A Village Feud Page 3

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She’s too young. She’s led far too sheltered a life to be allowed to go. What does she know about life? Nothing. Think of the girls she has to mix with, streetwise and far too well informed.’ Grandmama drained her wine glass and glared at Jimbo.

  ‘Mother, she’ll be almost thirteen when the time comes.’

  ‘She’s a mere child.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You are, my dear, you don’t understand what I mean.’

  ‘I do. You mean about boys and reproduction and contraception and that – well, I know.’

  Appalled, Grandmama could only say, ‘Jimbo!’

  Harriet intervened. ‘Katherine. Please. Of course she knows what you’re talking about, and we trust her completely. We shall have a long talk before she goes and I can’t think that it will do anything but good for her to go on this course. I just wish Flick had had the same chance, perhaps then her French might have been a sight lot better than it is now.’

  Fran opened her mouth to speak, but Jimbo gave her a meaningful look which silenced her. ‘Mother, Fran is going on this trip. I’m pleased she’s going and so is Harriet and that is that. I don’t want to hear anything more about it.’

  ‘I see. My opinion counts for nothing, then. Girls need even more care than they did in my day. Gallivanting off to that hot bed of sex-obsessed—’

  ‘Mother! I have put an end to the matter.’ Jimbo thumped the table with his fist. ‘She is going. I do not want the subject mentioned again.’

  Grandmama got to her feet. ‘In that case, I shall go to my room, seeing that my opinion counts for nothing in this house.’ She left with all her dignity intact. She wasn’t going to tell them that EastEnders was starting in five minutes on Fergus’s TV and she didn’t want to miss it. She couldn’t think where Jimbo got that masterful streak from, it certainly wasn’t from her.

  The masterful streak evaporated as soon as his mother had left. ‘Don’t worry, my darling Fran. I’ve been told that the girls who are going are considered to be talented at languages and that’s good enough for me.’

  Fran looked amazed. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Your French teacher.’

  ‘Did he really?’

  ‘Yes. That’s the truth, isn’t it, Harriet?’

  Harriet nodded.

  Fran beamed with pleasure. ‘Grandmama just doesn’t understand, does she? She’s too old, that’s the trouble.’

  Jimbo smiled grimly. ‘Something like that. Now, leave your mother and me to talk, right?’

  When the dining-room door had been closed Harriet said, ‘You dear chap, thanks for that.’

  ‘Do you think she knows enough to be wise on her own behalf?’

  ‘Yes. Believe me, she knows more than I did when we married.’

  ‘What?’ Jimbo began to doubt his decision. ‘In that case, maybe—’

  ‘Don’t you dare! You’ve no idea how much she needs this kind of a boost. The others all did so well, and she feels the odd one out. If languages are her forte then so be it. And don’t worry about her being streetwise. She said to me the other day, “I don’t know why girls make such a fuss about boys. I know all there is to know, and they’re really quite ordinary, there’s nothing superior or mysterious about them at all.” So fret not, OK?’

  Jimbo stood up, making ready to leave. ‘I’ll be in my study for a while. Just a couple of things I need to check.’

  ‘Still worried about the thief, whoever it is?’

  ‘Yes, ’fraid so. They’re covering it up so well, somehow making the till balance, but my stock doesn’t match up with what’s supposedly being sold.’

  ‘You mean that according to the till receipts you’ve actually got fewer tins of tomato soup or whatever than you should have?’

  Jimbo rubbed an anxious hand over his bald head. ‘That’s right. However, thanks for being so generous about Mother staying. I know she’s a trial, but – she is mine and she fought hard to keep my home life secure when I was growing up.’

  Harriet pursed her lips ready to kiss him, and he leaned down so she could reach. ‘Bless you, darling. I’ll do my best. So glad you don’t take after your dad.’ She grinned at him and he squeezed her shoulder.

  ‘I can assure you I have no intention of straying off the straight and narrow. I’ve all on keeping up with you, never mind the added complications of the other woman.’

  ‘Jimbo! I warned you what would happen if you did.’

  ‘I have nothing to fear, because I shan’t play away. See you.’

  Harriet cleared up the table, switched on the dishwasher and went into the sitting room to pick up a novel she was intending to finish that evening. It had got her in its grip and she was eager to get to the end as she hadn’t the faintest idea how it would work out. Three pages later her mother-in-law put her head round the door.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘In the study.’

  ‘Good. You and I can have a girlie chat while he’s busy. I love Jimbo more than anyone else in the world, but he can be confrontational, can’t he?’

  Harriet reluctantly put down her novel. ‘Only when required.’

  ‘Are you sure you want Fran to go to Paris? It’s a den of iniquity, you know.’

  ‘It sounds to me as though the girls will be kept very busy. Five hours of nothing but French each day will curb their extramural activities, I think. And she does know about boys, Katherine, and all that, so there’s no need to worry.’

  ‘It’s appalling to me that children are old before their time nowadays. I knew nothing at her age. Absolutely nothing. It hasn’t done me any harm, has it?’

  ‘No, but then our children live in a very different world from the one you lived in.’

  Grandmama settled herself more comfortably on the sofa. ‘You’re right, it most certainly is. I shall have to leave it to your judgement, Harriet. You’ve stuck with Jimbo through thick and thin. You were so brave to follow him here. That big house, and all that money he earned; you gave up a lot and I admire you for it.’

  ‘Thank you. It was a big step. I can remember once waking up in the middle of the night totally panic-stricken about what we were doing. It took a lot of courage, believe me.’

  ‘I know we don’t always see eye to eye, although we’re better now than we were, but I will do my best not to interfere while I’m here. I don’t suppose there’s a drink in the offing? I usually have one in the evening.’

  She settled for a gin and orange and slowly mellowed even more as the evening progressed. ‘I’ve never spoken to you about Jimbo’s father, have I?’

  Harriet shook her head.

  ‘He was the most charming man you could hope to meet. Very good-looking, very handsome and eye-catching, always had the bon mot, and charmed men as well as women; they’d be eating out of his hand within five minutes of meeting him. But underneath he was the devil incarnate. An unscrupulous, heartless deceiver, that’s what he was, and I found out too late.’

  ‘You never thought to divorce him?’

  Grandmama gave Harriet a wry smile. ‘I adored him, that was my trouble, and couldn’t see why the other woman should be given him on a plate, so to speak. When he came home to me to die I felt as though my love had been rewarded at last.’ For the first time since Harriet had known her, Grandmama had tears sparkling in her eyes. ‘He was so gracious in death. I wanted to follow him a.s.a.p wherever he was going when he died, but, seeing as he had left all his money to me – much to my amazement – and he was most likely going to hell, I rapidly changed my mind and decided instead to live and spend all the money he’d left me before it all got too late. Just to spite him I’ve invested wisely and made loads more money than he would ever have intended me to do.’

  Suddenly they were both helpless with laughter.

  Jimbo had the surprise of his life when he went into their sitting room to find Harriet and his mother with tears of laughter rolling down their cheeks.

 
‘Have you two been at the bottle?’

  ‘Yes,’ Harriet spluttered, and she and Grandmama began laughing all over again.

  ‘What’s it all about?’

  Wiping her eyes, Grandmama replied, ‘Never you mind, it’s women’s talk. Pour me another gin and orange and then I’m off to bed. Give you two some time on your own.’

  She stayed another ten minutes, then kissed and hugged Jimbo and left for Fergus’s bedroom and a good night’s sleep.

  When the door was safely closed behind her Jimbo said, ‘Thank you so much, darling, for making her feel at home.’

  ‘She really is very astute, you know.’

  ‘I know. Razor-sharp might be a better description, but one can’t help but like her.’

  ‘Exactly. She’s let me see a softer side of her tonight, but then that razor-sharp brain of hers came into play and we were laughing like I haven’t ever seen her.’

  ‘Been all right with Fran, has she?’

  ‘Apart from her objection to the Paris trip, yes, I think so.’

  ‘The new people are in, by the way, finally. It must have taken them a year to move in. The chap came in for bread and milk late this afternoon. He’s called Andy Moorhouse and she’s Jenny Sweetapple; kept her maiden name when they married. Claims her ancestors came from these parts. I asked him why it had taken so long to move in, but he wasn’t forthcoming.’

  ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘Wimpish? Smarmy?’

  ‘Oh, well, and there I was thinking there might be some more talent in the village. I’ll have to fall back on Gilbert. He and Louise move into Ron and Sheila’s house tomorrow. It’ll suit them much better than that minute cottage in Little Derehams, that’s for sure. I’m going to bed. I’m starting on the food in the morning for that wedding at the Abbey so it’ll be a long day. Night-night, darling.’

  ‘I’ll be up shortly.’

  ‘Huh, I bet.’ Harriet closed the door behind her, knowing full well he’d be watching Newsnight and heaven knew what kind of a film afterwards. Late-night films were an obsession of his and it made her smile, because if she asked him about it in the morning he would remember very little of the plot.

  Chapter 3

  After Fran had left to catch the school coach the following morning Grandmama decided to rise now there was a chance that the bathroom would be free. She wandered downstairs in her Chinese dressing gown, a present from her Cousin Audrey when she came back from one of her exotic tours, which she never tired of talking about.

  Jimbo was just leaving. ‘Harriet left some time ago, Mother. Can you manage?’

  ‘Good morning, Jimbo dear. I’ll let you know when I become incapable of making my own breakfast.’

  ‘There’s some free range organic eggs from Nightingale’s farm in the fridge if you want one.’

  ‘I may well indeed. Have a good day, Jimbo. Never forget that your Harriet is a gem. You’re a very lucky man, and I hope you realize it.’

  ‘I do. Bye, Mother.’

  Grandmama went to stand by the window to watch Jimbo leave. He was a little on the portly side, just like his father, but he strode off with such purpose in his walk. Off to conquer the world, no doubt.

  After breakfast she decided to sally forth and call home for a few things she’d forgotten to pack. Her favourite hairbrush, for a start, that moisturiser which she loved, expensive but glorious and her rollers for titivating her hair between appointments. It was a glorious morning. She decided not to cross the Green as it had rained during the night and she hated squelchy grass. So she took a detour and paused to admire Jimbo’s Store window display. If she’d been in Oxford Street looking in Selfridge’s windows they couldn’t have been more tempting, more dazzling, than Jimbo’s. He had never been artistic as a child but he certainly was now.

  Greta Jones was just coming to work at the Store. They greeted each other like long-lost friends.

  ‘Greta!’

  ‘Katherine!’

  ‘How’s things?’

  They drew closer together. ‘I’ve moved to Jimbo’s for the duration.’

  ‘You have? Whatever for?’

  ‘Far be it from me to criticize a member of the clergy, but we just didn’t get on, Reverend Anna and me. Too much alike, I’m afraid.’

  Greta nodded. ‘It isn’t always easy having a lodger.’

  ‘Is Paddy difficult, then?’

  ‘Not at all. He’s like a son to Vince and me. Just like a son and so appreciative. Turned over a new leaf, has our Paddy. All he needed was a good home and someone looking forward to him coming in from work.’

  ‘Well, that’s nice. She hasn’t been like a daughter to me, just plain cussed, that’s what. You won’t say anything to anyone about what I’ve just said? But I do need to confide in someone.’

  Greta patted her arm. ‘You can rely on me. After all, we’re comrades-in-arms.’

  ‘Don’t remind me. She starts praying at six a.m., you know, out loud.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘All her washing strewn about the kitchen when I want it clean and tidy. Still, I mustn’t say any more. She has tried, and neither of us expected her to be with me for nine months.’

  ‘Sheila and Ron are moving today; the van’s just pulling up, look.’

  ‘So it is. I’ll get her a welcome-to-your-new-home card. I’ll go in with you.’

  ‘She’s never been the same since the baby died, has she?’

  ‘Louise?’

  ‘No, Sheila. There’s some say …’ But Jimbo was waiting for her at the door. ‘Sorry, Mr Charter-Plackett, I know I’m late. I met your mother and we got talking. See yer, Katherine.’

  ‘And you, Greta.’

  ‘Mother. What can I get for you?’

  ‘A coffee from that miraculous machine of yours and then I want to choose a welcome-to-your-new-home card, please, for Sheila. Oh! And one for Louise, too. Cream no sugar.’

  Angie Turner, who’d followed her into the Store, sat down beside her with a coffee in her hand.

  ‘I’ve been hearing things.’

  ‘You have?’ said Grandmama.

  Angie nodded her bottle-blonde hair and pursed her lips. ‘Things I shouldn’t be hearing. About the Reverend Anna.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘That you’ve had the most enormous row with her and you stormed out.’

  Grandmama chose her words carefully. ‘I did storm out but we didn’t have the most enormous row, I don’t know where that came from. We’re simply incompatible, that’s all. So Harriet very kindly offered me a home for the duration. My cottage isn’t large enough for two self-opinionated women.’ She gave Angie a smile to soften her words.

  ‘I can believe that. Colin and I get on really well most of the time, it’s only when disciplining the boys crops up that we have different opinions. He’d let them do anything, but I’m not having it. I like to be able to take my boys anywhere at all and they behave well and don’t show me up.’

  ‘Quite right. You’re quite right.’

  The door bell jangled furiously and in came Jenny Sweetapple. Well, Grandmama assumed it must be she because she was entirely new and couldn’t be missed on a foggy night by a blind man. Her hair was the most alarming peroxide blonde and there was lots of it, which, when they all got to know her better, she swore was natural. It was swirled up into a vast chignon on top of her head and added at least four inches to her height. Dangling earrings filled the space between the chignon and her shoulders. Jenny wore a loosely crocheted sweater in a multitude of purples and acid pinks, black velvet trousers and heavy clumpy shoes more fit for the Himalayas than Turnham Malpas.

  ‘Hi!’

  Grandmama hated that word, but she graciously replied with a clipped, ‘Good morning.’

  Angie returned the ‘hi’ and smiled.

  ‘Coffee! Where do I pay?’ Jenny pressed all the wrong buttons, left a pool of coffee on the machine, dropped the sugar packet on the floor instead of in the waste bas
ket and looked around to pay.

  ‘You don’t, it’s free. One of the few things in this world that is. You must be Jenny Sweetapple.’ Grandmama reached out her hand to shake Jenny’s and found her grip warm and strong. Jenny smiled a sweet, all-embracing smile, revealing slightly crooked teeth that gave her a vulnerable look.

  ‘And you’re …?’

  ‘Mrs Charter-Plackett.’

  Jenny frowned as though the name meant something to her but she couldn’t remember why.

  Angie Turner introduced herself and welcomed Jenny to the village.

  ‘Thank you. Everyone has been so kind to us. We’re really looking forward to living here and getting to know everyone. I’ve met your holy Joe already; she called yesterday while the van was still here. Nice person, but no thanks.’ She tossed her head and smiled brightly, looking as though she thought herself very up to the minute by rejecting Anna’s way of life.

  ‘I see,’ replied Grandmama ‘Well, it’s certain you’ll find no better Village Store anywhere else in the world than this one. There’s everything you need and more. If it isn’t here it will be, almost before you leave the Store. That right, Angie?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Do you work, Jenny?’

  ‘I do actually. I’m setting up a massage parlour …’ She rambled on but Grandmama didn’t hear a word, she was too scandalized. A massage parlour? Did she think this was Soho? Whatever next?

  She interrupted Jenny’s flow and, in her most superior voice, declared, ‘I hardly think a massage parlour is suitable here. Have you got council permission to open up a business in a private house?’

  ‘Well, no. But that doesn’t matter. It’ll only be small. I might have a discreet board outside advertising what I do, and it won’t affect the traffic or anything; they won’t be queueing out the door.’ Jenny giggled.

  ‘I should hope not,’ Grandmama snapped.

  Angie Turner looked interested. ‘My Colin always has tension in his neck and shoulders. Is that the kind of thing you mean?’

  ‘Of course. Any aches and pains, sports injuries, anything like that. Aromatherapy, reflexology. I’ve done all the courses.’