‘Turnham Malpas rectory. Anna Sanderson speaking.’
‘Anna! Good morning. Craddock Fitch here. I’ve just heard some gossip about you and I think you ought to know. They’re saying in the village that Paddy Cleary is living with you. I mean really living, as in live-in lover.’ He left a pause, didn’t get an answer, so continued, ‘It needs scotching straight away, it’s very damaging gossip. Don’t know how, but scotch it otherwise it’ll be at the Abbey before nightfall, and the balloon will go up.’ Still no reply. ‘It’s not true, obviously, but it still needs dealing with, as of now. Good morning to you. Sorry to be giving you such bad news.’
Anna put down the receiver, sick at heart.
Rebecca Shaw is a former school teacher and the bestselling author of many novels. She lives with her husband in a beautiful Dorset village where she finds plenty of inspiration for her stories about rural life. She has four children and eight grandchildren.
Educated at a co-educational Quaker boarding school, Rebecca Shaw went on to qualify as a teacher of deaf children. After her marriage, she spent the ensuing years enjoying bringing up her family. The departure of the last of her four children to university has given her the time and opportunity to write. Whispers in the Village is the latest in the highly popular Tales from Turnham Malpas series. Visit her website at www.rebeccashaw.co.uk.
By Rebecca Shaw
TALES FROM TURNHAM MALPAS
The New Rector
Talk of the Village
Village Matters
The Village Show
Village Secrets
Scandal in the Village
Village Gossip
Trouble in the Village
A Village Dilemma
Intrigue in the Village
Whispers in the Village
THE BARLEYBRIDGE SERIES
A Country Affair
Country Wives
Country Lovers
Country Passions
Whispers in the Village
Rebecca Shaw
Contents
Cover
Title
About the Author
By Rebecca Shaw
Inhabitants of Turnham Malpas
Map
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Copyright
INHABITANTS OF TURNHAM MALPAS
Willie Biggs
Retired verger
Sylvia Biggs
His wife and housekeeper at the Rectory
Sir Ronald Bissett
Retired Trade Union leader
Lady Sheila Bissett
His wife
James ( Jimbo) Charter- Plackett
Owner of the Village Store
Harriet Charter-Plackett
His wife
Fergus, Finlay, Flick and Fran
Their children
Katherine Charter-Plackett
Jimbo’s mother
Alan Crimble
Barman at the Royal Oak
Linda Crimble
His wife
Lewis Crimble
Their son
H. Craddock Fitch
Owner of Turnham House
Kate Fitch
Village school headteacher
Maggie Dobbs
School caretaker
Jimmy Glover
Taxi driver
Mrs Jones
A village gossip
Vince Jones
Her husband
Barry Jones
Her son and estate carpenter
Pat Jones
Barry’s wife
Dean and Michelle
Barry and Pat’s children
Revd Peter Harris MA (Oxon)
Rector of the parish
Dr Caroline Harris
His wife
Alex and Beth
Their children
Jeremy Mayer
Manager at Turnham House
Venetia Mayer
His wife
Neville Neal
Accountant and church treasurer
Liz Neal
His wife
Guy and Hugh
Their children
Tom Nicholls
Assistant in the Store
Evie Nicholls
His wife
Anne Parkin
Retired secretary
Jenny Sweetapple
Complementary medicine practitioner
Sir Ralph Templeton
Retired from the diplomatic service
Lady Muriel Templeton
His wife
Andy Moorhouse
Social Worker
Dicky & Georgie Tutt
Licensees at the Royal Oak
Bel Tutt
Assistant in the Village Store
Don Wright
Maintenance engineer (now retired)
Vera Wright
Cleaner at the nursing home in Penny Fawcett
Rhett Wright
Their grandson
Chapter 1
So, now they’d all got over saying au revoir to Peter, Caroline and the twins, and the rectory had stood empty and abandoned for a week, there were lights on once more. Some of the villagers had caught a glimpse now and then of her emptying the van she’d hired to transport her belongings and they had introduced themselves, but tonight everyone was going to a ‘get-to-know-you’ party in the church hall.
It had been a serious shock when they found out their locum rector was a woman. A woman! They’d narrowly escaped having their own railway station, tolerated the coming of the wireless, then the telephone poles and TV, they’d embraced computers, mobile phones – and a blessed nuisance they were on the Saturday shopping bus – and digital this and DVD that, but a woman rector! This was one step too far.
‘She’ll have to be blinking good to replace Peter,’ someone could be overheard saying in the pub, at the table nearest the bar.
But then someone else added, ‘No one living could replace Peter. He was one in a million. And so was Caroline.’
Sylvia Biggs dabbed at her eyes and sniffed loudly. ‘Well, there’s one thing certain: I shall miss them. I’ve worked at the rectory since the twins first came home from the hospital; they’re like my own grandchildren, and I’m worried to death. All that heat and them nasty crawly things. They could catch anything in a blasted hot place like Africa.’
‘They’ll be all right, kids is resilient.’ Willie patted her arm comfortingly. ‘Don’t fret yourself.’
‘They’re not any old kids, they’re children, Willie, my children, and very sensitive. I shan’t need to make their favourite for twelve whole months.’ Sylvia dabbed her eyes again.
‘What is their favourite?’
‘Pecan pie now. It used to be Farmhouse Delight and then it was Crunchie.’
‘Well, make it for me instead if things get desperate.’ By now Willie had an arm around her shoulder, because he could feel his Sylvia was about to cry. ‘Now, come on, love, there’s worse things at sea.’
‘Not much. When they come back they’ll have grown, and they won’t be mine any more.’
‘Of course they will. I bet they’ll be asking for pecan pie as they walk in the door.’
‘As for missing the rector and Doctor
Harris …’ Sylvia gulped. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
Vera Wright, squeezed on the settle between her Don and Sylvia, said, ‘Still, you’ll be able to keep an eye on things, won’t you, while they’re away? Dust Doctor Harris’s ornaments and such?’
Sylvia shook her head. ‘Says she couldn’t dream of having someone to clean when she’s perfectly capable of doing it herself. So, I’m out of a job.’
‘You’ll miss the money.’
Sylvia drew herself up tall. ‘Actually it’s not the money I’m missing, it’s them. And dusting the flatback Staffordshire pottery Doctor Harris collects. Lovely, it is. We wash ’em together, her and me. They won’t get that kind of attention, not now.’
‘Never mind, you can always give ’em a good do when they get back. Well, if we’re to get something to eat at this get-to-know-you party, we’d better be off.’ Vera picked up her bag and said to Don, ‘Come on, love.’ Don stood up, then forgot why he had and sat down again. ‘Don, we’re off to the party. Get up.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ The two of them, thinking Willie and Sylvia were following them, set off for the door.
But Sylvia remained there, staring into space. Willie began to worry; she’d sat staring into space far too often these last few days.
‘We’ve got to face it, love, they’ve gone, but if we keep busy, they’ll be back before we know it. It’s only for a year and, like you said yourself, all four of them need a complete change. Young Alex and Beth especially. They seemed to grow up overnight after—’
Sylvia turned on him, eyes blazing and fists clenched. ‘Don’t mention her name in my presence. She might have given birth to them, but she isn’t and never will be their mother. She needed horse-whipping, turning up like she did to meet the twins. It upset Doctor Harris something terrible. It’s all because of her they left and this party’s on tonight. Damn her. And damn and blast this Anna whatever-she’s-called. If you think I’m going to speak to her you’ve another think coming, because I’m not.’
‘Now see here, my Sylvia, it’s not her fault she’s been sent to look after us all. She didn’t ask to, she was sent from the Abbey, so you’ve to put a good face on it and smile. Maybe she’s dreading this evening as much as you.’
Sylvia didn’t answer. Her hurt was far too deep to speak about. No one, not even Willie, knew how crushingly sad she felt. When your whole world has crashed about your ears, when you feel as though you’ve a raw, open wound inside yourself, it’s hard to carry on as though your world is hunky-dory. She got to her feet and led the way out, waving here and there to friends, hoping none of them could see the gaping hole inside her.
The church hall was agog when she and Willie arrived. The new rector was standing at the door greeting everyone, with Sir Ralph at the side of her, introducing them all. So there was to be no avoiding her.
‘The rector and I’ve already met, Sir Ralph.’ There was a finality in Sylvia’s voice, which left nothing for anyone else to say.
Ralph came to the rescue. ‘Of course you must have. You know, Anna, the rectory has relied on Sylvia since the twins first came home from the hospital. She was Caroline’s right-hand woman, weren’t you, Sylvia?’
‘I was. And proud to be, too.’
Anna’s grip on Sylvia’s hand was firm, which instantly gave the impression she was a force to be reckoned with. ‘Delighted to see you again, Sylvia. And you, Willie.’
Willie shook hands. ‘You’ve a good memory for names.’
‘One needs it in this game.’
Willie was captivated by Anna’s green eyes; they looked so directly at him, giving the clear-cut impression she had nothing to hide. He liked that. Her dark hair and flawless complexion were very attractive, though she wasn’t beautiful at all. Then she really smiled at him and in a split second had won him over.
‘There’s tea and refreshments in the small hall, and they look delicious. Help yourselves.’
‘Thank you, we will. We both of us is looking forward to enjoying your time with us. See you soon.’ Willie shook hands with her again and turned to allow Sylvia to do the same, but she’d already left his side and was heading for the refreshments. As he went after her he thought he’d better play his cards close to his chest. He wouldn’t tell her how wholesomely good the new rector appeared to be to him.
Anna Sanderson ran a finger around her clerical collar as though it felt tight. ‘I’m afraid Sylvia is upset about me. But I can’t help it. I’m one of those people who needs their own space to retreat to, and Sylvia cleaning for me wouldn’t help to make the rectory my own.’
‘Don’t worry, please. A year off won’t harm.’
‘There’d always be comparisons, you know.’
‘Of course.’ Ralph introduced the people who’d just arrived. ‘This is Sir Ronald and Lady Bissett.’
Anna only just stopped herself from commenting on Lady Bissett’s outfit. It was startling to say the least; a leopard-skin fur coat (Was it real?), leopard-patterned dress (more suitable for a cocktail party), and a pair of faux leopard-skin shoes, which Anna was sure she’d last seen on TV at one of the party conferences.
‘Delighted to meet you, Lady Bissett, and you, Sir Ronald. So pleased you could come.’
Sheila Bissett gushed her greetings. ‘We wouldn’t have missed it for the world, so looked forward to meeting you. A pleasure to see a lady in a clerical collar. I’m all for it.’ She glanced sideways at Ron and saw the sickly grin on his face. Well, really!
Ron said, holding Anna’s hand for longer than was necessary, ‘Pleased to meet you I’m sure.’ And when he let go of her hand he stood there, speechless, looking an idiot.
‘Everyone calls me Sheila and I’d be pleased if you did the same.’ She nudged Ron into action. ‘We’ll head for the refreshments, if you don’t mind. Don’t want to hold up the queue.’ Ron trudged after her, noting from her back view that she was furious with him.
While they stood queueing for the gateaux and coffee, Sheila said, ‘Well?’
‘What?’
‘What do you think of her?’
‘Seems OK to me.’
‘There was no need to gawk. Made yourself look a right fool, you did. I knew you were impressed, but I think she’s very ordinary. Not a patch on Peter for charisma.’ She dwelt silently on Peter’s good looks and magnetism, and remembered the time when her heart had gone head over heels as he’d held her hand while appealing to her better nature. He’d truly brought out the best in her. Well, this Anna wouldn’t be bringing out the best in her, because she wouldn’t give her the chance. Not likely. ‘She’ll have to earn her Brownie points as far as I’m concerned. But at least her eyes are not as perceptive as Peter’s. He knew my every thought, I’m sure.’
Ron said, ‘Look, there’s Don.’
‘So there is. Vera’s determined to make it look as though everything’s all right, but it isn’t. How he drives that car I don’t know, I’m sure it’s illegal, him as he is.’
‘Wonder he survived, falling from that height.’
‘You’re right there. I feel sorry for Vera; she’s not quite in our class but she means well. For heaven’s sake, shove up, Ron, you’re holding the queue up. And you’ve chosen the creamiest, richest cake on the table. Will you never learn sense? No wonder your gut is like it is.’
Ron ignored her bullying as he always did. It was no good her pretending the two of them were from the higher echelons. He was a pragmatist and knew he only had his title because it was the easiest way to get rid of him from his union, ‘for services rendered, thirty years a union man, a champion of the underdog, always the peacemaker, his valued contributions …’ And so it went on. He knew exactly where he stood, very close to the bottom of the pile, but if it pleased Sheila to think otherwise then why not let her? Kept her off his back. He glanced at her and decided she wasn’t such a bad old thing, although she hardly ever got her clothes right.
Relieved, Ron spotted his son-in-law. �
��Gilbert!’ Now here was someone who called a spade a spade and never pretended anything else. ‘Gilbert!’ He waved furiously and at last Gilbert saw them. He strode across, another one who didn’t know how to dress. Here was he, Ron, in his countryman’s ginger tweed suit, itched to death by the roughness of it, and strangled by his collar and tie, all worn to please Sheila. But Gilbert pleased himself and he was dressed casually as he always was except on Sundays when he wore his choirmaster’s outfit. Tonight it was a brick-red shirt, open almost to his navel, with a pair of black cord trousers, fitting where they touched and his everyday open sandals without socks. But he had presence, had Gilbert.
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