’m going to my study to open the post and to plan my meeting with Fitch. He’ll be handing out money like there’s no tomorrow, so long as it bolsters his campaign.’

‘Campaign?’

‘He’s wanting to be president of the club.’

‘But a Templeton is always president!’ Muriel was scandalised. ‘It’ll have to be you.’

‘I rather hope it might. Tradition and all that … but times have changed and money speaks loudest now.’

‘I shall tell him,’ Muriel said fiercely. ‘If you have any trouble with him, let me know and I shall go up there and put him straight. President of the cricket club … Whatever next!’

Ralph smiled at her. ‘I do believe you would.’

As he pulled up on the gravel at the front of the Big House the following day, Ralph couldn’t help his heart lurching slightly. The place always had that effect on him. It really was time he let the past rest in peace.

To his surprise, Craddock Fitch’s secretary Louise was working.

‘Good afternoon, Louise. I hadn’t expected to find you here on a Saturday.’

‘Good afternoon, Sir Ralph. I’ve been having a few days holiday while Mr Fitch was away so I thought I would catch up while the House was quiet.’

‘Did you go anywhere exciting?’

‘To Paris.’

‘Oh, wonderful! What a coincidence,’ Ralph said suddenly, struck. ‘Gilbert Johns has just been to Paris, too. Did you bump into him, by any chance? We had a chat about a recital he was going to in Notre Dame. He was so looking forward to it. Don’t suppose you went, too?’

Ralph noticed that Louise was blushing. ‘We didn’t bump into each other. Mr Fitch is ready for you.’

‘Thank you.’ Ralph headed towards the library.

‘Er … excuse me, Sir Ralph, Mr Fitch isn’t in his office, he’s in his private flat. Do you know where that is?’

‘Oh yes, I do.’ This was the hardest bit, walking up the stairs and along the corridors. Memories flooded his mind, but he mustn’t let himself be disarmed by them; he needed to be on his mettle. The thought entered his head that old Fitch had decided to have the meeting in the flat deliberately, to disconcert him.

The door of the flat was open so Ralph tapped with his signet ring on one of the carved panels and called out, ‘Craddock? Ralph Templeton.’

He heard quick positive footsteps. ‘Ralph! Do come in.’ Ralph wryly noted that Mr Fitch’s country tweeds were so entirely co-ordinated that he looked as though he’d stepped straight out of the window of a Savile Row tailor, then grimly recollected the man himself was no tailor’s dummy.

‘Craddock! Good afternoon.’

‘I’ve had tea organised for us. Is that satisfactory, or would you prefer something stronger?’

‘Tea will be fine.’ Ralph seated himself in a huge armchair, a patriarchal kind of chair; its twin was the other side of the fireplace and Mr Fitch went to sit in it.

Sadie Beauchamp carried in the tea tray. Ralph and, belatedly, Mr Fitch, stood up.

‘Good afternoon, Sadie. How nice to see you.’

‘Hello, Ralph. You’re back. Had a good holiday? I’ll catch up on your news with Muriel next week. Must dash. Everything’s there, Craddock, I’ll be off now.’ She put down the tray on the big round coffee table standing in front of the fire between their chairs, and beamed at them both. She and Mr Fitch kissed each other’s cheeks and she left.

Mr Fitch explained she’d been having lunch with him and had volunteered to make the tea before she left. Ralph replied, ‘I see. Lovely woman, Sadie. Sharp mind, even sharper tongue!’ Mr Fitch smiled his agreement.

They talked idly about this and that, and in particular about the international situation, and each in their turn prophesied the outcome, and then Mr Fitch put down his cup, dabbed his mouth with his napkin, and fired his opening shot.

‘If I’m putting money into this cricket team I shall expect to be president.’

‘Ah! I see. I thought perhaps you might.’

‘Oh yes. There’s no point in beating about the bush. I’m allowing the use of Rector’s Meadow, paying for the renovations – or more accurately, the complete rebuilding of the pavilion – buying and supplying the equipment, too, and that’s what I want in return.’

‘It’s completely against tradition.’

‘Is it?’

‘Templetons have been presidents since the cricket club was first started by my great-great-grandfather.’

‘Well, it’s more than fifty years since the last Templeton, your late lamented father, was president, plus no cricket team for fifty years, so I think we could safely say there’s been a break with tradition, don’t you?’

‘The village won’t like it.’

‘Come off it, Ralph. God! There’s hardly a soul living who remembers all that stuff. No, move with the times, I say. Money counts. Where else would you get it from if not from me?’

Bitingly Ralph replied, ‘It would be pleasant if you could be a little more gracious about it.’

‘
Gracious
? What’s there to be gracious about? Facts are facts.’

‘The village won’t like it,’ Ralph said again.