One Rainy Day (28 page)

‘Of course not, Father. You are the last person I’d think of as an old fogey.’ Andrew glanced at his sister. ‘We’d love Father to come along, wouldn’t we? I’m looking forward to seeing the inn again, and I’m sure it will hold a lot of interest for him.’

Charlotte didn’t let her disappointment show. She had been looking forward to being alone with her brother and telling him all she had learned about Poppy, which she wouldn’t be able to with her father present. Still, she was being selfish, and selfish people were not nice people. ‘Oh, of course you should come with us, Papa. I’m sure you will love it. I’m looking forward to seeing the look on your face when you first set eyes on it. Andrew and I were really taken with the inn, and the people there. They were very friendly, even if they did smell of farm animals.’

George looked into his wife’s eyes. ‘This is something I would like to do, my love. If it is all that Andrew and Charlotte say it is, I’m sure it will give me great pleasure. And I have to be frank with you, and say I have little interest in watching you and your friends playing cards. Female chatter is something I have never quite understood.’

There was a smile hovering around Harriet’s mouth. ‘If you did understand female chatter, my dear, then I would have cause for worry. You should have told me this when I
first began the card evenings, and you could have made arrangements to go to your club. I suggest you do so in future, starting tonight. Go with Andrew and Charlotte, enjoy yourself, and tell me all about your adventure when we’re in bed.’ Then her eyes turned away from her husband, and she did a very unusual thing. She winked at Andrew before saying, ‘Who knows? If it is as interesting as it sounds, I may have an urge to see it for myself. A family outing, perhaps?’

Charlotte found the idea hilarious, and doubled up with laughter. ‘Oh, Mama, that would indeed be wonderful! Oh, yes, we must do that soon. And I insist that Andrew brings a camera along to record the event.’

‘I have thought of taking photographs of the inn.’ Andrew nodded. ‘There are not many such places left, and it would be nice to have photographs to look back on in years to come.’

This wasn’t what his sister had in mind. ‘You misunderstood me, Andrew. It wasn’t the inn I was thinking of when I suggested you brought a camera. It was Mother’s face! I believe her reaction would be worth capturing on film.’

‘I’m going to suggest that if Mother is serious about seeing the inn, then our family outing should be very soon. When the light nights are here, I think the inn would lose some of its charm. Probably no log fire, and lots of customers out for a drive in the country. It would spoil the atmosphere completely for me.’ Andrew faced his father. ‘Let’s see what you think. Perhaps Charlotte and I were wearing rose-coloured glasses on our first visit and tonight will be a let-down for you, who knows? But there’s only one way to find out, so shall we retire to our rooms and change into suitable clothing? Come along, Charlotte.’

George covered his wife’s hand. ‘Can you bear to be parted from your loving husband for a couple of hours?’

‘I think I’ll survive, my love. And we’ll have lots to tell each other in bed. So poppy off and enjoy yourself. I do hope this much talked of inn lives up to your expectations.’

Andrew and Charlotte were walking up the wide staircase side by side. ‘I was hoping we would have a chance to talk to each other,’ Charlotte said. ‘I have some news for you.’

‘And I for you, Charlotte, but it can’t be now for we need to have a swill and comb our hair before going out. And we can’t keep Father waiting. There’ll be time when we get home. I’ll come to your room for a chat.’

As Andrew was opening his bedroom door, Charlotte called, ‘It is a lady’s prerogative to be late, Andrew. We don’t just have a swill and comb our hair. We must put paint and powder on. Plus nail varnish and perfume.’

‘You’ve got ten minutes, Charlotte, and if you’re not ready then, Father and I will go without you. That is my last word, and now I’m closing the door.’

When Andrew parked the car at the side of the inn, George leaned forward for a better view. There were no other cars there, and the only sign the inn was open was the lantern in the window. He stepped from the car and stood looking up at the thatched roof. ‘It’s like stepping back in time,’ he said. ‘I’ve often wished I’d been alive in the early Victorian years, but this is going back a lot further than the reign of Victoria.’

‘Wait until you see inside, Papa.’ Charlotte was alive with excitement as she clung to her father’s arm. ‘You’ll love it.’

As he was being led to the door, Andrew advised his father to duck, for the entrance was very low. ‘I wasn’t looking properly the first time we came, and I almost knocked myself out. I’ll go in front.’

George noted the thickness of the wooden door, the old
latch, and the dents made by wear over the years. And when he stepped on to the flagged floor and looked around, he drew in his breath, for the scene was like a tableau. There wasn’t a sound or movement. The innkeeper was leaning on the wooden bar, and the farmers sitting at a table with tankards in their hands looked like statues. It was a scene that would stay for ever in George’s mind, but in reality it was fleeting. The innkeeper and the farmers remembered Andrew and Charlotte, and they greeted them warmly in their thick country accents. And their welcome was genuine, for they were truly happy to see them. Working in the fields and on the farms seven days a week, they had no time or money for a social life. And when George was introduced, he received the same warm welcome. That he sported a hard bowler hat, wore a suit of pure wool, and was obviously a man of distinction, mattered not. He was treated, as his children had been, as a friend. And being George, he was soon at the bar ordering drinks. There was no selection, just beer and whisky. But that didn’t deter him, for he was comfortable in any company. He sat with his children for a while, discussing the wonderful wood-burning fire, the stonework around it black with age, the low wooden beams, and the thickness of the whitewashed walls. ‘It’s everything you said it was.’ George puffed on his cigar. ‘I wonder how old it is, and if there’s a history attached to it? If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll have a chat with the landlord. And I’ll get a round of drinks in for the farmers.’

‘Can we talk now, Andrew? Exchange our news?’ Charlotte asked. ‘In case we don’t get time later?’

Andrew’s eyes were on his father. ‘No, leave it until later, Charlotte. I promise I’ll come along to your room after supper. Right now I’m enjoying seeing Father showing so much
interest. He still works quite hard, you know, so it’s nice to see him finding something to engage his interest. And look how he mixes in with the farmers, as though he’s known them for ages. Sitting on a roughly made stool, and drinking out of a glass that has a chip in the rim. That is what I admire so much about our father, Charlotte. Prince or pauper, he treats everyone alike.’

Loud laughter came from the farmers’ table, where the landlord was delivering a round of drinks. George was holding forth with a tale his children couldn’t hear for the babble, and it was their father who was responsible for the bursts of laughter.

‘I have never seen Papa so relaxed and happy,’ Charlotte said. ‘I am really glad we found this inn, and pleased we told Papa. I don’t think he is disappointed, do you?’

‘Far from it. He’s in his element. This little inn is steeped in history. If the walls could talk, they would have many tales to tell of how life used to be hundreds of years ago.’ Andrew leaned forward. ‘I am noticing far more this time than I did before. The bar counter is thick, rough wood, and going by the notches all over it I bet it’s hundreds of years old. On the ground in the corner by the bar is a brass spittoon, bearing dents and scratches from days gone by. And I don’t know how I missed that stone alcove with a stone bench at the back of it. I’d say there were no chairs and tables here years ago. The customers must have sat on those stone benches.’

‘How uncomfortable,’ Charlotte said, with a little shiver. ‘I’m glad I didn’t live in those days.’

‘People wouldn’t have known any different,’ Andrew told her. ‘Except for the very rich, of course. I’d love to know the history of it, and the coaches that stopped here for refreshments, and to water their horses. I imagine they were on their
way from somewhere up north, to London. It would be a very uncomfortable journey, as there were no metalled roads in those days.’

Smiles lit up their faces and they turned their heads as their father’s loud guffaw was followed by roaring laughter from the farmers, and much slapping of thighs. With his pipe in one hand, and a pint tankard in the other, George felt as free as a bird. ‘Should we join them, Andrew?’ Charlotte asked. ‘It looks as though we’re being stand-offish, sitting over here. Shall we move?’

Andrew was quick to press his sister back on the chair. ‘I don’t think so, Charlotte. It’s men’s talk, I would imagine by the laughter, and I believe the presence of a lady would not be welcome. You would spoil the freedom of speech that they are enjoying so much. I’m not saying they are being vulgar or obscene, for Father would not allow that. But they are telling jokes, and I believe some of them will be about the opposite sex, hence the laughter.’

Charlotte was silent for a while as she digested what her brother had said. Then, slowly, her eyes began to sparkle. ‘I had an idea then, Andrew, but I quickly discarded it. Which was a pity really, for I thought it was very funny.’

‘Aren’t you going to let me into the secret? After all, I am your dear brother.’

‘Yes, I am well aware that you are my dear brother. But I am also very well aware that you are a man, and men stick together.’

Andrew raised his brows. ‘Are you insinuating that because I’m of the male sex, I am not to be trusted?’

Charlotte giggled. ‘Cross your heart and hope to die, if you repeat what I’m about to tell you.’

Thinking he was as soft as his sister, Andrew nodded. ‘This better be good, Charlotte.’

‘I thought it was funny at the time, but it probably won’t appeal to your humour. The idea was, I thought that if there was such a thing as men’s talk, then it should apply to women as well. So how about me coming here one night with Mother? Then we could indulge in women’s talk. You know what they say about what is good for the goose being good for the gander.’

Andrew started with a chuckle, and then, as his imagination took over, it turned into full-blown laughter. The further his imagination took him, the louder his laughter grew. With tears rolling down his cheeks, he spluttered, ‘Oh, I’ve got a pain in my side now. Don’t say any more or I’ll have convulsions, and this is hardly the place.’

The farmers became quiet, looking across the room at Andrew’s now shaking shoulders. And although they didn’t know the reason, laughter is contagious, and soon everyone was laughing heartily, even the innkeeper and George.

‘I don’t know what you find so amusing, dear boy,’ George said, holding a cigar in his hand. ‘But I’d like to be let in on the joke, and I’m sure my friends here would too!’

‘We’ll tell you in the car on the way home, Father.’ Andrew wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. ‘It’s getting late and we really should make a move, or Mother will think we’ve had an accident. You know how she worries.’

George nodded. ‘You are right, my boy, your mother does worry.’ He turned round and faced the farmers and the innkeeper. ‘I thank you for a very enjoyable evening, gentlemen, one of the best I have ever spent.’ Being an outgoing man, and very sure of himself, George had asked and been told the name of the innkeeper. John Morley, his name was, and he’d been proud and happy to tell George everything he knew about what was once a hostelry for travellers. ‘Thank
you, John, for telling me the history of this wonderful inn. I will be back again, you can be sure of that. But in the meanwhile, if you will let us have six chickens, plucked and ready for the oven of course, my daughter will pick them up on Wednesday morning. Plus one and a half dozen eggs.’

The farmers were more than grateful, and it showed on their faces. They’d been paid five pounds in advance – more than they would have charged the local people who called to their farms, and a lot of money to men who worked hard for little reward.

George crossed the room to shake hands. ‘I can’t promise anything definite, gentlemen, but I have many friends who I am sure would be delighted to have farm-fresh poultry and eggs. I’ll have a word with them, and see if I can put some business your way on a regular basis. When my daughter calls for our order on Wednesday, she will have some good news for you, I hope.’ He placed his hard hat on his head and patted the crown until it was sitting to his liking. ‘Now I’ll say goodnight and go home to the wife, who, if I am very late, will greet me with a rolling pin.’

This brought forth a burst of laughter, and Charlotte was pleased that these men, who had made them so welcome, had taken her father into their midst. They had given him an evening of pleasure, and she surprised everyone by giving each a kiss on his cheek. George and Andrew stood in amazement, while the farmers were delighted, as well as blushing with shyness.

On the journey home, George talked non-stop. ‘One of the best nights of my life, my boy. You were very lucky to have come across such a gem. Did you know there is a stone over the door with the year 1625 engraved on it? John said you have to look hard for it now, because the date was hacked
out of the stone and is now very worn. The place has been in his family for nigh on two hundred years, and he has in his possession letters and invoices dating back to the first owners. The paper is very fragile, so he doesn’t keep it on display. But he said he would show me some time. Also farm implements that date back centuries.’ He shook his head. ‘What an amazing find. I feel very privileged to have seen and heard so much about life hundreds of years ago. I will definitely be paying another visit to the inn, and the farms, very soon. But I somehow don’t think it is to your mother’s taste. What say you?’

Andrew and Charlotte answered in unison. ‘Definitely not to Mother’s taste, Papa.’