Village Matters (14 page)

‘Mi dad’s ’ere, isn’t he? Staunch teetotal he is, Lord ’elp us. Went on the bottle when mum died, straight down the slippery slope. Alcoholic he was and no mistake. Took himself in hand and hasn’t touched a drop since. We shan’t be seeing him in ’ere, believe me.’

Jimmy expressed himself as being disappointed. ‘Fancied ’aving another chap to talk to, make a change from all you women.’

‘Cheek. At least you get to know all the latest. That taxi job of yours takes up all yer time. There’s only me and Vera to tell you anything. Isn’t it hot tonight? Hardly slept a wink last night, tossing and turning, all the windows open and I was still too hot. Mind you, with our Michelle’s bed in my room and her restless too, I didn’t have much hope.’

‘So, what is the latest then?’

‘Close? You and Mr Charter-Plackett? That’s rich!’ Vera shook her head at this flight of fancy on her friend’s part.

‘Less of yer cheek, Vera Wright. I’m one of his most reliable staff. He’s told me so. And now mi dad’s come I shall be doing more work for him. So . . .’

Jimmy interrupted. ‘You were telling us about little Flick.’

‘Right, I was. Jimbo was saying she’s so disappointed not to have got back to school in time for the start of term, but she’s determined she’ll be back before long. Mr Palmer says she can go mornings at first and see how she gets on. She goes for therapy in the afternoons. She adores that baby. And no wonder, that little Fran is beautiful. I could take ’er ’ome with me.’

‘Yer’d soon change yer mind.’

Pat laughed. ‘Yes, I expect I should! She ’asn’t ’alf got some grit she ’as, that Flick. When yer think ’ow badly knocked about she was, and ’ere she is fighting to get back to school. Jimbo, as I call ’im now, is that anxious about ’er. But then so would I be if it was our Michelle.’

‘I’ve been thinking, where’s yer dad sleeping?’

Pat’s face fell. ‘With our Dean. He’s none too pleased and I don’t suppose mi dad is either, ’aving to share with a teenager.’

‘We’ve a twenty-first dinner party at a big house far side of Culworth on Saturday, a fiftieth wedding anniversary lunch Sunday, and then Friday night Little Dereham’s Cricket Club annual dinner. That’ll be a right smashing do and not half. They’re a right crowd. Then we’ve a special dinner up at the Big House for Craddock Fitch coming up soon. He’s entertaining some of the local nobs. But I’m not helpin’ with that.’

‘Trying to ingratiate himself, is ’e?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Something like that. Doing overkill to make up for wanting to sell the silver.’

‘What does yer Dad do for a living then?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Up till now he’s been in charge of the glasshouses at Bothring Park. Grapes, peaches, melons, you name it he grew ’em. I’ve asked Venetia if there’s a job going up at the Big House, but I haven’t heard anything positive.’

‘Leastways he’ll get your garden in order,’ was Vera’s heartfelt comment. ‘My Don’s sick of all them seeds from your weeds blowing into our garden, one body’s work it is weeding.’

‘If that’s all yer’ve got to worry about I feel sorry for yer.’

Jimmy, seeing a row blowing up, offered to get the drinks in.

Pat spotted Willie coming in. ‘Oh there’s Willie, he’s been in court today. Come on over Willie, and tell us ’ow yer went on,’ she shouted.

After he’d settled himself in his usual chair he said, ‘My Sylvia’s babysitting tonight, the rector and Dr Harris have gone to a big dinner at the Deanery. So I shan’t stay long, I’ll go keep her company.’

‘We know, we know, tell us ’ow yer went on at the court.’

‘No, really, is that all they got?’

‘But . . .’ said Willie, ‘there’s more.’ He glanced round the bar. ‘Guess whose case was before mine?’

‘No idea. Whose was it?’

‘Alan Crimble’s.’

Pat nearly jumped from her seat. ‘We haven’t seen ’im serving tonight yet, ’e didn’t get prison did he?’

‘No. Asked a policeman I know from Culworth. “What did the last one get?” I says to ’im. “Not enough,” he says.’ Willie took another drink. Vera and Pat became impatient.

‘Well, what did he get?’

‘He got fined three hundred pounds, disqualified from driving for a year. He can pay the three hundred pounds off at so much a week. Car’s a write-off of course, it was that before the accident anyways, we all knew that.’

‘So are you saying, then, that Flick getting hurt like she did, didn’t count?’

‘Well, yer see for a start, there were no witnesses, were there? Middle of the morning, everyone in school, or out at work, and pouring with rain, yer know, nobody about, and she did run out from the gate without looking, she said so herself to the police, she told ’em when she was well enough to speak to ’em. Rector and I ran out
after
we’d ’eard the crash, so we didn’t see it either. So it’s all the legal things he copped for. No MOT, no insurance, no road fund licence and that.’

Jimmy shouted, ‘Any chance of a lift, Alan? Mi battery’s flat!’

Georgie’s head came up and the pint glass she was filling overflowed. She served her customer, took the money, and came over to see Jimmy.

‘That’s enough Jimmy, he’s been tried, got his punishment and now the matter is closed.’

‘You might call it closed, Georgie, but I bet Harriet and Jimbo and little Flick don’t call it closed. She’s still struggling on crutches, but I notice Alan’s walking OK. Looks to me like he’s got off scot free in comparison.’

‘Don’t you think that perhaps Alan is feeling bad about all this? He doesn’t exactly enjoy knocking down a child, you know. One day, Jimmy, it might be you who knocks down a child, and then see how you feel about it!’ Georgie turned on her heel and marched back behind the bar. She left Jimmy still of the opinion that he was right.

Alan began serving. Bryn and Georgie were glad of his help, for the beautiful weather had brought out the crowds. Some customers had driven from as far as Culworth to sit out in the little courtyard and enjoy the summer’s evening, or on the green or at the little tables Bryn had put outside the door. They encroached on the road a little but the sergeant turned a blind eye on hot summer nights. Bryn and Georgie and Alan were all kept busy serving, and the dining room was busy too; altogether the three of them were very pleased with the atmosphere and especially the frequent pinging of the till.

‘Can’t be,’ said Pat, ‘they were banned.’

‘I don’t think he was ’ere that night. But I’ve definitely seem ’im in Culworth with ’em, boating on the river and causing a lot of annoyance with being daft. I recognise ’is funny haircut.’

Alan set off around the tables collecting the used glasses. He went to the bar with several and then Bryn said to him, ‘There must be a lot outside, Alan, go take a look, we’re running really short in here.’

It was the loud shouting which drew the attention of everyone inside the bar. Bryn looked at Georgie and then hastily pushed his way outside. The noise was becoming louder and louder and then they heard the crashing of chairs, and women screaming. Jimmy, Vera and Pat, being seated close to one of the exits, were the first of the concerted rush of customers to get outside to see what was happening. A whole group of lads had Alan on the ground and were kicking him. He was trying to protect his face and head with his hands, but they were kicking from all sides and he’d no chance of escape. Bryn muscled in, and with the help of some law-abiding customers they managed to pull Alan away, but then punches began flying and Bryn was unable to control the ensuing fight. Inside, Georgie had rung for the police, and those customers nervous of getting involved had spread out onto the green to avoid getting hurt.

Pat helped Alan inside. The cut he’d received in the accident was nothing to the condition his face was in after the kicking. Despite her anger at what Alan had done to Flick, she couldn’t help feel sorry for him.

‘Brandy, that’s what he needs. Oh God, they’re coming in ’ere now. Watch out.’

‘Where is he, where is he?’ Tables and chairs began crashing over, glasses and drink spilling all over the floor. The noise was almost more frightening than the fighting, and Pat wished the police would come pronto, but how many would it take to control this lot? The sergeant wouldn’t be much good on his own.

Thankfully, the sound of a police siren pierced the air. Almost immediately the fighting stopped and there was a mass exodus of men. They struggled to reach the doors and get out before they got caught, but the doors were quickly secured and they were all confined in the bar. Two of the men headed for the gents’, hoping to escape out of the lavatory window, but Georgie was standing in the passage waiting for them, brandishing a cricket bat.

‘Oh, no, you don’t! One step and I’ll clobber you with this and I mean it.’ She raised the cricket bat, ready to strike. They went forward with the intention of taking the bat from her, but the glint in her eye stopped them. ‘You’ve done enough damage, and you’re getting the book thrown at you. Get back in that bar.’ She stepped forward holding the bat with both hands at shoulder level. Withering under her determined gaze, the two of them backed off. Georgie followed them, holding the bat at the ready.

‘Oh help, Bryn, I’m going to make a fool of myself. I’m going to be sick.’ She disappeared behind the bar.

Before the police left, the senior officer had a word with Bryn.

‘You’ll have to look to your laurels, Mr Fields, this is twice in quick succession we’ve had to come to a brawl here, and this one is much more serious that the last. Better control, if you please. Or else next time your licence comes up for renewal it might be . . .’ He drew his finger across his throat, making his meaning very clear.

Bryn grimly apologised. Losing his temper with the police would gain nothing. He was so angry with himself for not realising that the banned drinkers were actually on his premises. One of the men involved in the fighting volunteered to take Alan to casualty. Georgie saw him into the car, supplying him with a clean towel to hold to his face. ‘Now take care Alan, get the hospital to ring us if there’s any problems, won’t you? Best of luck, love.’ Alan nodded; he couldn’t speak because his face was rapidly swelling.

The customers began trailing back inside to finish their drinks, but the overturned tables and chairs, the broken glass and spilled drinks made it impossible.

‘This would never ’ave ’appened when Betty MacDonald was ’ere. She’d ’ave cracked their heads together, clasped ’em to ’er bosom and thrown ’em out,’ Vera observed.

Pat laughed. ‘Well, you should know Vera, she threw you out once.’

Vera laughed, wagged her finger at Pat and went home.