‘Craddock, thank you so much for coming,’ Harriet said gently. ‘I do appreciate it. The night before my mother … died, she told me about your proposal.’
‘Did she? Did she?’ Mr Fitch blew his nose and turned away his face and looked across the churchyard towards the yew tree, so she could only see his profile. ‘What did she say about me?’
‘That she found you fascinating.’
He turned back to face her. ‘Was that all?’ The longing in his face overrode anything Harriet might have decided to say and she impulsively said ‘She told me she was going to say yes.’ No one but she knew Sadie hadn’t absolutely made up her mind, but the grief in Craddock’s face was unbearable, and if she could give him some comfort, why not?
‘Really! I’m so glad. When we were young I loved her very much. My word, she was a spirited young thing. Still is. Was, I mean. If we’d married then, we’d have had some rare old fights. But now it would have been very rich, but without the fights. I think. Maybe not! I’m very sorry for you, Harriet, but it was a lovely way for her to go. She would have hated being less than herself – you know, crippled or senile. This was the best for her, but not for you and me. Thank you for telling me that.’
He clasped both her hands in his and then raised them to his lips and kissed them. ‘Thank you, my dear. You would have made a lovely stepdaughter. I should have been proud. So proud.’
Harriet kissed his cheek, Mr Fitch turned away and left the graveyard. Then Jimbo gathered the children and Harriet, and took them home, so the other mourners never did find out what they’d said, but then they remembered that Sadie and old Fitch had known each other years ago. That’s right. That’d be why.
‘I’ll pick up Fran and we’ll take off these black things and put on something jolly. It’s what she would have wanted, Harriet.’
‘We ought really to be having a big party with lots of drink and fun. She always loved parties.’
‘I know, but we both agreed it would be too hard on the children. They wouldn’t understand.’
‘No, perhaps you’re right. Oh Jimbo!’ Harriet laid her head against his shoulder and wept the first tears since her mother’s death. Jimbo hugged her tightly until the tears slowed. ‘There, there, darling, you’ll feel better for that. It’s no good thinking we shall all be over it in no time at all; it’s going to take an age, but she wouldn’t have wanted us to be miserable, she’d rather we were brave and carried on. She’s left such lovely memories for us all.’
‘I know, but I shall miss her. She was so young to die. I thought she’d be a grand old lady for years and years.’
‘So did I. I had the distinct feeling she’d outlive us all, but there we are.’
‘I’m so glad she came to see me the night before. We had the closest conversation we’ve had in years. Do you think she had a premonition?’
‘Bit too practical a chap I am to know about those kind of things. Just be grateful she did come and you did talk.’
‘I can hardly bring myself to speak about it, but you know the post mortem? Well, it wasn’t really conclusive, was it? They couldn’t really find out why her heart had stopped, could they?’
‘No. All very odd. Felt sorry for old Fitch.’ Jimbo wiped Harriet’s face for her. ‘All that happiness snatched away.’
‘I told him she’d definitely been going to say yes.’
‘That was a bit of a fib, darling.’
‘Only a teeny weeny bit of a fib, but it did bring him comfort.’
Flick appeared in the hall. ‘There, look, I’m wearing the dress Grandma bought me in the summer. She loved it and so do I. It still fits me, look. Mummy, Fran won’t remember Grandma, will she?’
‘No, darling, she won’t.’
‘Don’t cry any more, Mummy, please. I’m going to get lots of photos and put them in an album and call it Grandma’s and then we can show it to Fran when she gets older, and we’ll tell her about playing cards for big money, and all the naughty things Grandma did, like having her hair dyed, although you’d never have guessed if you didn’t know, would you, and such.’
‘Thank you, Flick, that will be lovely. I think you’d better put a cardigan on, darling, or you’ll be cold.’
‘All right, I will. Daddy, who will do the mail-order now?’
‘I haven’t worked that one out yet. Do you have any ideas?’
‘If I was older it could be me.’
‘You’d do a very good job, I’m sure. I shall have to put my studying cap on.’
‘It’ll have to be someone good. Grandma wouldn’t like it all to fail, would she?’
‘No, she wouldn’t.’
Suddenly Harriet was crying again and she fled upstairs and shut the bedroom door with a slam.
‘Daddy, shall I …?’
‘No, I’ll go and collect Fran from the rectory then we’ll make a cup of tea and take it up to her in a little while, that’ll be best.’ Jimbo patted Flick’s shoulder and strode away to the rectory. Little Fran screamed when she saw her Daddy had come to collect her. She wanted to stay with the twins and she wasn’t going home. No! No! No! But Jimbo insisted. He knew that cuddling Fran would be a great comfort to Harriet right now.
‘Thank you, Sylvia, thank you very much. Hope she’s not been too much trouble.’
‘Certainly not. Good as gold.’
Trying to get the mail orders off in between all his other activities was too much for Jimbo. He knew Sadie had liked to send orders off by return if it was at all possible, and he was failing dismally on that score.
The morning after the funeral, Barry Jones’ mother came in and asked him how he was coping.
‘Not too good. One never really appreciates how much work people do until they’re not there any more. The mail orders are piling up and Sadie would be angry if she knew.’ He took off his boater and rubbed his bald head in agitation. ‘Now, what can I do for you?’
‘What can I do for you, more like. If it’s just a question of reading an order, picking the items out and packing them up in them lovely boxes you ’ave and addressing a few labels, I could do that temporary like till you find someone. Wouldn’t be any good with accounts or anything, but the rest is a question of common sense, isn’t it, really?’
‘Do you mean that?’
‘Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t. You and I, Mr Charter-Plackett, have not always seen eye to eye, but I don’t mind ’elping someone in trouble. A bit of extra money towards our Barry’s wedding would be very useful too, but we’ll discuss that later when we see if you’re satisfied with what I’ve done. What do you say?’
‘I could run the money side and pass the orders to you, couldn’t I?’
‘You could. And I haven’t got far to go to post the parcels, ’ave I?’ Mrs Jones twinkled her fingers at Linda behind the post-office counter.
‘You’re on. Temporary.’
‘Right, I’ll get my sleeves rolled up. I’ll just ring Vince, if that’s all right and tell him where I am, otherwise he’ll worry, I don’t think.’
‘Be my guest.’
‘I always liked Mrs Beauchamp – bit like me, spoke ’er mind when necessary. I was in ’ere when she ’ad that row with Simone Paradise. Nasty, that was. Yer could feel it in the atmosphere. Charged it was, like they say in books. That Simone is cracked, yer know. Got friendly with that Kate from the school. Right! Show me where to start. I shall enjoy this.’
And Jimbo’s newest assistant attacked her job with zeal.
Chapter 13
‘Hetty! We’ve met the most marvellous man at the museum this morning. He’s promised to come and give the children a talk. He’s one of the senior archaeologists! Aren’t we lucky? I’m sure your class would enjoy it too, wouldn’t they?’
‘I’m sure they would. When’s he coming?’
‘Tomorrow. It was either tomorrow or not for four weeks, and that’s too long for my class to wait. We shall have moved on from the Romans before then.’
‘What’s
his name?’
‘Gilbert Johns.’
Hetty stopped marking exercise books and looked up at Kate. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know him already. He’s our church choir-master.’
‘Really? I didn’t realise.’
‘Not having been to church you wouldn’t, would you?’
‘Now, Hetty, don’t get me into trouble, please. He’s giving the talk at half-past nine, and bringing lots of artefacts for the children to handle. Nothing like “hands on” is there?’
‘He’s a very sweet man.’
‘He is – a soul-mate, I think.’
Hetty was amused. ‘I don’t know about that.’ She returned to marking the books. ‘There were Roman remains found in the grounds of the Big House last year.’
‘Can we see them?’
‘No. Gilbert rescued what he could and they were taken to the museum for display, but it’s not finished yet.’ Hetty slapped the last of her exercise books on to a pile and, clasping them to her chest, stood up to go. ‘There, that’s that lot finished. In your classroom or mine?’
‘Oh, mine I think. We have all the pictures and things up so it’ll be more appropriate. Does Gilbert live in the village?’
‘No. Down the lane from me in Little Derehams – Keepers Cottage. I called there once collecting for Christian Aid, and it was so untidy! Mr Fitch’s secretary Louise seems to be a very frequent visitor.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘Don’t think the rector won’t have noticed.’
‘What?’
‘That you’re not going to church; he misses nothing. It is expected in your position.’
‘Yes, well. I’m not breaking a rule.’
‘No, not a rule as such, but it won’t be in your favour.’
‘I shall come to it all in good time.’
‘Yes?’ Hetty raised a sceptical eyebrow and returned to her classroom. Kate watched her leave. Hetty had a point. The job had been offered to her partly because of her having worked in the mission school in Kenya, the assumption being that she was a communicant member of the church, which in fact she had been. But now …
Kate had expected Gilbert to arrive a few minutes before half-past nine. In fact, he was there before nine.
‘Too early, am I? Car won’t start so I’ve begged a lift.’
‘Not at all. We’re all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed quite early here, so please feel free.’
‘Where?’
‘Oh right! In this classroom, please.’ With a wide gesture of her hand, Kate indicated the classroom walls for his closer inspection. ‘Well, what say you?’
‘Oh, very good. I like this. Very good indeed. What clever children you must have and what a clever teacher to get all this from them.’ Gilbert turned to smile at her. What a sweet smile he had. Nothing sexual or patronising, just a genuine smile of praise. She liked him for it.
‘Here, are we?’
Gilbert turned to face the door. ‘Ah! This is Louise. She gave me the lift. Yes, here please, by the table. Mind – that’s quite heavy.’
‘I can manage, don’t worry.’ Louise put down the box and went to shake hands with Kate. ‘Hello, we’ve not met before. I’m Louise Bissett, secretary up at the Big House. You must be Kate.’
‘Yes, I am. Pleased to meet you.’ Kate was surprised that Louise, well-dressed and businesslike, could attract such a sweet gentle man as Gilbert Johns. She would have imagined he’d go for someone in long swirling skirts and lots of beads and long braided hair. However, each to his own – they obviously thought a lot about each other. Louise and Gilbert brought in two more boxes and then Louise wanted to hurry away to work. ‘Got to dash. New lot of students today. Busy. Busy. Can I pick this lot up after work, Kate, please, if Gilbert’s car isn’t repaired?’
‘Of course. Give me a knock on my door.’
‘Fine. Bye, Gilbert.’
They were the same height. Gilbert kissed her, on the mouth, and Kate couldn’t miss the quick flushing of Louise’s face as he did so. Two of the children watched from the doorway. Kate coughed. Eventually they broke apart and Louise fled. Gilbert winked at Kate, wiped some beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist, and began unpacking the boxes.
Gilbert attended prayers sitting quietly on a small chair at the back, his bony knees almost to his chin, joining in the hymns with his powerful tenor voice. The children began to giggle and Hetty had to still them with a piercing look from her eagle eye. When Kate took over for meditation Gilbert sat with bowed head, quite motionless. As she gave her short speech to help the children direct their thoughts she was intensely aware of him. Of his red shirt unbuttoned almost to his trouser belt, of the brown sinewy arms revealed because he’d rolled up his sleeves. The dark hair dropping forward over his forehead. The well-tanned face, the hollowed cheeks, the dark dreamy eyes. She shook herself mentally. This wasn’t what meditation time should be used for.
‘Thank you, children. Our five minutes of tranquillity is over. Stand quietly and go to your classrooms. I’ll see Class Two in my room at half-past, Mrs Hardaker.’ Kate stood up.
The children left the hall. Gilbert returned to the classroom to finish sorting his boxes.
They all had the most wonderful hour and a half listening to Gilbert, looking at what he’d brought, handling the combs, the spoons, the jewellery, the toys. Acting out little happenings for him and generally getting the feel of being a Roman. For that was how he’d presented his talk. Encouraging them to imagine they were Roman children, getting up, washing, eating, working, learning, playing, helping in the house. Everything a Roman child might do. He brought it all so vividly to life.
At the end, the children ran out to play leaving Hetty to make the coffee and Kate to help clear up.
‘I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done today. You were absolutely brilliant.’
‘Louise’s idea actually. A day in the life of et cetera. Worked well, didn’t it?’
‘Indeed.’
‘This meditation business – what’s it all about?’
‘A New Age approach.’
‘Does Peter know?’
‘Yes. He doesn’t object.’
‘How do you know he doesn’t?’
‘He hasn’t said anything.’
‘That’s Peter all over.’
‘It is my school.’
‘Don’t develop it any further.’ Gilbert stored the last of his things and glanced around to make sure he’d not forgotten anything.
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘No. But don’t develop it any further. Not with the children.’
‘I shall do as I please.’
‘Not with other people’s lives, especially children’s. You’re not at liberty to do that.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Maybe not. But despite being male, I am very sensitive to the fact that things are not quite as they should be.’
‘Pity you haven’t used your sensitivity where Louise is concerned. Not your kind at all.’
Gilbert’s sweet expression changed alarmingly quickly. He almost snarled his reply to her. ‘Louise is my concern and no one else’s.’
‘My affairs are my concern.’
‘Not when it affects the children.’
‘Sitting silently is a crime, is it?’
‘No, but I suspect you’re leading them on to your own agenda, which has no place here in this school.’
‘What a pity you’ve spoiled such a wonderful morning.’
‘What a pity you can’t or won’t take on board your proper responsibility for these children. They are in trust to you, they are not yours to do with as you will. They’re not guinea pigs. Where shall I leave these? They must not be touched.’
‘Here, in this corner, where I can keep my eye on them.’
‘Right. Sorry for speaking out, but it had to be said. Any time, I’ll come any time.’
Kate preceded him into the hal
l. ‘Coffee?’
‘No, thanks, someone to see and then I must catch the noon bus into Culworth. Bye, Hetty. See you Sunday about ten, Margaret. That OK?’
‘Yes, I’ve got everything ready. Louise coming too?’
‘Yes, she’ll be there.’
‘Good. We’ll need her organising ability.’
‘We will indeed. Goodbye, Kate Pascoe.’
‘Thank you again.’
‘Not at all. Any time, like I said.’
It was Peter he called to see before he caught the bus. He was in, and led Gilbert to his study.
‘Just a quick word, Peter.’
‘Sit down, please. Not had a chance to talk to you for a while apart from hymn numbers and tunes and things!’
‘No, that’s right. Been very busy.’
‘How’s life treating you?’
‘Very well, thanks. And you?’
‘Ditto, thanks. If you’ve come to see me about Sunday, I’ve been through—’
‘I know you will have. No, it’s not about Sunday. It’s about Kate Pascoe.’
‘Why Kate?’
‘I’m not sure. I’m uneasy, that’s all. Can’t put my finger on it but I’ve told her this morning – been doing a Roman Times thing for the older pupils – that the children are not guinea pigs and she’s not to have her own agenda for them. Sounds stupid, when I say it in broad daylight, but I was there and I saw and I felt. You should drop in some time, unexpected. You are allowed to do that, surely?’
‘Yes, I expect I am but I don’t.’
‘Wish you would. Please?’
‘Very well, I will. Although I’m sure you’re wrong.’
‘Maybe. But keep an eye out, OK?’
‘OK. Will do.’
‘It’s the children I’m concerned about.’
‘Of course.’
‘Good grief! Is that the time? I shall miss the bus. He never waits a moment after departure time – in fact, I swear he goes early sometimes on purpose! Still, he has to have some excitement, doesn’t he? Who’d want to drive a bus all day?’
Village Secrets Page 10
