The Village Show (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Page 12

  ‘Oh, I do too. He’s such a lovely person. So charis … what’s that word?’

  ‘Charismatic.’

  ‘That’s it. Charismatic. You feel so drawn to him. He only has to hold your hand and look at you …’

  ‘That’s just what he did.’

  ‘Did he really?’

  ‘Yes. He looked really deeply into my eyes, you know like he can sometimes and you feel as if your soul is being stripped bare …’

  ‘Oh yes, I know, it makes me do the right thing even when I don’t want to. I can’t help myself.’

  ‘Well, he looked at me like that and said I had a great contribution to make to the life of the village and he hoped most sincerely that this little fracas wouldn’t stop me from going to church. He would be very upset if it did.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Believe me, all I have to do is wait and I shall be back at the rectory before dear Caroline knows where she is.’

  Suddenly Sheila felt things weren’t quite right. There was something disquieting about Louise’s attitude, almost as if she was seeking revenge on Caroline. Sheila decided to warn Louise about the unpredictability of the villagers if they decided things weren’t as they should be.

  ‘The whole village will know by now. You’d better be careful. They’re not past stoning, you know. Quite mediaeval, they can be. If they don’t like what’s happening, something comes over them and they all band together. I’ve seen it, I know.’

  ‘Mother, you’re going daft. Stoning – honestly!’

  ‘It’s true! It happened only two years ago – Peter had to come out and stop it. Terrifying it was, but he was wonderful.’

  ‘He can be very masterful.’ Louise sounded dreamy. ‘He seems so gentle, but there’s always that feeling of power there. Well, I shan’t let stupid tales about stoning stop me. I shall go about my affairs as normal.’

  ‘I’d stay at home for a day or two before you venture out. You could pretend to have a cold.’

  ‘Sometimes, Mother, I wonder about your sanity, I really do. I need some chocolate.’

  ‘I’ll get it for you, dear. Let me go, I shan’t be a moment. What would you like – fruit and nut?’

  ‘No, I’m going myself. I want to choose.’ Louise strolled up Stocks Row and into the Store. There was something very uplifting about the Store. It felt such a good place to be, as though going in and shopping there was a very fashionable and well-judged thing to do. She supposed Jimbo had deliberately planned it that way. The Store was very busy and the noise-level quite high, but as she walked in the hubbub died. She picked up a basket and began to wander round the shelves thinking that she’d buy herself some chocolates, she deserved a treat after all she’d been through. She might even purchase some of those special Belgian chocolates which Jimbo said were sold only in Harrods and in his store. That took a bit of swallowing but … then someone jerked her elbow quite savagely. The basket almost flew from her hand.

  In an exaggeratedly polite voice Barry’s mother apologised. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Dr Harris. Oh, it’s not Dr Harris – it’s you, Miss Bissett. What a silly mistake to make. Did I catch your elbow? Are you keeping well?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. I’m fine.’

  ‘That’s a good thing then. Busy at the rectory today, are you? Just popped out for something for their tea? We know how much they love you … popping in and out.’

  Louise wanted to retort sharply but she quickly sensed the nature of the attack and sweetly smiled instead. A ripple of giggles followed her as she made for the glass counter where the continental chocolates were displayed. Harriet came to serve her.

  ‘Hello there, can I help?’

  ‘I’ll have half a pound, please. Mainly hard centres and I like pralines and some of those fresh cream ones, please. Oh, and I’d like a couple of marzipans too.’

  While Harriet busied herself putting on plastic gloves and making up one of the gold cardboard boxes to put the chocolates in, Louise looked about her.

  There was a knot of women gathered around Barry’s mother. They kept glancing in her direction and smothering explosive laughter. She ignored them as best she could, but their malicious interest in her became hurtful, so she watched Harriet tucking the chocolates into the box instead. Harriet, aware that Louise was being mocked, did her best to keep her attention. After all, Louise was spending money and it wasn’t for Harriet to treat her badly just because she disapproved of what she did in her private life.

  ‘There we are, Louise, I’ve put in a selection of the ones you asked for, and then filled up the odd corners with others. If it’s a present, would you like me to gift-wrap it with ribbon et cetera, and a little card?’

  It wasn’t a present except to herself, but she nodded her assent. Perhaps by the time Harriet had finished, those women would have gone. But they hadn’t and she had to run the gauntlet to the till.

  ‘Prezzie for Dr Harris, is it?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. It’s for the rector!’

  ‘I hear you haven’t got a job yet?’

  ‘Devil finds work for idle hands!’ A gale of laughter followed that remark and Louise fled from the Store with as much dignity as she could muster. Her mother for once was right – she’d stay at home for a few days. Then she remembered the Show committee meeting. Well, she’d go to that, but that was all. It was just a question of waiting for Peter to ask her to help him again. Peter the rock. Her rock, on which she would build her life. Quite how it would happen she wasn’t sure, but it would. She’d see it did. Somehow.

  Chapter 12

  Caroline had decided that she must let bygones be bygones where Louise was concerned and turn up for the Show committee meeting as though nothing had happened. She wasn’t exactly relishing the idea, but there was no alternative. If she gave her excuses, they’d all know the reason why and it would make them more determined than ever to ostracise Louise for what had happened at the rectory the previous day.

  She decided to get there early to forestall any discussion of Louise’s behaviour before it had a chance to start. Whether by design or not, Louise arrived early too.

  ‘Hello there, Caroline. Making the coffee? Oh good! Just what I need.’ Louise’s tone was friendly but respectful, when Caroline had expected her to be belligerent.

  ‘Yes, I promised I would,’ she replied neutrally. ‘Here you are – black, no milk, no sugar. Right?’

  ‘How clever of you to remember! Jimbo’s not here again tonight. Pat is not really a very good substitute; he’s always so full of good ideas whereas she has none.’

  ‘Pat’s all right. I like her.’

  ‘You’ve got to like people. Being the rector’s wife, you’ve no alternative.’

  ‘Oh, I do have an alternative. Believe me, I have.’

  Louise dared to speak his name. ‘Peter all right?’

  ‘Shouldn’t he be?’

  ‘Oh no, I didn’t mean anything by that, just wondering how he was coping.’

  ‘I see. Well, he’s fine, thank you.’

  ‘Sitting in tonight?’

  ‘Yes.’ Caroline thought that with all her years’ experience as a doctor she understood people pretty well, could sum them up, see beneath the surface, work out their motives … but Louise had her foxed. What was the woman up to?

  They were saved from continuing this painful conversation by the arrival of Barry. ‘Pat not here yet?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  Louise archly remarked that they seemed to be an item nowadays.

  ‘An item – what’s that?’

  ‘Well, I mean kind of pairing off, sort of.’

  ‘Anything the matter with that? We are both free agents, and I’m not trying to steal her from anyone, which is more than can be said for some people not a million miles away from me.’ He took his coffee from Caroline and went to sit on a chair, carefully putting his papers on the one next to him to make sure he could keep it for Pat. Louise sat down and avoided meeting anyone’s eyes. Trust
Barry Jones to be crude. People like him were so basic, they’d no subtlety at all. None. She sorted out her files and rehearsed in her head her opening speech. But what Barry had said kept coming between her and the words. Damn and blast him. Besmirching a beautiful relationship. Typical. He’d better not say anything in front of Mother when she came, or else …

  Before the meeting, most of the members had been up to see the progress of the new sewer pipes over at the Big House. Jeremy and Barry saw it every day and so did Pat, but the others made separate journeys to see what hope there was of still being able to hold the Show.

  Barry came down on the side of optimism. ‘I’ve great hopes it’ll all be completed. No problem. Don’t you think so, Michael?’

  ‘Oh yes, I’m quite sure. It’ll be a close run thing but yes, I’m sure you’re right.’

  Sheila disagreed. ‘I don’t know about that. I think we should postpone it for two weeks, just to be on the safe side.’ The others looked horrified.

  Pat was appalled. ‘Postpone it? How can we do that? All the printing’s done and everything, and they’re all timing their flowers and veg to come to their peak at the date we’ve fixed. If we delay for two weeks I don’t know what they’ll do. Willie Biggs has got some brilliant beans and you should see his roses – coming on a treat they are. Jimbo’s sweetpeas are gorgeous too. I reckon he’ll take the prize this year.’

  ‘He’ll have to go some to beat Mrs Beauchamp’s. Saw hers last week – cor, the size of ’em! Asked her what she fed ’em on but she just tapped the side of her nose and refused to say. Special seed she got from a big specialist near London,’ Linda put in sagely.

  ‘Jimmy’s entering some eggs. His are always the brownest ones you’ll ever see.’

  Sheila looked up surprised when Pat said that. ‘Eggs? There’ll be no classes for eggs.’

  ‘No classes for eggs – whyever not? Proper shows always have them – the biggest, the brownest, best-matched six all displayed on a doily in a basket … Course there’s classes for eggs!’

  ‘There aren’t. Couldn’t fit them in.’

  ‘Well, Jimmy doesn’t know.’

  ‘He should. I distributed the advance lists weeks ago.’

  ‘I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes when he finds out. They always have eggs. Jimmy’ll be real disappointed, he will.’

  Louise checked the official printed list. ‘No eggs. Sorry.’

  ‘’Ere, let me look at that.’ Barry almost snatched the list from Louise. He ran his eye down both sides of it and said, ‘She’s right, there isn’t. What yer playing at? Them at Nightingale Farm have them Welsummer hens, brilliant eggs they lay. They’re planning to enter.’

  Sheila drew herself up, patted her hair and answered firmly. ‘Not this year they won’t. It’s all produce.’

  Michael Palmer murmured, ‘But what are eggs if they’re not produce?’

  ‘I mean growing produce like beans and flowers and things.’

  It suddenly dawned on Linda what the reason was for the egg classes being omitted. ‘Let me look at that schedule, Barry.’ She scanned the list and quickly counted, as swiftly as she counted the stamps in the post office. ‘I thought so. There’s almost twice as many flower classes as produce classes. Well, I never. I wonder why?’ She looked accusingly at Sheila. ‘Obvious who’s planned this.’

  ‘You all saw the list before it went to the printers and you all approved it.’

  ‘Yes, but you’ve added classes since we saw it, and crossed out others.’

  ‘I never, Linda Crimble. I never have. Getting married’s done you no good at all. You’ve developed a suspicious side to your nature.’

  ‘Well, really … Just wait till my Alan hears what you’ve said.’

  Louise, seeing her mother under siege, decided to interrupt. ‘Now really, this won’t do. My mother is guilty of no such thing. That’s the list as you saw it before it went to the printers. Believe me.’

  Pat decided to have her say. ‘Oh yes? There weren’t no class for flower arrangements with a seaside holiday theme. Definitely, ’cos I would’ve remembered that.’

  Sheila triumphantly answered Pat’s suspicion with, ‘Seeing as you go away every year to the sea you’d be bound to remember.’

  Caroline, who’d taken no part in all the wrangling, decided that things were getting far too personal. ‘Shouldn’t we deal with important matters like who’s going to be in charge of keeping the money safe and who’s going to be on the platform with Mr Fitch and who’ll be at the gate to take the ticket money? Surely the eggs can be dealt with later.’

  Sheila hurriedly agreed with this piece of sound common sense, mainly because she was guilty of adding flower classes after the schedule had been approved. These people had no idea what was style and what was not. Eggs indeed!

  ‘You should have had a bigger marquee for the competitions. I did say so at the time, but I was overruled. If it had been bigger there would have been room for eggs.’

  ‘’Ere, just a minute. What’s happened to the cake competitions? There’s none for adults, they’re all for children. My mum’ll have something to say about this – she’s a miracle with a Victoria sponge.’ Barry glared at Sheila. She swallowed hard. There seemed to be no end to the unpleasant discoveries tonight.

  Pat looked down the schedule Barry was holding. ‘Shortbread’s my thing and there’s no classes! There’s always shortbread classes. Look ’ere, Sheila, you’ve overstepped the mark.’

  Jeremy, who’d had to come to the meeting before he could have his supper, swore under his breath; hunger always made him short-tempered. ‘I’ve something better to do than sit here listening to arguments about shortbread and eggs. Let’s get on with it. Mr Fitch has suggested that I take charge of the money and lodge it in the office safe until we have time to count it. He’ll make sure he’s here to open the Show and he wants room on the dais for three guests; he suggests we choose three of us to represent the committee. So that’ll be seven in all – quite enough. Two of his guests will be ladies and he would like them to be presented with bouquets. Large ones.’

  Michael proposed that Caroline, Louise and Pat should sit on the dais.

  Caroline declined. Louise agreed and Pat agreed and then realised she’d be too busy at that juncture and she’d look a fool in her waitress uniform anyway. She’d have to propose someone fast, anyone to stop Sheila preening herself up there in front of everybody. ‘I can’t accept as I shall be too busy then in the food marquee. Don’t you think we should have a man on the platform, otherwise Mr Fitch will be the only one. What about Louise, Bryn and Mr Palmer?’

  Bryn nodded his agreement. ‘That’s settled then. Louise, write down me, you and Michael.’

  Sheila protested at the unfairness of this. ‘But what about me? I’ve done a lot for this Show! It’s not right. I ought to be on the platform.’

  A deathly hush fell. Faint hearts looked at their shoes, stronger ones at a point somewhere west of Sheila’s shoulders. As no one backed her up she said, ‘Oh right. That’s how it is, is it? You can organise your blasted Show as best you can. I’m having nothing more to do with it.’ She picked up her bag and began stuffing her papers into it.

  Jeremy said, ‘Now see here, Sheila, we never meant to upset you.’

  Pat muttered, ‘Didn’t we?’

  ‘This little contretemps can soon be resolved, can’t it?’ Jeremy looked meaningfully round the circle of members. Michael took it upon himself to volunteer not to be on the platform.

  ‘Seeing as the fancy-dress parade is the first in the arena I shall really be too busy supervising the children to have time to sit on the platform, so please, Lady Bissett, have my place. I’m sure you’ll grace the platform far more decoratively than I shall.’

  Wryly Pat whispered to Barry, ‘He’s right there. Her outfit will be Buckingham-Palace-Garden-Party-here-I-come standard, you’ll see.’

  Sheila, with her back to everyone as she zipped up her bag, stopped midwa
y, beamed triumphantly and then, changing her face into an excellent impression of a woebegone spaniel, sat down again and said, ‘Well, all right then. Seeing as you’ve asked me so nicely, I will sit on the platform – though how I shall find the time I really don’t know, I shall be so busy.’

  Pat jumped in quickly at this hint of doubt. ‘In that case then we’ll ask Dr Harris again, shall we? You’d do it, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  Louise said, ‘That’s settled then. Bryn, me and Mother on the platform. I’ve made a note about the bouquets, Jeremy – I’ll order those. Now, shall we continue? Who’s going to be on the gate?’

  Jeremy solved that by offering two estate-workers who’d been pressganged by Mr Fitch into giving a hand. ‘They’re both big and beefy so you’ll have no trouble with gatecrashers trying to get in for nothing.’

  After they’d cleared up several more points Louise was just arranging the date of the next meeting when Barry said, ‘Before the meeting closes I think we should sort out this question of the classes which have been scrubbed. No good sweeping it under the carpet. Can we have an extra sheet printed, or something, so that the egg classes and that are back in?’

  Sheila took a deep breath intending to enter the fray before things got out of hand but she felt a sharp dig in her ribs from Louise, so she kept quiet.

  Michael answered him. ‘I think that would be a very good idea. After all, we are doing this for the sake of the village, profit is not our prime motive, and if that’s what the village expects then that’s what they must have. A few eggs are not the stuff of crises, are they? Nor indeed are some more cake classes. Can we ask Lady Bissett to amend her lists please, before it causes trouble? We can blame it on a printing error.’

  Linda agreed with him. ‘I second that.’

  ‘So do I. I’ve done two lots of shortbread to make sure I get me hand in before the day, and I think I’m on a winning streak. What do you say, Louise?’ Pat looked hard at Louise as she said this. ‘Well?’