Marie beamed at him. She pointed to the hospitality tray. ‘I keep it well stocked.’
‘Thank you, I can see I shall want for nothing. We’ll shake hands on the deal.’
And they did and somehow he held her hand a little longer than he should have done, but she didn’t mind, he had such a lovely smile.
‘You can park round the back. It’s better than in the road, sometimes they come charging down the hill as if they were in a Grand Prix race.’
‘And parking too. Wonderful. Won’t be long.’
Marie then remembered that she’d omitted to take his credit card number as a surety. Well, she’d ask him when he came back.
Harry Dickinson kept himself to himself at first, he had a key so he came and went at will. Once Zack met him in the bar and they had a drink and walked home together but really that was all. He always ate a hearty breakfast, having something of everything and a pile of toast, but then he had paid for it so that didn’t matter.
He said he was thinking about staying on and, naturally, Marie agreed because he was no trouble at all. In fact, they’d settled down to a very comfortable going on. She’d already invited him to have Sunday lunch with the two of them and they’d had a nice chat about politics and present-day country life and how it had changed, then he’d gone out for the rest of the day so that was that. He used his car a great deal for going here and there, he’d bought a map from Jimbo’s store, and popped into the Royal Oak. One day, when Zack couldn’t get the mower to work, Harry had gone to the church and given him a hand and solved the problem almost immediately, so that night he and Marie had gone to the bar and bought him a couple of whiskies as a gesture of thanks. He was so appreciative it was
almost embarrassing. ‘I don’t drink very much, you see. I like to be on the abstemious side, it’s all too easy to slip into being dependent on it and that’s not my style.’
‘Nor mine,’ said Zack, ‘too many lives ruined by drinking too much.’
‘Exactly,’ said Harry, staring into his whisky glass. He looked up as though he was about to add some intimate revelation, but closed his mouth and looked bleakly out of the window.
Marie touched his hand gently. ‘You look sad.’
He gave her an apologetic half smile and said, ‘You don’t want to hear my troubles.’
‘A trouble shared is a trouble halved.’
But he refused to reply and somehow the pleasure went out of the evening and, before long, Harry asked to be excused and disappeared out of the door with only the briefest of thank yous.
‘The poor chap, he’s very upset.’
Zack looked at Marie, wondering what was going through her mind, but before he could ask, Paddy Cleary came across.
‘Evening, Zack. Marie, how’re things? That one of your B&B guests?’
‘Yes he is, actually. He’s booked to stay a week but he’s fancying staying a fortnight.’
‘He’s a nice chap,’ said Paddy.
‘Sit down, Paddy, we’re about to have another drink. You’ve met him then?’
‘Yes. He came up to the big house thinking it was open for viewing like a stately home is, and I met him in the garden. He gave me a hand loading some new paving stones on to my truck. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Insisted, he did.’
Marie smiled. ‘That’s typical of him, he gave Zack a hand getting the church mower going when he couldn’t fathom what was wrong with it. Such a nice man, so well mannered and no trouble at all. I wish all our guests were as good as him. Two new ones came yesterday and they are a pest.’
‘Picky, are they?’
Marie nodded her head emphatically. ‘You can say that again. They turn their noses up at my cooked breakfast and want yoghurt and fresh fruit and brown toast and something funny called organic something or other, can’t even pronounce it, which I haven’t got. If they think they’ll get money knocked off for not having cooked, they’ve got another think coming.’
‘Well, if that’s the agreed price they can’t ask for a discount, can they?’
‘Can’t they? We’ll wait and see.’ Marie studied Paddy’s face and decided to take the plunge. ‘You know, Paddy, I’ve been thinking, why is it a charming chap like you, in a good, steady job and with this new horticultural qualification Mr Fitch has paid for you to get, why aren’t you married?’
Paddy took a long drink of his home-brew before he answered. Those Irish blue eyes of his with their dark lashes twinkled as he said, ‘To be honest, Marie, if you were free, I’d …’
Zack laughed like a drain. ‘Too late, Paddy. I found her first, and it’s staying that way.’
‘You’re greedy, Zack, keeping her all to yourself.’
Marie blushed. ‘I’m too old for you anyway.’
‘I like older women, they know how to look after a chap.’ Paddy raised his eyebrows at her and then winked.
‘Well, really! You’ve all the blarney of the Irish and then some, Paddy Cleary.’
Tamsin Goodenough came by, glass in hand. Glad of something to divert Paddy’s attention from her, Marie said, ‘Oh! There’s Tamsin. Come and join us, Tamsin, it’s been ages since we saw you. What have you been getting up to lately?’
Tamsin wandered over, Martini and lemonade in hand. ‘Hi, Marie. Good evening, Zack.’ She nodded to Paddy, who moved his chair a little to make room for her. ‘Busy, busy as usual, you know how it is.’
Marie was eager to know, for she was envious of Tamsin’s musical success. ‘Well, tell us then.’
‘Gave an organ recital in the abbey last week, and I’ve another one in London on Friday evening. Keeps me going.’
Zack, who knew Tamsin well due to her being St Thomas’s organist, said, ‘We’re proud of you, you know. People might not say much, but they are. You’re always such a joy to listen to. Have you heard her play, Paddy?’
‘No, never. I don’t go to church.’
‘You can always go to a recital, even if you aren’t a churchgoer. I’m not, but I go to her recitals when I can.’ Marie smiled at Tamsin, thinking as she did so that maybe a bit of matchmaking with these two might be a good idea. Paddy, being lightly built, appeared smaller than he actually was when he stood up, and Tamsin, well, she was just the right size for a woman; not too big and not too small. ‘The rector is one of your biggest fans, isn’t he, Tamsin?’
‘He is, but he plays the organ well too, you know, with no training whatsoever. You’ve heard him, haven’t you, Zack?’
‘I have, it can be tear-jerking when he plays sometimes. On the other hand, it can be very jolly. Yes, jolly, that’s right and it can lift your spirits. You’ll have to go to one of Tamsin’s recitals, Paddy, see what you think. Her playing isn’t all solemn, it can be funny too and make you laugh.’
‘Another drink, anyone?’ Paddy wasn’t going to let himself get involved with anything at all to do with the church. The further he stayed away from it, the better, in his opinion.
Things got quite lively later on. Dicky Tutt came out from behind the bar to give one of his comic performances, complete with new jokes, and Vince Jones was turned out by Georgie Tutt for becoming truculent, having drunk too much as he celebrated a win on the lottery. Someone also brought in a dog that threatened to clamp its jaws round Paddy’s ankle when he trod
on its tail as he passed it on his way to the bar again. Altogether, Marie wished Harry had stayed and witnessed a typical night in the Royal Oak saloon bar.
They’d decided to walk to the pub as the evening was fair but, when it came time to go home, Marie wished they’d brought the car. It seemed a long way home, even though it was downhill all the way. Then, as luck would have it, Harry came past in his car and stopped to give them a lift.
‘You should have stayed, Harry. We had a right laugh after you’d gone.’
‘Had other things to do.’
‘Oh! Right.’
When they got back to Laburnum Cottage, Marie suggested Harry might like a hot drink with them before he went to bed. ‘I’ll gladly make you one. I can offer you tea, coffee, Ovaltine or Horlicks. I think we’ve got some …’
‘That would be lovely. Add it to my bill, I insist.’
‘Oh for goodness sake! One cup of whatever isn’t going to break the bank.’
‘Please, I insist.’
‘Very well then. What shall it be?’
‘I fancy a Horlicks. Please.’
‘Come in the kitchen then, while I make it. Zack, what about you?’
‘No, thanks. I’m off to bed. Goodnight, Harry.’
While Marie was making Harry’s Horlicks, they heard the couple in the front bedroom come in. Marie listened for them going up the stairs and she was glad they did so without calling in the kitchen like they normally did with some complaint about the weather or some outlandish request for their breakfast that she wouldn’t be able to cater for.
‘Here we are. Horlicks, as requested.’
She sat down with her cup of tea and dared to ask him, ‘You
seemed sad in the pub. I hope it wasn’t anything me or Zack said.’
Harry’s dark-brown eyes focused on her. ‘This Horlicks tastes just like my granny used to make.’
‘She was a good granny then?’
Harry nodded. ‘Drink ruined our family, you see. That’s why I’m careful in the pub.’
‘Ah! Right. Alcohol has a lot to answer for.’
‘Exactly. Both my mum and my dad drank to excess and it made for a rotten childhood.’
Marie felt so sorry for him. She’d had a brilliant childhood, loved and cared for, even though there wasn’t that much money about when she was growing up. ‘That’s hard.’
Harry nodded again. ‘They used all the money for drink and then had nothing left to provide food for us all. It was hard.’
‘It certainly is.’
‘I guess, from the kind of person you are, your childhood was as every child has a right to?’
‘Well, we hadn’t much money, but we were loved and cared for.’
‘That makes such a difference. It spoils your life otherwise, the whole of your life. I joined the army to get away from it all. It’s so lovely here, being looked after by you.’
‘Pleasure. I suppose at least you got fed well.’
‘Yes, but the Falklands and then every unmentionable place you could think of after that, didn’t exactly help.’
‘You’re a Falklands veteran?’ Marie reached across and patted Harry’s hand. ‘Then you’re a hero in my eyes. And Zack’s.’
He gave her half a smile, then a shadow crossed his face and the sadness was back. ‘I was just eighteen. I think I’ll drink the rest of this in bed. Do you mind?’
‘Of course not, Harry. Feel free. Goodnight.’
As Marie listened to him climbing the stairs, all her mothering instincts sprang to the fore. The poor, dear chap. The
Falklands at eighteen! Just eighteen. Far, far too young for such an experience, and such a sensitive man would find it very hard. If he was eighteen in 1982, what did that make him now? Forty … Forty-seven, if her maths was right. He hadn’t mentioned a wife, though. Come to think of it, he hadn’t really mentioned anything at all in detail. Perhaps that was part of being a soldier, you learned to shut out the things that you hated. Poor Harry. When he paid her tomorrow she’d find out if he wanted to stay a while longer, except not much longer, because she was already fully booked for some weeks in the summer. Anyway, his money was as good as the next one’s, so perhaps she could squeeze him in somehow.
But the day for Harry to pay his bill arrived and he made no offer to pay at breakfast. She’d mention it when she met up with him during the day, Marie decided. Perhaps he was planning to go to the bank today anyway, or pay by credit card. That would be the easiest for her, by credit card.
When she casually reminded him that same evening, on his return at about eight o’clock, he was genuinely sorry. ‘My God! What am I thinking about? I’ve so enjoyed myself here I didn’t realise I’d been here a whole week. Tomorrow, first thing, I shall go straight to the bank. I shall draw it out as the clock strikes nine-thirty. In fact, I could go now, couldn’t I, and get it from the cash machine instead? I will. I’ll go right now. Right away. Please, Marie, please forgive me. It’s so careless of me and I wouldn’t want to cause offence, not for anything. I’ll be back in about an hour.’
He struggled to put his jacket on, but one sleeve somehow managed to be inside out and his hand caught in it and …
‘Look, Harry, please don’t rush out now. It’ll do in the morning. Honestly.’
He stopped struggling with his jacket and looked Marie full in the face. Honesty was in every millimetre of his smile as he
said, ‘Are you sure, because …’ and continued the battle with his jacket sleeve.
‘Just do as I say, pay me in the morning.’
‘Well, I have had a busy day …’
‘There you are then. Tomorrow will do. I get the days mixed up sometimes too, it’s easy done when you’re busy.’
Harry left the moment he finished his breakfast without even cleaning his teeth, which she knew he always did before he went anywhere at all, and was back with the cash by ten-thirty. He insisted on paying her for seven nights seeing as he was paying late. She didn’t want him to, but he persuaded her to accept it in the end so his conscience would be clear.
Despite the downturn in the economy, Jimbo’s Turnham Malpas village store was thriving. He’d carefully taken on board a few basic lines that customers could buy more cheaply and yet feel they were buying good food and getting real value for money. Also, and he never let on to Harriet, nor anyone else for that matter, sometimes when his customer was elderly, he added up wrongly on purpose and very few people noticed he was quietly cutting their costs.