Village Matters (23 page)
Authors: Rebecca Shaw
‘Won’t it be lovely, Mum? A whole big bedroom to myself. And one for you too.’ Michelle gazed up at the blank windows, picturing herself sitting at one of them looking out over the gardens, wearing a beautiful white dress with an open book resting on her lap, like that lady she’d seen in that old film on the telly.
Dean kicked a lump of brick across the rough grass. ‘I’ll need a desk, Mum. With a chair and some bookshelves. I’ll have to have a bike. Can’t walk all that way to the school bus and back.’
‘So will I, won’t I Mum?’
Pat nodded. ‘We’ll all three need bikes. And you’ll need a new bed, Dean. That one of yours is going to the tip. We’ll get you a lovely long one. Yer growing that fast, you’ll be needing a chair at the end for yer feet with that old thing you’ve got now. Wonder if yer Grandad still has his driving licence. Maybe we could even afford a car after a while.
Then ’e could take us out for rides. Might even go on ’oliday.’
Michelle’s eyes lit up. ‘On holiday? Oh Mum, just think, on holiday!’
‘We’ll have to watch the pennies, mind. No silly spending. Perhaps we could rent a cottage by the sea. Yes, I’d fancy . . .’ She heard footsteps in the dark. ‘Who’s there? Who is it?’
‘Only me!’ Through the gloom the three of them could see the outline of Grandad. He came to stand beside them. ‘Come to see our new abode. By heck, kids, we’ve landed on our feet here, haven’t we?’ He gazed up at the front of the house. ‘Chosen which bedroom you want? I’d like one big enough to have a comfortable chair in it with my own telly. Can’t stand them daft programmes you kids watch.’
Michelle said her grandad could have the biggest one, then. ‘Right thanks, that’ll do nicely. Greenwood Stubbs, Head Gardener, accepts with pleasure. You and me, we’ll turn this place round and not half, Michelle.’ He gave her a friendly conspiratorial nudge. ‘All it needs is dedication, and I’ve got plenty of that. Don’t expect you’ll be helping, will yer, Dean?’
‘Might. If yer pay me.’
‘Oh. Well, we’ll need casual labour from time to time, so I’ll put you at the top of my list.’
‘Put Rhett on yer list as well, Grandad.’
‘Rhett? Who’s he when he’s at home?’
‘Rhett Wright from next door.’
‘We’ll put his name down as well then. With a moniker like that he needs all the help he can get. Will he work hard, though?’
‘Do anything for money, will Rhett. Come on then.’
Pat asked, ‘Shall we need net curtains, do you think?’ But
no one answered, they’d all set off to the bonfire.
She stood listening to the silence. Be lovely living up here. What with the bathroom, and the modern kitchen. A whole new start. Well, wherever you are Duggie, either down there or up yonder, at least now yer know the Ducketts are doing better than expected. Oh yes, much better than expected. Yes, this Christmas was looking good. She’d be off to the sales after, buying furniture and things. She ambled off, hampered by her fur boots and thick trousers. Pat pushed her scarf back from her face and, looking up at the clear starry sky, watched a rocket exploding. That was just how she felt. Explosive. Yes, exploding with joy.
Pat cut through the neglected kitchen garden, opened the door in the wall and stepped out onto the path. From where she stood she could see the crowds arriving for the Party. Old Fitch had erected floodlights so the whole of Home Farm field was illuminated. The marquee erected to one side was glowing softly, and people were going in and out carrying trays and boxes. The bonfire was enormous. You could have thought it was Coronation night or something. Perched right on top was the guy. She chuckled to herself. What a scream it had been, making that dummy of old Fitch. It was Dean’s idea to spray a mophead for his hair. Looked a treat, it did. What a laugh they’d had, but it’d done the trick. If ever he found out she’d helped . . . Ruthless, he was. But no matter, he’d transformed her life. She went gleefully down the slope to join the throng.
Muriel and Ralph were walking to Home Farm field by cutting through the churchyard and using the little gate in the wall, which had been put there dozens of years ago so that the Templetons could walk to church from the Big House without having to go the roundabout way via the
drive. The gate was stiff, and Ralph had to struggle with it to get it open. Weeds had twined themselves around it and grass was growing in the hinges.
Muriel held the torch for him while he forced it open. ‘We shouldn’t really be using this, should we?’
‘He won’t know, will he? I don’t expect anyone else remembers about this gate.’
‘I do. It’s a special gate for me. You stand that side and I’ll stand this side and we’ll kiss like we did when we thought we were leaving Turnham Malpas forever. I was twelve and you were fourteen. I can even remember the dress I was wearing.’ They had their commemorative kiss, and then hand in hand in the dark they wended their way along the disused path towards the floodlit field. ‘I’m determined to enjoy myself tonight, no matter what.’
Ralph squeezed her hand. ‘So am I. I hear there’s a beer tent as well as the marquee, so I shall visit that and get my money’s worth out of him!’
‘Well, as you’re not driving, I expect you can. Do you know, I’ve never seen you worse for drink?’
‘My dear, you never shall. Merry, perhaps, but never under the influence. Have you a key in case we lose each other?’
Muriel felt in her coat pocket. ‘Yes, I have.’ Her eyes alight with anticipation, she strode forward. Ralph looked at her face as they came within the arc of the floodlights. She looked not a day older than twelve. No one looking at her now could imagine for one moment the heights of passion he had released in her. He just hoped they had plenty more years left in which to enjoy their new-found delights, despite this dratted heart business. He felt a tug at his overcoat. Looking down he found little Beth standing beside him, her mouth pursed ready for a kiss. ‘Raff! Ki’.
Raff.’ He bent down to receive her kiss. ‘Now, Beth, where’s your Mummy? Muriel! just a moment dear, Beth’s here and there’s no one with her.’
‘Oh dear. Oh dear. Caroline will be desperate. Beth, where’s Mummy? Where is she?’
‘Mummy gone.’ She put her hand confidently in Muriel’s. Ralph and Muriel anxiously scanned the growing crowd. Then Ralph shouted, ‘That’s Peter, over there. He looks frantic.’ Ralph shouted and waved his arms and Peter, turning his head this way and that in his anxious search for Beth, suddenly caught sight of Ralph and came running across.
‘Thank God!’ He swung Beth up into his arms and hugged her. ‘Daddy’s been wondering where you were, Beth. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have your reins on.’ She began struggling when she saw him pull the reins out of his pocket. ‘No. No.’
‘Yes. Yes. Sorry.’ He persevered with Beth as she twisted this way and that to stop him getting the reins on her. ‘Caroline has Alex and I’m supposed to be in charge of Beth, I’m not doing a very good job, am I? There, young lady, that’s you secure. Aren’t we lucky having such a wonderful evening for the bonfire? It’s all going to be perfectly splendid. I have never seen such a huge bonfire, have you?’
‘No. But then he would want the biggest and the best!’ Ralph commented. Peter looked sorrowfully at him and Ralph apologised. ‘Sorry. He is trying hard, too hard perhaps. Come, Muriel, into the fray.’
Peter relayed a message to them. ‘Mr Fitch has suggested we use the front hall for our drinks and buffet. He said if I saw you would I say you would be most welcome to join him, before the fire is lit. They’re turning out the
floodlights at a quarter past six and then lighting the bonfire. So you’re invited right now.’
‘Shall we go, my dear?’
‘Oh yes, just to be polite, but then I want to be outside after that.’
‘Of course. Lead the way, Peter.’ Ralph found Beth’s little hand stealing a grip on his, and she wanted Peter and him to swing her as they walked. Ralph had a lump in his throat.
The hall was brightly lit. The reception desk had been cleared of papers and telephones and a small buffet had been laid out. Behind the buffet stood Venetia, and by a small table beside the desk stood Jeremy, helping to serve drinks. Oriana, Sadie, and Mr Fitch were already there, and Caroline too, with Alex.
Venetia, looking tense, was serving Oriana with a plate of food. ‘A couple of canapés too? So fattening all these things, aren’t they, but so tempting. We’ve Jimbo to blame for that. He always caters so wonderfully you can’t resist. Staying the night, are you?’
Oriana Duncan-Lewis pointedly ignored Venetia’s question. ‘That will be sufficient, thank you. I’ll get myself a drink. Oh, there’s champagne! Craddock knows how much I love champagne. He’s such a dear, isn’t he, and so thoughtful.’
Venetia, unsettled by Oriana’s imperious manner and seething with jealousy, answered between gritted teeth. ‘Very thoughtful, oh yes. Always so considerate.’ Oriana’s reply was a scathing look. She thanked Jeremy for the champagne he’d handed to her. Knowing that Venetia was watching, she caught Mr Fitch’s eye and with a very possessive, intimate look silently toasted him.
He briskly acknowledged her salute and then went to
welcome Ralph and Muriel. Shaking hands with them, he said, ‘Please call me Craddock. It’s ridiculous to be excessively formal nowadays. May I call you Ralph and Muriel?’ The two of them agreed. Taking Muriel to the buffet, he asked her what she would like. ‘I’ll have a gin and tonic but nothing to eat, thank you, Craddock. I will take a jacket potato to eat by the bonfire, if you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all. Do exactly as you wish. You’re my guest, so help yourself whenever you wish. I’m delighted that you’ve come. I’m here to stay, so we may as well get on with each other as best we can. I shall be having the Village Show here too. Is it possible I might be able to enlist your help with that?’ He smiled at her.
Muriel replied, ‘I should have to give it my consideration.’
‘Please do. We can’t let the village miss out just because we don’t see eye to eye, can we?’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s almost time for lighting the bonfire. Where’s Oriana?’ He looked across the hall at her. She didn’t reply because she was having an angry confrontation with Sadie.
‘I’ve told you, I mean what I say!’
Sadie laughed. ‘So, we go, just once, to the theatre to a première for which Craddock had been given two tickets. That hardly constitutes a major relationship.’
‘Well, don’t you get any bright ideas. He’s mine and don’t you forget it.’
‘Yours?’ Sadie laughed. ‘Since when has anyone been able to claim Henry Craddock Fitch as their own?’
‘As from now. Keep off!’
The two of them became aware that their raised voices were being overheard. Oriana looked highly embarrassed. Sadie merely looked amused. ‘Craddock, I understand Oriana has a ball and chain attached to your ankle.’ She
pointedly studied his feet. ‘I can’t see it?’ Oriana flushed dark red.
Mr Fitch snapped out his answer. ‘You won’t. There isn’t one. I think, my dear Oriana, you’ve overstepped the mark.’
‘Overstepped the mark? But you and I . . .’
Mr Fitch grimaced ‘. . . Are friends, that’s all. Sadie is a lady who holds a special place in my esteem. I don’t care to have her spoken to in such a manner.’
Oriana became not only indignant but very angry. In a low voice she said, ‘How dare you treat me in such a cavalier fashion in front of your guests? How dare you?’
Sadie intervened. ‘Steady, Oriana, it never does to throw a temper with Craddock. I did once, and lived to regret it.’
‘I shall throw as many tempers as I like. Well, Craddock, you haven’t answered my question.’ Glass in hand she went towards him. He stared fixedly at her and asked, ‘I’ve forgotten. What was the question?’
For the moment anger had got the better of her and she couldn’t remember. Mr Fitch laughed. ‘Come, come, do calm down. Storm in a teacup.’
His patronising tone angered her even more and, frustrated at not being able to better him verbally, she threw the contents of her glass straight in his face. In a very controlled way he withdrew his handkerchief from his top pocket and wiped his face dry. When he had dried himself to his satisfaction he opened his mouth to speak, but Oriana forestalled him by screeching, ‘You can light your own damned bonfire,’ and storming out, leaving the assembled company stunned into silence. Before they had recovered themselves she returned to pick up her bag, which Alex had found and was taking to show his mother. She snatched it from his hands and as she stormed out a second time she
shouted over her shoulder, ‘I just wish you were the guy on top!’
Alex cried, Beth cried in sympathy, Muriel went bright red and Craddock Fitch stood grey-faced and tight-lipped. Ralph gave a wry smile, remembering just in time to turn his back to the other guests so they couldn’t see how amused he was. Venetia, delighted at the turn of events, silently toasted Oriana with champagne. Sadie drained her glass and said ‘Well! That brought that little confrontation to a satisfactory conclusion!’ She picked up her gloves and left.
Muriel, in a rather high squeaking voice, said, ‘I think I’ll go outside to see what’s going on.’ Others followed her lead and they trailed after her, leaving Ralph and Mr Fitch alone.
‘Well, Ralph, after that exhibition of ill breeding I appear to have no one to light my bonfire. Would you do me the honour? It would look foolish for me to light my own.’
‘Yes, I will.’
‘Thank you. Let’s go.’
As they went out of the front door and crossed the lawn to the field, Arthur Prior and his family were crossing it on their way to join the party. ‘Good evening, Arthur. Have you met Craddock Fitch?’
‘No, we haven’t had the pleasure.’
‘May I introduce my cousin and his family, Craddock?’ While he was doing the introductions an idea occured to Ralph. ‘Now Sebastian, how would it be if you helped me to light the bonfire? Mr Fitch wouldn’t mind, would you?’
‘Of course not. He isn’t a grandson of yours, is he? No, he can’t be, of course he can’t.’
