The Village Show (Tales from Turnham Malpas) Read online

‘Oh no, Lady Templeton, it’s because Caroline has told her not to let me have anything to do with the children.’

  Ralph decided to intervene. ‘Louise, I’m quite sure you’re mistaken. Caroline’s not like that.’

  Louise retorted sharply, ‘Peter would be delighted for me to help with the twins, but Sylvia’s put her foot down and he’s got to go along with it, or he’ll catch it in the neck from Caroline if Madam Sylvia gives her notice in.’ Louise said how sorry she felt for Peter with two women dominating him; it wasn’t fair to him, not fair at all. He certainly didn’t deserve all the harassment he got. So engrossed was she in her sympathy for Peter, she didn’t realise that her eyes and her face glowed with love.

  Muriel read the signs only too well. So did Ralph. So too did Ron. But Sheila blundered on with, ‘Well, of course he’s so lovely, so kind, he’ll let them ride roughshod over him. You’re so perceptive, Louise, trust you to put your finger on the problem. You ask him again, he’s bound to let you help.’

  Ron cleared his throat and firmly intervened. ‘Louise, you’ll not meddle in other people’s affairs. Accept the situation. After all, since when have you enjoyed children’s company? You’re better with computers and things. That’s the best way for you to help.’

  ‘Please don’t be telling me what to do, Dad. Haven’t you noticed I’m a grown woman now?’

  ‘In that case then, you should have more sense and behave like one. Finished, Sheila?’

  ‘Well, yes, but I want …’

  ‘Thank you, Ralph and you too, Muriel, for a very nice lunch. We’ll do the same for you sometime. Come along, Sheila, we’ve lots to do.’

  ‘Lots to do? What have we got to do then?’ But Ron took her by the elbow and hurried her out. Louise gulped down the remains of her meal and after a quick, ‘Goodbye,’ she too left.

  Ralph finished the last drops of his coffee, put down his cup and said, ‘I’m afraid there’s a big problem there. Let’s hope Peter knows how to deal with it.’

  ‘I’m sure he does.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see. “A woman scorned” you know …’

  Chapter 4

  Jimbo was unable to attend the next meeting of the Show committee, due to a severe cold. He’d been determined to go, but Harriet had insisted that he go to bed. ‘Next week is absolutely hectic, so if you don’t take care this week then it’s a sure thing you’ll be too ill to do anything next week. Ask Pat to go instead. After all, she’s in charge that day.’

  ‘Brilliant! Of course – ring her up. She’ll enjoy all the gossip. Tell her she’ll need to call round for my file with all my notes in.’

  When Pat called Jimbo was in bed so Harriet gave her the notes and wished her good luck. Pat asked if there was any more news from Northumberland.

  ‘I babysat for them last night and Peter said Caroline’s parents were beginning to come round though they were still not out of the woods, obviously. Slight improvement, I understand. Caroline’s hoping to come home next week. She’s missing the children, to say nothing of Peter.’

  ‘Oh well, that’s good news. Them children are missing her and not ’alf.’

  ‘They are. If you don’t mind me saying, you’re looking very smart tonight. I love your suit’

  ‘I saw this in a closing-down sale and it fitted. Glad you like it. I didn’t really want to dress in the Oxfam shop but I’d no alternative before. I’ll make notes of anything important and let Jimbo have these back.’ She waved goodbye with the file and pushed her bike up Stocks Row.

  There was plenty of laughter coming from The Royal Oak. A while since she’d been in there. If the meeting finished in good time she’d call in. See if Vera and Jimmy were in. She missed her chats over the garden wall with Vera. Pat glanced across to her old cottage as she crossed Church Lane. They’d put new windows in now. Double glazed, too – now that would have been nice. Still, not nearly as nice as where she lived now. She wouldn’t change, not for a king’s ransom. She wheeled her bike to the dark side of the church hall and put the lock on it. Yer never knew these days, not even in Turnham Malpas. The lights were on and Louise was making the coffee.

  ‘Hi there! Milk and sugar?’

  ‘Yes, please. One sugar.’

  ‘I’m doing the coffee with Caroline being away.’

  ‘She’s hoping to be back next week.’

  Louise swung round quickly, almost spilling the coffee she was handing to Pat. ‘Is she? How do you know?’

  ‘Harriet told me.’

  ‘I see.’

  Barry was the next to arrive. ‘Two sugars, Louise, and plenty of milk. Make it strong. A man needs something to give him stamina!’ He accepted his cup and went across to sit next to Pat. ‘Hello, Pat. You’re looking great tonight.’

  ‘Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself. New jumper?’

  ‘Yes, Mum bought it me for Christmas. Haven’t seen you around.’

  ‘No, well, I’ve been busy getting the house straight.’

  ‘Any problems, ring for Barry. I shall be only too pleased to pop round and have a coffee in that nice kitchen of yours.’ He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a good squeeze.

  ‘Barry!’

  ‘Go on, give us a kiss!’

  Pat pushed him off though at the same time she was quite enjoying his attentions. ‘Give over! For goodness sake, what yer thinking of?’

  ‘A kiss, that’s what. A kiss from the best girl in the world.’

  ‘Barry!’

  ‘Go on! It’d liven up the meeting, wouldn’t it, Louise?’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’

  Pat chuckled. ‘You’ve kissed the blarney stone, you ’ave.’

  ‘There’s not a drop of Irish blood in my veins. It’s you, yer get me going.’

  ‘Well, you’re not getting going with me, Barry Jones. Just you watch your step.’ It was a long time since any man had paid attention to Pat in that kind of way, and though she wouldn’t have admitted it for the world she quite enjoyed his banter. His arm still lying nonchalantly across the back of her chair felt comfortable. She hitched ever so slightly closer to him and he squeezed her shoulder in recognition.

  ‘Coming for a drink in the pub if we finish in time?’

  Pat hesitated, then shook her head. She made the excuse that it would be late when they finished and she didn’t like cycling up the drive in the dark when it got late.

  ‘Tell yer what, I’ll put yer bike in the back of the van and drive you home. How about that? That’s worth a drink, isn’t it?’

  ‘You still driving that disgusting old van?’

  ‘My Ferrari’s being serviced.’ He grinned and at such close quarters she could see his beautiful white teeth, evenly spaced and shining, and she sniffed the antiseptic smell of mouthwash on his breath with pleasure.

  Pat dug him in the ribs. ‘You daft thing.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘All right then. One drink, that’s all.’

  Barry held out his empty cup to Louise. ‘Here you are, thanks. Let’s get this meeting speeded up tonight, I’ve other fish to fry.’

  ‘Hmmmph!’ Pat retorted. ‘First time I’ve been likened to a cod.’

  Barry laughed loudly and she could see he hadn’t a single filling in his mouth. Somehow that seemed to put him in a class of his own. There weren’t many men so careful of themselves that they hadn’t got a single filling by the time they reached forty.

  Louise called the meeting to order. She tapped the end of her pen on her saucer and said loudly, ‘Can we begin, please? There’s a lot to get through. Thank you. Good evening, everybody. Firstly, apologies via Peter for Caroline’s absence. I understand her parents are showing some improvement at last, though they are still very ill and will be in hospital for some time yet. Also from Jimbo, who has a severe cold. Pat has come in his stead. Give him our best wishes, Pat, please, when you see him. Now, you’ve all received a copy of the minutes of the last meeting. Are there any matters arising?’
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br />   Bryn asked about the hot-air balloon situation. Had anything been done?

  Pat nervously spoke up. ‘In ’is notes Jimbo says the friends of ’is who ’ave the balloon are willing to come. They’ll charge £5 a head for a turn. It sounds an awful lot of money, doesn’t it, but the cash they take will be donated to a charity.’

  Michael Palmer thought that seemed very reasonable. ‘I’d give £5 for a turn. Never tried it, but I’d like to. I wonder how many passengers they can take at once?’

  Pat studied Jimbo’s notes. ‘Don’t know – it doesn’t say. He’s given me a list of the food and the prices he’ll be charging. There’s a copy for everyone.’ She passed the pile around the circle and they each took one.

  Sheila Bissett was horrified. ‘Fifty pence for a cup of tea? At our flower-arranging society we only charge twenty-five pence. That’s outrageous. You can see what he’s done. Paid a small amount for the concession and then he’s charging prices like this. Shameful. It is for charity, after all.’ She scanned further down the list. ‘And look at this – fifty pence for a sausage roll!’

  Pat leapt to his defence. ‘Yes, and if you went into one of them posh cafés in Culworth, what would you pay there? Ninety-five pence for a small pot of tea. Nearly a pound for a scone with butter and jam. I think his prices are quite reasonable in the circumstances.’

  ‘And what circumstances are those, pray?’

  ‘Proper tables and chairs to sit at. Proper cups, not those blasted paper things that bum yer ’ands and make the tea taste like cardboard. Nice knives and spoons, not them blessed plastic things, and serviettes. And you’ve got to take into account the losses he stands from people nicking the cutlery. I reckon someone took enough for a whole set when we did the catering for a company “do” in Culworth. Six of each. Just wish I’d caught ’em at it. Besides which, you have nice smart pleasant waitresses serving at the counter and clearing the tables. I know ’cos I shall be organising ’em.’

  ‘And what do you, with your education, know about arranging such matters?’

  Barry, who had been slowly coming to the boil during this attack on Pat, now rose to his feet, crossed the circle of chairs and stood feet apart, pointing his finger in Sheila’s face.

  ‘Any more lip from you and we’ll start talking about your education and your past, shall we?’

  Michael quickly intervened. ‘I say let’s cool it, this isn’t right.’

  Jeremy tut-tutted and suggested Barry sat down.

  Bryn shook his head and Linda blushed.

  ‘I will when she’s apologised. I’m waiting.’

  Pat, embarrassed at his defence of her when she was quite capable of defending herself, muttered. ‘It really doesn’t matter, you know. I don’t care.’

  ‘No, but I do. Well? I’m still waiting.’

  Louise quietly said to her mother, ‘There’s no call for that.’

  Linda, who had never liked Sheila because in her opinion Sheila always treated her like something that had crawled out from under a stone, piped up with, ‘I don’t know what education has to do with it. If Mr Charter-Plackett has asked Pat to be in charge then he must think she’s capable, and I myself think the prices are very reasonable.’

  ‘So do I,’ Bryn said, having grown weary of Sheila challenging every decision. ‘Sit down, Barry, do and let’s get on.’

  Remembering that he wanted the meeting to finish in reasonable time so he could take Pat for a drink, Barry reluctantly agreed and sat down, putting his arm across the back of Pat’s chair again as though that was where it belonged. Pat shuffled away from him a bit and he removed his arm and looked glum for the rest of the meeting.

  Bryn said, ‘Well, we’ve organised the food and the hot-air balloon rides, now I’m going to talk about the events in this arena Mr Fitch wants. I’ve scheduled things to happen so they don’t clash, and so we don’t get similar events following on after each other. First there’s the fancy-dress parade, then the tug of war between the two pubs – I’ve put that early so they can compete before they’ve all had too much to drink. I’m donating a barrel of beer for the winners, as you know.’

  There was a general murmur of thanks for his generosity which he acknowledged with a nod of his head. ‘I understand that Sir Ronald,’ he nodded his head in the direction of Sheila, ‘will be starting them off. Best of three, I think. After that there’s the school display, then the Morris Dancing.’ He nodded enquiringly at Louise who agreed it was all in hand. ‘Then the police motorcycle display team have agreed to come on. Oh – and to finish, there’ll be the children’s races. Thought that would keep the kids and their parents there all afternoon. I think that about sums it up.’

  ‘Excellent! Well done!’ Jeremy complimented Bryn.

  ‘Absolutely, Bryn, that’s great! Thank you very much indeed. What a lot of hard work.’ Briskly consulting her list, Louise suggested they got on with the business in hand.

  Bryn nodded and said, ‘By the way, I’ll leave all the children’s fancy-dress competition to you, Michael – classes, prize, age groups, et cetera?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘We’ll definitely have that as the first event in the arena then. Otherwise the costumes will be ruined if they have to wait. We’ll do a grand procession round the Show, finishing in the arena. Could you sort some judges out, Michael?’

  Briskly Louise pushed on through the agenda, and much to Barry’s delight it closed within another half an hour, leaving him plenty of time to take Pat for a drink.

  ‘Good night, everybody. See you on the twelfth of next month.’

  ‘Not the twelfth, Barry. It’s Friday the thirteenth!’

  ‘Oh yes, that’s right.’

  While Barry was putting her bike in his van, he said, ‘I could have strangled that Sheila.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, she’s always like that. Oh Gawd, me bell’s dropped off. Did yer hear it? Just a minute while I look for it. Here it is – rusted away it has, I’ll have to get a new one.’

  Barry put it in his pocket. ‘I’ll fix it for yer, Pat, leave it to me. Come on, hop in and we’ll drive round.’

  They parked the van in the car park behind the pub and walked round to the saloon door. Barry held it open for Pat and she popped in under his arm. As she straightened up she saw, sitting at her favourite table, Sylvia and Willie and opposite them Jimmy, whom she hadn’t spoken to in a long while.

  ‘What will yer ’ave?’

  Pat hesitated and decided she’d get more trendy than in the past. ‘I’ll have a gin and tonic, please. Shall we go and sit with Jimmy and them?’

  Barry didn’t want to, but on the other hand he might be pushing things along too fast if he insisted they sat alone. Make too much of a point of his intentions in front of everyone.

  ‘Yes, fine, I’ll get the drinks.’

  When Sylvia saw Pat coming across she slid further along the settle to make room for her.

  Jimmy grinned at her. ‘Well, Pat, long time no see. Too posh are yer nowadays then?’

  ‘Enough of your cheek, Jimmy Glover. I’ve been far too busy getting straight as you well know. Just because I’m living in the Garden House doesn’t mean I’ve given up on me friends. Hello Sylvia, hello Willie.’

  She plumped down on the settle making sure she wasn’t creasing her skirt.

  ‘Must say you’re looking smart, where’ve you been?’ Jimmy commented.

  ‘To the Show committee meeting in place of Jimbo, he’s got a shocking cold and Harriet wouldn’t let him go. Right meeting we’ve ’ad and not ’alf’

  Jimmy, always ready for a bit of gossip, said, ‘Let’s get your drink in and then yer can tell us.’

  ‘That’s all right, thanks, Barry’s getting mine. Will yer mind if he sits with us?’

  There was a chorus of, ‘Of course not,’ just as Barry came to the table with the drinks.

  Jimmy greeted him with, ‘Evenin’, Barry. Don’t see you in here much.’

  ‘No.’
Sylvia moved up a little further and Barry squeezed in beside Pat. ‘I’m a Jug and Bottle man myself, but this was the nearest tonight. It’s quite nice in here, isn’t it? I might change my allegiance.’ He smiled at Pat, showing those lovely white teeth again, and she smelt the mouthwash. She’d never known before that mouthwash could be so … so …

  Willie urged Pat to tell them what had happened at the meeting.

  ‘Sheila Bissett’s put her foot in it again.’

  Barry banged down his glass and said, ‘Bloody woman! Needs her brains examining, saying Pat couldn’t run the refreshment marquee! For two pins I’d have throttled her.’

  Pat chuckled. Jimmy, unable to resist making a comment about Pat’s escort, gave Barry a sly look and then said, ‘It’ll be a long way up that drive this time o’ night on yer bike, Pat.’

  ‘Mind yer own business, Jimmy.’

  ‘It is my business. Me and Willie ’ere have been guarding your interests for a long time. We don’t want you cycling up there in the dark, do we, Willie?’ Willie agreed. ‘Can I offer yer a lift in me taxi?’ Jimmy asked.

  Pat felt a fool. She blushed.

  Barry laughed. ‘Yer can stop digging for clues – I’m taking her home. Her bike’s in my van right now.’

  ‘Oh well then, I’m relieved. I know she’ll be in capable ’ands with you, Barry. Oh yes, very capable hands. Very capable … hands.’

  There was something about the twinkle in Jimmy’s eye and the smirk on Willie’s face which made Pat question what Jimmy had said. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  Jimmy jerked his thumb in Barry’s direction. ‘Ask ’im.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I don’t know what he’s talking about. Take no notice, Pat.’

  ‘Why have you gone red then?’

  ‘I haven’t.’ But he had. Bright red and very embarrassed.

  Willie chuckled. ‘Casanova. That’s what he is. Casanova.’

  ‘He’s had more girls in the last twenty years than I’ve had hot dinners,’ Jimmy sniggered.

  ‘That wouldn’t be difficult, seeing as it’s mostly pork pie and a bag of crisps for yer dinner,’ Pat retorted. Oddly she felt quite pleased Barry was inclined that way. It would make life more exciting. Her Doug had been about as sexually active as a monk. She never did quite understand how she had ever managed to conceive twice.