Trouble in the Village (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Read online

  It was the scandalised tone of Caroline’s question which gave her the first hint that all was not well. ‘You have what?’

  Grandmama Charter-Plackett’s chin jutted but her mouth smiled. As far as the village was concerned that boded ill. ‘I have agreed with him. It should be done.’

  ‘You have agreed with him? What have you got to do with it?’

  ‘I just happened to be having a cup of tea with him and he mentioned his intentions.’

  ‘But it’s none of your business.’

  ‘Are you saying that village affairs are nothing to do with me?’

  Caroline’s eyes blazed. ‘I suppose I am. You’ve hardly been here two minutes and you’re interfering yet again, as if you haven’t caused enough trouble since you came. He’s getting away with this over my dead body.’

  Grandmama drew herself up. ‘I think you’re taking this far too seriously. It’s perfectly ridiculous to be making such a fuss.’

  Jimbo intervened. ‘Mother! I think –

  ‘Well, then, don’t. I’m quite capable of looking after myself, thank you, Jimbo.’ Turning to Caroline she said, between clenched teeth, ‘I’m not digging it up, I only agreed with him that it should be done.’

  Jimbo opened his mouth, intending to pour oil on troubled waters, but Caroline put a hand on his arm. ‘No, Jimbo, leave this to me. This village needs dragging into the twenty-first century. There are some things I agree with, but this, however, is beyond belief. What is it, three years you’ve been here perhaps nearly four? Most of the families here this afternoon have lived here for centuries. If anyone has a right to agree or disagree it is them and not you. How dare you!’

  Muriel’s question, spoken in a small voice, gently cut through the bristling silence which had fallen. ‘What is it we are talking about?’

  Ralph quietly explained. ‘Mr Fitch has decided to dig up the hedgerow behind our houses and replace it with a fence.’

  Every word of Ralph’s fell like a stone on Muriel’s heart. Appalled she said, ‘You mean Rector’s Meadow hedge? Why?’

  Grandmama Charter-Plackett replied, ‘Because he can’t find people either willing or able to maintain it, and he thinks a nice well-made wooden fence would be more economical.’

  ‘What has economy to do with it?’

  ‘He runs a tight ship and he can’t bear for there to be waste. That’s why he’s rich.’ She nearly added, ‘And that’s why he’s at the Big House and your Ralph isn’t any more,’ but even she realised that would be a tad too far.

  Muriel took a deep breath, amazed by the insensitivity on display. ‘Waste? What about all the creatures who make their homes there?’ Her eyes filled with tears as she thought about them.

  Grandmama, genuinely surprised by the thought that anyone, four-legged or otherwise, would choose to live in a tatty overgrown hedge, almost smiled but the sight of tears in Muriel’s eyes stopped herself smiling. ‘They’ll soon find somewhere else. It’s all a storm in a teacup and I would have thought, Caroline, that you of all people would have welcomed progress. Muriel, of course, as we all know, always prefers the status quo.’

  Indignant at being dismissed as a stick in the mud Muriel declared, ‘I do not!’ But she did about the hedge. ‘But in this instance I do. There must be nearly half a mile of hedge and it belongs … to us.’

  Caroline agreed with her. ‘I shall not stand by and let that – that – hooligan ruin the village.’

  Katherine ignored Caroline, preferring to answer Muriel. ‘To be exact, Muriel, the hedge belongs to Mr Fitch, he bought it and he has a right to do with it whatever he wants. Considering how this village benefits from his generosity with his money, the least we can do is let him get on with it. Otherwise what has happened to liberty? It is being eroded on every side. Well, this time I think he’s right.’ She turned to give Jimbo her empty glass. ‘Put that somewhere appropriate, if you please.’

  Jimbo, white with temper, smoothed his hand over his bald head and said, ‘Mother, you’re spoiling the party and that’s not good manners.’

  ‘You’re right, it isn’t. I apologise, Ralph, even though the upset is not my fault.’

  Suddenly Muriel was aware she was still holding the teapot and her arms were beginning to ache. She handed it to Ralph and looked at him for assistance as he took it.

  Ralph placed it on the stand by the teacups and said smoothly, ‘Shall we all begin to eat? Muriel has provided such a banquet for us and I can’t wait to cut my cake. Come, Katherine, here’s a plate for you. May I help you to salmon or do you prefer the cold chicken, or perhaps a little of the stand pie?’

  Grandmama always fell victim to Ralph’s accomplished charm and today was no exception. ‘Why, thank you, Ralph, the salmon, I think, with just a little of the mayonnaise. No cucumber.’

  Though the matter had been shelved as far as general conversation went, it burst out in quiet outraged huddles all over the house and garden.

  Jimbo and Harriet were incensed. ‘Your mother! When will she learn? I should never have agreed to her coming to live here, I knew she’d cause trouble.’

  ‘God! Wait till I get her home.’

  ‘Caroline’s right, it would be criminal to uproot that hedge. If she starts a campaign I shall support her.’

  ‘Careful, Harriet. Think about Mother.’

  Harriet looked scornfully at Jimbo. ‘You would do well to remember the pledge you gave me before she came. Remember? You and I stand together.’

  Jimbo raised an eyebrow. ‘How much of Caroline’s anger is directed at Mother rather than the hedge? Hmm? Ask yourself that.’

  Thoughtfully, Harriet chewed on a stick of celery while she framed her reply. ‘I agree they’ve had their moments, the two of them, but I genuinely believe she is also very angry about the hedge. I wondered how long old Fitch could manage without being a thorn in the flesh yet again.’ She looked across at her mother-in-law, who was conversing with Peter as though nothing upsetting had taken place. ‘I shall tread carefully. But like Caroline said over my dead body does he put up a fence.’

  In the garden things were being said which were much less polite. ‘That blasted woman! Here, Ron, tilt the umbrella different, I’m right in the sun and if there’s anything I hate it’s eating food in full sun. Pig ignorant she is. Pig ignorant, for all her airs and graces. She’s really upset Caroline and it won’t do.’

  ‘She could be right, Sheila.’

  Sheila glared at him, ‘Right? That woman’s never right. Ever. As we well know. If they get up a petition I shall sign it at every opportunity.’

  Ron cleared his mouth of his pork pie and said, ‘Watch it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Mr Fitch has been very kind in the past sponsoring the Village Show and the Flower Festivals and that. You could stand to lose a lot if he takes his bat home over this. You keep out of it.’

  ‘When principles are at stake a stand has to be taken, no matter what.’ She’d read that in a book and had been storing it up for just such an occasion.

  Ron shook his head in despair.

  Muriel heard none of this as she was in the kitchen patiently lighting the candles on the cake and trying her best to take delight in doing so. Bracing herself she carried the cake aloft into the dining room and, as through a thick cloud, heard them all cheer at the sight of it, for it really was quite splendid. They made room for it on the table and Ralph invited the children to help him blow out the candles. Peter lifted them up on to chairs, Beth, Alex and little Fran Charter-Plackett.

  Alex shouted, ‘You must make a wish, Sir Ralph! Go on, make a wish.’

  They all waited in silence, the children hopping up and down on the chairs. ‘Right! I’ve done it. Are we ready? One, two, three, blow!’

  Cutting up the cake with Caroline’s help, Muriel whispered, ‘I’m so angry, but I don’t want to spoil Ralph’s party. We’ll have clean plates. Here they are, look.’

  ‘So am I. That beautiful hedge! How could he?
I’m working on Monday otherwise I’d go straight up there first thing.’

  ‘He’s not here, though. Oh, this slice has broken in half. Never mind, I’ll have it. He’s not back till Tuesday night.’

  Caroline groaned. ‘I work Wednesday too.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, I’ll go up to the Big House myself. I’ve worked miracles with him before. Let’s hope I can do it again. I’ll take the cake round. I’ll let you know how I go on.’

  In the end the party was a success, despite the disagreement, and while Ralph helped Muriel to clear up he told her so several times.

  ‘You have no need to worry, my dear, it was perfectly splendid. I have so enjoyed myself.’

  Muriel kissed him. ‘I’m so glad.’

  ‘I know what you’re thinking.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes. You’re planning to tackle Fitch about the hedge.’

  ‘Well, yes, I am. Will you help?’

  ‘Frankly, no.’

  ‘But, Ralph, I was relying on you.’

  ‘All my support will achieve is his absolute determination to do exactly the opposite of what I want. He and I have crossed swords too many times for me to be of any value to you at all. Can you see that?’

  Muriel thought about what he’d said and finally agreed. ‘You could be right at that. You’d simply be a red rag to a bull.’

  ‘Just like Katherine is to you.’ Ralph had to laugh, and when he caught Muriel’s eye, so too did she. ‘So I shall keep out of it.’

  ‘Thank you for distracting Katherine so tactfully. We could have had a full-scale row and that would have been unforgivable. Right now I’m going down the back garden, crossing the lane and giving the hedge a pat. And I’m going to tell it it needn’t worry because Caroline and I are going to save it.’

  Ralph smiled indulgently. ‘Off you go then. I’ll finish in here, you’ve done enough today.’

  Muriel clipped shut the gate which separated her garden from Pipe and Nook Lane, checked there were no cars coming up to the garages at the top end and went over to the hedge. It was all of three feet wide and five feet tall now, in places even taller, not having been touched since Mr Fitch had bought the house. Just where she stood a wild rose was flowering, wide single petals, of the palest of pale pink, it fluttered delicately in the evening breeze. How could he? How could he even think of destroying all this beauty?

  A wren, unaware he had an audience, was hopping briskly about amongst the twigs. His pert, upstanding tail amused her and for a moment, his head on one side, the wren studied her. They looked at each other eye to eye, two living beings, in form as unalike as it was possible to be and yet … He flew off with a flick of his soft brown tail. As Muriel studied the hedge she spotted deep inside it an abandoned nest, a perfectly round scoop of a nest still beautifully lined with soft feathers, and wonderfully and intricately woven grass by grass, fine twig by fine twig: a miracle of construction. How could anyone think of destroying this? If only they could all see it through her eyes as she saw it now in the mellow evening light.

  Trailing her fingers amongst the leaves Muriel said out loud, ‘Don’t worry, that monster isn’t going to get rid of you. I’ll see to that even if …’ rather rashly she concluded with ‘I have to throw myself in front of the diggers.’ Having acknowledged she might perhaps have to do that very thing, her heart quailed at the prospect. ‘But I shall. Oh, yes. I shall.’

  Muriel inspected first one leaf and then another, realising that though she had lived here with Ralph all this time, apart from the wild rose she didn’t know any of the other plants growing there. Shame on you, Muriel, she thought, it’s time you did, and she marched inside purposefully, intent on seeking out a countryside book of Ralph’s to find out exactly what it was she was being called upon to defend.

  Chapter 2

  That night the bar of the Royal Oak hummed with the news of the disagreement over the hedge. Those not privileged to be guests at the birthday party had had the story told them, and each and every one had an opinion to express.

  Sylvia having been a guest had already told Willie she thought that Caroline and Muriel were right. ‘Lovely old hedge that. Been there long before you and I saw the light of day. He’s no business to be uprooting it.’

  ‘He does own it, though.’

  ‘I know he does, but landowners have obligations in this day and age. They can’t ride roughshod over everyone just because they have bright ideas about increasing their crops.’

  ‘Well, at least it’ll give Caroline something to concentrate on.’

  Sylvia fell silent. She sipped her gin and orange and wished, how she wished … Caroline. It had been painful seeing her. Right at that moment she deeply regretted resigning in such a temper. ‘The children … it was lovely talking to them.’

  Willie took hold of her hand. ‘See here. Eat humble pie and ask for your job back. She’s in a fix and she needs your help and it’s what you want.’

  Sylvia, glad of a chance not to answer, waved to Don who was just coming across to their table with an orange juice in his hand.

  ‘Evening, Sylvia, Willie. Enjoy your party this afternoon then?’

  ‘Yes, thanks. You know, it still seems funny seeing you in here without your Vera.’

  Don didn’t answer, he simply ran a stubby hand through his coarse grey hair.

  ‘Have you been to see the flat she’s moved into?’

  ‘No, and I shan’t.’ He tapped the table with a thick forefinger. ‘Nothing and nobody is moving me from my cottage. I was born in that front bedroom, in the very bed I sleep in still, and that’s where I’m staying, and I’m not moving out to some poncy flat just to please her.’

  Willie put his spoke in by reminding him about the dreadful condition of his cottage. ‘You really can’t expect any woman to put up with that dump in this day and age. I’m surprised she hasn’t moved out sooner than this. You haven’t done a hand’s turn in years to improve it. No wonder she grabbed her chance when she could. You should have hightailed it after her to that flat if you’d had any sense. Shouldn’t he, Sylvia?’

  Sylvia nodded.

  Don remained silent. But then they were used to Don being a man of few words. Trouble was, when he did speak he was, on occasion, far too forthright.

  Sylvia reached forward and encouragingly patted Don’s arm where it rested on the table. ‘Nice little job that nursing home offered her. It’s just a pity you didn’t see it that way. She had the right idea, doing up the cottage and renting it out while you both lived in the flat.’

  When he didn’t answer she remarked how stubborn some people could be when the right thing to do was staring them in the face.

  Willie agreed. He glanced at Don. ‘Another orange juice, Don?’

  ‘No. Thanks. I’ll be off. Early shift tomorrow. When you’re footloose and fancy-free there’s jobs to be done before yer can go to bed. But don’t you fret, Don Wright ’ull survive without ’er, just you wait and see. Who needs women?’ Don fixed his beady brown eyes on Sylvia and said, ‘Before I go, as it seems to be a night for ’anding out advice, my advice to you, Sylvia Biggs, is to hightail it yourself, back to the Rectory, and apologise and ask for your job back because at bottom that’s what you really want to do. You’ve never looked the same since you left and it’s time to make up. Good night.’ He squeezed out of the narrow gap between the settle and the table and left them alone.

  Sylvia, red-faced and furious, folded her arms across her chest and said angrily, ‘That Don is having a sight too much to say for himself right now. The cheeky devil, him handing out advice to me. What does he know about anything anyway?’ Scornfully Sylvia added, ‘He’ll manage without Vera! Huh! And pigs might fly. I just hope that mucky cottage ’ull tumble down on top of him, and it’ll serve ’im right.’

  Willie gave Sylvia a sly glance. ‘Seems to me he could be right about you.’

  ‘Hmm. Thanks, anyway, for not letting on the Rector had been round to persuade me
to go back.’ She paused, recollecting Peter’s kindness and the gentle way he’d given her the opportunity to change her mind without loss of face. ‘He’s hard to resist he is.’

  ‘Then you shouldn’t have resisted, you could have given in graciously to him, everybody knows how persuasive he is. You’re stubborn, you are.’

  Emphatically Sylvia shook her head. ‘No, I’m not stubborn, I just know what’s right. She came within an ace of deserting those children for that Hugo actor man,’ briefly her face softened for she’d been caught up in his charisma too, just like everyone else, ‘within an ace, and couldn’t see where it was all leading. What I said I meant. Someone had to speak up ’cos one thing’s for certain the Rector wouldn’t. Seeing as you’re on your feet get me another gin and orange, there’s a love.’

  ‘Will yer think about it though, to please me?’

  Sylvia paused for a moment. ‘I might. Then again I might not.’

  Willie smiled into her large grey eyes, those eyes which had attracted him to her so powerfully those few short years ago. He bent his head to kiss her and smiled inside himself as he straightened up, certain that if he knew anything at all she’d be back at the Rectory very soon and all would be right with the world again.

  While Willie waited at the bar Sylvia thought about what he’d said. She loved those children as though they were her own grandchildren, but as for … No, she wouldn’t. Caroline would have to do the asking, not her. Willie, walking towards her now, suddenly looked older somehow. Strange that: you lived your life with someone and didn’t see what was happening under your very nose. He’d been right to say he would retire.

  ‘Thanks. Funny Tom applying for your job. Doesn’t seem quite right somehow, him wanting to be verger.’

  ‘That’s what the Rector says, but he’s the only applicant and to be honest I shall be glad to be shut of the job. It’s all too much being at everyone’s beck and call. He’s coming for an interview on Monday.’