Village Secrets

by Shaw, Rebecca

  The crowd sat down again, ready to be entertained. Margaret Booth at the piano performed miracles and the dancers were inspired. Their final dance, the ‘Spider’s Web’ was the most complicated, and when they finished the intricate weaving and unravelling of the ribbons, the crowd got to its feet as one and clapped and cheered.

  ‘Brilliant!’

  ‘Wonderful!’

  ‘Well done!’

  They watched the Punch and Judy Show, jeering and hissing and clapping at all the right moments, and when Flick announced the Morris Dancers there was a cheer of delight. Chairs were moved to make a bigger space in front of the Queen. Gilbert played a lively tune on his melodeon and the dancing began.

  Kate was beside herself. She was standing at the back watching everyone. It was all going perfectly splendidly. She couldn’t have asked for a more worthwhile and rewarding afternoon. Gilbert was giving it all he’d got, playing with gusto while his dancers nimbly entertained the crowds. It seemed impossible that in his working life Gilbert was a serious academic. At this moment, he was a medieval man celebrating the First of May like villagers had been doing for centuries. The crowd began clapping and an impromptu group near Kate got up from their chairs and began dancing too. She laughed. What fun! Someone dragged hold of her hand and pulled her in and made her dance. She didn’t know what was expected of her but she joined in just the same. It didn’t seem to matter. Nothing did except total happiness.

  When the applause for the Morris dancers had died down, Queen Felicity announced from her throne that tea was being served and the merry-go-round would begin shortly.

  There was no need for Kate to help with the refreshments for Pat had got that under her control. There was obviously more to Pat than she had realised and Kate felt quite disappointed that Pat would be leaving the school when she got married. Apparently she was going to work for Jimbo in his catering business. Well, she would be well qualified for that, judging by this afternoon. Then Kate felt a small hand slip into hers. She looked down and saw it was Beth’s.

  ‘Hello, Beth, isn’t this lovely?’

  ‘Yes. I’d like to be Queen when I’m big.’

  ‘Would you?’

  ‘Can I wear a crown like Flick’s?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll remember.’

  Beth looked up at her and smiled. ‘I like playgroup at your school.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘It’s nice.’ She looked up again. ‘You’re nice.’

  ‘Thank you. And so are you.’

  ‘I like you next best after my mummy.’

  ‘That’s only right. Your mummy comes first. Here she is – look.’

  Caroline was walking towards them, hand-in-hand with Alex. ‘Oh there you are, Beth! I’ve been looking for you. Do you want squash or tea?’

  ‘Squash, please. Mummy, Miss Pascoe says I can be Queen when I’m big. Isn’t she nice?’

  Caroline looked at Kate, and Kate looked at her.

  It was Caroline who smiled first. ‘Wonderful afternoon, Kate. I’ve had a lovely time. You must feel delighted with yourself.’

  ‘Good, I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it. Thank you.’

  ‘Come along then and we’ll get you your squash.’ Caroline walked away with the two children leaving Kate feeling grateful that things had thawed a little between the two of them.

  ‘Kate!’ It was Harriet bringing her a cup of tea. ‘I’ve come to say thank you for giving Flick such a wonderful afternoon. She’s loved it.’

  ‘Oh! Tea – just what I need! Thank you for having such a smashing daughter. She’s done well, really well. I’m proud of her. She’ll be in her element at Lady Wortley’s, I’m sure.’

  ‘You don’t mind any more then?’

  ‘No. Why shouldn’t she have the chance?’

  ‘Thanks. I didn’t want to remain at loggerheads about it. After all, I’ve got Fran coming along!’

  ‘I expect I shall be here still. This place gets into your bones, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It certainly does. I’m glad you’ve come here – the school did need a shake-up, though I won’t have a bad word said about Mr Palmer’.

  ‘Certainly not.’

  ‘Hold it, you two, keep talking!’ It was Jimbo with his camcorder. ‘I’ve filmed just about everyone else so I mustn’t miss the chief organiser of the event, must I?’ He filmed busily whilst Kate and Harriet chatted.

  Kate interrupted him. ‘There’s Hetty signalling. Must go. Sorry, Jimbo!’ She dashed away.

  ‘All right, darling, you can take a break.’

  Jimbo switched off the camcorder and stayed to talk. ‘Wasn’t Flick lovely? I’m so proud of her.’

  ‘So am I. I almost cried.’

  ‘Hope the thought of Mother coming hasn’t ruined the day for you?’

  ‘No, but I’m not looking forward to it.’

  ‘Perhaps she’s run out of steam a bit now she’s older.’

  ‘I doubt it, Jimbo.’

  He shifted the camcorder to his other hand and put an arm round Harriet’s shoulder. ‘I shan’t let her upset you, honestly I won’t. She’s an old dragon and we shall have some tempestuous times while she settles in, but I shall keep her under control if I die in the attempt!’ Flick came walking sedately towards them, remembering to hold her head carefully because of her crown. ‘Here she comes, Queen for a day.’

  ‘Mummy, do you think it wouldn’t be queenly to take my crown off? I can’t do a thing when I’m wearing it.’

  ‘Take it off, and go and enjoy yourself. Even queens are allowed a bit of fun sometimes. Here, give it to me.’

  Flick gave Harriet her posy of flowers too and ran off to queue for a ride on the merry-go-round.

  Ralph was having a cup of tea. He’d lost Muriel somewhere; no doubt she was helping in one capacity or another. What a lovely afternoon he’d had. And the summer only just begun. What fun life could be. He spotted Mr Fitch threading his way across the green towards him. Oh no, not old Fitch today.

  ‘Afternoon, Craddock,’ he said affably. ‘Surprised to see you here. Thought this wouldn’t be quite your scene.

  ‘I provided the flowers for the dais, Ralph, so I had to come to make sure they looked good. Got to keep up standards, you know.’ Mr Fitch cleared his throat. ‘I’ve been thinking.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘This cricket business … I’ve been wondering if perhaps I’ve made a mistake. The way I see it, you and I each have our own role to play. I play the benefactor, you do the paternal bit. So I’ve given it my earnest consideration and the long and the short of it is, I really think it would be best if you were president of the club.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Tradition and all that, you know. All part and parcel of village life. Best if you’re president. People will like that. Afternoons like this make one realise how important tradition is.’

  ‘Well, I must say, Craddock, that’s very generous of you. I shan’t refuse. Tradition is it, that made you stand down?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Ralph followed the other man’s gaze, which was focused on Muriel standing behind the huge teapot she’d borrowed from the church kitchen. ‘I do appreciate your gesture,’ he said, then added mischievously, ‘I’m glad you came to your decision all by yourself.’

  Mr Fitch looked hard at him. ‘Oh yes, it was my decision, all right. I make all my own decisions – after I’ve weighed up the evidence.’

  ‘Of course, just like me.’ Ralph raised his cup in salutation to Muriel, and in acknowledgement of the smile she was giving him. ‘Thanks anyway.’

  ‘My pleasure. It doesn’t affect the name over the pavilion though – that stays.’

  ‘Naturally. Your generosity has to be acknowledged. I wouldn’t want it any other way. All the arrangements for Saturday are well in hand. Opening ceremony at two forty-five. Game commences at three. Jimbo’s doing the food for the inaugural match like we arranged.’

  Mr Fitch said, ‘Send me the b
ill.’

  ‘Well, that’s even more generous of you. We shall be in debt to you for years.’

  Mr Fitch ignored Ralph’s gratitude and nodding his head in Muriel’s direction, he grunted, ‘That wife of yours. Was she in the Diplomatic Service too?’

  ‘No, she just has her own way of achieving her objectives.’

  ‘A perfect lady, Ralph. Someone to be treasured. You’re a very lucky man’.

  ‘Indeed I am. We were childhood sweethearts and then got separated and met up again quite by chance. Well, maybe it wasn’t chance. Perhaps it was meant to be.’

  ‘Childhood sweethearts, eh? I wish, how I wish that Sadie …’

  Ralph glanced at him and then looked away. Didn’t want to embarrass the chap, don’t you know. ‘I’m sorry, so very sorry. Mrs Beauchamp was much loved.’ His voice was gruff.

  ‘She was. Different as cheese from chalk, your Muriel and her, but each quite splendid in their own way.’ This time they both raised their cups to Muriel and she blushed bright red.

  It was five o’clock by the time everything had been cleared up and the last of the children shooed off home. The Green had returned to its usual quiet self. Jimmy’s geese, having at last got their grazing ground back again, were busily marching up and down re-establishing their ownership. Barry Jones’ van was heading off to the Big House filled with the plants Mr Fitch had provided. In her hand Kate had the one she had chosen. In her other hand was a bag of cakes Pat had given her. ‘Surplus to requirements, so you’d better take them. You’ve done a great job, Ms Pascoe. Best May Day we’ve had in years and I’ve seen my share, I can tell you! I’m glad you’ve come to Turnham Malpas, and I’m sorry to be leaving the school, but I can’t turn down this offer of Mr Charter-Plackett’s. It’s too good to be true. Bel Tutt will do a good job, I know. Sleep well – I’m sure you will after the day you’ve had!’

  Kate crossed the school playground and slotted her key in the door. She heard a mewing sound, it was Beano and Dandy greeting her return. They stood on her toes, chewed her sandals, jumped up to catch at her skirt with their claws.

  ‘Now you two, in you go. I want a cup of tea. I know, yes I know, you want feeding too.

  That night before she went to bed, Kate sat by the open bedroom window in her nightgown, a peach silky affair, and looked out. The sky was still quite bright with small clouds sailing lazily across it. She could just see the new houses Sir Ralph had built, and the trees behind them. Tomorrow after school she’d put on her boots and go for a long walk by the beck. Blow her cobwebs away. She’d been here only four months and yet the place had wound itself round her heart. Their cheers at the end of the afternoon were something she didn’t deserve. Truth to tell, she’d nearly brought the village to its knees, and retrieved it only just in time. They seemed to have overlooked that; how generous-hearted they must be. On Saturday she was taking the three older children of Simone’s out for the day. She was looking forward to that. In fact, there was a lot to look forward to. Cricket teas. Computers. New children next term. Beano and Dandy. Church. The youth club she intended starting – a debt she had to repay if only for Rhett’s sake.

  The sun was slowly going down and the village was becoming rosy in the fading light. She could hear the laughter in The Royal Oak. What fun they must be having; a visit there from time to time would be a good idea. She needed other relationships besides those with her children. She drew the curtains and climbed into bed. The awkward corner by the eaves was just the right place for Mr Fitch’s plant; after she’d turned out the light the white of the petals glowed in the half-darkness. As Kate closed her eyes, the scent of the flowers reached her and she smiled. She remembered an embroidered picture her grandmother had hanging over her bed. There was a little thatched cottage on it, with a tiny country garden in front, and embroidered underneath were the words: Home is where the heart is. As a child she’d never understood it, but now she did.

  AN ORION EBOOK

  First published in Great Britain in 1998 by Orion.

  This ebook first published in 2010 by Orion Books.

  Copyright © Rebecca Shaw 1998

  The right of Rebecca Shaw to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the copyright, designs and patents act 1988.

  All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN: 978 1 4091 4007 8

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