Village Secrets (11 page)

‘Just a moment. You are basing your opinions on, what is it, three weeks experience of her? You know she’s very bright, and Lady Wortley’s is where she needs to be to reach her potential.’

‘Harriet, there are other ways of reaching one’s potential without stretching oneself to breaking point.’

Harriet frowned. ‘Breaking point? What on earth are you talking about? Are you having this same conversation with the other parents?’

‘Oh yes, I am. I think it’s terribly important that the children have an all-round experience in school, and I honestly think Prince Henry’s and Lady Wortley’s are very one-sided.’

‘Well, Kate Pascoe, I’m afraid Flick will have to put up with a one-sided life if she gets in, and let’s hope she does, because
she
can’t wait to get there. I’m sorry, but we have no intention of withdrawing her from the exam, and I should imagine you will find the same attitude with the other parents. I’m amazed, I truly am.’

‘You’d rather put your prestige before the well-being of your daughter?’

‘My prestige?’ Harriet suddenly began to feel very angry.

‘You know – “Oh, my daughter is at Lady Wortley’s. She’ll meet all the right people …” et cetera, et cetera.’

‘I think you’ve overstepped the mark, Kate. Your opinions about class have no place here. You can take it from me that my daughter is sitting the exam, full stop. I’ll leave you now, the boys will be home shortly – from Prince Henry’s I might add – and they’re in need of TLC when they get in.’

‘There you are, you see. It’s the pressure.’

‘Pressure, my foot!’

‘Please don’t be upset with me, I’m only thinking of Flick’s welfare.’

‘I’m sorry. Yes, of course you are. Thanks for talking with me anyway. I’ll speak to Jimbo about what you’ve said, but I already know his answer.’

‘Thanks for coming. I’m just sorry I haven’t persuaded you.’

‘You won’t, I’m afraid. Good afternoon.’

‘Bye.’

‘So what do you think? Are we being too pushy? I was so wild I gave her a real mouthful, I’m afraid. I could have bitten my tongue out afterwards.’

Jimbo shifted his arm from under Harriet’s shoulder and rubbed the pins and needles away. ‘My dear Harriet, I love Kate Pascoe. She fills the eye every time she comes in the Store, but – and I mean but – she has odd ideas and I think this must be her oddest.’

‘But what if she’s right? I mean, look at Alex. Goes to playgroup as happy as Larry, yet Beth can hardly bear to walk through the door. Two children from the same mould and their reactions so different. Perhaps like they say an onlooker sees most of the game. Maybe Flick isn’t like the boys; maybe she couldn’t stand the pressure. She did have that fearful accident.’

‘I know she did, but she’s got guts. Even the specialist Archie what’s-his-name said so. No, I think we’re doing the right thing. She’s got to be given her chance just like the boys. If she doesn’t get in, then all well and good – it’s meant to be.’ He paused. ‘But she will!’

‘Jimbo! No wonder she’s so competitive.’ Harriet turned on her side and looked into his eyes from three inches away. ‘Do you really find Kate attractive?’

‘Of course, what man wouldn’t?’

‘Really. I can’t see it, you see.’

‘Well, you’re a woman.’

‘I can see Simone Paradise is attractive.’

‘God, that woman and Kate make a pair. Rice this and nut that, soya milk and pasta that. How they survive I don’t know.’

‘They were talking outside the Store the other day. Simone’s children were running wild as usual and she took not a blind bit of notice of them. They were very engrossed. Maybe they were swopping recipes!’

‘There is a kind of recognisable affinity between them, isn’t there?’

‘They don’t dress alike though, and they’ve got totally different lifestyles.’

‘I know, but there is some indefinable something or other. However, give me a solid well-fed woman like yourself any day.’

‘I know I’ve put weight on since I had Fran, but really.’

‘Come here to your Jimbo. God, I love you.’

‘I’m glad. Will you talk to Flick or shall I?’

‘I shall. I shall tell her we’ll love her just the same whatever happens. Too competitive indeed!’

Ralph received a letter from Mr Fitch outlining the financial arrangements for the cricket club. He was halfway through reading it when he broke off to admire the headed notepaper, which had
Turnham Malpas Cricket Club
at the top. The words were printed in old-fashioned type, a little like the Ye Olde Teashoppe signs painted above so many pretentious cafés. In smaller type below it said
President: H. Craddock Fitch
.

‘H. Craddock Fitch? Muriel?’

‘Coming.’ She appeared in the doorway dressed for going out.

‘Muriel! That man up there – is there no end to his conniving? He’s put his name on the cricket club notepaper as president.’

‘Ralph! No, he can’t have done. He promised.’

‘I know, but he damn well has, after he agreed. Right, that’s it. The knives are out.’

‘What shall you do?’

‘I’m not sure. Confrontation? He’ll only laugh.’

‘Is he at the Big House at the moment?’

‘Possibly – he has signed the letter personally. But his terms are very, very reasonable. No rent to pay on the pavilion for two years – which is far longer than I had hoped. We shall be on a sound financial footing by then. He’s providing all the equipment, we can’t grumble at that, though how we can take ourselves seriously with
Fitch plc
emblazoned across our chests I don’t know.’

Muriel sat down and began to laugh. ‘Oh really, you do take this cricket business far too much to heart. It’s only a game.’

‘Only a game!’ Ralph was appalled. ‘My dear, I have played cricket all over the world. It is not a game to be treated lightly. A piece of home, no matter the temperature or the altitude, a game which cuts a swathe through race, creed and colour. I remember once in Venezuela …’

‘Ralph, I have no time for cricket stories. I have to be off – Celia Prior will be here any moment now. We’re having lunch together, I told you yesterday.’

‘In Culworth?’

‘Yes, she’s taking me in her car. I’ve left you some lunch out in the kitchen.’

‘Thank you, my dear. You enjoy yourself. She’s very nice.’

‘She is.’

‘Arthur is going to be our official score-keeper.’

‘Oh, how lovely. There’s Celia’s car. Bye bye, dear.’ She kissed his cheek, and left in a flurry of lost gloves and a handbag she’d put down somewhere but couldn’t remember where.

Ralph stood watching Muriel get into Celia’s little Rover. Well, he’d better find out if old Fitch was in residence, and if he was, he’d have to sort him out. The damned fellow didn’t behave according to the rules of a gentleman. He could deal with him if he did. He and old Fitch didn’t … what was it Muriel said the other day? Oh, that was it: he and old Fitch ‘didn’t sing from the same hymn-sheet’.

‘I changed my mind.’ Craddock Fitch tapped the ash from his cigar into the cut-glass ash-tray on his desk.

‘Changed your mind?’

‘Yes. I thought, damn it, I’m rebuilding the pavilion, I’m providing all the gear – why
shouldn’t
I be president?’

‘I thought we’d agreed.’

‘We had.’

‘This is a bit infra dig.’

‘Don’t quote your Latin tags at me, Ralph Templeton, just to impress me with your education. Take it or leave it – Craddock Fitch is President. Now, I have another meeting in five minutes. Is there anything else?’

‘No, nothing else. But you disappoint me.’

Mr Fitch said he was sorry, but the tone of his voice implied he didn’t care a fig about disappointing anyone.

‘Good morning.’ Ralph stood and left the library seething.

Needing to let off steam to someone who understood his mood he went to the Store.

‘Morning, Jimbo. Got a minute?’

‘For you, yes.’ He called to his assistant to attend the till and then invited Ralph into the storeroom at the back.

He took off his boater and laid it on a shelf and invited Ralph to sit on his stool.

‘Well? I can see you’re very annoyed.’

‘I am. Fitch has changed his mind.’

‘About the pavilion?’

‘Oh no, not about that. He loves the idea of his name above the door too much. No, it’s not that.’ Ralph paused, then: ‘He’s decided to be president.’

‘The devil he has! I thought you said he’d agreed for it to be you?’

‘He did.’

‘Everyone’s going to be very upset,’ Jimbo predicted. ‘He’ll poke his interfering nose into everything we do. He won’t be a president in name only, you can bet your life on that.’

‘Exactly. But you be careful, Jimbo. I know how much you have at stake with him businesswise, so don’t do anything silly, will you? You see, not being a gentleman he doesn’t play by the same rules as you and me.’

‘There’s no way we can find the money to rebuild the pavilion on our own. Look at the first estimate we got – what was it, thirty-five thousand pounds? You’d think we were repairing Buckingham Palace!’

‘Much as I should like to step in and pay for it, I really can’t. Got to see Muriel’s well provided for.’ Ralph paused for a moment. ‘And, of course, I’ve sunk a great deal of money into the houses in Hipkin Gardens.’

‘But what a gesture. You’ve brought eight families into Turnham Malpas who wouldn’t have had a cat in hell’s chance of being here otherwise. It’s going to make such a difference to the school. That’s worth something by anyone’s standards.’

Ralph stood up. ‘Thank you. I’ve taken up enough of your time, so I’ll be off. I shall take this blow like a true gentleman, and say not another thing to him about it!’ Ralph smiled wryly at Jimbo, shook hands and left.

The bar in The Royal Oak simmered with the news of Mr Fitch deciding to be president.

‘Who told you, Willie?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Malcolm, when he left the milk.’

‘How does he know?’

‘How does he know anything? He hears all his news from all the housewives he chats up on his round.’

Jimmy drained the last of his ale, slapped his tankard down on the table and said, ‘Well, I for one feel right upset. We all know it should be Ralph. But then old Fitch is paying for the pavilion and that. I bet the bats will be the best money can buy.’

‘Yes, and then you know what?’

‘What?’

‘He’ll expect the team to be top every season.’

‘That’s his trouble yer see, always ’as to be best.’ Jimmy scowled. ‘Nothing about the game. Now Ralph would see it as how good a game yer played and that, but not his nibs, oh no. I don’t know for certain but I bet he’s giving a cup.’

‘Two!’

Jimmy laughed joyously, and thumped the table with his fist. ‘I knew it! I knew it!’

The other drinkers glanced up and smiled.

‘Tell us the joke, Jimmy,’ someone shouted.

‘Old Fitch is giving two cups for the cricket.’

They all laughed uproariously.

‘Typical.’

‘Show-off.’

‘He’s like a great big kid.’

‘Thinks he can buy his way in – well, he can’t.’

‘Not likely. The laugh is he doesn’t realise we know what he’s up to. Thinks we’re daft.’

‘Still, we can take the benefits and laugh like drains when we gets home.’

‘Yer right there! What else can we screw out of him, eh?’

‘Nice smart chairs for us to sit on instead of lolling about on the grass?’

‘China cups for us tea!’

‘Waitress service!’

‘Champagne when we win!’

‘The list is endless!’

They all fantasised a while longer about Mr Fitch and his generosity and then one group in particular put their heads together and became conspiratorial.

Jimmy nodded his head in their direction. ‘Wonder what they’re up to? No good, by the looks of it.’

Willie twirled his glass round on its little mat, and then casually remarked: ‘Heard anything odd about Sykes Wood lately?’

‘No. Why?’

‘My Sylvia and Dr Harris found an old bonfire in there in that clearing where the old charcoal-burners used to be. Remember?’

‘Bit before my time.’

Willie was annoyed by his flippancy. ‘You know what I mean. I’m serious. ’Ave yer?’

‘No. Nothing funny about ’aving a bonfire, is there?’

‘No, but Sylvia got really frightened. They’d gone to look for Dr Harris’ cat. It’s gone missing, yer know. Mimi, it’s called. Well, she …’

‘Yes?’

‘If I tell you something, can I have yer absolute promise not to tell anyone?’

‘Hope to die.’ Jimmy drew his finger across his throat and bent his head closer.

‘Sylvia found something.’

‘What? Like a skellington or something?’