Jimbo was at the front of the Store talking to a rep when she went in. He nodded to her and said, ‘See you in the back office.’
It was a full ten minutes before he put in an appearance, by which time Linda’s mouth was so dry she couldn’t even run her tongue over her front teeth to unstick them from the insides of her mouth.
‘You wanted to see me, Pat said.’
‘That’s right.’
She braced herself for the biggest ticking off of her life. Instead Jimbo said, ‘Pat tells me you’re making a really good fist of waitressing. Smart, bright, polite, keen. I’m happy to hear it. She says it seems as though you’ve found your niche.’
Linda flushed bright red, and sweat began to run down between her shoulder blades. ‘Oh! Yes, well, I love it. You really see life when you’re waitressing. The tales you hear; I could write a book!’
‘I’m glad you’re enjoying it. She wonders if you’d like to be taken on permanently?’ Jimbo couldn’t believe he’d said that.
Linda’s eyes opened wide. Why was the conversation not going the way she’d expected? Obviously Pat hadn’t noticed her taking things. Mentally Linda rubbed her hands together with glee. ‘Well, yes, I would like to be permanent.’
‘Good.’ Jimbo offered his hand to seal the deal. ‘I’ll tell Pat. Be seeing you.’
Linda said good morning and thank you and turned to leave, filled with relief. As her hand closed on the door handle, Jimbo added, ‘Of course, it all depends on you not thieving from me.’
Linda felt as though she’d been cast from stone. Still holding the door handle, she became aware again of the sweat running down between her shoulder blades and yet now she was chilled to the marrow. ‘Oh!’
‘I don’t mind a couple of leftover salmon mousses, or a few mushroom vol-au-vents, or some bread rolls that wouldn’t be any use the following day, but a whole Jubilee Chicken, I classify that as theft.’
‘I didn’t take it.’
‘I know. Pat knows her job, Linda. She has eyes at the back of her head; that’s why I employ her. She only has to catch you once more and I shall prosecute.’
Linda swung away from the door, more angry with him than she could ever remember. ‘Prosecute? Me?’
‘Oh yes. Definitely.’
‘You’d be laughed out of court.’
‘Would I indeed?’
‘All over one dish?’
‘All over one huge, catering-size dish, completely untouched. I might not win, but you’d be discredited and rightly so. Still want the job?’
She did. She’d no alternative. ‘Yes, and I shan’t take anything, anything at all. Never again. I promise.’
Jimbo smiled. ‘Good. Then we both know where we stand. You’re very lucky I’ve taken you on. You’ve Pat to thank for that. So mind your Ps and Qs.’
‘Right. Thanks. Good morning.’ Her legs were trembling as she walked back into the Store. There was a lively babble of conversation going on but Linda couldn’t decipher a word; she had to grab hold of the corner of the fruit and vegetable display to steady herself. He was a devil, that Jimbo. An absolute devil. He’d known all the time. Prosecute! He wouldn’t dare! But she had a sneaking suspicion he would. He was a typical businessman who had no thought for his employees. As the moment passed, she saw Maggie Dobbs and went across to have a word.
‘You didn’t mean it about no more,’ she nudged Maggie with her elbow, ‘you know, evenings? I was really frightened. Anyway, Don isn’t dead, is he? Someone was saying he’s coming round fine, at last.’
Maggie turned to look at her. Her face had lost all its colour. ‘I said no more and I mean it.’
‘No need to be like that. We pay yer, don’t we?’
‘If you see any of the others tell them it’s over. Maggie Dobbs has had enough.’
‘Oh, come on, don’t be daft. We all like it. Can’t say enjoy, but we do like it.’ She shuddered. ‘Gives us such a thrill. Bet you had a thrill prancing into the Rectory in your nightgown. You knew exactly where to go; straight to the most handsome man in the village. I’m shocked! Anyway, you’ll miss the money. Wish I could earn thirty pounds in an hour. Great. See yer Friday.’
‘How many times do I have to say it before it sinks in? Eh? I’m not doing it no more. Full stop.’
Linda folded her arms and, blocking Maggie’s way to the chill counter, said, ‘Well, we shall all turn up, believe me. With our five pounds at the ready. So you’ll have to.’ She rubbed the fingers and thumb of her right hand directly under Maggie’s nose and pursed her lips mockingly.
‘I’m not! I’m not!’ Maggie dropped her wire basket and fled for the exit. Emitting hoarse shrieks, she flung the door open wide and rushed out down Stocks Row. Linda was livid. The silly cow! Well, she’d show her come Friday night.
By Friday night Linda had contacted everyone to let them know that Maggie was holding a seance, despite what she’d said at the last one. She was there early, and at ten minutes to nine she rattled at Maggie’s door. When there was no reply, she tried opening it. Everyone in the village was somewhat lax about locking their doors and she fully expected that Maggie’s door would open when she lifted the latch. But it didn’t. The curtains were drawn, but then they always were when they had a seance. She waited a few moments and then spotted the Senior sisters coming along Church Lane. They came slowly, huddled together as though afraid. Honestly, with their black headscarves, they looked like two refugees from one of those old Second World War films on telly that her Alan liked to watch ’cos of his grandad.
Linda waved enthusiastically and the two of them peered quickly over their shoulders to check if anyone had seen her waving. They each gave a discreet acknowledgement of her greeting and then scurried towards her.
In stage whispers they asked, ‘Is there really one tonight?’
‘Is it on then?’
Linda nodded. ‘I can’t get a reply though. Knock on the window, Miss Senior, and see if she’s there.’
The two of them knocked timidly and waited.
‘She won’t hear that! Here, give it a good knock like this.’ Linda rapped loudly on the glass three times. But there was no reply.
Venetia came, then Greta Jones. ‘Good evening. Isn’t she in?’
The Senior sisters shook their heads.
‘Well,’ said Venetia, ‘she did say she wouldn’t. I was surprised when you said she was, Linda.’
Mrs Jones asked Venetia about Jeremy.
‘Thanks for asking, he’s much better at the moment. Gave us another scare a couple of days ago, but he’s hoping to be out by next weekend. Fingers crossed.’ She crossed all her fingers and held them up, smiling, Mrs Jones thought, a little too bravely.
They stood huddled in a group at the door, whispering together a while longer. They felt conspicuous and Venetia and Mrs Jones wanted to go home. ‘No, don’t do that,’ said Linda. ‘Let’s go round the back. She has a gate on to the Green. We’ll get in that way.’
She led the way round the back, opened the bolt on the little gate and marched up the back garden path. Before she knocked, Linda peered in the kitchen window, shading her eyes to see better. ‘There’s no one there. No one at all.’
‘Saw her Thursday and thought she didn’t look too good.’ Mrs Jones looked in the window but could only see the tidy kitchen, still looking as fresh and beautiful as the day Don Wright had modernized it. ‘It’s funny, hope she’s all right.’
Linda tried the door but it was also locked. ‘She hasn’t gone into Culworth because there’s no bus after seven for her to come back. I wonder where she is?’
Venetia declared she was going home, and Mrs Jones agreed. ‘So am I. She said she didn’t want one so obviously she doesn’t. Goodnight.’
Venetia hooked her arm in Mrs Jones’s. ‘I’ll walk with you. I left the car by the school. Would you like a lift?’
They went, leaving the Senior sisters and Linda standing in the garden. Linda rattled on the door again, tried t
he handle. ‘She’s in there, I’m sure. I’m going to force the door.’
‘You mustn’t.’
‘No, no, no.’
‘I am.’ To justify her actions she added, ‘She might be ill, needing help.’ She looked round the garden for some instrument with which to force the lock and found what had been Dave’s trowel for his window boxes in the old flat. Linda rammed the pointed end at the door frame by the lock and with several almighty heaves sprang the door open. There was an horrendous cracking of wood as the frame gave way, which made the Senior sisters tremble with fear.
‘You shouldn’t have, Linda.’
‘Right, come on.’ Linda led the way in, stepping quietly and listening for some sound of Maggie. Tabitha fled between their legs and out through the back door and under the shed. It startled Linda and for a split second she almost changed her mind, but somehow the thought of Jimbo allowing her to work for him knowing she’d stolen had empowered her that day and she marched to the foot of the stairs.
‘Maggie? You there?’
Maggie had heard everything. Every single word. At first she’d been sitting on the bottom stair where she knew they couldn’t see her, but when they’d come round the back, she’d quietly crept upstairs and got into the wardrobe. She’d managed to get the door almost closed and was crouched down among the shoes, desperately trying to stop herself from wailing. She was so afraid. It was stifling in there and she didn’t know how long she could hide before she suffocated. She could clearly hear footsteps coming up the stairs but didn’t know how many of them there were. It sounded like the whole of her seance group, if not the entire Culworth Constabulary.
When they got in the bedroom, she heard Linda’s voice. Whoever else was there remained silent.
‘Well, she doesn’t appear to be here, does she? I can’t say I like her bedspread. Candlewick! I mean. Nasty pink, too. They went out with the ark. Ooh! Just look at them crocheted mats, they match the bedspread. Aren’t they awful? She’s got no taste.’
Maggie could hear her heading for the bathroom. ‘Look at this! My God, it’s far too good for a pokey old house like this. A shower as well.’ She could hear them having a practice pull on the shower curtain, heard someone turn on a tap. Her home. Her sacred home. Her beautiful bathroom. No one had a right. Moving very, very slowly, Maggie stood up among her clothes, pushed them aside and reached out in the pitch black for Dave’s golfing clubs, which she hadn’t been able to part with, propped in the far corner of the wardrobe. She slipped a club out, gripped it tightly and softly pushed open the wardrobe door. Her heart was beating so fast she thought she’d die, but before she did she’d give them the fright of their lives. Touching her things, mucking up her home.
She sprang on them just as they were leaving the bathroom. In the tight confines of Maggie’s landing there wasn’t much room for escape. She beat about the air with the golf club, screaming like a banshee.
‘You interfering old besoms, I’ll show you. Here, take that. And that. You nosy-parking old bitches, get out, get out!’ The Senior sisters, nervous to begin with, shakingly mustered their strength and raced each other to be first down the stairs, but jammed together at the top, shouting for help.
‘I’ll give you help. How dare you force your way into my house? Get out. Go on, get out.’ Maggie swiped at them with the golf club until they unknotted themselves and hurried down the stairs one after the other. But where was Linda? She was found in the bedroom, hiding behind the door, half laughing, half crying with fright.
Maggie shouted, ‘It’s all your fault. I told you I wasn’t doing another seance, but oh no, Linda Crimble wouldn’t listen. Now, get yourself down those blasted stairs before I stove your head in.’
She slapped Linda twice on the back of her head before Linda managed to get out of the bedroom, then she clattered down the stairs, catching her high heels in the carpet more than once, with Maggie behind, lunging at her and screaming abuse. Linda shot out of the back door faster than light. Maggie shouted after her, ‘And put the bolt on the gate, you nasty bitch, you.’
She sat down beside her fireplace and rocked herself furiously until her temper had cooled. Then she began to laugh. She laughed as she hadn’t since Dave died. How she giggled, peel upon peel, and when she stopped to hold her side from the pain, she started again almost immediately. It would be a while before that Linda Crimble tried anything like that again. She’d send her the bill for repairing the door frame. Nasty pink candlewick! How dare she? But the surprise on Linda’s face when she appeared waving the golf club was worth it! What a laugh. My, it was a while since she’d enjoyed herself so much.
When, finally, she’d laughed herself to a standstill, she went to the cupboard beside the fireplace and took out the squares of paper she’d used for the Ouija board, found some matches and, methodically placing the logs on the hearth, she threw the pieces of paper in the grate, lit a match and set fire to them. Just before the flames died down, she remembered the red square of cloth she’d used to cover the lamp shade and burned that too. Then she got the tulips out of the cupboard, cut the plastic stalks in half with her old dressmaking shears and bunged them in the bin. The wine glass she’d already got rid of so now there was nothing left of the seance sessions except her memories.
She went upstairs and took a shower, using some shower gel her sister had given her for Christmas. When she was sweet-smelling all over she went into the bedroom for her nightgown, blushed at the thought of the Rector seeing her in it, and decided that too had to go. As her hand touched the bedspread to pull it back she recalled Linda’s scathing comment, so she pulled that off, screwed it into a ball and flung it down the stairs. It narrowly missed Tabitha, who was padding upstairs now the excitement was over, to climb into bed for some TLC after her shock.
The two of them settled down under the blankets and Maggie’s last thought was she’d go to Culworth on the bus on Saturday and indulge herself with a duvet at that sale in Bishopgate. From now on she was keeping her word about going to church and there’d be no more communicating with the spirits, definitely not.
Now she’d put things right she felt so much better. Like Peter had said, if she truly was sorry for what she’d done, then Him up there would give her a new beginning. She was and He would. So now she could sleep proper like. She tucked a gentle arm around Tabitha and they both fell asleep.
Chapter 15
Kate stayed late that night at the school, putting the finishing touches to her plans for the anniversary. She was admiring the programme proof just come from the printers and thinking about any loose ends she hadn’t tied up when the telephone rang.
‘Kate?’
‘Craddock, is something the matter?’
‘Just wondered if you were coming home.’
‘Right now.’
‘Good. Drink?’
‘Gin and orange.’
‘Right.’
Kate picked up the programme proof, checked she’d locked the filing cabinet, and left the school by the main door. She paused for a moment after she’d locked it and looked up at the sky. It was a fine, clear night with the full moon shining brightly in a magical, midnight-blue sky. It was far later than she’d realized. When the celebrations were over, she’d spend far more time with Craddock. He deserved it, he’d been so thoughtful about her late nights at work, but obviously he was feeling lonely tonight. Kate drove home, parked her car and walked towards the front door to find it opening and Craddock standing there waiting for her.
He kissed her cheek, took her hand and drew her inside. The door to the students’ bar was wide open and their shouts and laughter could be heard all over Turnham House. Venetia came hurrying across the hall. ‘Sorry about this, Mr Fitch. I’ll turf them out.’
‘That’s all right, but they are over-running their time.’
‘I realize that. Sorry.’
Kate and Craddock went upstairs, closing the flat door firmly behind them and shutting out the noise.
&n
bsp; ‘Here’s your gin. Show me the proof.’
While Kate sank into a chair and took her first sip, Craddock put on his reading glasses and read. He looked at her and smiled.
‘This is excellent. Absolutely excellent. You’ve got it just right. Everyone will want one for a souvenir. They’ll sell like hot cakes. Just the right number of photographs, and the text is absolutely bang on the nail.’
Kate blushed with pleasure. ‘Thanks. That’s praise indeed.’
‘Don’t make it sound as though I’m not ready to give praise. I always do where praise is due.’
‘You do. I’m beginning to get quite nervous about this anniversary. I am doing the right thing, aren’t I?’
‘Of course you are. You’ve got all my support and if there’s anything you need doing on the day, just say the word.’ He tapped some ash from his cigar. ‘I’m a good man in a crisis.’
‘You are. Like a rock. Best day’s work I did asking you to marry me.’
He spotted the smile on her face and grinned back, remembering how many times he’d asked her before she’d agreed. ‘Same for me. First time in my life I’ve really been loved.’
‘Oh come on, Craddock, surely your parents loved you?’
He looked down at his glass. She waited, realizing that, without thinking, she’d asked him a very crucial question. The silence lasted for almost a minute before he answered.
‘My mother would have if she hadn’t had love beaten out of her. As for my father, he spent most of his time with his brains addled by drink. He was a drunken, brutal bully, self-obsessed, coarse, domineering, the son of another drunken, brutal bully. He hadn’t a single redeeming feature. The six of us lived in terror of him.’
‘My darling! I’d no idea.’
‘And my mother made seven. She never had a happy moment for as long as I can remember. In the end she gave up the struggle and consequently we lived in a hovel. Who could blame her? I certainly couldn’t. All I did, smart Alick, Henry Craddock Fitch, was walk out on her at sixteen and never go back. As a grown man I could have made her life so much better, at least in the material way.’ He looked up at Kate, those ice-blue eyes of his filled with tears.
Intrigue in the Village (Turnham Malpas 10) Page 20
