A Village in Jeopardy (Turnham Malpas 16) (19 page)

‘I’m in no mood for the reverend.’

‘Too late, he’s here. I’ve forgotten the biscuits. Back in a tick.’

When Anne came back with the biscuits Kate was pouring the tea. ‘You don’t take sugar, do you, Peter?’

‘No, thanks.’ Just like Johnny, Peter had had a shock when he saw Craddock Fitch. The man was a mere shadow of what he used to be. He was glad he’d come.

‘How are things, Craddock? I know life must be difficult at the moment,’ Peter said, wishing he’d never come; it was so obviously the wrong moment.

‘It is. Yes.’ Craddock shuffled himself straighter in his chair to put on an appearance of good health. He should have joined the other two in the easy chairs over by the fireplace, but the desk gave him security and he didn’t want to leave its safety.

‘If you need any help please feel free. I’m not a business person but I might be able to throw a different light on things, should you ask me.’

As if . . . Craddock thought. ‘Thanks all the same, but I’m managing very well indeed, always been the man in charge. How are things with you?’

‘Excellent, thank you. Kate tells me you’re thinking of moving to Glebe House.’

Craddock Fitch, who loathed the idea but had no alternative, answered briskly, ‘Might sell it instead and find somewhere more compatible. Not to my taste, nor Kate’s. But house selling at the moment is in a slump like everything else, so it may be better to wait and see.’

‘Of course. Very sensible.’

‘If it’s a donation you’re wanting . . .’

Peter hastily interrupted. ‘I’m not here to ask for money. I wouldn’t be so insensitive. In fact I don’t think I ever have
asked
you for money for the church; you’ve always offered it so generously.’

‘Well, I can tell you right now, those days have come to an end.’

‘So I understand. And I’m sorry about all your business troubles; it must be tremendously hard for you.’

His sympathy made Craddock Fitch stiffen up. ‘I don’t need your sympathy, thank you very much. In fact I don’t need you at all and I don’t know why on earth you’ve come. Finished your cup of tea, have you?’

Peter put his empty cup on the tray.

‘Good. Bye then.’

‘Should you need me . . .’

‘Well, to be honest I shan’t, unless you have a few million going spare?’

Peter, surprised by Craddock’s attack, apologised, thanked Kate for the tea and left.

Kate was appalled. ‘Darling, you’ll have to apologise. That was unforgivable. How could you?’

‘Very easily, and I shan’t apologise. He’s very safe, isn’t he? Regular salary, a roof over his head. What more can a man ask? Children, too.’

The bitterness in his voice when he said ‘children’ went straight to Kate’s heart. ‘You knew children weren’t on the menu when we married. I was already too old to begin a family.’

He got to his feet and went to look out of the window. He made a comment in a voice so low Kate couldn’t hear what he said and had to ask him to repeat it. He drew in a great breath and said it again. ‘I was thinking about my two sons before you came in. Perhaps if I’d known where they were, been able to speak to them, things could have been different.’

‘You never mention them.’

‘What’s the point? I can barely remember their names.’

‘I can, you told me once. Graham and Michael. Graham was the older one.’

‘That’s right. Yes. Graham and Michael. Fancy forgetting their names! How could I? Goes to show.’

‘Goes to show what?’

‘How self-absorbed I’ve been all these years. Money. Money. Money. Except when I wanted you. Best day’s work I ever did, marrying you.’ Craddock turned from looking out of the window and she noticed he was showing his age more than he’d ever done. He said harshly, ‘Will you want to leave me, now the money’s gone?’

Kate leapt to her feet and flung her arms round him. ‘Leave you? How can I, when I love you so much? You don’t want me to, do you?’

He wrapped his arms around her and muttered, ‘Of course not. Like you said “How can I when I love you so much?”’ They stood together, hugging each other by the window that looked out on his view of the lake and Kate decided she should try to persuade him to sell out to Johnny Templeton.

He released her and went back to sit at his desk. ‘You know that Johnny Templeton? I’ve investigated his hotel company.’

Kate held her breath.

‘He’s right; he has the millions to buy this place.’

Kate feigned surprise. ‘Oh! Has he?’

‘Yes, but he’s not having it. Under no circumstances. I’d set fire to it and collect the insurance money rather than him buy it.’

Kate, very carefully assuming disinterest, though she knew she would hang on every word he said, asked, ‘Why?’

‘Mainly because I knew Ralph was superior to me and always would be no matter what I did or said. Breeding, you know, he had breeding and I had none. Public school stuff, I expect.’

‘Darling, nowadays that doesn’t matter. Not any more.’

‘It mattered to me.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t have let it.’

‘But he knew he was superior to me.’

‘Did he ever say so?’

‘No, of course he didn’t; he was a gentleman, you see, so he wouldn’t, would he?’

Kate could hear a sneering tone in his voice. ‘But . . .’

‘He’d more respect for that dog Sykes, because Sykes never tries to be something he isn’t and Ralph thought I did, and he was right.’ Craddock leaned his elbows on his desk. Irritably he inquired, ‘How old is that dog? He seems to have been here for years.’

‘He has, he can’t live much longer, surely.’

‘Like me then.’ Craddock smiled ruefully at Kate.

Kate picked up the tea tray saying, ‘No more of that, if you please. That’s defeatist talk and I won’t have it. Be positive! Nothing, and I mean
nothing
, comes from being defeatist. You do what you have to do and so will I. I refuse to give in.’ Kate marched determinedly out of the office, knowing exactly what she must do.

Chapter 14

The uncertainty about the big house and their jobs and who would buy it and what were they all going to do when they’d no benefactor caused everyone in the village to feel unsettled. Even those whose livelihood didn’t depend on Craddock Fitch’s whim felt restless and wished it could all get sorted.

No one more so than Jimbo. Should he or shouldn’t he book more events for the Old Barn? The weeks rolled on and he couldn’t in all conscience keep on booking into the future hoping Craddock Fitch wouldn’t find a buyer.

He stood one morning, when Tom had a day off and Jimbo was therefore in charge, looking out over the village, thinking hard. At the moment the only movement was Sykes on his morning trip round his favourite calling points. Jimbo glanced at the clock and saw Sykes was running late this morning. Jimbo watched him as he went up the church path as usual. Strange that, for a dog, liking to sit in the church. Briefly Jimbo wondered if he might get some inspiration of what to do about the Old Barn if he sat in there each morning like Sykes did.

If he turned his head slightly he could just glimpse Sykes changing his mind and not going in to church as he always did. In winter when the main door was kept shut to keep the heat in he’d trained Zack the verger to open it by barking sharply three times so Zack would know he was waiting to be admitted. But this morning Sykes didn’t bark for admittance; instead he paused as though having a deep think and then trotted round the back of the church and disappeared from Jimbo’s view. A customer! It was one of the mothers from the school.

‘Good morning! Lovely winter’s day, isn’t it?’ Jimbo called out.

‘Is it? I hadn’t noticed.’

Jimbo knew her husband was helping out temporarily in the gardens at the big house, seeing as two of the workers there had found permanent employment with the council in view of the pending sale.

She sounded too disgruntled for Jimbo’s chirpy chat so he went to sort the greetings cards and fill in any gaps with new stock. He forgot she was there and had to be alerted by her asking if he wanted paying this morning or not.

‘Sorry! Sorry! Got absorbed in sorting the cards out. I mean, how can someone return a card for a six-year-old’s birthday by slotting it on to the Deepest Sympathy section? Some people!’

‘If that’s all you’ve got to worry about, you’re lucky. My husband’s just been given his notice. Six weeks he’s slaved up in those gardens in all weathers and out of the blue he’s been told his work isn’t satisfactory, he says, so that’s him unemployed again. But I know different.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes, that so and so up there is fast running out of money, that’s why.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Never been surer.’

‘Oh, dear,’ said Jimbo with as much sympathy as he could muster.

‘It isn’t fair. I’ve had to
sell
my car; he just swaps his beautiful car for a four-by-four he
happens
to have hanging about at the farm. No skin off his nose, is it? I can’t afford to run mine so I’m shopping here instead of in that cheap supermarket on the bypass. Your prices!’

‘But my food isn’t rubbish like it is there; mine’s best quality, and trade isn’t all that good I can tell you at the moment.’

She glanced rather scathingly at his rounded stomach, which made Jimbo pull it in as best he could.

She unzipped her purse. ‘Yes. I can see you’re starving to death. Right. Eight pounds twenty you say.’

‘That’s right. If you haven’t the change we’ll call it eight pounds exactly; I’m a bit short of change today. Should have gone to the bank yesterday but I forgot.’

The customer dropped her shopping into her own carrier bag saying, ‘That’ll be a big help, I must say. Twenty pence!’ and left.

When customers complained about his prices Jimbo always took it badly. He’d introduced his economy lines and that did appear to have helped people but obviously it hadn’t been enough. He should never have opened up again; that had been a bad decision. What was worse was not knowing whether he would still have the facility of the Old Barn when the big house changed hands. Wild ideas flew around his head. Could he borrow enough money to buy the estate himself? No. Would Craddock sell off the bit where the Old Barn stood? No. Should he cancel all future events immediately? No point in people booking weddings and parties and things and then him having to cancel at the last minute. Jimbo shuddered at the damage that would do to his business. He could get a letter tomorrow, or even today to say his Old Barn business was over forthwith. He reminisced about the wonderful events he’d held there: Ford and Mercedes’ Tudor Banquet, the rotary club charity ball – now that had been fantastic; the euphoria from that had lasted weeks – the rugby club bash, now that had really been something; he’d kept control of it by the skin of his teeth. It could so easily have tipped over into a riot.

Jimbo opened the door and stood out in front of the store straightening the advertising boards he had out there and enjoying the surprising warmth of the sun. He loved living here, he loved the people, he loved the countryside, he loved the gossip, the feuds, the fun they had. What would it be like without their benefactor? There’d be no more big bonfire-night parties with the refreshment tent and the drinks tent and the jacket potatoes eaten standing by the bonfire. His children had all grown up here and loved coming home to the village. But was it time for him to be moving on? Fran only had one more year at school and then he and Harriet were free as birds to move where they chose. He’d miss being at the heart of the village, the chief recipient of all the gossip, and did he love the gossip! Pathetic really when he remembered his standing at the merchant bank and how they’d all thought he must be mad, with a future like he had, to bury himself in the country. But he’d done the right thing.

Sykes came trotting past, paused long enough to greet Jimbo and receive a pat on his head for his thoughtfulness and then he strode on full of purpose down Shepherd’s Hill. Change of routine then, this morning. Strange little dog. He seemed to consider that it didn’t matter who fed and housed him, so long as he lived in Turnham Malpas. Everyone knew him and he knew everyone. Not unlike himself, thought Jimbo: he knew everyone and everyone knew him. He was interrupted by the phone ringing, and reluctantly Jimbo left the sunshine to go inside to answer it.

It was Craddock Fitch’s secretary. Could he come up asap?

‘I’m on my own at the moment, but I’ll come as soon as I can. Bye!’

He rang Harriet. ‘Darling! I need someone to look after the store for half an hour. Craddock Fitch wants to see me. I expect it’s about the Old Barn . . . and things. Can you come?’

‘Won’t be a moment.’

So Jimbo left the store a few minutes later and drove up to the big house with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and a powerful feeling of regret that the money spinner he adored was about to be given the chop. He loved the drama of the events held there and couldn’t cope with the idea that there would be no more.

His mind was so taken up with the bad news he expected to hear that he didn’t register how ill Craddock Fitch looked. He accepted the delicious coffee the secretary made for them both and sat back to hear why he’d been summoned, because that was how it felt.