Georgie had looked Elektra up and down and said, ‘You should know …’
‘Well, really, you horrible old …’
‘Old? Me, old? Try looking at your birth certificate some time.’ So Georgie had then turned on her heel after firing that shot, picked up her case and left. She’d heard Bryn calling ‘Georgie! Georgie!’ but she’d ignored him.
So now poor Georgie was in even more turmoil than before.
Peter was talking and Georgie was listening and nodding her head. Grandmama noticed that Mrs Jones had drawn close ostensibly collecting used cups, but Grandmama could recognise her subterfuge. The choirboys came for their orange squash and her attention was taken making sure they didn’t take all the biscuits. St Thomas à Becket choirboys were renowned for their ability to clear the plates of biscuits if you took your eyes off them even for a moment.
By the time she looked up again Dicky had joined Peter and Georgie and Mrs Jones was coming back without a single cup on her tray, and her lips tightly nipped together.
‘Didn’t hear a thing. They both stopped talking when I got near enough to hear.’
Grandmama saw it was her place to be shocked. ‘You don’t mean you were trying to eavesdrop?’
Mrs Jones grinned. ‘Oh no, of course not! You know there’s more than one had a word with the Rector about this business with Bel and Dicky. They’ve not taken kindly to knowing they share a bedroom. It’s all very well the Rector saying he has Dicky’s assurance there’s nothing going on, but I ask yer? Stands to reason. He’s a man isn’t he, and a randy one at that by all accounts, so it must come over him sometimes, like it does with ’em all. Yer know.’ She nudged Grandmama and gave her a wink.
Grandmama blanched. She wasn’t accustomed to gossip at this level. She protested but Mrs Jones carried on. ‘Who’re they kidding? Not me for one. Much as I like Bel, it’s not right. Just think of it. It’s disgusting! Mr Charter-Plackett’ll ’ave no compunction about sacking Bel. He’s a lovely chap but when it comes to business … But there, you don’t need me to tell you that. If he finds himself with a boycott it’ll be curtains for Bel quick sharp. And the mothers at the school have asked if Bel can be sacked and that Kate won’t do it. Says she’s no cause for sacking her and she won’t, not so long as she does a good job. They had a deputation or whatever they call it one lunchtime, but they met their match with Miss Kate Pascoe. Oh, I didn’t see you waiting, Dr Harris. Sorry. Coffee?’
Caroline nodded her head. ‘Yes, please.’
‘Milk?’
‘Yes, please. Good morning, Mrs Charter-Plackett.’
‘Good morning, Caroline, my dear. Beautiful morning.’
‘It certainly is. I don’t know why, but when the two of you make the coffee it always tastes much better than everyone else’s. Do you have some secret recipe or something?’
Grandmama and Mrs Jones preened themselves.
‘TLC, that’s our secret ingredient, isn’t it Mrs Jones?’
Rather nonplussed, Mrs Jones agreed.
Caroline looked around the hall. ‘I see! Oh, there he is. I’ve a message for Peter. See you.’
The two of them watched Caroline squeezing her way through the throng to Peter. She stood quietly beside him waiting to deliver her message.
Georgie was speaking. ‘Well, Rector, there’s no two ways about it, I’m not going back. Ever. I wouldn’t go back even if he crawled from there to here on his hands and knees begging me every inch of the way.’
‘Tonight at the meeting …’
‘I shan’t be there.’
‘Georgie!’
‘I’m sorry, but I shan’t. As far as I am concerned there’s nothing to discuss. I’m seeing my solicitor in the morning and I’m going for a divorce and making certain of where we stand with the pub, money-wise. That’s that.’
Peter in the face of her resistance could only say, ‘Well, if you’re determined on that then there’s no more to say. I may as well cancel the meeting. So this means you and Dicky …’ He looked at the two of them in turn.
Dicky took the initiative. ‘We haven’t discussed what we want to do. Not yet. Georgie only made her mind up last night, so we haven’t had time to talk. And there’s Bel.’
Peter nodded his sympathy. ‘Of course, there’s Bel. I’m encountering a lot of opposition oh that score, I’m afraid.’
Dicky sighed. ‘I know. It’ll all come out in the wash.’ He saw Caroline standing patiently waiting. ‘Good morning, Dr Harris. You’re looking well. Better than you did.’
‘Indeed I am, thank you. Much better. If you’ve finished I’ve a message for you, darling.’
‘OK. Yes. I’ll tell Bryn the meeting’s off. Bight?’ He turned away and bent his head to hear what Caroline had to say.
Georgie turned to Dicky and said, ‘We need to talk.’
‘We’ll have our dinner with Bel like she’s planned and then we’ll go out somewhere, just you and me. I’m sorry it’s come to this.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Well, I am. But on the other hand it means we’ve got the go ahead.’
Georgie squeezed his arm. ‘Oh yes it does, and what’s more, no regrets now, none whatsoever.’
When they’d finished their Sunday dinner, Bel and Georgie went into the kitchen to clear up. There was scarcely enough room for the two of them but it brought about a kind of intimacy which they hadn’t experienced before.
Bel said ‘I want to thank you for coming to dinner today. Dicky needed a boost. I don’t expect he’s told you but you ought to know, we’ve had some very nasty letters.’
‘You never have. Oh Bel!’
‘Just pushed through the door, not signed or anything. Dicky’s been very upset. There were two more this morning.’
‘I’m so sorry. They can be very vindictive. Right from us first coming here we realised that. Very, very nasty if something doesn’t suit. All this mediaeval village bit, you know. But poison pen letters! That’s dreadful. Have you told the Rector?’
‘Dicky won’t. Says the shame would kill him, Dicky I mean, if the Rector was to read ’em. But it’s so awful. We’ve done nothing and I want you to know this Georgie, we’ve done nothing wrong. Truly we haven’t, Nothing at all.’
‘I know that Bel, I know. You’re not those kind of people. Dicky told me at the very beginning when we first got attracted to one another that you were his sister, so I’ve always known you see, but never let on to a living soul. I couldn’t love Dicky like I do if what they’re saying was true. He wouldn’t be like he is, would he now? What’s more, neither of you would be so kind and lovely. You don’t need to convince me. But I do think the Rector ought to know about the letters, after all those who wrote them are his parishoners.’
‘Well, Dicky doesn’t want him to know, so that’s that. Don’t tell anyone will you?’
Georgie reached up and kissed Bel’s cheek. ‘Of course not, I think too much about you to say anything if that’s what you both want. You can rely on me.’
Bel handed Georgie a clean tea towel and said, ‘Thanks. We’ll say no more. They’ll stop eventually I expect. I’m glad about you and Dicky. Very glad. He needs someone like you. A sister’s not the same at all.’
‘That’s very generous of you, Bel. I’ve been worried about that. Truly worried. I didn’t want to come between you.’
‘It’s time he branched out. I love him dearly, always will, but he needs to move on. I wouldn’t say to him but it’s true. Between you and me, he clings to me you see, it’s not good for him.’
‘But what will you do? Where will you live. Here?’
‘Let’s wait and see. Leave the pans, I’ll do those. You take him out and …’
‘Look Bel, I shan’t want him all to myself. We’re not kids. There’ll still be room for you.’
Bel gazed out of the window. ‘We’ll see how things work out. Let’s not make promises we shan’t be able to keep.’
Georgie reached up and placed another
kiss on Bel’s cheek. ‘If it’s any comfort I do love him, he’s just wonderful, such fun and so thoughtful. He’s kind of just right for me, he makes me so happy and I hope I make him happy too. Thanks for being so generous.’
Bel laughed. ‘Generous! I shall be glad to see the back of him! You can have him lock stock and barrel! I mean it!’
When they were ready to leave Bel stood at the door to wave them off. She watched them walk down the front path with an indulgent smile on her face, but her lovely green eyes began to fill with tears. They were so absorbed in each other they didn’t turn back to wave goodbye, so they didn’t see her weeping and she was glad.
That night there was no moon, so without street lighting because everyone had vigorously opposed its installation ten years ago, the village was in almost total darkness. There was a light on in Linda and Alan’s bedroom because Lewis was teething and unable to sleep, and there was a light above the Store where Jimbo was still working. He had spent hours sorting and planning his Christmas displays, carrying boxes of attractive packing materials and fancy cardboard boxes down into the mail-order office ready for Mrs Jones to pack the Christmas hampers, getting out the Christmas decorations from last year, planning his windows which at Christmas were his pride and joy, and generally sorting his life out for the ensuing festive rush. He rubbed his eyes and forehead and went to stand at the window looking out over the Green. Besides the Store and the mail order doing so well, he had more catering business this Christmas than ever before. If things went on as they were he’d soon be a wealthy man. So wealthy in fact he’d be able to leave much of it to his staff and elect to be in a supervisory capacity instead of at the sharp end. But when he thought about it that idea didn’t appeal. Working in the Store and meeting with these good people was the best tonic he could have. He thrived on it. So did Harriet and so did the children. Such genuine whole hearted folk they were. Half past midnight. He’d better leave.
Jimbo turned off the lights, locked the stockroom door and went downstairs. He let himself out and having reassured himself that everything was secure he stood for a moment in the shadow of the doorway looking at the village. Jimbo knew he was privileged to live here. Fancy if he lived in a high-rise block somewhere. Jimbo shuddered. It didn’t bear thinking about. Walking home he passed the Bissetts’ house, poor Sheila he couldn’t quite forgive his mother for leaving her helpless in the church hall, he passed the Senior sisters’ house, the poor old things, and then his mother-in-law’s old house. The chap who’d bought it seemed nice enough. As he was about to put his key in the lock of his own home he thought he heard a noise.
Jimbo stood quite still and listened. There it was again, it seemed to be coming from the direction of Church Lane. Looking across the Green he saw a small group of shadowy figures moving stealthily along towards the church. Jimbo lost sight of them so he walked as softly as he could onto the Green so he could follow their progress. But the royal oak despite its lack of leaves blocked his view. As he walked further onto the Green he heard the smashing of glass. At first he thought they must be attacking the church but as he ran and the church and Glebe Cottages came into view he saw they were attacking Dicky and Bel’s windows. Without a thought for his own safety he ran into Church Lane shouting ‘Hey! Hey, there! Stop it. Do you hear! Stop it!’
The noise made by the breaking glass masked his voice. He ran down Church Lane shouting, ‘Stop it! Stop it!’ Lights began coming on in bedrooms, windows were opened, shouts were heard. The four men were wearing balaclava type head gear which made it impossible to recognise any of them. Jimbo knew they must be able to hear his voice but they continued throwing missiles at the windows, by now Jimbo had drawn level with the churchyard wall where it ran down the side of the cottage garden, as he stepped onto the front lawn two of the men darted down the side of the cottage and Jimbo could hear glass breaking at the back. His mobile phone. Damn it! He’d left it in the Store.
The other two men were spraying paint on the brickwork at the front. Jimbo rushed at them but the taller of the two pushed him away. ‘Buzz off, Jimbo! Before you get hurt!’
Then they too darted down the side of the house and Jimbo could just see them vault the churchyard wall and disappear. He followed them to the wall in time to see the other two leap it further down and speed away across the churchyard, skimming the gravestones and disappearing helter-skelter round the back of the church hall. There was no way he could catch them fit as he was, so he went back to the cottage and called up to the broken upstairs window, ‘Dicky! Bel! It’s Jimbo. Are you all right?’
After a moment Dicky’s head appeared. ‘We’re OK. Have they gone?’
‘Yes, there was no way I could catch them. Come on down and we’ll see what we can do.’ Jimbo went round to the front door, stepping carefully because of the broken glass littering the path and the front lawn.
Dicky unlocked the door, though it seemed a pointless exercise: only jagged pieces of glass were left at the edges of the door frame.
‘Careful where you step, Dicky. Where’s Bel? What a shock. I just wish I could have caught them. Are you sure you’re OK?’
Peter came up the path, his cloak over his pyjamas, and trainers on his feet. ‘My God! What on earth is happening? Did you see who it was?’
‘’Fraid not. They were wearing masks over their faces, there were four of them, I know that.’
Bel came to the door, a vast red dressing-gown over her nightclothes, her happy face creased with fear, and white as a sheet. ‘Oh dear. What are we going to do? I was so scared.’
Dicky put his arm round her. ‘Don’t you worry, love, we’re not going to let a pack of hooligans frighten us away. They’ve done their worst, but the insurance will take care of it.’
A crowd of villagers had gathered some carrying torches and most of them appalled at what had happened.
‘Who do you reckon it was, Rector?’
‘What a wicked thing to do.’
‘They need horsewhipping.’
As well as the sympathetic cries Peter distinctly heard someone saying none too quietly ‘Serves ’em right. The mucky pair.’ And another one muttering ‘Just deserts, that’s what, we don’t want ’em ’ere.’
Peter stood facing the cottage to estimate the damage. ‘At this time of night there’s no way we can set about making the house safe.’
Jimbo agreed. ‘Look, how about it, Dicky, if I lend you my mobile phone and you stay in the house, and someone could offer Bel a bed for the rest of the night? You can’t leave the house unprotected but at least if you have my phone you can ring me or Peter for help. No good ringing the police, they’ll take ages to get here from Culworth. Bel, what do you think?’
‘I don’t like leaving Dicky, but I’m too frightened to stay.’
‘Serves yer right, yer should be frightened.’
Peter fixed the speaker with a stern look, and they shamefacedly turned their gaze away from him. ‘Very good idea. Look Bel, Caroline always keeps clean sheets on our spare bed, you can stay there for the night. What do you say, Dicky, to doing as Jimbo suggests?’
‘Can’t do any other. I’ll get the glaziers to come first thing. What a damned mess. Who on earth could it have been?’
Jimbo, startled into recollecting what had happened when he’d first arrived on the scene, said, ‘They were locals. That’s right, they were locals.’
Dicky looked up at him. ‘How did you know, if their faces were covered up.’
‘They called me Jimbo. That’s right they told me to go before I got hurt, and said “Buzz off, Jimbo.” So they knew me. I’ll ring their necks if ever I find out who it was.’
Peter vastly disappointed that it was local men looked sadly at the faces of the villagers gathered in the garden. ‘We may as well all go home, there’s nothing we can do except keep our eyes and ears open in the next few days and tell Dicky if we suspect we know who’s done this dreadful thing. And remember if the press come asking questions we none of us
know why or who. We don’t want them getting on to it. This is where we all remember “silence is golden”. Please don’t let me … nor Dicky and Bel down, will you? Mum’s the word. Good night everyone and thank you for your concern. God bless you all.’
Most of the villagers said ‘Good night, Rector’, even those who’d been less than kind in their remarks. A few went to comfort Bel and offered to come round to help clear up in the morning. ‘Least we can do. Dreadful, really dreadful.’
Jimbo went back to the Store for his mobile phone and Peter went With Bel to the rectory.
Caroline came down the stairs when she heard the door open.
‘Darling?’ Then she saw Bel. ‘Why Bel? Whatever’s happened?’
Peter explained and Caroline, full of understanding, put her arms around Bel and hugged her. ‘How perfectly dreadful. We’ll make a cup of tea and you can take it to bed, the sheets are on.’
Bel protested but Caroline hushed her with a finger to her lips. ‘No trouble at all, that’s what we’re here for.’
‘I shall have to be up early because of the school.’
‘Don’t fret on that score, we’re always up early because of the children, and Peter saying prayers. That’s no problem. You do your best to sleep, it won’t be easy I know. Just remember those dreadful people are to be pitied. Let’s be thankful Jimbo was working late, and caught them at it. It could all have been a lot worse.’
When they got to bed Peter said, ‘I don’t want to call the police.’
‘You don’t?’
‘No. I hope Dicky doesn’t either.’
‘Why not?’
‘If the police know then the press will get to know and then it will all come out. Can’t you just see the headlines? Turnham Malpas will turn overnight into a den of iniquity.’
‘Of course, because of Dicky and Bel you mean. The one bedroom.’
Scandal in the Village Page 21
