A Village Feud

  She picked up the drawing pad first, which had fallen open as it landed on the carpet. When she saw Beth’s drawings she was horrified. Oh, my word. Oh, my word. Dottie went white with shock. She was no psychiatrist but only a fool could not guess at Beth’s state of mind. One grotesque drawing was of a soldier with gun raised, and a girl kneeling in front of him, hands held as though praying, head down … waiting to be shot? Another was even more horrifying: a lurid black and white picture depicting the girl struggling to undress and just the barrel of the gun pointing straight at her from the edge of the page. Only the girl was in colour. It was obviously a school uniform dress she wore, but dirty and dishevelled. The face could only have been Beth’s, with those rounded cheeks, the deep-blue eyes, so like her real mother’s, and the ash-blonde hair.

  Dottie sat down on the bed to think. What on earth could she do about this?

  Rebecca Shaw is a former school teacher and the bestselling author of many novels. She lives with her husband in a beautiful Dorset village where she finds plenty of inspiration for her stories about rural life. She has four children and eight grandchildren.

  Educated at a co-educational Quaker boarding school, Rebecca Shaw went on to qualify as a teacher of deaf children. After her marriage, she spent the ensuing years enjoying bringing up her family. The departure of the last of her four children to university has given her the time and opportunity to write. The Village Green Affair is the latest in the highly popular Tales from Turnham Malpas series.

  Visit her website at www.rebeccashaw.co.uk.

  By Rebecca Shaw

  THE BARLEYBRIDGE SERIES

  A Country Affair

  Country Wives

  Country Lovers

  Country Passions

  One Hot Country Summer

  Love in the Country

  TALES FROM TURNHAM MALPAS

  The New Rector

  Talk of the Village

  Village Matters

  The Village Show

  Village Secrets

  Scandal in the Village

  Village Gossip

  Trouble in the Village

  A Village Dilemma

  Intrigue in the Village

  Whispers in the Village

  A Village Feud

  The Village Green Affair

  A Village Feud

  REBECCA SHAW

  Contents

  Cover

  Title

  About the Author

  By Rebecca Shaw

  Inhabitants of Turnham Malpas

  Map

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Copyright

  INHABITANTS OF TURNHAM MALPAS

  Willie Biggs Retired verger

  Sylvia Biggs His wife and housekeeper at the Rectory

  Sir Ronald Bissett Retired Trade Union leader

  Lady Sheila Bissett His wife

  James (Jimbo) Charter-Plackett Owner of the Village Store

  Harriet Charter-Plackett His wife

  Fergus, Finlay, Flick and Fran Their children

  Katherine Charter-Plackett Jimbo’s mother

  Alan Crimble Barman at the Royal Oak

  Linda Crimble His wife

  Lewis Crimble Their son

  Maggie Dobbs School caretaker

  H. Craddock Fitch Owner of Turnham House

  Kate Fitch Village school headteacher

  Jimmy Glover Taxi driver

  Mrs Jones A village gossip

  Vince Jones Her husband

  Barry Jones Her son and estate carpenter

  Pat Jones Barry’s wife

  Dean and Michelle Barry and Pat’s children

  Revd Peter Harris MA (Oxon) Rector of the parish

  Dr Caroline Harris His wife

  Alex and Beth Their children

  Jeremy Mayer Manager at Turnham House

  Venetia Mayer His wife

  Neville Neal Accountant and church treasurer

  Liz Neal His wife

  Guy and Hugh Their children

  Tom Nicholls Assistant in the Store

  Evie Nicholls His wife

  Anne Parkin Retired secretary

  Jenny Sweetapple Complementary medicine practitioner

  Sir Ralph Templeton Retired from the diplomatic service

  Lady Muriel Templeton His wife

  Andy Moorhouse Social Worker

  Dicky & Georgie Tutt Licensees at the Royal Oak

  Bel Tutt Assistant in the Village Store

  Don Wright Maintenance engineer (now retired)

  Vera Wright Cleaner at the nursing home in Penny Fawcett

  Rhett Wright Their grandson

  Chapter 1

  Grandmama Charter-Plackett thumped open the front door, stormed in and dumped her suitcases on the hall floor. Harriet, bed-making upstairs, heard the hullabaloo and went on to the landing to see who’d arrived.

  ‘Mother-in-law! What on earth’s the matter?’

  ‘You may well ask! May I have a whisky to revive myself?’

  Harriet glanced at her watch. ‘Bit early, but obviously you look to have need of one.’ She ran down the stairs. ‘What’s brought this on?’

  ‘Whisky first, please.’ She rocked slightly on her feet and Harriet took her elbow, but Grandmama shook her off. ‘I’m not in my dotage, Harriet, thank you very much.’

  She marched into the sitting room and flung herself down in the best chair in the house, a tan leather winged effort carefully chosen by Jimbo for his personal use. She held out her hand.

  Harriet hastily poured her a whisky and gave it to her. ‘Water?’

  But Grandmama had downed the first whisky and was holding out her glass for a refill.

  ‘I don’t want to interfere, but at this time of day …’

  ‘Another one and then we’ll have a coffee together and I’ll tell you all.’

  While she made the coffee Harriet could hear her mother-in-law huffing and puffing and muttering to herself. Thoughts raced through Harriet’s head. Should she ring Jimbo? By the presence of the suitcases in the hall it looked as though his mother was taking up residence. Should she turn her out this minute without giving her a chance to explain her sudden appearance? Give her no time to get settled? Tell her there was no room at the inn?

  Carefully balancing the tray, Harriet went through into the sitting room. Grandmama was sitting bolt upright sipping her second whisky.

  ‘Black, I assume?’

  She was answered with a nod.

  The two of them were silent until Grandmama had finished her second whisky and was leaning back in the chair with more colour in her face.

  ‘Well?’ Harriet asked.

  ‘My dear Harriet, I value you greatly, as you know, and what I am going to ask you is really more than flesh and blood should be asked to tolerate but …’

  Harriet put down her coffee on the table, just in case, all her senses fine-tuned. In her head she was saying: Jimbo, why aren’t you here?

  ‘Can I stay until Anna goes? I’ll pay towards the housekeeping, I promise.’

  Shocked to the core Harriet repeated, ‘Until Anna goes?’

  ‘She’ll be leaving in July when Peter gets back. Why on earth he felt the need to go back to Africa after all the trauma the children suffered there I do not know. Do you?
Really know, I mean?’

  ‘Peter promised to go for a year to set up the mission, but with all the fighting he wasn’t able to do that. But when things so miraculously quietened down he knew he had to go back and complete his work there. He’d got the money we collected for him and there’s no one better than Peter to see it spent wisely. They deserve to have someone rooting for them after all they’ve been through, and Peter knows that if he is there, with God’s help, he’ll achieve all his objectives. In a kind of way, at the moment those Christians of his need him more than we do, don’t they? Otherwise it would look like desertion on his part, right when they need him most.’

  ‘Mmm. I see. He’s right, I suppose, but it’s put me in a fix. So, if I could just stay here until then?’ Grandmama looked pleadingly at Harriet.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why? I have put up with just as much as any grown woman should be asked to put up with. The Reverend Anna has taken over my home. Almost every stick and stone of it. I can’t take any more.’ She got out her handkerchief and dabbed her eyes, avoiding smearing her mascara as best she could. ‘I have nothing to call my own.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘She has her bedroom, of course, but her computer won’t fit in, there being no room for a desk, so it’s in my sitting room. She’s up at six praying or whatever, and I’m disturbed immediately she starts because she prays out loud. Then she takes a bath, my shower not being powerful enough for her – says it’s a trickle not a shower – then she’s downstairs making breakfast. So I go down to find my kitchen in uproar and have to clear up before I can begin mine – you know how I like things to be neat and tidy, especially at breakfast before one’s senses have fully surfaced – then she’s off out, slamming the door as she goes.

  ‘Next news she’s back, wanting to talk. I can’t be doing with moral dilemmas first thing; I like to wake up gently. Then she wants to do her washing at different times from me—’

  ‘Surely that’s helpful. Better than the same time.’

  Grandmama’s brown eyes inspected Harriet’s, thinking of the times Harriet had disagreed with her and recognizing that now was not the time for that to happen.

  ‘I suppose it is, but washing all about when you want to make a meal?’

  ‘Come on, Katherine, what is it really about?’

  Her mother-in-law hesitated. Appeared to form an answer in her head and then changed her mind.

  ‘Come on, tell me. It won’t go outside this room.’

  ‘Nowadays they’d label it a personality clash. Frankly, she’s damn difficult to get on with. One has an opinion and it’s always completely the opposite from hers. She’s the most damn cussed woman I’ve ever met.’

  ‘You did offer her a home. She didn’t ask.’

  ‘I know I did, but how was I to know that Peter was off back to Africa and that I’d be stuck with her – for what is it? – eight months till he gets back.’

  ‘I bet you wouldn’t be saying all this if it was Peter you’d offered a home to.’

  ‘No, because he’s the loveliest man on God’s earth, and that’s the truth. Jimbo comes a close second, of course … a very close second.’ Grandmama’s eyes went quite dreamy. ‘But I defy anyone to find Peter difficult to live with.’

  ‘Even with all his crystal-clear morals? His closeness to God? His love of sinners? His compassion? His spiritual wisdom?’

  Grandmama began to smile. ‘Well, perhaps his saintliness might grate occasionally, because I’m a Martha and not a Mary where God is concerned. Organizing the tea cups is much more to my liking than contemplating my navel. After all, one must keep a perspective about God, mustn’t one? However, Peter is also a real man, and a gorgeous, virile one at that, and I can’t quite see how he combines the two. However, we won’t go there.’ Katherine finished her coffee and sat back to ask again. ‘So, having got that off my chest, may I stay? You’ve got the bed space now with the boys and Flick away from home, and I’d be useful for sitting with Fran if you and Jimbo needed to go out. Time you had some freedom where going out’s concerned.’

  ‘Look, Katherine, all this has come as a shock to me, I’d no idea things were so difficult for you … oops, that’s someone at the door.’

  A voice called out, ‘Anna from the Rectory, Harriet. May I come in?’

  ‘I’m not here,’ Katherine whispered.

  ‘Your cases are in the hall.’

  ‘Damn and blast.’

  ‘Come in, Anna.’ Harriet got to her feet and went into the hall to greet her.

  ‘Is Katherine here?’

  Harriet agreed she was.

  ‘I hoped she might be. Can I have a word?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Ah! As bad as that, is it? Doesn’t want to explain?’

  Harriet nodded. ‘Best to give it a while.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I’ll try harder. But I can’t go to live at the Rectory because Caroline and the twins need their space. The twins you see are still having a very bad time. They’re worse at night, I’m told. Sometimes Beth screams and screams, and nothing will pacify her. Caroline’s at her wits’ end. I’ll leave Katherine alone, then. Perhaps she might feel better in a day or two. I can’t understand what I’ve done to make her so upset.’

  ‘Let’s leave it for now.’

  ‘There’s no way I can live in her cottage while she’s lodging elsewhere; that simply wouldn’t be right. I’ll have to find somewhere else. I’ve an idea one of the weekenders is intending going abroad for a while; that might be an idea, mightn’t it? I’ll try to work something out with her. Tell Katherine the gas man has been to service the boiler, and it’s fine. Tell her I’ve paid him, so she doesn’t need to worry.’ Anna opened the front door, made to leave and then turned back to say, ‘I’m so sorry about this. I’ve done nothing deliberately to upset her. I’ve been so grateful for her kindness in finding me a home, believe me.’

  ‘Don’t fret, we’ll sort something out,’ said Harriet. ‘Take your time; you need somewhere where you feel comfortable.’

  Harriet drew a deep breath as Anna closed the door. Heavens above. She didn’t want her mother-in-law staying; they’d never got on. She peeped round the sitting-room door and saw Grandmama was looking more relaxed, that the double whisky was taking effect. Her eyes closed momentarily and then sprang open but quickly closed again.

  She crept into the kitchen and dialled Jimbo’s office number.

  In a soft whisper she said, ‘Jimbo?’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘It’s me.’

  ‘Yes, I thought so. Why are we whispering?’

  ‘Are you sitting comfortably?’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Your mother has moved in.’

  ‘She has? Where?’

  ‘Here, in our house.’

  ‘Oh, God! No.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘I’m coming home.’ Jimbo replaced the receiver and gazed into space. He really didn’t want the old battle-axe to live in their house. Absolutely not. In the same village was bad enough but in the same house? Help!

  He walked into the front of the Store and spoke to Tom who had a queue at his Post Office section, it being pension day. ‘I’m going home. Something urgent has cropped up. Won’t be long.’ Bel was tapping away at the till. ‘Bel? OK?’

  ‘Fine, thanks. I can cope.’

  ‘Good.’ Usually he took off his straw boater when he was going out of the Store but today his mind was on more important matters.

  He strode into his house to be met by Harriet with her finger to her lips. ‘Shush! She’s asleep. Come into the kitchen.’

  Jimbo perched himself on a stool at the breakfast bar and said, ‘Well?’

  ‘Well? No, I am not. She wants to live here until Anna returns to Culworth when Peter comes back.’

  ‘Oh, my word, surely not. Have they had a row?’

  ‘It’s what your mother calls a personality clash. But the fact is you
r mother is not getting all her own way and she feels her space is being invaded by Anna. Who appears to me to be a very easy-going person. Anna’s been to have a word with your mother but I wouldn’t let her. She’s very sorry it’s happened and isn’t sure what it’s all about. She’s hoping to find somewhere else to live in the village so your mother can have her cottage back, but what are the chances of anyone in the village wanting a rector staying in their house? Zilch. I certainly wouldn’t.’

  ‘I see.’ Jimbo took a biscuit from Harriet’s treasured biscuit tin, snapped the lid shut and put the whole of the biscuit in his mouth. He mumbled, ‘Well, Harriet, my dearest, it appears we’ve been landed. I suppose it won’t be too bad. Fran’s out at school all day and you’re busy out of the house a lot of the time. She has a cousin. I have her address somewhere … in my desk. Cousin Audrey, similar kind to Mother, maybe they’d suit for a while.’

  ‘The last time your mother stayed with her she swore it would be the last. Said she’d commit suicide rather than go back.’

  Jimbo grinned. ‘Oh. Well. That’s that, then.’

  Between gritted teeth Harriet declared it was all right him laughing but what on earth were they going to do?

  ‘Put up with it? Make life so difficult she’ll move back home? On the other hand, we could demonstrate our love for her and say gladly, yes, of course she can stay. We’ll make the best of it. Be a test of our charity.’