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

  He led the way up the beautiful Tudor staircase taking each step with great precision as though he’d practised time and again to make his ascent as perfect as he could for a film. Muriel trotted after him, uneasy and tense, well aware he was doing this to intimidate her. Did he know her reason for coming?

  He unlocked the door of the flat and ushered her into the sitting room. It was inclined to be a dark room and the cloudy day made it worse. He indicated a chair and then went round switching on lamps on the low tables so the room was flooded with a soft glow.

  Mr Fitch sat down, placed his elbows on the arms of his chair, put his fingertips together and said, ‘Well, now, Muriel. All on your own? Ralph’s not ill?’

  Muriel knew full well he didn’t care how Ralph was, nor come to that how she fared either, but she answered him politely, assuring him that Ralph was in good health.

  ‘I’m sorry I missed his party on Saturday. Did it go well?’

  ‘I was sorry you missed it too, but it did go well, thank you.’

  She hesitated and he filled the gap with ‘So …?’

  ‘I have heard something which I truly cannot believe, so I have come to ask you for the truth.’

  ‘Am I to get a roasting?’

  Muriel smiled as cheerfully as she could in the circumstances. ‘Certainly not. Nothing of the kind. I’m not that kind of a person.’

  ‘I see.’

  The housekeeper came in with the coffee at this point. She offered to pour but Mr Fitch declined. ‘I’ll attend to that myself. Thank you.’

  He busied himself with the coffee, placed a table beside Muriel’s chair and put her cup on it.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll come straight to the point. Katherine Charter-Plackett says you are intending pulling up the hedge around Rector’s Meadow and replacing it with a fence.’ Muriel put such scorn into the word “fence” that Mr Fitch could have been in no doubt how she felt about the idea. ‘I’m sure, we’re all sure, she must have misunderstood.’

  Mr Fitch sipped his coffee and looked at her over his cup. The icy blue eyes seemed to bore straight through Muriel.

  ‘She’s right. I am.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I am.’

  ‘But you can’t.’

  ‘It is my hedge. I bought it. I do own it. Do you ask permission of me before you uproot a rose tree or dig out a lupin in your garden? No.’

  ‘But …’

  He held up his hand to silence her. ‘No, Muriel, I won’t listen to you appealing to my better nature. My mind is made up. I have bent over backwards to accommodate the wishes of the people in the village time and again, but the hedge I shall have my own way about. That is the end of the matter.’ He stood up in a dismissive manner, and Muriel felt compelled to stand up too and make ready to go.

  ‘It’s such a beautiful hedge. I’m very disappointed in you, I had thought …’

  ‘No matter how much money I give to one cause or another, no matter whose jobs I save, no matter who benefits from my Education Fund, no matter how I support the church I still can’t get it right with you all, so I’m calling a halt, and doing as I like for once.’

  Muriel had to agree with what he said: it was all true, he had done all those things. Just the same she’d try once more. ‘When you come new to a village like this you have to tread carefully, so very carefully, and this is one instance when you could prove your good intentions by changing your mind. Like over the presidency of the cricket team, you stood down and it won you countless Brownie points. This is another case in point. Please say you’ll change your mind. Once it’s gone that will be the end of it. It’s all the wildlife, you see, the plants and the birds and such, I’ve even seen wild violets growing in the shelter of that hedge. Could you think about them, please? They’re all so precious.’

  Mr Fitch glanced away from her pleading eyes and said, ‘This might work with Ralph but not with me.’ Sarcastically he added, ‘After all he is a gentleman. You can’t expect the same response from me.’

  Mr Fitch’s answer stung Muriel and left her with nothing more to say.

  ‘I rather imagine from the look on your face he has pointed that out to you, so I’m amazed you should think I would be subject yet again to your particular brand of genteel persuasion.’ He moved towards the door. ‘You can tell everyone you meet that I am adamant that hedge is coming down. The fence will be in good taste, I assure you. Even I can manage that.’

  The cold smile on his face made Muriel shudder. She picked up her handbag and left, finding her own way to the front door, having declined his offer to escort her. She wouldn’t let the receptionist see her tears, but as soon as she was in the Tudor garden they did come, mostly brought on by the thought of that little wren losing his stamping ground and the wild rose being pulled up by its roots.

  Well, he wasn’t the only one who could be determined. Oh, no! She’d see Caroline tonight and report to her. By the time Muriel had reached the little gate in the church wall she had pulled herself together, stiffened her shoulders and determined she wouldn’t tell Ralph what Mr Fitch had said about being a gentleman – well, about not being a gentleman. Which he wasn’t, and couldn’t be, but it needn’t stop him from behaving well, now, need it?

  ‘Well, my dear, how did you get on? Worked your charm on him as usual?’

  ‘No. Nothing worked.’ Muriel told Ralph everything they’d said except that bit about … ‘I can’t help feeling that he is very hurt somehow. He’s blaming it on people never being grateful, and he’s right, they’d die first before admitting to being in his debt for what he does for the village, but I don’t think that’s the real reason. There’s something else. However, I shall ask Caroline round tonight and we’ll discuss tactics.’

  Ralph smiled ruefully at her. ‘I did tell you he wasn’t a gentleman.’

  Muriel blushed.

  ‘He wasn’t rude to you, was he?’

  ‘No, of course not. No, he wasn’t.’

  Muriel went round to the Rectory that night to discuss strategy. When Caroline had rung to invite her she’d been told that Peter was out and could Muriel come to the Rectory. So she did.

  They sat comfortably in the sitting room, with a bottle of wine between them.

  ‘This seems awfully naughty for a business meeting, sharing a bottle of wine. I mustn’t have more than two glasses or I shall not manage to get home. It tastes wonderful.’

  ‘Why not? It might get the brain cells working.’

  ‘Well, mine certainly need some stimulus. One gets very rusty if one is not careful. University Challenge defeats me completely nowadays.’

  Caroline had to laugh. ‘Really, Muriel! Come along then, tell me what happened.’

  So Muriel did, and included the bit about him saying he wasn’t a gentleman. ‘I tried my hardest but had no success and am completely stumped about what to do next.’

  ‘So am I.’

  ‘I had thought Peter might have some ideas. He is on our side, isn’t he?’

  ‘Of course. More wine?’

  ‘That will be sufficient for me. Thank you. Have you had a chance to discuss it with him?’

  ‘No, I haven’t. The only thing I can suggest is contacting the environment people. They’d advise, wouldn’t they?’

  Muriel clapped her hands. ‘Oh, Caroline, of course. How sensible you are. Peter always admires your common sense and here it is again.’

  ‘Neville Neal, now he’s a councillor, isn’t he on the environment committee?’

  ‘I do believe he is. Of course. Yes. The very man. It doesn’t affect his house but he’s got to see things done right, hasn’t he? Even if he isn’t on that committee he could perhaps point us in the right direction.’

  Caroline didn’t appear to be paying attention. She was fiddling with her wine-glass, turning it round and round and round in an abstracted fashion.

  ‘My dear, you seem … not well.’

  ‘Worried. You know.’

  ‘Would i
t help to talk to me? I’m very discreet.’

  Caroline half smiled at her. ‘I know you are. It’s Peter. He’s gone.’

  Muriel, appalled at her news, tried in vain to keep the shock from her face. ‘For a little holiday, you mean.’

  ‘Kind of. Just needed to get away.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘It’s me you see. Can’t quite cope. Not since I made such a mess of things.’

  ‘But you need him more than ever, then, surely?’

  ‘He’s been under a lot of strain.’

  Muriel went to sit beside her on the sofa and put a tender hand on hers. ‘Of course. Of course. He’ll be back, my dear, believe me.’

  ‘He has to come back because of the church, but … I don’t know … Enough of my troubles. Will you see Neville or shall I?’

  ‘I will. You’ve enough on your plate without all this.’

  ‘I need to keep my mind occupied.’

  Muriel stood up. ‘I’ll see him at the weekend then, and let you know. If you come up with any more bright ideas share them with me.’

  ‘There’s the conservation people too, of course.’ Caroline made a fist and thumped it into her other hand with gusto. ‘He’s got to be stopped. I can’t think what’s got into him, he must have gone mad.’

  ‘There’s certainly something the matter, I know that.’

  ‘I thought we’d do a leaflet and put it through people’s doors, and posters for the trees and the noticeboards in the church hall and in the Store, in the Royal Oak and such. What do you think?’

  ‘Oh, excellent! Of course. We make a good team, don’t we?’

  ‘We’ve got to move smartly. Knowing Mr Fitch he’ll have the diggers in before we have a chance to protest.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that. He could, couldn’t he?’

  Caroline nodded. ‘He will, without doubt.’

  ‘Ralph knows someone who does posters. I’ll get him on to it straight away.’

  ‘We’ll have to hold a protest meeting. I’ll see Tom about that.’

  ‘Of course.’ Muriel put her hands to her temples and groaned. ‘My head’s in a whirl.’

  Caroline laughed. ‘I’m determined we’ll win.’

  ‘So am I.’ Heading for the door Muriel turned back to say, ‘You’ve got Sylvia on track again, I hear? That must be a help.’

  ‘I have. Thank goodness. She’s saved my life.’

  ‘Good. Things will work out, I’m sure. He’ll be back, you wait and see. Good night, my dear. God bless.’ Muriel leaned forward and kissed Caroline’s cheek.

  As Muriel walked between the Rectory and her house she chanced to meet Neville Neal walking home with Liz.

  ‘Hi, there, Lady Templeton! How are you?’

  ‘Very troubled, Neville, and it’s lucky that I’ve met you. Good evening, Liz. Have you heard about Mr Fitch insisting upon digging up the hedge round Rector’s Meadow?’

  ‘I heard a rumour.’

  ‘Well, Caroline and I are organising some opposition and we thought, well, Caroline did, that as a councillor you might be able to point us in the right direction for mobilising some official support.’ Muriel put her head on one side and smiled sweetly at him. In the fading light she thought she saw a momentary glimpse of guilt in his face but then he was saying, ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do, Lady Templeton. Quite out of our hands. It is his hedge, you see.’

  ‘Oh, I know that, but I would have thought …’

  ‘He is putting up a fence which will be very sympathetic to the environment, not some ghastly white plastic picket fence so …’

  ‘Oh I see. You know his plans then.’

  Caught on the hop by this innocent-looking member of the aristocracy – and one mustn’t forget that was exactly what she was and had Sir Ralph influence? By Jove, he had – Neville stuttered a little, and then said, ‘Well, I did happen to meet him in the Conservative Club the other week and we were discussing it.’

  ‘Ah! I see. I’m very sorry you can’t help our campaign.’

  ‘Campaign?’ Neville appeared to shuffle a little uneasily.

  ‘Oh, yes! Caroline and I are determined he shan’t do this to our village. Whatever his reasons. We shall fight him every step of the way, and believe me, we mean it, so if you see him … by chance … in the Conservative Club you can tell him just that. I’ll say goodnight then. Good night, Liz.’

  ‘Good night!’

  Muriel reported her evening’s activities to Ralph, not forgetting to mention the look of guilt on Neville’s face.

  Ralph muttered with disgust, ‘Our esteemed councillor is, to put it bluntly, a slimy toad.’

  ‘Ralph!’

  ‘I beg your pardon, my dear, but he is. There’s something else behind this fence business which has yet to be revealed.’

  ‘I shall bypass Neville and go straight to the fountain head.’

  ‘Who is that?’

  ‘I don’t know but I shall soon find out and I shall unashamedly use my title to gain access to whichever pompous, self-satisfied council official can do the trick.’

  ‘My word, Muriel Templeton on the warpath is someone to be reckoned with.’

  ‘I hope you’re not laughing at me, Ralph, because I am willing to do anything to stop that man from committing this terrible deed.’

  ‘Anything?’

  Muriel nodded and answered, with a firm nod of her head, ‘Anything.’ After a moment’s pause she added, ‘Within reason.’

  Chapter 4

  On the first Monday morning that Tom and Willie were working together Willie made sure he got to the church five minutes early. But even that was not early enough, for Tom was already there sitting on the old wooden bench outside the boiler house drawing eagerly on a cigarette. He had on what looked like a new pair of overalls, bright orange with the words Constable Construction Company printed up each leg and in larger letters across the middle of the back. On his feet were a pair of steel-capped boots, in pristine condition. His unnaturally red hair was covered by a baseball cap, also bright orange with a logo of three capital Cs intertwined above the peak.

  ‘Morning, Tom! I like punctuality! Like the outfit, pity about the cigarette. No smoking whatsoever anywhere on the premises. Church, church hall, churchyard. Nowhere at all. Insurance, yer know.’

  ‘As you say, boss.’ He heeled the butt into the soft ground at his feet and stood up. ‘Nervous, you know. Sorry.’

  ‘That’s OK. So long as you remember. On Mondays I always get the logbook out and see what’s what for the week. What bookings we’ve got, what grave to dig if need be, what gardening jobs there are an’ that. It’s the verger’s Bible, as yer might say. That plastic box.’ Willie pointed to the smart box lying on the bench.

  Tom smiled and bent to pick it up. ‘That’s my lunch. Evie’s out today so she made it up for me. My Evie always says –’

  ‘Bring it with you into the vestry and leave it there. We’ll have a brew up while we study what needs to be done this week. In the winter, with no grass to cut and no gardening to do, life gets a bit easier, but in the height of summer like now it’s one body’s work keeping everywhere looking smart.’

  He unlocked the side door of the church and switched on the lights. ‘And don’t think for one minute that because the Rector’s a gentleman he won’t speak out if needs be. Right shaming he can be, if things aren’t as they should be. Likes the churchyard looking neat, between every grave, all the paths, all the land not used yet, no weeds growing at the foot of the walls, no overturned urns or vases, no sunken gravestones. Well, that is except the very old ones, he doesn’t mind those, says they’ve a right to topple a bit but anything less than two hundred years ’as to be straight, like soldiers on parade. He likes the bedding plants by the lych-gate to be well weeded and colourful in the summer. I can help out with that ’cos I always have plenty growing on in my greenhouse so don’t be spending church money in garden centres …’

  Tom raised a hand
to silence him. ‘No need to worry about that. I grow plenty myself, and I’ve a good source for bulbs too. Don’t you fret.’ He tapped the side of his nose knowingly. ‘Tom Nicholls knows a thing or two.’ He laughed confidingly. ‘I take two sugars in tea. Thanks.’

  ‘Here you are then.’ Willie handed him a mug of tea and pushed the sugar bowl across the table. He looked round the vestry for a moment, took a sip of his scalding hot tea and said, ‘Every inch of the church has to be dead clean, every statue dusted – I’ll show you the long-handled feather duster I ’ave for ’em – every inch of floor swept, every brass cleaned down each aisle, every tomb, every surface, the altar, the pulpit. You name it, you clean it or else he’ll know.’

  ‘The Rector or the Almighty?’ Tom laughed, till he noticed Willie’s disapproving face. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean that.’

  ‘It’s not funny – well, to me it isn’t. I’ve watched over this church for sixteen years and I shall be on the look-out every Sunday and any other time for lapses. And don’t think I shan’t notice ’cos I shall. It may not pay well but it’s still to be done right and if you don’t want to do it right, say so, and we’ll put an end to it. I might be getting older but I’m not going blind and I’m not going daft either.’

  ‘I know that. I’m just surprised you’re taking early retirement. Fifty-five’s no age for retiring, not for a man with plenty of go in him.’

  ‘You know full well I’m a lot more than fifty-five so save your flattery for them as appreciates it.’ He turned to point to a padlocked cupboard. ‘That’s where we keep the cleaning materials. Brushes, cloths, disinfectants, polish. I polish all the woodwork once every two months. Between polishing yer dust. Carefully. When yer need more supplies the Rector has the petty cash and he needs receipts for everything. Everything, mind.’

  ‘Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Show me some of the keys then.’

  Willie pushed a heavy bunch of keys across the table. ‘Each one’s named. No problem there.’