Talk of the Village (4 page)

His wife was a petite and pretty blonde with a warm laugh. She reached over the bar to shake Ron's hand.

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'Good evening, very pleased to meet you. And you are?'

'Sir Ronald Bissett.'

'Welcome to The Royal Oak. You know your first drink is on Sir Ralph with it being his wedding day?'

'Yes, I did know. Thank you very much. I hope this week is the start of a long and happy time for you here in Turnham Malpas. I see you've got a new barman too.'

Bryn called out 'Come here, Alan, and meet another customer. This is Alan Crimble, Sir Ronald, he's been with us for what is it ... fifteen years now. We couldn't manage without him.'

Alan nodded a greeting to Ronald, who wasn't much impressed by Alan's weedy figure and ingratiating smile. 'Best cellarman in Britain is Alan.' Bryn clapped Alan on the back as he returned to serving drinks. 'Here you are then Sir Ronald, here's your whisky. Good health and a long life to Sir Ralph and his bride.'

'Here's to that.'

Ron downed his whisky and immediately asked for another. After all he had been nearly drowned today, he could be catching a severe chill. Pom and Pericles waited and waited. They were unaccustomed to being tied up for long and when boredom set in they began playfully snapping at each other. This rapidly became more than a game and before they knew it they were having a real fight. Neither could escape as both were firmly tied up. A passer-by unfastened their leads intending to pull them apart and then find their owner, but they took their chance and escaped. Their first thought was to continue the fight but having been released they changed their minds and raced for home. Pericles went to Muriel's house out of habit and Pom to Ron and Sheila's, where he sat yapping outside the front door.

Sheila, already in bed, woke up with a start when she heard him. She popped on her neglige and went to the

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window overlooking the front door. When she saw Pom sitting there with no sign of either Ron or Pericles she feared the worst. She went to bring in Pom, expecting that Pericles would be out there with him somewhere. He wasn't. She hung about nervously in the hall for a few minutes hoping Ron would return with Pericles. When he didn't Sheila went upstairs and got dressed with the intention of going over to Muriel's to see if Pericles had gone to his home by mistake. Sure enough she found Pericles shivering and crying outside Muriel's front door. As she wearily put the key in her own door on her return, she heard a burst of laughter from The Royal Oak.

'That'll be it,' she said out loud. 'He'll be in there drinking himself silly. Well, if he thinks I'm going to make a fool of myself dragging him out he's got another think coming.'

Sheila had been asleep about half an hour when she was woken by a loud thumping at the door. She snuggled down under her goose down duvet and deliberately ignored him for a while. Eventually she relented and went down to let Ron in.

Ron was standing unsteadily on the door step. 'Couldn't find the key, Tsheila. Tsorry.' He came over the threshold clinging to the door frame for support. He patted her arm, almost pulling her neglige from her shoulders as he slipped on the polished floor. 'You're a wonderful wife Tsheila. Best day's work I ever did marrying you. No one anywhere has a better wife than you. Blow Tsadie Beauchamp and that lot, I like something cuddly to get hold of. Give me a woman with curves I tsay. Come 'ere and give us a kissh.'

'Certainly not. What would the union people think of you now Ron?'

'They'd tsay good luck to yer Ron.'

He went into the downstairs loo, pale green fitments

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with pale yellow accessories and a spray of artificial flowers tastefully arranged in a vase the shape of a penguin. She could hear him vigorously splashing himself with water. Ron came out rubbing his head and face with the pale yellow towel. More dirty washing.

'You're a big disappointment to me Ron. I try hard to turn you into a gentleman and you ruin it by coming home drunk as a lord.'

'I am a lord or very nearly. But you've tsome room to talk. That blasted fur coat, I told you not to wear it. I hate the blessed thing.'

'I don't know what it is that makes you think you know all there is to know about women's clothes.'

'I have got eyesh Tsheila, I can see what Tsadie Beauchamp wearsh, what Dr Harrish wears and it's not like what you choose.'

'Well, thanks very much. Been out having a good time without me and then come home criticising me and my clothes. Thanks very much Ron Bissett. I'm off to bed and think yourself lucky if I ever speak to you again.' Sheila stormed off to bed hurt almost beyond endurance by his cruel words, made worse by the fact that underneath all her bluster she knew he was right.

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The Monday morning after the wedding Peter followed his usual habit of praying from six thirty until seven and then going for his half hour run. He'd been awake since five helping Caroline to feed the twins so it already felt like the middle of the morning to him. He went down Jacks Lane, crossed Shepherd's Hill and then onto the spare land behind the Methodist Chapel and set off along Turnham Beck. He had the steady economical action of the experienced runner and having followed this route for nearly a year now, he didn't need to take particular notice of his direction. Just past the footbridge he became aware of someone coming at speed towards him. Lifting his head he saw what appeared to be a large oriental butterfly winging it's way down the path. It began running on the spot. Peter stopped to speak. 'Good morning.' The gaudy creature was dressed in an electric pink plush tracksuit with a matching sweatband holding back jet-black hair, which seemed to spring in a dense mass out of her scalp. Round her ankles were purple slouch socks and on her feet a pair of expensive snow-white running shoes. Her wrists and fingers were covered in bright jewellery, the kind Caroline would never dream of wearing.

'Hi! I'm Venetia Mayer from the new health club.' 'Oh right, I'm Peter Harris. Great day for a run isn't

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'It certainly is. Be seeing you. Bye.' She carried on her way, leaving Peter shaking his head in amazement. He did a lot of thinking on his runs and this morning he was contemplating how he could best sort out Caroline's problems. Very soon she was going to be ill. The children being so small needed feeding frequently and were taking so much of her time both night and day that she was close to collapse. Much as he would have loved to stay in to help her he had his own commitments which she knew could not be ignored. What she really needed was another pair of hands all day long.

He stopped to rest for a moment, leaning on the gate into Sykes Wood. That was it, another pair of hands. But whose hands? There was no one in the village who sprang immediately to mind. No doubt the answer would come to him. Today, Lord, for preference, he prayed.

Mondays he tried to spend in Penny Fawcett, the first village travelling west from Turnham Malpas and one belonging to his parish. Its own church was long gone and the churchgoers from Penny Fawcett came to St Thomas' for their services. They still had their own village centre and there was always a mini market there on Mondays, so he knew he'd meet plenty of his parishioners. Peter parked his car and was about to go into the centre when a voice hailed him from across the road.

'Mr Harris, isn't it? Good morning. You won't remember me but I met you at the Hospital Garden Party last summer. My name's Sylvia Bennett.' She held out her hand to shake his. Peter racked his brain trying hard to recollect her, then, as he walked across the road he remembered.

'Oh. I know, you're a supervisor there. Yes, that's right, Caroline introduced us. How are you?'

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'This is my cottage, come in and have a coffee before you go in the mini market. My coffee's a lot better than that stuff out of the paper cups they serve in there, their rubbish could rot your insides. I'll be glad for some company.'

They took their coffee from her bright shining kitchen out on to a little bench by the back door and sat catching the best of the winter sun while they talked. Peter warmed to her lovely kindly face and her big candid grey eyes, which never seemed to stop twinkling.

'Having a day off are you Mrs Bennett?'

'Well, yes, except it's a long day off I'm afraid. Been made redundant after fifteen years.'

'But you were a supervisor.'

'Makes no difference sir, nowadays. Re-organisation and out went Sylvia and got replaced by a young manager barely out of nappies who couldn't supervise a chimpanzee's tea party let alone a work force of twenty cleaners. Added to which I'm soon to lose my cottage. Landlord's coming back from abroad and has nowhere else to live, so out goes me. In fact it's not like me but I do feel a bit low today.'

Sylvia paused to put her cup down beside her on the path and then asked, 'How's Dr Harris? She was well liked at the hospital; we did miss her when she left. No edge you know sir, you'd as likely find her in the broom cupboard joking with the cleaners as find her perched on a desk in a consultant's office, explaining to him that he really shouldn't keep sick people waiting for hours while he played God with his private patients. Many's the one who's been hauled over the coals for it by Dr Harris. And what's more they did as they were told. And her so young compared to them.'

'At the moment she feels very far from young. You know, I expect, that she isn't able to have children, well, we've been very privileged to be able to adopt twins . . .'

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'I had heard. I bet she's thrilled, she'll make a lovely mother.'

'Yes, she does, but she's exhausted. Living in the Rectory the phone is going continuously and she's trying so hard to do well by the twins, but they are tiny and they are much harder work than she'd anticipated. Well, no not that, we just didn't know what hard work such tiny babies are. There's lots of parish things she's involved with and she is a perfectionist as you know.'

Sylvia asked him if he'd like more coffee.

'No thanks, must be off. Lovely talking to you Sylvia, I'll tell Caroline I've met you. Thanks for the coffee. See you again sometime.' How could he introduce the idea of Sylvia helping out without giving Caroline the feeling that she wasn't coping. Lack of faith in her at the moment could cause serious damage to her already shaky confidence.

'Guess who I met today in Penny Fawcett?'

'Can't. I just want to get my dinner down before those two horrors of ours wake up. I'm sorry it's one of Jimbo's frozen dinners . . .'

'I don't think he'd appreciate the apologetic tone in your voice. He considers his frozen dinners are of gourmet standard.'

'Well, they are, but you know what I mean. Who did you meet?'

'Sylvia Bennett.'

'Oh, from the hospital. How is she?'

'Redundant.' Peter chose another roll and energetically buttered it while Caroline digested his news.

'Redundant? Has she got another job?'

'No, and another few weeks and the landlord wants her cottage back.'

'I see. I always liked Sylvia. We got on very well.'

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'She likes you, she gave my darling girl very good references.'

'Did she? Jimbo's right, these dinners are good. Though I could eat a horse tonight. I got no time for lunch at all. Sylvia's a good cook you know.'

'Is she?' Peter continued enjoying his dinner, leaving a silence for Caroline to fill with her own thoughts.

'She doesn't know much about babies.'

'Doesn't she?'

As she finished the last morsel of her dinner Caroline said, 'She would be good for everything else though, wouldn't she?'

'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?'

'What's that?'

'She might be able to help us a bit here, just occasionally, you know from time to time.'

'Peter, you must be telepathic. Except I'd go one further than that.'

'You mean have her here every day?'

'Well, there are four big bedrooms here and ..."

'So long as we always have one spare for visitors or the odd tramp in need of accommodation she could ..."

Caroline triumphantly finished his sentence for him. 'Live in. Brilliant. We can afford it for a while, and she would save my life you know. She's very discreet, she wouldn't be a pest. Just till she found somewhere of her own you understand.'

'Of course.' Peter silently thanked the Lord for his intervention.

He came out of the church the following morning to find Jimbo limbering up outside as though he was about to take part in an Olympic marathon. He was wearing a pair of old rugger shorts from his university days and a sweat shirt with
Support the Whales
emblazoned across it. 'Good morning Jimbo.'

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'Morning Peter. I'm taking up the challenge.'

'What challenge is that?'

'My beloved and valuable mother-in-law has said she will give me £10 each time I go for a run with you. She says I shan't manage it but I'm determined I shall. She ought to be called sadistic Sadie. She says I'm fat,'Jimbo patted his bulging midriff as evidence, 'so I'm definitely going to get fit.'

'Right, well, I shall be glad of your company. Here we go. I usually do a circular tour round Sykes Wood and back. Is that all right?'Jimbo quaked at the prospect but put on a brave face. He couldn't afford to allow his mother-in-law a laugh at his expense.

'Of course, nothing to it.' Peter set off at his regular brisk pace and almost immediately Jimbo realised he wouldn't make the grade. Just before he had begun showing serious signs of stress Venetia Mayer came into view wearing her pink track suit. She waved enthusiastically.

'Hi there.' She continued running on the spot while chatting, without any sign of shortness of breath.

'Good morning Venetia, have you met Jimbo from the village store?'

'Hi Jimbo. How perfectly delightful meeting two such fine specimens of manhood at this time in the morning. It seems to me that you are both prime candidates for membership of the health club when we open at the end of next month. Peter, I must say your physique is superb. Are you a sports fanatic?'

'Not really Venetia, simply a man who wants to keep fit.'

'Well, come to see me at Turnham House. I'll see you keep fit all right. We shall be holding "Executive Trim" classes, which I think will be ideal for you. What about you Jimbo? You need my services more than Peter. You don't strip quite as well as he does. Looks to be lots of flab

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to be attacked with our special exercises. How about if I offer the pair of you an introductory course at half price. How's that for a bargain?'

Peter and Jimbo agreed it might be a good idea.

'Two Tarzans you would be before a month was out. Then all the women in the village would be after you both in a trice.' She laid a hand on Peter's arm, tweaked his muscles and winked at him. 'A few hours on a sun bed and you would look superb. There's nothing like a tan to increase a man's sex appeal!'

'Well, we must be on our way Venetia, thanks for the offer, we might take you up on it.' Jimbo hastened off, followed by Peter who couldn't stop laughing.

'I don't think she realises who I am, do you?'

'No, Peter, I don't. The woman really is the limit. Has she gone yet?'Jimbo turned round to check. 'Yes she has. It's no good I shall have to turn back. Do you think I can claim I've been for a run?'

'In all conscience, no, you can't.'

'You're right, I can't. You carry on Peter, and exercise your jungle man body. I can't keep it up.' Peter waved and carried on with his run. Jimbo turned back and slowly jogged his way home.

Sadie, having listened to their encounter with Venetia, was highly amused.

'How far did you run then Jimbo?'

'Not far enough. But I'm working on it.'

'So my ten pounds is safe then?'

'For the moment. I might take her up on the offer of membership. Keep the old flab at bay. Would you like to join, Harriet?'

'Yes, I would. Time I paid more attention to my body. In any case I can't let you and Peter loose up there with no one to keep an eye on you. If you're going in the Jacuzzi, you'll go in it with me not Venetia. What's Jeremy like? Have you seen him?'

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'No, and if he's as sexy as her we'll both have some fun.'

Sadie took hold of a fistful ofjimbo's sweat shirt. 'No straying James, You're married to my daughter and don't you forget it. I'm very handy with the garden shears.'

'Ouch! That's positively mediaeval. You wouldn't be so cruel would you darling?' He placed an arm round Harriet's shoulders and hugged her.

'Just try me.'

'Remember the garden shears James, that's all I ask.' Sadie laughed as she headed for the office to catch up on her mail orders.

Harriet's curiosity about Jeremy was satisfied later that morning when he came into the Store to enquire about the possibility of ordering food for the health club.

'I'm looking for quality food, fresh, well-presented and appetising. Ideally I need someone willing to provide all the food at competitive prices. There's no way we shall have time for shopping here and there and everywhere once we open. I must admit I cut prices to the bone, there's no fooling me when it comes to overheads. And I shan't hesitate to change my supplier at a moment's notice if I feel I'm being taken advantage of.'

'We are not in the business of cheating anyone. Fair prices and consistent good quality is what we guarantee. In return we expect our bills to be paid on time. There's absolutely no credit.'

'Well, at least we understand each other.'

'Coffee?' Harriet stood with her hand poised on the lever of the customer's coffee machine.

'Yes, please.' She had to admit that Jeremy was a disappointment. Having heard about his wife Harriet had anticipated an Adonis. Instead he was thick set, if not downright chubby with a large bald patch in the middle of his grey hair. His heavy glasses enhanced him not one