The initial rush of mothers shopping on their way back home after seeing the children to school had disappeared. There were just two of them standing gossiping by the coffee machine, Tom behind the Post Office grille and the Senior sisters, Thelma and Valda, discussing a purchase from the frozen meal freezer in soft undertones. Out of the corner of her eye Muriel thought she saw Thelma slip a packet into her shopping bag, while Valda made a show of placing another boxed meal in her wire basket, saying, ‘We’ll take this one then.’
Muriel’s face flooded with colour and burned with embarrassment. She hated things like this. To speak or not to speak, that was the question. Take pity on them, she thought. They existed on their pensions while she and Ralph had Ralph’s investments to live on. Should she speak up? No, she wouldn’t. She’d have a word with Jimbo.
But, as she waited behind them at the till, Muriel found the courage to point at Thelma’s bag. ‘Thelma! You’d be losing your head if it was loose, you’ve forgotten you put a meal from the freezer in your bag by mistake.’
It was Thelma’s turn to blush. ‘I haven’t. Are you accusing me of shoplifting?’
‘Well, no, more a senior moment.’
‘Senior moment? Are you being funny? You mean we pinch stuff from here regularly?’
‘No. I’m not saying you steal things, when I said “senior moment” I meant you were having a memory lapse.’
‘Then why call it a Senior moment?’
‘Well, that’s what they say, isn’t it?’
‘Who says we Seniors steal?’
‘Well … I haven’t said you steal, it’s just that—’
‘You’ve just said we’d had a Senior moment, which means it’s general knowledge that we steal and people say a Senior moment, meaning us.’
‘Well, no, it’s just a saying.’
‘We don’t steal, see.’ Thelma prodded Muriel’s lapel. ‘We wouldn’t dream of stealing from Jimbo, Huh! As if we would.’ The two of them paid for their one meal and departed, leaving Muriel feeling the victim.
‘I’m so sorry, Bel, to cause trouble. But I was sure—’
Bel beamed her usual loving smile. ‘Don’t worry, Lady Templeton, you’re probably quite right. They’re a slippy pair of customers. I’ll keep an eye out. Jimbo is thinking of putting a mirror over the frozen food counters so we can see right from here at the till what’s going on over there. Don’t let yourself get upset about it. They’re not worth it.’
‘But I am. I feel quite dreadful.’ Muriel paid for the milk and went out, but not before she’d overheard one of the mothers gossiping by the coffee machine say, ‘This new Anna disagrees with Scouts. All uniformed organizations, in fact. Says it smacks of Hitler Youth.’
‘Don’t care what it smacks of, it gives me two hours of peace on a Scout night. And do I deserve two hours of peace? Yes, I do. So I’m all for it. What’s Hitler Youth anyway?’
‘Don’t know, but it sounds like no good to me.’
Muriel paused to put her change away safely and heard Maggie Dobbs from the school say, ‘She’s got someone coming to stay. A vagabond or someone, what’s got no home and’s just off drugs. That’s what I heard on the bus Saturday.’
Muriel dallied no longer. Surely they couldn’t be talking about Anna? Not a drug addict in the rectory? Surely not. She wouldn’t, would she? When she thought about those green eyes of hers and how direct they were, she had a nasty sneaking feeling that taking in a waif and stray would be just what she’d do. She wouldn’t tell Ralph. He’d say she was listening to dangerous gossip and dismiss it. But it was surprising how many times gossip turned out to be true. A tramp in Caroline’s lovely house. It didn’t bear thinking about.
Ralph didn’t come home for lunch and she wished he would. It was four o’clock before she heard him coming in through the back door. It occurred to her they’d need to lock their doors twenty-four/seven, as the Americans would say, if Anna brought a down-and-out to the village.
She called out as brightly as she could, ‘Tea, Ralph?’
‘Yes, please.’
As she put the tea tray down, Muriel looked at Ralph and decided he was a better colour, not that kind of puce shade his cheeks went when he got too angry. ‘Where have you been, dear? If I might ask?’
‘You may, of course. I’ve been in Culworth to the Abbey and were told that we’d got Anna allocated and there was no one else available. The number of ordinands being what it is.’
‘I see.’
‘What does that mean, Muriel, my dear?’
‘Nothing. I was thinking, that’s all.’
‘Mmm.’
Muriel poured his tea for him, and kept the biscuits well away because of his diet. She bit into her fruity shortbread and chewed it, there was nothing quite like a shortb—
‘They were implacable. I told them what she was planning. I said, is this the way we have to go?’
‘And?’
‘All I got was a nod.’
‘Right, then. We must put a brave face on it and let her get on with it.’
‘I think we’ll go abroad. Somewhere warm for the winter, for several months.’
Muriel swallowed the last of her biscuit, drank a few sips of her tea and said, a mite challengingly, ‘I didn’t know Templetons ran away from trouble. I wouldn’t have married you if I’d known that.’
‘Muriel! No one can accuse me of running away from anything. Ever.’
‘You are now.’
‘I am not. I am merely thinking of you and the winter weather.’
‘And I’m thinking of missing lovely frosty mornings, when the trees are silver all over, and the children make a slide of that water-leak on the Green, which they never manage to cure. And the days when the pond is frozen over and the silly geese are sliding all over the ice, wondering why they can’t swim as they usually do. And snuggling down in my nice warm bed with the curtains drawn and lying against your warm back and warming my cold feet on your legs.’
‘Muriel! Stop it. If I want to run away I shall.’
‘In that case you’ll have to go on your own, because I’m not going. Most emphatically. Do you hear? I’m not going. Someone has to stay here and fight. If you’re not ready for a fight, well, I am. Where shall you go?’ Calmly she poured herself another cup of tea, popped a drop more milk in it and waited for her bombshell to land.
Ralph was aghast. He placed his hands on the arms of his leather chair, straightened his back and looked at her. He was devastated, she could see that. It was the very first time in their married life together that she had stood firm and refused to do what he proposed. He couldn’t believe it. What on earth had happened to his world today? The village that he loved was about to be strung up and put out to die, and his wife, his beloved wife, his childhood sweetheart, was refusing to go to sunnier climes to avoid watching from the sidelines as their village was ruined. Not Muriel, she wouldn’t do any such thing now, would she? A bit of persuasion, a bit of flattery and hey presto!
‘My dear, you know I couldn’t manage without you on a long trip. Who’d remember to look in the drawers before we checked out? Who’d know where we’d put our passports?’
‘You.’
‘Where we should go? What ruin we needed to visit? Which restaurant we should eat at? I couldn’t manage without you. Think of the sun glittering on the sea, the delight of silvery sand trickling between your toes—’
‘You don’t like silvery sand getting between your toes. You hate it.’
‘I do. I do. But please, Muriel. It wouldn’t be the same pleasure without you and your wonderfully innocent outlook on the world.’
‘I’m sorry, Ralph, but that’s it. Absolutely not. The whole winter. No.’
Ralph placed his cup and saucer very firmly on the tray. ‘Why are you being so awkward? So difficult? I’m offering you the whole winter in New Zealand or South America, or … wherever, think about it.’
‘I shan’t. Because I’m not going and no amoun
t of persuasion will make me go. We’re needed here. She’s not a dragon, simply someone with a mind of her own, but somehow maybe we can mould it, if we stay. If we go, then we can’t. Anna’s not all bad. She’s a lovely girl. Her eyes and her hair are very striking.’
Ralph didn’t answer her. He saw those candid green eyes of hers again and remembered how he’d felt when she’d held his hand and pleaded so directly to him to give her a chance.
Neither of them was completely honest with the other. He didn’t tell her how he felt about Anna and Muriel didn’t tell him what she’d overheard in the Store.
Chapter 4
In the Store that morning Jimbo was finding space on his Village Voice noticeboard for an email from Peter and Caroline. When he’d found it on his computer first thing that morning he’d been delighted.
‘Harriet! Harriet! Guess what? There’s an email from Peter.’
‘Coming.’
Together they read his message, relieved to realize that things appeared to be going well in Africa.
‘Jimbo, let’s put it on display then everyone can read it. They’ll be thrilled.’
‘Good idea. We’ll do it immediately!’
So there it was in the middle of the board, and Jimbo had put a big notice on the door so that as people came in they were aware it was there for them to read. Quite a crowd from the morning bus queue was huddled around it.
To: Everyone at Turnham Malpas
From: New Hope Mission
We all send our greetings to everyone in Turnham Malpas. Finally, after a week’s briefing at headquarters and a two-day journey in a 4×4 vehicle, sleeping under the stars and followed by two small trucks with our belongings and equipment for the medical centre we are at last at our destination.
The weather is hot but still tolerable and the building where we shall make our home does have fans to help keep us cool in the worst of the heat. It is one huge room, more like an aircraft hangar than a home, with the kitchen at one end, a big space for a sitting room in the middle and two bedrooms sectioned off by curtains and ditto a very primitive shower room at the bedroom end.
We have two local women to help us, one with nursing experience but no qualifications, and one to help with the church side of things. The church itself is virtually completed now. Made from local materials, it is airy, without proper walls, just matting hanging from horizontal poles, and everyone squats on the floor for the sermon.
Caroline’s clinic is more sturdy and has much better facilities than she had expected, though they are very basic by English standards. She has already held her first session, a clinic for expectant mothers, and has found their knowledge of pregnancy and childbirth more Middle Ages than twenty-first century.
Alex and Beth begin at the International School next week. It is a forty-five-mile round trip so they will be weekly boarders.
The village is large, with more inhabitants than Turnham Malpas. We have plans for it; however, money is short. But we have great hopes for our work here.
God bless every one of you.
Your brother in Christ,
Peter Harris
P.S. It is lovely here and everyone is so friendly. We’re going out to a house in the village for our meal tonight. We wonder what we shall get to eat!
Love, Beth and Alex xxxxxxx
Someone shouted. ‘The bus is ’ere!’ and everyone crowding round the noticeboard stampeded for the door. ‘He won’t wait, he never does. Hurry up.’
The only customer left in the Store was Sheila Bissett. She went to read the email as the others left. She could feel the miles between her and them, and was saddened. Peter would understand how she was feeling this morning, and she wished, how she wished she could knock on the rectory door and find him in his study, that lovely welcoming room with its gold-coloured walls, the delicate watercolours and the rough-hewn wooden cross over the old fireplace. She’d be able to sit in one of his big squashy chairs, Sylvia would bring them coffee and they’d talk openly about her worries and he’d straighten things out for her. Such a haven it was. She’d tell him how she felt about this new baby of Louise and Gilbert’s. She’d scarcely slept all night, nor the previous one. What she really wanted was for them to get rid of it. Five! And then number six! Surely God wouldn’t want her to go through it all over again.
In that little cottage, too. It was a dear place, and lovely for two or three but not eight! What really angered her was there was no need nowadays to have all these children. There were ways and means. She’d never needed to use anything at all, because – she hoped no one could read her thoughts – she’d never needed to use anything to stop conception. How Louise had come to be so fertile, she really couldn’t think.
Sheila blushed at the thought. How on earth could she discuss things like abortion or contraception with a daughter she’d lost real contact with years ago? She couldn’t bring herself to. Honestly couldn’t bring herself to. She could have talked to Peter about it but not Louise. But someone needed to say something. Though since Louise had met Gilbert she had been much easier to talk to. Maybe … she might manage to say something. After all, they had both of them given birth, even if they had little else in common.
Then she thought of how Gilbert would be dead against getting rid of the baby. He’d be appalled. She really wouldn’t be able to talk to him about babies because … he intimidated her. He was so very clever, with his doctorate in archaeology and his musical talents. It was just the matter of his brainpower which frightened her, mainly because she knew she didn’t possess anywhere near his kind of intelligence. She’d left school at sixteen and had hardly opened a book since. Though Gilbert never, ever, set out to make her feel as thick as a plank. Never. But she, right inside herself, knew she was.
She thought then about Peter’s new church being poor. Surely something could be done. In comparison Turnham Malpas was rolling in money. Of course. Yes! The W.I. They could organize things. And as she was president this year, why not? Why ever not? She’d go round and see Anna this afternoon and suggest the W.I. spearheaded a fundraising effort for the New Hope Mission.
Anna opened the door in response to Sheila’s knock and invited her in. The moment she walked in, she knew that, for her at least, that glorious feeling of being able to unburden herself had vanished. Peter and Caroline still lingered but the real essence of the two of them was gone.
‘Hello, Sheila. How nice of you to call.’
‘I’ve had an inspiration,’ said Sheila.
‘Then you’d better come in and find a chair.’
Anna led the way into the sitting room and Sheila felt choked when she remembered the coffee and gateaux evenings they’d had in there to raise funds for this and that. So she wasn’t to be allowed in Anna’s study. Well, perhaps it was for the best, because she couldn’t talk to a young unmarried woman about what was troubling her heart.
Anna spoke first. ‘Might as well cut to the chase.’
‘Pardon?’
‘I mean, what is it you need to talk to me about?’
‘Right. First thing. I’m president of the W.I. this year and I wondered if you would like to speak to us about something or anything at all, one afternoon. Seeing as you’re new. We’ve a fairly broad range of subjects so you needn’t be afraid to choose something which interests you. The only date …’ She rushed on, trying to shut out Louise and her troubles. Anything rather than that.
They both got out their diaries.
‘I’m not very well up on W.I.s. They always seem to me to be entrenched in the past. Peg dolls and lace doyley competitions and such.’
Sheila was appalled. ‘In the past! Most certainly not. We tackle all kinds of subjects and activities. Anything except politics, they are taboo. And our embroidery ventures are under the strict supervision of Evie Nicholls, who is very gifted. The millennium tapestry in the church was executed by us. In the past! Certainly not. We’re right out there in the front leading the troops, we are. Believe me. We meet the
first Monday afternoon in the month, at two o’clock. Our speaker for November has had to go into hospital and doesn’t know when she’ll be fit enough to speak so would that be suitable? November?’
Secretly amused by Sheila’s stout defence, Anna agreed that her diary hadn’t yet filled up and November would be fine. ‘Anything else?’
‘Have you read Peter’s email thingy in the Store? No, of course you haven’t, it only went up this morning. Well, his church in Africa is very poor and I wondered if the W.I. and the church could join together and do something for them. I’m not sure what. How do you feel about that?’
‘I haven’t read it yet but in Penny Fawcett this morning someone had been in the Store and seen the email, and they were all agog about it, so yes, I know they’re short of money. I’d like to do something about that and yes, I think the church should make a contribution. Couldn’t think of anything more worthwhile and let’s face it, at least we would know the money will be going directly to those who need it and not towards vast rents and salaries for state-of-the-art headquarters. I think it’s a good idea.’
‘Thanks. At our next committee meeting we’ll have a discussion and see what we come up with.’ Sheila got to her feet, thankful not to have fallen to the temptation of unburdening herself.
Anna smiled at her. ‘Perhaps next time when you come to see me you might feel able to tell me what’s troubling you. I’m not a dragon, you know.’
Sheila visibly jumped.
‘I might even be able to help.’
‘Yes, maybe. But not today.’
Sheila all but rushed out of the rectory. What a narrow escape she’d had! Ron, she’d go home to Ron and tell him.
Ron was deeply involved with his stamp collection when she got in, and not really in the mood for Sheila firing broadsides at him. But he gently pushed his albums aside and made room for her elbows on the table.
Whispers in the Village Page 4
