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Authors: Rebecca Shaw

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BOOK: Whispers in the Village
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Pat offered her a cup of tea.

‘Wonderful, I’m absolutely parched. It’s been one of the most difficult mornings of my life. Funerals are never easy but this one … the poor little mite, we shouldn’t question the wisdom of God, but my word I came close this morning.’

‘The service was beautiful, all credit to you. You were wonderfully understanding.’

Rather ruefully Anna replied, ‘I expect Peter would have done it better.’

Pat smiled. ‘Perhaps he would, but you came a very, very close second. Sugar?’

‘No, thanks, I’ve come about the lunch we’re doing for the Senior Citizens’ Club. Is it possible you could organize it, Pat? I’ve got a good team of volunteers but what they need is a well-qualified organizer, and I thought you’d be just the one.’

Pat was having difficulty in concentrating on what Anna was saying due to her shock about Dean, but said, ‘Give me the date and I’ll check I’m not working for Jimbo that day.’

‘Of course.’ Anna dug about in her briefcase and brought out her sizeable diary. ‘It’s the twenty-fifth of next month, quarter to one for one o’clock. The new dishwasher will be installed by then so that’ll be a help.’

‘We need it. Glad you persisted. I did notice that those who said it was all too much expense were the very ones who’re never seen washing up, ever.’ She flicked through her diary and agreed she was free that day. ‘I’ll do it. Thanks for asking me.’

‘Not at all. I’m the one who should be doing the thanking. It’ll be a full house, you know what they’re like when there’s food supplied. But it’s a new venture and I want it to work out very well indeed, which I’m sure it will now you’re on board. Now …’

Dean walked into the kitchen case in hand. Anna had deliberately called when she thought he would be working and had to swiftly change the expression of surprise on her face. ‘Hello, Dean. Going on holiday?’

Dean’s face flushed and his throat clammed up, but he managed to apologize for not being at the Youth Club on Friday. ‘I’ve got the offer of a job in the City, you see, right out of the blue, and I’ve taken it. Leaving right now.’

Anna got to her feet and went to shake his hand. ‘What did I say? You’ve done the right thing, I’m absolutely positive. I admire you for striking out, it’s not easy. Isn’t it brilliant, Pat?’

‘It is. I’m very proud. A really good chance.’ Pat succeeded in sounding pleased but it was extremely hard to put the right amount of enthusiasm in her voice. ‘Very proud. We won’t know him when he comes back.’

Dean went even redder because Anna was still holding his hand. She let it go and patted his arm. ‘Well done. Must be off.’ She picked up her gloves and bag and made for the door. ‘Ring me, Pat, if need be. Run an eye over the menu, tell me if you want any changes. I’ll leave it here on the table for you. Bye, everyone.’ She gave a careless wave in their direction and left, but not before she’d heard Dean say he’d put his case in the car.

So he followed her out and they stood talking. ‘It’s a wonderful opportunity. I’m glad you’re going. Well, I mean—’

‘Glad I’ll have something else to think about other than you?’

‘No, no, I didn’t mean that.’

Dean drew in a long breath to brace himself to say, ‘I realize nothing between you and me is possible, we’re worlds apart. But I love you very much, more than ever if that counts for anything. It hurts badly.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘At least you remember my name now, I suppose that’s progress. If ever you’re in London … I’ll let you have my address and phone number.’

‘Of course it hurts, and in many ways I’m proud someone worthwhile like you chose me to love. Certainly, if ever I’m in London, I’ll look you up. We could go for a meal, couldn’t we? But you do see …’

‘Yes, I do see, I’m not stupid. Best wishes for the rest of your stay here.’ Vowing not to return until the end of July when Peter would be back, he took hold of her free hand and pressed it to his lips, and continued to grip it tightly. Then he couldn’t resist saying, ‘And Gilbert. How do you stand there?’

‘Today, I only have feelings of deepest sympathy for Gilbert after what he and Louise are going through. It’s unbearable. Totally unbearable what they are having to face. They need each other more than they have ever done.’

Dean could have kicked himself for being so insensitive. ‘Of course, I’m so sorry. Forget I said that.’ He was still gripping her hand, then leaned forward, as though he might kiss her on the lips for the very first and last time.

‘Dean, please, no!’

Reluctantly he let go her hand and turned to go into the house to say goodbye to his mother.

Anna called after him, ‘Take care, Dean!’

Pat had watched him kiss her hand and her heart ached for him. Her Dean. He’d always been so sensible all his life and now this. The pain which showed in his face broke her heart. ‘Oh, Dean! I wish—’

Dean cut her short, not able to bear her sympathy. ‘Bye, Mum. I’ll ring when I get there and bring you up to speed.’

‘Yes, of course, love.’

‘Tell Barry … tell him I couldn’t wait to go, I’ll speak to him tonight. Can you tell Michelle? She’ll be gobsmacked at the way I’m stepping out of line.’

‘She’ll be proud of you. Barry will be, too; he’s always thought the world of you. Don’t forget to say goodbye to yer grandad.’ Pat gave him a huge big hug and managed to hold back the tears until she’d waved him off. So that was the end of another chapter, and she found it hard to take. Still, Michelle hadn’t left yet, and didn’t look like doing so. That was a comfort.

*

Comfort was not something Jimbo found when he read the latest email from Peter and Caroline.

To: Everyone at Turnham Malpas
From: New Hope Mission

We have been asked to move away from this area with the greatest speed. The rebels are becoming ever more confident. They now have control of the local radio so none of the news we are getting can be relied upon. All we know is that our dear children are still missing. We can hear guns firing quite close now, and have about thirty of our congregation living in the church in the hope they will be safer there than in their own homes. Winsome is doing the best she can to feed everyone but food is scarce as holding the daily market in the nearest township is impossible. Pray for us
.

Peter and Caroline

Jimbo had never felt more useless in all his life. All those miles away and nothing he could do about it. Of course they couldn’t leave. Save their own skins when their children were missing? Impossible. He dreaded to think what might have happened to them; in fact, his mind refused to contemplate their fate. He had to talk to someone about it. But who? Who had any influence? He clapped a hand to his forehead when he remembered Ralph. Of course, late of the diplomatic service, he’d be the very one. He might still know people who could help.

Knocking on Ralph’s door at nine prompt, he found both Muriel and Ralph ready for visitors.

‘I’ve come to show you this.’ Jimbo said, and gave them the email to read.

Muriel blanched and Ralph, well, Ralph, even the least perceptive person would have been able to see the ghastly distress on his face.

‘Dear Lord, whatever next.’ Ralph read the message again and then once more and then again. ‘This is dreadful. If they don’t get shot it sounds as though they might starve to death.’

‘Is there anyone in the Foreign Office you might know who could help? Someone has to step in. They can’t leave, you see, because of the children, though heaven knows they might not even be alive.’

Horrified at hearing her own thoughts spoken aloud, Muriel sat down on a chair with a handkerchief to her lips. ‘Poor Caroline, poor Peter. Do something, Ralph, my dear.’

‘I am. I’m going up to London. I’ll pack a case, go there and cause a shindy. It’s no good being politically correct and all stiff upper-lipped in circumstances like these. Positive action is needed. I’d no idea it was so bad out there. Things have definitely escalated these last few days.’

‘It’s not getting much attention from the media, is it, you see? Too many wars and things going on, for them to take interest in what appears to be a very local situation. I don’t suppose we’d be taking much interest in it if it wasn’t for Peter being out there.’

‘That’s the other point of attack, of course. The media! Muriel, organize me.’

Jimbo made to leave. ‘I’ll go and let you get started. If there’s anything you need, just ring and I’ll attend to it, only too glad to help. Petition or whatever. Good luck, Ralph. I’ll leave it in your capable hands.’

To Jimbo’s and everyone else’s surprise, Ralph was featured on the national news the following day. He gave an intense and passionate run-down of Caroline and Peter’s situation, and even managed to slip in the fundraising efforts of the Turnham Malpas Women’s Institute and how much they’d already raised towards helping the New Hope Mission and the medical clinic Caroline ran. Everyone in the village was glued to the TV waiting for a repeat on
The Ten O’Clock News
and spontaneous applause broke out when Ralph’s piece finished.

In the Royal Oak, Dicky and Georgie decided on a free drink for everyone to toast Ralph, and Peter and Caroline.

Ron had taken Sheila in there to give her a break, but she couldn’t bring herself to cheer when Dicky asked for three cheers for Ralph. She was too exhausted. OK, they’d got Louise home so Sheila and Ron were sleeping in their own bed, but the strain of caring for them all without Louise organizing everything was too much. Ron swore he’d lost half a stone these last two weeks; as for Sheila, she’d always wanted to be thin, now she’d no need to try, because her clothes were hanging loose on her.

‘Ron,’ she said, ‘I want to go home. I’m so tired.’

‘Stay a bit longer and then we’ll be off. It’ll look unfriendly if we leave now.’

‘I am unfriendly. I don’t want to speak to anyone. I just want to go home.’

But then Jimmy Glover called across, ‘Sheila! About the afternoon at the races. Is it right that it’s black and white? What yer wear, I mean?’

‘That’s right. All the tickets are sold, the champagne’s bought and you should have chosen your horse by Tuesday. Write it on the form and give it to Colin Turner. Five of your fifteen pounds is for the bet. Colin’s advising if you need any help, and if you don’t choose, then he will choose a horse for you.’

‘Right. Just wanted to make sure. I fancy Major Malpas. Seems like fate, yer know, Major Malpas.’

Someone else scoffed at his sentimental idea. ‘It’s one hundred to one, a rank outsider.’

‘Not today he isn’t. Latest is he’s fifty to one, Major Malpas is, so he’s got a better chance than we thought. I have a feeling in my guts that I’m right. I’m wearing my dinner suit and a white shirt.’

There was a burst of laughter at the thought of Jimmy in a dinner jacket. Paddy called out, ‘You, in a dinner suit? It’ll be worth going just for that.’

‘Less of your cheek, Paddy Cleary. I could do a pretty smart tango at one time wearing my dinner suit. Competitions and that.’

More laughter.

‘Tango? What’s a tango?’ Paddy asked, just to taunt him.

Jimmy had to laugh at himself. ‘You haven’t lived, you haven’t. It’s Latin American. Just you wait till the day. You’ll see. I haven’t put a pound on since I was twenty-one. It’ll fit, believe me.’

‘I fancy La Belle Royale,’ said Vince Jones. ‘She’s a beauty, been winning or placed all season.’

There followed an in-depth discussion as to which horse they all fancied and what they were going to wear.

‘You’d better make up your mind – there’s only two weeks to go,’ someone said.

Only two weeks to go, thought Sheila. However shall I manage? Heaven help me. She checked her diary. They were right, it was two weeks. ‘Ron. I want to go home.’

Ron looked at her and saw the exhaustion and worry in the dark shadows under her eyes. This business of the baby had hit her hard. ‘Come on, then, we’ll go. Goodnight, everybody. Be seeing you.’

Sheila called out, ‘Goodnight!’ as they reached the door and as it closed behind them, Ron said, ‘Let’s have a walk before we go to bed, blow the cobwebs away.’

‘Where to?’

‘Just onto the spare land, have a look at the beck. It must be in flood with the rain we’ve had lately.’

So Sheila took his arm and they went off past their house and down the footpath behind Hipkin Gardens. Ron always took a torch with him when they went out at night. Sheila thought he was crackers for doing it, and said so frequently.

‘We’ll be glad of this some night. Believe me.’

‘I’ve been waiting almost forty years for something to happen that made us need it and it hasn’t happened yet.’

Ron tightened his arm to squeeze the hand tucked comfortingly into the crook of his elbow. He chuckled and then said, ‘I’ve been meaning to say you’re right about swapping houses with Louise. It’s a sensible thing to do.’

‘At last you’ve seen sense! Mind where you walk – I’m nearly in the long grass this side.’

They could hear the water rushing along under the footbridge even before they got there. It was pleasant to stand in the dark on the bridge, leaning over watching the beck rushing and pushing its way through the narrow gap and then on towards the river somewhere.

BOOK: Whispers in the Village
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